Wishbone

T'is the season for eating out, and with family in town looking to take a crowd of us out for J's birthday dinner, we ended up at Wishbone in the West Loop almost by default. Since J eats his way through the W. Loop for lunch most days, it's usually not on our radar for a dinner outing, but on this night it seemed an inspired option over Leona's (whose quality has taken a nose-dive in the last few years) for a menu with a good amount of variety at a good value.

I had only eaten at the Wishbone in Lakeview once before and it was years ago, breakfast I think, which struck me as nothing special since I'm not into ham and grits. To think that all these years I've assumed that a Southern-style eatery bedecked in caricatures of barnyard animals is an unwelcome spot for vegetarians! Well, I'm here to say that I happily revise my initial estimation.

What pleased us most is how much the rest of our party enjoyed their dinners- and much sampling was had around the table, so I can attest to the high marks given the strawberry lemonade, crabcakes and blackened catfish as much as my mashed rutabaga (a special side of the day). For comfort food, the quality and freshness is certainly high, and while the portions are hardly svelte, a lot of the unnecessary oiliness one would expect of this cuisine is happily absent. The corn muffins that arrive on the table before one orders are light years beyond Bisquick. I would have one for dessert if they were lying around my kitchen, though they aren't overly sweet, but softball-sized, light and flaky. (The one side dish that was overly sweet to my palate was the mashed sweet potatoes with pecans.)

My main dish was so good I'm looking forward to the next opportunity to eat it again: Black bean cakes with red pepper sauce. With the exception of the creamy red pepper sauce, the cakes are vegan, and I also tried the mango salsa one can have with them instead to avoid dairy entirely which was OK, but the red pepper has a zing that's more up my alley. The cakes had an excellent consistency, not dry, and full of flavor. Here's another candidate for something to try to make at home. The mac and cheese was kind of a guilty pleasure- it held nothing back in the creamy and cheesy categories.

Sadly, we were all too stuffed to share a dessert or two, but I imagine they do a mean pecan pie or fruit cobbler.

Russian Tea Time

I never thought Russian food was all that diverse or vegetarian (fishetarian) friendly, but today was the second time we've tried the Russian Tea Time restaurant and left very satisfied. (To be fair, the cuisine of this particular restaurant ranges from classic czarist fare to the Uzbek hinterland which does a yummy vegetarian stew.) The first time we went there, we got the vegetarian platter for two and couldn't eat all of the food that was brought owing to the quantity, not the quality of the offerings: close to a dozen different vibrant salads and stews. Interesting combinations of spices transformed beets several savory ways, as well as white beans and kasha. All of these make for warm and comforting flavors, especially on a cold winter's night.

This evening we ventured into other parts of the menu with a fabulous pumpkin vareniky with smoldering underpinnings of cinnamon and cumin. This is something I want to figure out and make at home. It tasted a much more delicate than the usually heavy, synonymous perogi. It was hard to decide among the vege options for the main course so I ended up with the salmon crepes. Again, the smoked salmon hit the spot as well as the egg salad and other crepe components, and the portion was more generous than I needed, but somehow, with my stomach still in Xmas mode, I managed to clean my plate (though after another attempt I'm still not a roe fan). Also, the humble bread basket needs to be mentioned as this is an entire loaf of inky rye full of nuts that could be a meal in itself. The dessert we shared was an apricot and plum strudel which was also enriched with walnuts. Dense, a bit like a baklava, only no phyllo or layers of honey, instead it was encased in a robe of sugar dusted pastry and topped with a crosshatch of raspberry syrup. A perfect follow-up to the Nutcracker performance and a little Xmas spirit that doesn't know when to quit.

Xmas Baking parts two and three

Made another coupla batches of the curried nuts (almonds and pecans, though the pecans still work the best, hold onto the spices more).

Then J made homemade soy nog!

Then I made chocolate-dipped gingerbread biscotti. Then we had extra melted chocolate so covered whatever else we had on hand in chocolate: pear slices, piles of walnuts, fingers, hands.

Then we watched the Bells of St. Mary's.

(Next day: woke up with chocolate hangovers)

Cranberry Pumpkin Bread

I'm making food gift baskets all day and among the goodies I'm including are mini-loaves of this slightly-but-not-too-sweet sweet bread. The original recipe I worked from called for 3 cups of sugar, but every time I've made I've incrementally reduced the sugar for better tasting bread that lets the pumpkin and spice flavors shine. In this version, I reduced the sugar to 1 cup because the dried cranberries were also sweetened.

1 c sugar
4 eggs
1 c canola oil
1 15 oz. can of pumpkin
3 1/2 c flour
3 1/2 t baking powder
1 1/2 t salt
1 t cinnamon
1 t nutmeg
1/2 t allspice
1 1/2 c dried cranberries

Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Combine sugar, eggs and oil in a bowl; beat at medium speed of an electric mixer until well blended. Add pumpkin puree and mix until incorporated. Combine flour, baking soda, salt and spices; add gradually to the pumpkin mixture, beating until blended. Fold in cranberries. Spray loaf pans with canola oil spray and spoon batter into them. This makes between 5 and 6 mini-loaves or 2 regular sized loaves. About an hour is the cook time for the minis, an hour and ten minutes for regular sized breads... or until the toothpick is clean after you insert it.

Blind Faith

Today we celebrated the end of Xmas shopping and the start of vacation with lunch at The Blind Faith Cafe. When we lived closer, this used to be our regular place, but since it's not particularly near my workplace and definitely not near where we live, it's usually a special occasion when we dine there. I wish I had taken a picture of the quiche I had for lunch. It was a buoyant wedge about 6 inches high! But it was light, not laden with cheese, just a hint to give it a tang. The special of the day, it was stuffed with broccoli and red pepper and served with a side salad of mesclun greens. Again, the quiche was so photogenic that strangers approached our table and asked what I was eating. J got the seitan jambalaya which wasn't as pretty, but by all accounts tasted good.

J's curry

T'was an odyssey of chickpea, garam masala, garlic, onion, spinach, tomato and ghee. Delish.

Currently enjoying

Me: Doctor Kracker Klassic 3 Seed flatbread and Domain de Couron 2005 Cotes-du-Rhone.

As for Bean, I think he just ate a fennel seed. Is that a usual cat palate?

J's making something Indian with a chickpea.

Gelato Break

While I don’t entirely envy the standstill that’s become Colorado this week, what I wouldn’t give for a coating of the powdery stuff this weekend. J and I are intent to go X-country skiing and/or sledding this year and taking G out on Xmas day for latter would be the most after-present aftermath fun I could imagine. I have been enjoying the unseasonable (how long before this word is redundant?) 40s all week and getting a last bit of outdoor running in, including a record-smashing 6 miles to the Bahai Temple and back on my lunch hour the other day fueled by a sugar tide of mid-morning office cookies. The office cookies, which a week and a half ago were pleasant novelties freely indulged in, have incrementally become my nemesis as their volume has spread to all-you-can-eat cookie buffet. And I must try one of each, even if they spring forth from a vacuum-packed tin. The daily pre and post lunch dosage has created a bodily response, a physical need that simple avoidance of sweets fails to banish from my thoughts.

So today, feeling my body ring its sugar bell after lunch, I skipped the uniform shortbreads and decided to quell the beast head-on. This meant heading downstairs to the place I’ve only ever considered a coffee shop in my building for fear of courting the slippery slope that is the gelato break. The coffee shop is a local mom and pop establishment, seemingly holding its own against the franchise coffee place across the street. Their espresso is good and they don’t appear to put any artificial goop in any of their drinks.. Plus, they sell little bottles of bubbly water. Nevermind the jewel-like case of gelato that meets one at the door and behind which all employees stand. I treat it as décor- never meeting its gaze- arcing my espresso order over it like a badminton birdie. In the three months since this business moved in, I’ve never once allowed my coffee break to be encroached upon my what is, in my opinion, dessert. I had seen how easily my coworkers transformed the coffee break into the gelato break, a similar ritual that occurs at 3 o’clock everyday. I had tasted this café’s gelato goodness with the free bite-size samples they lovingly push and I knew that’d be playing with fire. After all, I’ve only just recently begun to accept soy ice cream.. backing it up to full-on dairy plus egg yolks would be a dramatic turn.

Today the drama ensued. I entered and placed my order for one diminutive scoop of hazelnut, in a cup, but the college girl behind the counter looked regretful and informed me that they only serve 3 scoops at a time.. for 3 dollars. Now that’s a value. One can mix and match. She recommended I also try the tiramisu flavor. The scoops were on the small side. And the chocolate was dark dark dark and, I’d soon discover, habitat to some high percent cacao little shards. I wish I had photographed this triumvirate that was so humbly squished into a Styrofoam cup. It was a palette of dark, medium and light brown heaven. Instead I slunk back to my desk where, if half the office weren’t already out on vacation, one may have witnessed a specific ecstasy amidst the cubicle beige.

Meanwhile, the warmer temps are giving us a second straight day of rain. Back on the treadmill for me. Let’s see if I can do another 6 miles while watching Paula Dean make her heart-stopping chocolate bread pudding. As for the snow, I’ll have to settle for powdered sugar this year.

Olive Oil Polenta Cake

Tried this yummy recipe from Babbo's website. Highly recommended! Not too sweet. Nice layers of flavors and scone-like texture.

Olive Oil and Polenta Cake

4 large eggs
1 cup granulated sugar
Freshly grated zest of 1 medium orange
Freshly grated zest of 1 medium lemon
1 ½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour
¾ cup instant polenta
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
¾ cup extra-virgin olive oil
Confectioner’s sugar for garnish

Preheat the oven to 350º and position a rack in the center of the oven. Lightly grease a 9-inch springform pan with non-stick cooking spray or butter.

Place the eggs and sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer, and with the whisk attachment, beat them on medium speed until they are tripled in volume, fluffy and pale yellow in color.

While the eggs are beating, in a medium bowl combine the flour, polenta, baking powder and salt.

Alternate adding the dry ingredients to the egg mixture with the olive oil; begin with 1/3 of the dry ingredients, then add half the oil, followed by another 1/3 of dry ingredients, beating only until each addition is incorporated. Stop the mixer and briefly scrape down the sides of the bowl. Beat in the remaining olive oil, followed by the last 1/3 of the dry ingredients.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake the cake for 25 to 30 minutes. Rotate the cake 180º halfway through the baking time to ensure even browning. The cake is done when it springs back lightly when touched and pulls away from the sides of the pan, and a cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean.

Cool the cake on a rack, in the pan, for 12 to 15 minutes, then carefully remove the sides of the pan and allow the cake to cool completely.

Before serving, dust the cake with confectioner’s sugar.

Makes 8 to 10 servings

Winging It Ciopinno

Thawed a package of TJ’s frozen seafood medley in the fridge overnight. Brought about 5 cups of water and 2 bay leaves to a boil and steamed the medley of crab legs, scallops, lobster and shrimp for about 10 minutes. Peeled and shelled all the seafood once it had cooled (this was the most time-consuming and laborious part) and then put that in a container back in the fridge.

Kept the pot of water that I used to steam the seafood and added shells to it, about a cup of fresh parsley (chopped), 3 chopped scallions, ½ a chopped onion, a large bunch of dried thyme, 3 ribs of celery, 2 chopped carrots and some salt and pepper. I added some more water to all of this so that my pot was about 2/3 full (maybe another 5 cups). I don’t know if I’m going to need this much broth for my final ciopinno, but I can always freeze the rest I suppose.

Let that simmer for an hour or so.

I’ve never made a stock derived from animals before. And while I seldom cook fish or seafood at home, and handling it does always make me question the exceptional status I’ve given this category of non-vegetable matter in my otherwise vegetarian diet, it is satisfying to make full use of the creatures, that nothing has been wasted. I’m not sure if I’m more comfortable eating these animals because of nostalgic childhood connections to them.. ripping apart boiled lobsters my grandmother would bring from Boston on her Christmas visits to us. The frequency of fish my mom cooked derived from family traditions shaped by living near the Adriatic. The 7 fish Christmas dinner.

Once I had the stock and strained it, I sautéed 3 cloves of garlic and one small diced onion in some olive oil at the bottom of my heavy stock pot. Once that was translucent, I added all the stock I made (a little overly ambitious perhaps). Then I chopped up the pound of snapper I had and threw that in there with a can of diced tomatoes that were already seasoned Italian, a cup of red wine, a can of anchovies, ½ c of chopped parsley, 1 T of tomato paste, and a 28 oz. can of whole tomatoes that I chopped up. This all cooked together for about 10 minutes and pretty soon the snapper was looking white and opaque and done. I threw in the seafood I had steamed earlier to warm through with the rest of the stew for a final couple of minutes and then it was ready to be eaten!

Verdict: tasty.

Next time: more fish and less stock in the final stew, slightly more garlic and wine, maybe some cayenne pepper.

Curried Pecans

The house is smelling wonderfully savory right now as these spiced nuts toast up in the oven. They need to bake and cool in the next two hours to be a hostess gift for a dinner party we're going to tonight. After a little poking around online, I picked a recipe and more-or-less stuck to the script, except I replaced the frothy egg white spice binding agent with olive oil since the hostess is vegan.

Heat oven to 275. Toss together in a bowl 2 cups of nuts, 2 tablespoons of olive oil, and these spices:

1/2 t chili powder
1/2 t cumin
1/2 t curry powder
1/4 t cayenne pepper
1/4 t cinnamon
1/4 t powdered ginger

I threw dash of salt in there and a bit of garlic powder too to replace the "garlic salt" the recipe called for (1/2 t). It was just a few weeks ago that I excavated the old shaker of Lawry's Garlic salt from the depths of my cabinet and read the ingredients with alarm... modified food starch and partially hydrogenated vegetable oil, blech. I used to put that shit on everything in my undergrad years. Back then, cooking meant macaroni and cheese and gourmet meant a shake of ol' garlicky L.

Once the nuts are coated with the oil and spices, spread them on a baking sheet so they form a single layer. Bake at 275 for 15 minutes, stir, then lower the heat to 225 and let it go for an hour, stirring occasionally. I just had a taste test and the nuts are picking up the curry flavor much more than my baked potato fries last week did! In fact the curry with the toasty nut flavor is a perfect combination. At first I thought they might need more salt, but all of the other flavors linger nicely with these proportions.

Arugula and Goat Cheese Crepes

This one is a definite keeper. The buckwheat crepes are sturdy enough to make this dish a borderline tostada, but the combination of flavors is right on: hearty and slightly sweet, bright and peppery, creamy and tangy.

I started with Bob’s Red Mill buckwheat pancake mix and thinned it beyond the usually pancake consistency with some extra water (also added the requisite egg and 2 T’s of canola oil).

Then I spread the batter as fine as I could onto an (olive-)oiled griddle and cooked up the crepes. This was the most time-consuming part. Once I had these done, the arugula sauteed up in a flash (in a little olive oil, wilted, but taken off the heat while it was still a bright shade of green). Rolled arugula and dollops of soft goat cheese into the still-hot crepes and that’s it.

Lentil... melange solid?

Last night I made my first ever lentil loaf. As far back as childhood I’ve been instinctually repelled by anything “loaf,” unless of course it is a crusty mound of fresh-baked bread. But the idea of mooshing together an ambiguous cast of meat or meat-like ingredients into a shapeless, brown wad does not, by its very nature, stimulate the appetite. With the holiday weight gain in full effect, and the promotion of dessert from food course to Meal-in-and-of-Itself that seems to have taken hold of my daily eating patterns, I’ve returned to the healthiest of healthy cookbooks to populate my fridge with some responsible dinners and leftovers. So, lentil loaf or bust.

For a first attempt, I thought this turned out pretty good. A tad dry— something, perhaps, that can be tweaked by adding an egg next time around. This recipe is a slightly tweaked version of one that appeared in Healing With Whole Foods, an encyclopedic behemoth on the properties of certain foods and herbs according to Traditional Chinese Medicine. The book also contains hundreds of pages of recipes, all low-fat and nutrient-dense.

Cook up 2 cups of lentils. (I chose dark lentils for this since they retain their shape a little better. 2 cups, covered with water, brought to a boil and then simmered for 45 minutes or so.. until they’re soft and cooked through. I also like to cook them with a bay leaf or two thrown in.)

Preheat oven to 350. Spray a loaf pan with canola oil spray.

Saute 1 small onion and 1 minced clove of garlic in a pan with a tablespoon or two of olive oil.

Add all of the above plus the following items to a bowl and mix together:

1/2 c whole wheat bread crumbs
1/2 c wheat germ
1 tsp fresh sage
1 tsp dried thyme
dash of salt
1/2 c chopped walnuts
1/4 c sunflower seeds

Add broth from cooking lentils to the mixture until it appears to be binding together.. about 1 1/2 cups.

Cook covered for 30 minutes. Cook uncovered for 20-25 more mins.

--
Tonight, back to experimental territory for buckwheat crepes filled with sauteed arugula (it’s almost all used up!) and goat cheese.

Pumpkin Polenta-ish

Last night’s experiment was mixing together leftover polenta (about 1/3 cup) and canned pumpkin (2 tablespoons) and forming them into little patties and cooking them up on a griddle. They browned up nicely and tasted pretty good, though some spices would have really brought the whole combination together. Next time maybe a little garlic or shallot and thyme, salt and pepper can be added to the batter before cooking them up. On top of these I put some sauteed arugula.. yum, but that wanted to be balanced with something sweet or acidic too.. tomatoes maybe, some kind of chutney next time. I sprinkled some leftover pomegranate on top, but the end result was just plain weird.

Gobo fix

Finally made it back to Tensuke market this weekend for some Japan rations. I’m tired of paying an arm and a leg at Whole F***s for umeboshi, though I still will have to since Tensuke didn’t carry any that wasn’t full of red dye. But I did get a three and a half foot long Burdock root, a.k.a. gobo. Having tried a package of the pickled variety on my last visit, and then S telling me it’s what all the Okinawan centenarians swear by, I was on the lookout to pick up some more of it. Again, avoiding dyes and msg was tricky, and I ended up with the homely, unadulterated article from their produce section. So I’m to figure out how to pickle it myself. In the meantime I’ve been eating the bugger raw and adding it to my okayus after a little soaking. It looks from my internet survey that it is also frequently cut or grated with carrots to make a sort of stir-fried slaw. It seems like the subtle, nutty flavor, the nutritional profile, the culinary versatility and exotic/common weed factor would have gobo well-poised to be a future foodie affectation.

Arugula Pasta Toss

Over whole wheat pasta:
Heat 1/8 inch of olive oil in a pan. Add 4 cloves of sliced garlic, two diced shallots and 1/4 cup of pine nuts. Stir for a few minutes as garlic and shallots become translucent. Add cherry tomatoes and arugula. Stir until greens are wilted but still bright green. Toss over pasta. Other add-ins at table: salt, pepper, capers, grated romano cheese.

The Versatile Roti

As this week’s ration of leftovers wears thin, I discovered that fig spread and aloo palak aren’t the only tasty toppings for the chickpea rotis. Roasted sweet potato pairs well with them for a hearty nosh as well. Amazing how only three ingredients (not counting the water, that’s sweet potatoes, wheat flour and chickpea flour) can taste so complete and satisfying. This bruschetta of sorts can probably be glammed up with some cumin or fennel seed either roasted with the sweet potatoes or worked into the roti dough. But the sweet potato is already so concentrated full of flavor from the roasting, I’m inclined to leave fabulous alone.

OK, I just spent too long pouring over a website that sells nothing but lunchboxes. For starters, I skipped past all the nylon sacks and mod bentos and went straight for the metal category. Warning sign number one. Scrolling through cartoon characters and logos old and new, I stopped for a moment of purely aesthetic appreciation for the red and brown “I’m a Pepper” and the beige, green and orange Orange Crush boxes, thinking of J’s story of the damage these pre-OSHA time bombs could wreck: see whirling dervish with slippery grip meets sister’s brow. As if all of this wasn’t already woefully retro, or “vintage” as J noticed his record collection handily classed in a recent browse through a used record store, the nostalgia alarms became impossible to ignore when I found myself nearly purchasing a Strawberry Shortcake lunchbox exactly like the one I carried to Trinity Lutheran School on Old German Church Road in 1984. Understand, Strawberry was the talisman of my youth. Everything I wore and surrounded myself with, for a time, had to be red, the color of her berry charisma. My devotion to her hung on for years but ended before her move to Saturday morning cartoons. For me, she was a character only, a visual cue for that thing the elders refer to as Imagination. I spent hours everyday speculating on the doings of Raspberry Tart and Plum Pudding and Strawberry’s cat Custard in their parallel universe that carried on simultaneous to my daily experience. At school I would wonder, what are they doing right now? Other times my existential queries probed deeper: What do their bathrooms look like? What do they eat for breakfast? Two things are apparent to me now, with the distance of 24 years: I was never a plot-driven kind of gal (the conflict and other trappings of typical story patterning always bothered me, whether it was in books, movies or Saturday morning cartoons, it always seemed superficial), the first sign of the writer who would later find herself via Gertrude Stein and Virginia Woolf; and, most obviously, the foodcentrism of all these imaginings.

Much is made of early food memories— that anyone of discriminating taste as an adult surely had a sensually epic childhood of meals one might still prepare for oneself and the transport those meals offer to a place of comfort and simplicity. And this creates an interesting question I may return to, but for now I’m struck by the power of non-edible food memories like my Shortcake years. The fruity-scented mops of hair, the iconic berry as both architecture and décor. In the days before merchandising filled in every imaginative aspect of a childhood character’s universe, a berry was not only a berry but a girl, a house, an ethic of gentle kindness, a sound that possessed semantic-bending powers, i.e. “Have a berry good day.” Paralleling the years in which literacy is being formed, is it not possible that a slippery sequitur like this is a very healthy thing? That –and her antioxidant profile— has renewed my appreciation for this curly redhead in a way simple nostalgia could never explain. Hell, maybe I’ll get the lunchbox after all.

Custard Update

I’m going to toss them. The soy custard remains a work in progress. I’m reaching for them when I want a sweet indulgence, but just out of the fridge they taste like a damp, sugarless sponge. And my initial zeal over the fresh ground cardamom has soured as this flavor now overwhelms any trace of pumpkin or other spice.

I also made a gluten-free chocolate cake from a mix last night to see whether any of my inclinations to experiment with sweet rice flour and tapioca flour are worth pursuing. In a word: no.

I’m afraid I’ll need to finish this week out with a straight-up crème brulee just to recalibrate my taste buds.

Sweet Teeth

I buzzed through the Christkindlmarket downtown tonight after work since the arctic wind had, for a time, abated and given us a toasty 20 degree evening. This was just a sussing out trip since a future date with J to go and drink mulled wine out of a ceramic boot is in the works for later in the week. I went past the food stalls preparing to be tempted, and perhaps on another day some sauerkraut and potato pancakes will grab me (but by the looks of it I'll still prefer my own). One vendor remarking on my huge bag declared it perfect for carrying lots of bratwurst. I felt silly telling him he had the wrong frau, because how silly is it for a vegetarian to be loitering around a bunch of schnitzel anyway? Well, besides the heated structure that was erected to house a German candy store full of cookies and chocolate pleasures, and a compelling waffle/crepe tent and more stollen than you could shake a stick at, nothing edible was catching my fancy on this evening. Well one thing did. I ended up talking to a fellow peddling organic pumpkin seeds and soy nuts. Eh, what's so special about some nuts, I thought. They're organic, OK. They're organic and from Austria, that's better. I waxed a little EU-envy his way for a moment over their common-sense ban of GMOs. Yes, of course-- he looked horrified at my very mention of it. I asked him how the standards for organic were defined in Austria, but instead a number of sample cups of nuts were being cordially extended to me. And once I got nibbling on the chocolate-covered section of the nut repetoire, I was hooked. Having just consumed a 55 gram bag of chocolate covered roasted soybean snack mix I can roundly pronounce them sehr lekker! I hope these little babes get some distribution in the US soon so my sugar yen can at least keep me flush in isoflavones. The market's up until Dec. 24. I'll be going back for more.

Something else that's preventing me from eating all of the holiday cookies people are bringing in to work-- and soon to follow, vendor gift baskets-- are Larabars. There's an umlaut in there somewhere too. So far Pecan Pie and Cashew Cookie were perfect 10s, Ginger Snap however was a bit grody.

Polenta with Puddle

Not to be a humbug, but I’ve come to expect that recipes followed to the letter turn out “correctly”(by that I mean edible and at least minimally palatable)—as my aptitude with following instructions is what has lead me to venture away from the page for the more trial and error territory of improvization. So imagine my surprise when something I made last night and followed to the letter flopped! I’m working every square inch of my cookbook shelf lately—revisiting old and neglected tomes and realizing why they’ve been neglected. The culprit here is “ ,“ a photoless hodgepodge of adventurous-sounding veg dishes offered up by restauranteur chefs of the 90’s. Due to my inexperience with polenta and pomengranate, and how potentially tasty this combination sounded, I decided to make a dish called “Polenta with pomegranate, sage and pine nuts.” Oh and spinach plays a major part in this dish too, though it loses top billing to the more “exotic” accents.

I didn’t take a photo because it turned into the ugliest yellow and red puddle I’ve ever plated, though the flavors meshed in potentially interesting ways. The main problem was that the wine never came down to a glaze and the broth added on top of that never came down to a sauce, in spite of two rounds of arrowroot slurry I fortified it with. Also, the cup of wine was a bit much. I didn’t have the Marsala called for so I substituted with a Syrah instead and understandly that made a big difference in flavor- J thought it was “vinegary.” And the proportions turned out weird too. For leftovers I’ve got 1/8 cup of leftover polenta—and another 1/8 of a cup stuck to the pan. Zero spinach and 3 cups of the wine sauce—which is really too overpowering for most vegetable dishes I can think of. Might be a better accompaniment with lamb or beef, but then, what do I know about lamb or beef? I think this was originally conceived of as a meat-based recipe and someone made a half-assed attempt to swap out loin for cornmeal. Bah.

One successful lesson was experiencing how yummy a saute of spinach, shallots, pine nuts and pomegranate seeds is. That I will be doing again. Funny, after making this and flipping through the book again to see if any other dishes bore the asterisk of my own test-kitchen run, I found only one—a garden paella I made 7 years ago on which I commented.. “kind of flavorless, not enough spice, end result quantity WAY off.” Without being a hater, I wonder if anyone else keeps a list of “non-recommended cookbooks.” Seems like this would be a useful service to home chefs, as there is considerable time and expense on the line when trusting the word of recipe developers and publishers. Or, humoring the possibility of (my) human error for a moment, do any cookbooks- particularly advanced ones- offer something like a tech support service? A 24-hour hotline for home cooks whose wine is not coming down to a glaze while the other simultaneous elements of the dish are ready to eat.. would be helpful. An expansion opportunity for CIA’s internship program?

Aloo Palak

Apparently that failed garam masala baked potato wedges got my dander up for some curry, and the polenta dish I was planning to make tonight didn't thrill either of us at the thought of it, and when the only fresh produce in the house is spinach and potatoes, well, that's got palak written all over it.

The lack of food styling and lighting consideration in the photo above is due to the hungry photographer who, after smelling the fantastic coriander and cumin for the past 20 minutes, couldn't wait to have at it.

I think Aloo Palak is usually pureed, but J and I like chunks, so I boil the potatoes first and them set them aside to cool. The rest goes pretty quick-- though this is my Americanized shortcut speaking. The more traditional references I've consulted make the process much more multi-faceted. I've done it both ways and both are yummy.

Chop up 1 bunch of spinach. Once cool, cut potatoes into bite-size chunks. Also slice one whole medium onion. Press 3-4 cloves of garlic through a press. Grate about a tablespoon of fresh ginger. Dice one small chili pepper, I use these miniscule, frozen little buggers from my local Indian grocery. I'm not sure what the variety is called, but they are pellets of fire. If you're using a jalepeno or something like that, it might be a teaspoon or two. Measure out the spices:
1 tsp turmeric, 1 tsp cumin, 1 tsp ground coriander, 1 tsp garam masala, 1/2 tsp red chili powder, a pinch or two of salt.

Heat 2-3 tblspns of olive oil in a pan and add spices. Stir and give them a minute or two to start releasing their oils, then add onion, ginger and garlic. Stir this all around and let it cook together for another 2-3 minutes, or until onions start to turn translucent and the kitchen is really fragrant. Then add the spinach. The water content of the spinach seems to keep the spices from scorching, which is good. Burny-tasting spices are one curry mistake I've learned from. Once the spinach has cooked down for a minute or two and there's room enough in pan once again, add the potato chunks. Stir this all together and reduce the heat. This is where I also add some soymilk to give it a bit of a "sauce" and some creaminess. Tonight I only had about 1/4 of a cup left, but this worked just fine. Once all the flavors cook together- a few more minutes- the dish is ready to eat.

To accompany the Aloo Palak, I dug into the freezer for a soup I bought in the frozen section of Patel Bros. grocery.. which is a comprehensive source of all Indian dry good and spices one could need, plus some produce. They also have a freezer wall of mostly-vegetarian ready-to-eat wonders from all over the subcontinent. I've toyed with the idea of making a Sambhar soup for a while, and I bought this frozen one partly to get a sense of what's up in the sambhar realm. This brand Recipes of Udupi South Indian Vegetarian Cuisine claims to be all natural, and there is nothing with an x, y or z in the ingredients, so I think it may be true. This was a nice tangy soup, protein-full with 3 kinds of dahl, a tomato base and piquant tamarind heading up the curry.

I also made a batch of stovetop quickie rotis with a cup of chickpea flour for added protein.
That's:

1 c. of durum atta (whole wheat durum flour)
1 c. ladu besan (chickpea flour)

and then just add water gradually until you have a sticky dough. I usually work it into a ball and then let it rest, covered with a damp paper towel for about a half an hour, or while I do other things, but I'm not sure if this is really necessary.

Then just spray a griddle with some canola oil, form into pancake size patties and cook until brown on both sides.

These come out like hearty pancakes, but without the chickpea flour, I've turned this basic formula into chapattis and given the time to hold them over an open flame so they inflate and get fluffy. After tonight's dinner I tried one of the extra rotis spread with Adriatic fig spread and that turned out to be a good combination too! Kind of like a chutney, only... Croatian.

My First Custard

I was flipping through an old vegetarian cookbook last night- the sort that is like, "So vegetarians.. hmm, they eat pasta, or pasta another way, and a stir fry. End stop." So I think I've never made anything out of this cookbook before, but revisiting it I discovered the last recipe on the last page (yes, that would be firmly within the Dessert section, sweet tooth be damned) a recipe for Orange-Pumpkin Spice Custard that was dairy and gluten-free without sounding compromised and potentially gross. Oh, and it also has zero (added, refined) sugar. Extra bonus for one watching her spleen qi.

I got a little nervous toward the end of the mixing ingredients part when folding in the egg whites and seeing them stay together in little clumps amid the rather runny batter, not really assimilated into the mixture in a uniform way and already risking over stirring. But little subsequent victories abounded: nothing dribbled over in the stove, the house smelled wonderful, and while I added five minutes to the cooking time to get the tops to brown up a little more, the inside of the custard was still a smooth consistency. Though I've never made a full-on dairy custard before, I've eaten plenty, and this one does sacrifice some richness and creaminess to the soy, but for being soy and low-fat and no sugar and all the rest, it's a respectable little custard.

The cardamom and lightness of this custard reminded me of the couscous pudding I made a month or two ago that was the impetus for this blog, but I didn't think to add molasses then and it definitely rounds out the flavors. So a note to future rice/couscous puddings-- molasses, maple syrup and ginger.. heck, the rest of the spices from this custard too. The combo and quantities of spice are something this recipe does best.*

*UPDATE: The other person in the house who is not a cat says the spice is "too much," so, as they say in Holland, at your discretion.


(slightly tweaked)
from the Cole's Cooking Companion Series Vegetarian Gourmet

canola oil spray
1 c. soy milk
1 tbl arrowroot powder
2 tbl molasses
1 c. canned or cooked pumpkin puree
1 tbl cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1 tsp ground cardamom
2 tsp grated fresh ginger
1 tsp nutmeg
1/2 maple syrup
2 tbl grated orange zest (I didn't have this on hand, so omitted it)
1/4 c. freshly squeezed orange juice (again, no oranges in the house, so Tropicana it was)
2 eggs

Preheat oven to 350. Spray 8 custard cups with canola oil.

In a large bowl combine milk, arrowroot, and molasses, and whisk together until blended. Add pumpkin, cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, ginger, nutmeg, maple syrup, orange (zest and) juice.

Separate eggs. Beat yolks and add to pumpkin mixture. In a small bowl beat egg whites until stiff peaks form. Fold into pumpkin mixture.

Pour mixture into prepared custard cups. Place in a shallow baking pan. Carefully add hot water until level reaches halfway up the sides of the pan. Bake custard until just firm (about 40 minutes). Let cool slightly and serve at once.

Garam Masala Fries

We've got tons of potatoes left over from T-giving so I sliced a few up thinking at first I would roast them with some leftover rosemary, but I forgot about the rosemary once the Scrabble board came out of the closet for its once a year grudge match between J and I. He excels in the realm of the mega points power play while I hold out for the beautiful play: the VIOLETs, the WINTERYs, the YOGHURTs. But the yoghurt was to never come to pass. Instead I thought I could use less olive oil and get the potato wedges to crisp up better if I put them on a baking sheet instead of in the roasting pan. No duh, you say. That's the chef's equivalent of JOT, PAL, AT, OX. OK, but then seeing all those oiled up naked wedges lined up so neatly I figured I had to do something out of the ordinary to gussy them up, so I ended up sprinkling them with garam masala powder right before popping them in a 400 degree oven. Within half an hour they were crispy and brown on the outside, and still fleshy on the inside-- I did turn them once about 20 minutes in. But I began to suspect I had been too conservative on the curry when no notes of cumin, coriander or cinnamon wafted into the next room over Scrabble ground zero. A little salt and they were still perfectly scarfable, but next time I'm going to try warming the garam masala in a pan of olive oil before it ever sees the moony side of a potato. That way the spices can unleash some of their gusto into the oil and then I can brush the oil- spice debris and all- onto the potato slices. And I should be more liberal with the g.m. I suppose. A couple of tablespoons for 2 small potatoes might be about right.

Snow Day

Celebrating being snowed in with buckwheat pancakes, honey and blackberry coulis this morning.

Stomach must be on permanent expansion plan in the past two weeks of Nebraska and T-giving gluttony, because I don't know how I managed to put away a few of these hardy fellers after an impromptu dinner spectacular last night at our fav neighborhood restaurant.

Waiting for the aggressive snow formation scenario to play out and downtown running evening errands, we decided to take one more step toward the inevitable ice-skating date by mange-ing while watching them (once again). What I didn't realize until we walked out of there at 10 p.m.ish was that the skaters had continued to pirouette past our window undeterred by the snow that wasn't snow but an inaugural base-coat of freezing rain! Blech. As much as I wanted to walk off my cranberry brown butter tart with ginger ice cream, neither of us were having it. It, character-building extreme elements, lost to toasty cab ride home.

To recap the meal: J had a house salad which sounds homely but was the most tantalizing heap of lettuces, paper thinly sliced radishes, and clumps of goat cheese hither and thither. For the main course he ate- and I tasted- a great lakes whitefish (which fish and which lake exactly I don't recall) in a spicy ciopinno-like sauce. The fillet was elevated like a object of worship on the beaks of a bunch of steamed mussels. Double yum.

I had the roasted beet salad with watercress and goat cheese. Then, thinking I was keeping it light, I order side of risotto-- the day's variety featured tomatoes and asparagus. The portion that appeared was really more than a reasonable serving and its richness was of the "one stick or two?" variety. Our server recommended a wine pairing with my meal that did compliment the creaminess of both dishes quite well, but was especially destined to be consumed with the beet salad. As my introduction to the Viognier varietal, this makes me interested in exploring others of its sturdy, mellow kind.

Arugula salad with Avocado, Cherry Tomatoes and Sunflower Seeds

I've avoided arugula since an asparagus-arugula wrap made by the only vegetarian restaurant in Providence, RI made me sick six years ago. Lately I've decided that if I call it rocket, arugula and I can wipe the slate clean. Rocket, it turns out, is splendid. At least these peppery, baby leaves of it I bought in a plastic clamshell the other day.

This salad balances the assertiveness of the arugula with the toasty crunch of the sunflower seeds, the creaminess of the avocado and the acid of the tomatoes. I also made a vinaigrette for this that was comprised of red wine vinegar, olive oil, cracked pepper, and small amounts of garlic, honey and Dijon mustard. I think the proportions of oil and vinegar was 2 tblspns vinegar to 1/4 c. oil. I never used to tip the vinaigrette so far in the oil's favor until I read an article in the NY Times about it being the key to the perfect dressing- that and tossing to ensure all is well coated without a pool of extra dressing forming on the bottom of the bowl. I've taken both such tidbits to heart and can attest to the effectiveness of both.

Post T-day dinner party

Fresh off my victorious turkey day cookathon, I spent nearly all of Saturday cooking up the too much produce I bought earlier in the week, uncertain just how much food a feasting 12 individuals could reasonably consume.

I had 2 pounds of brussels sprouts I never even got to. So into the oven they went for a good roasting yesterday. Also, a pound of baby bella mushrooms left over from the green bean casserole making. And some leftover roasted butternut squash in the fridge. And the trimmings of all the veggies I prepared two days ago went into a pot to make several quarts of veggie stock for this or some other day.

Finally, a night to get together with M & L, who we've been trying to make plans to go out with for two months now, but one or more of us is always working, having a performance or is out of town. Now here they were coming over and I decided all of this added up to risotto, certainly one dedicated to mushrooms, but M hates mushrooms, so a second risotto of butternut squash and sage. Again, time from meal completion to company's arrival to plate was minimal and did not permit photo taking, but my mental postcard moment will be the deglazing of my pan of mushrooms that had cooked down in a bit of butter and shallots. Once that white wine went it I felt like a gymnast who had just stuck the landing. Like all good maneuvers, this one had no witnesses!

T-Day

As we enter our thirties, J and I are making gradual progress in finally wresting control of a holiday or two from our mothers. Part of this year's negotiations that vaulted me to several courses of Thanksgiving- a great leap forward from the Mother's Day brunch slot I've tenaciously held on to for three years and running now- is that the feasting would occur at my parents' house with M handling all cookery of beasts, cranberries, stuffing and yams; grandma doing her ravioli and meatballs; and other guests encouraged to bring desserts.

The way I figured it, this still left me:

-antipasti of marinated artichoke hearts, crusty bread, Sicilian olives, tomatoes, and chickpea bruschetta
-winter squash and apple bisque (a sneaky vegan version at that!)
-green bean casserole (from scratch)
-sauteed rapini with garlic
-roasted root vegetables (carrots, turnips, parsnips) with garlic, fresh thyme and pine nuts
-roasted beets with an orange and pomegranate glaze
-J made a Vesuvius of mashed potatoes with whole milk and loads of butter (which started our saying "one stick or two?")
-lemon ricotta cake with fresh fruit

A day and a half of preparation and pre-cooking made this movable feast go off without a hitch. Somehow all of this food was able to be cooked, finished or reheated in the limited oven space and four-burner real estate available in M's kitchen. Unfortunately I didn't get a shot of the finished smorgasbord because I was still aproned and managing the last of the fires when guests with plates formed a buffet line and dug in. This pleased me to no end though.. I'm beginning to understand the grandmotherly compulsion to love people with food, and feeding two table's full of in-laws, aunts, uncles and cousins was my way of expressing how much treasure everyone who was there that day.

Things calmed down long enough between dinner and dessert for me to snap this picture of the dessert buffet, though you can discern an eager eater already standing by the apple pie. On display we have: apple pie, pumpkin pie, rum cake, lemon ricotta cake and fruit salad, and in the foreground, one of my favorite indulgences of the day, a gooey pecan pie.

Okayu

I first heard of okayu two years ago when I was B's houseguest in Brooklyn and she served me a steaming bowl of it for breakfast. I had never before tasted such a salty, calming porridge and have since made this at least monthly, for breakfast, lunch or dinner, whenever I crave something comforting but also fresh and light. It’s a great way to use up leftover rice. In its most Bauhaus form, this porridge is little more than rice reheated with a warm dashi broth. Dashi, as I’ve learned it from S, is made by boiling kombu and bonito flakes and then straining the parts out, but I know I’ve encountered vegetarian renditions as well.

I'm only slightly embarassed to admit here that lately I’ve turned okayu into my version of fast food by using a packet of Kikkoman Wakame soup as the brothing agent. I know, it’s full of salt and msg, but man is it good. Give me a break, look at how healthy the rest of it is. Anyhow, from this base you can add at will. Pictured here are all of my favorite toppings: hard-boiled egg, black sesame seeds, umeboshi (pickled plums), scallions, and pickled burdock root.

Nebraska, possibilities...endless

Indeed. Not only was our weekend in the Plains a good relax among friends, it offered a gamut of tasty treats beyond any assumption I may have harbored about this red (meat) state.




Saturday afternoon we explored the Old Market section of town and wandered in to the intimate azure of Ahmad's. When in Omaha, have Persian food of course. I had never had poloe [sic], a savory stew spooned over saffron rice. I need to find a proper recipe online. An initial glance is just giving me "rice, butter, salt and pepper" and this does not even begin to tell the story of the layers of spices that were going on my plate on this day. There was lemon, garlic and a bit of spice for starters. The dressing on the salad was a toasty tahini-informed delight and the slices of banana ringing the side of the plate are offered to balance the palate, or so I was informed. Our server was helpful in giving us some insight into the menu, which was really only slightly different from the Middle Eastern cuisines we’ve eaten our way through in the past, but she tolled a tone of caution when I inquired about “doog.” This was a beverage I had never heard of before. “It’s a sour, yogurty drink, but not sweet like a lassi. People come in here and order it thinking they’re being all adventurous, but then they don’t like it and the owner gets pissed because it’s kind of a pain in the ass to make it.” I took this as the double doog dare and ordered one. As if on cue, the owner emerged from the back to holler something to his wife who was sitting across the restaurant folding napkins and wouldn’t you know he was wielding a three-foot long spear on which he was molding some sort of meat. But yelling and wielding a spear… did give me pause about the doog.

So when the innocuous-looking icy beverage arrived, I sipped with only slight trepidation. And behold- it was a watery version of kefir. A nice slightly sour, slightly astringent compliment to the creaminess and warmth of the poloe. I need to remember that it takes more to give me the gastronomical willies than soured yogurt.

Hmm- diversion: a list of foods that HAVE given me the gastro willies. The smell of my grandma A’s duck’s blood soup boiling on the stove; the fermented soybean stuff that S once pulled out of her roommate’s fridge and said “I’m Japanese and even I can’t stand the smell of it.”; menudo; in fact, much of the cringe-worthy are animal in origin, except for the fermented soy gunk.

After eating at Ahmad’s we poked around some used bookstores and then hit the road for Lincoln. A short distance west of Omaha, a regatta of hot air balloons arced over the highway which was pretty breathtaking. Arriving in Lincoln, we had time enough to shower and grab a cup of coffee at The Mill, or Mills, or the coffee shop that came with the endorsement of writers and grad students. Sugar and caf enough to wire me for my reading, which I think went well and was such a joy to give in what I think was the first Philip Johnson building I’ve ever set foot in.

After the reading, the organizers led us to Yia-yia’s, a pizza-serving public house with a bewildering beer selection. J and I decided to drink local, at least for starters, which in Lincoln means Fort Collins, CO.





Enter 90 Shilling Ale. I’m typically an IPA kind of gal, but this balanced ale gave me a lesson in all the other flavors that can balance out a hoppy brew if given the opportunity.







J followed up with a Levity ale, from the same brewer as the Shilling, while I pulled my usual Rachel Ray and left my next selection up to the fancy of the Yia-yia proprietor. After assessing my likes and dislikes- and that I didn’t want to spend 20 bucks for a pint- she plucked down a medicinal looking bottle of an English persuasion. T'was St. Peter's IPA. Reporting back to the table to the approving nods of the beer aficionados, I confessed that I was under the guidance of the woman at the bar. She, they divulged, has an oracle-like sense for matching people with beer, made possible, in no small part, by her encyclopedic knowledge of ales the world over. Ironically- and perhaps this is nothing more than a grad student yarn- this woman who is the buyer for this, a comprehensive beer establishment, has no personal inclination to drink beer. Is this a form of objectivity? I wonder.

--

Sunday morning- after a bracing jog that criss-crossed the University of NE campus and most of downtown Lincoln, we walked over to the Green Gateau at the recommendation of a professor friend. Even if it weren’t nestled on a block of strip clubs and auto repair shops, this little French country-inn themed spot would be a delightful gem. We were seated in reverent wooden booths, cozily tucked in the back of this home-like eatery. As it turned out, I was flanked by a George Bernard Shaw quote painted on the wall: “Everything ends this way in France— everything. Weddings, christenings, duels, funerals, swindlings, diplomatic affairs—everything is a pretext for a good dinner. There is no love sincerer than the love of food.”





For the love of food, J enjoyed eggs benedict over crab cakes and asparagus with an herbed potato pancake. Fresh fruit and multigrain pancakes for me.




Later in the day we ended up back in Ahmad’s neighborhood for a nosh before our flight and popped into a bright and spacious coffeehouse-looking place called Delice. Next time I’m in Omaha I’m coming back to this place when I’m not still full from a hearty breakfast because their homemade soups, quiches and sandwiches looked and smelled like meals that belied any other take away counter I’ve bellied up to in recent memory. I had a bite of J’s soup, a jazzy Hungarian mushroom number all aglow with fresh dill. This is one I intend to try to replicate at home. The savory offerings at Delice are, I think, intended to play second fiddle to the bakery, which someone has seriously devoted themselves to. While I sat drinking coffee and eavesdropping on the indie-rock kids at the table behind us pining about a possible move to Chicago, J snuck off and returned, to my surprise, with an irresistible pumpkin ginger tart. The crust was pure crumbly, buttery goodness, and the interior was pumpkin’s best impression of velvet I’ve ever tasted. The main ginger component was in the crumble topping where bits of candied ginger mingled with the butter baubles indigenous to the crumb pie lot. I have a notion to replicate this one at home as well, perhaps bumping up the pumpkin interior with a bit of soy.

To Nebraska!

Going to Omaha for the weekend, with a brief foray to Lincoln. I was really looking forward to going to Maggie's Vegetarian Vittles as a food destination (even though semantically "vittles" has the curb-appeal of "slurry"). Putting my word fussiness aside and checking out the menu, I can tell this place is big on mouth appeal. But what kind of establishment in what kind of city keeps zero hours on the weekend? Bullocks. Maybe I’ll see what the deli at Open Harvest is dishing up instead.

While I' m kvetching.. I never get anything at a S'bucks that I don't see deriving from actual ingredients I can recognize before my very eyes.. a friend in the know once scared the bejesus out of me with stories about what goes into the flavor sprays and premade syrupy mixes. So I had all last night as I lay twitching in bed at 1 a.m. to reflect on the "chai" I was surprised to see distilled to some liquid essence and dispensed from a plunger that I nevertheless consumed. Exactly how many parts per million caffiene was that Monsanto cocktail?

Chocolate Always Wins

Yesterday was the opening day for the ice rink at Millennium Park. Reminded that one of my favorite Chicago winter pleasures is eating at the Park Grill with its vantage point of the skaters- a veritable kaleidoscope right outside its window- we headed over there on this blustery evening. I’ve never had a bad meal at the PG. Since we’ve been in the loop, it’s our old standby. Last night I had a red pepper soup and roasted fillet of salmon with a pomegranate sauce and pomegranate seeds on top of a purée of spiced butternut squash brightened up with a little crunch of fresh chervil sprinkled around the sides. The colors, the textures, the mingling flavors were mmm. J had a skin-on roasted salmon with some kind of lobster-stuffed mushrooms that I never got a taste of because it went too quickly! I was trying to keep it light because at the PG I always save room for dessert. Pastry artiste Christine McCabe makes it hard to choose just one indulgence. We split the gianduia which was creamy, nutty and berryful with an unflappable flourless chocolate foundation. The dessert offerings, like the rest of the menu, reflect the season—we were tempted to go for a squash confection, but in this house chocolate always wins in a toss-up. In the past we’ve swooned over the crème brulee, an apple-rhubarb crumble, and a nearly effervescent slab of carrot cake. It’s a treat to skate it off first and then pop in just for coffee and a sweet.

Back to the main fare.. the menu is not very pretentious since they’re appealing to tourists and suburbanites as well as the theater crowd. It looks like a lot of people use it as a burger and fries kind of joint, but fishetarian foodies-in-training like us always find interesting options. The salads are amazing, especially one they’re currently doing with roasted beets and watercress. The pumpkin soup is velvety with a hint of cream and maple. And the seared scallop appetizer—lekker! Food this good deserves to be as far away from a TV as possible. Unfortunately, there are a few at the bar which are within eyeshot of most of the rest of the place. It’s my main beef with nearly all restaurants… if I wanted to watch TV I’d stay home. Dining is a meditation for the senses, not something to do in the glow and din of college football.

Interesting article in the Times today about the growing interest people are having in knowing where their food comes from and that it isn't being adulterated by some needless industrial process. I have to admit, it hadn't occured to me until last month that a pre-washed, pre-packaged bag of spinach was just as processed as a hamburger.

Peanut Butter Cookies

Months ago I signed up to bake for the monthly observance of co-workers' birthdays. Since the person who animated this tradition left the company the practice has all but died. One administrative assistant occasionally sends a desperate mass email looking for volunteer bakers, lately making the appeal, "you don't really have to bake!" And truly, if anything is contributed at all, it's a hydrogenated bakery cupcake or two, looking like the made-for-TV version of a true and lovingly baked good.

Strategic baking was clearly called for. What would inspire a return to this one humanizing gesture that makes cubeland that much more bearable? Nothing too fancy, or avant. This was not the time for rosewater or candied ginger. No, best to call on the comfort of an old friend. Peanut butter cookies it is-- may these fork tracks be the resting place of dreams.

I'm not sure I've ever made old-fashioned PB cookies from scratch. This one I did by the book. Or, more appropriately, by the website. I scarcely changed a thing, only a slight reduction of the white sugar. I'm pleased to follow the letter in this case, because I would not have intuited the need for extra rounds of refrigeration to ensure chewiness.

1 1/4 c. flour
1/2 c. packed light brown sugar
>1/2 c. sugar
1/2 c. butter
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/8 tsp. salt
1/2 c. peanut butter
1 egg

Cream butter and peanut butter together in mixer. Add sugars. Once sugars are incorporated add egg. In a separate bowl sift together salt, baking soda and flour. Add this mixture gradually to the butter mixture. Mix until a sturdy dough forms. Remove dough and double wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 min. Form chilled dough into balls and flatten with fork. Refrigerate the pressed out cookies again for 15 minutes before baking in a 300 degree oven for 18 minutes.

Makes 2 dozen.

**

They came out OK.. I achieved the chewy texture I was looking for, but I don't think they're peanuty enough. I would bump the peanut butter up the 3/4 and reduce the white sugar to 1/4 cup or none at all.

Next up, cranberries

After the pho lunch, I walked to the Art Institute for one of the final events of this year's Humanities Festival, a performance of Shostakovich's String Quartet No. 8 and Messiaen's Quartet for the End of Time. The Shostakovich piece had been arranged for a brass ensemble instead of strings, which initially put me off, but the trumpets, French horn and trombone were able to render the mournful piece with delicacy and sensitivity. The Messiaen piece, which I've admired for years but seldom seen performed, proved to be an exquisite fifty minutes that gave me goosebumps and received a standing ovation from the auditorium.

Walking home through Grant Park in a chill dusk I looked forward to something warm. And sweet. My recent Traditional Chinese Medicine workup has advised me to avoid sugar, and while my sweet tooth is a modest one by American standards, it is something that needs to quelled in some manner or another on a nightly basis. I had been looking forward all week to doing something with the fresh cranberries I bought earlier in the week and I figured a low-sugar fruit crumble with the added challenge of remaining wheat and gluten free would offer an interesting experiment.

I peeled and sliced into 1/4 inch pieces 4 Gala apples and 2 pears (I'm not sure of the variety.. they were deep red). Into a bowl I tossed the fruit with a 1/2 tablespoon of cornstarch, about a 1/8 cup of a sugar and cinnamon mixture I had in a baggie on hand from a previous concoction. In another bowl I assembled the crumble topping: about a cup of chopped pecans; about a cup and a half of Enjoy Life cinnamon crunch granola which is a low-sugar, gluten free (and honestly not very flavorful) granola consisting of brown rice flakes and rice bran; a scant tablespoon of sugar; about half a cup of oat flour; and about 3 tablespoons of ghee. Stirring all of this together, the ghee did the job of binding agent, moistening the whole dry melange into a harmonious mass. I think I could have used oil instead and kept it totally dairy-free, but I'm still experimenting with ghee and wanted to bake with it and see how much butter flavor it would impart.

I spread the fruit mixture into a glass baking pan sprayed with canola oil spray and then spooned the crumble topping over it. Into a 325 degree oven this went for 45 minutes, or until I saw the fruit bubbling, the cranberries broken open and the pecans in the topping nicely browned. We each ate a bowl of this hot out of the oven with a scoop of vanilla So Delicious soy ice cream on top of it. It satisfied my sweet tooth and delivered both crisp and velvety textures and a rich flavor overall, in spite of the gentler caloric and fat profile.

What the Pho?

Yesterday I set out to make a vegetable broth from scratch for the first time. This is more or less the same recipe that Andrew Weil gives in The Healthy Kitchen. I started by sauteing 4 small onions (chopped), 2 leeks, 6 carrots, 3 stalks of celery and a small bunch of parsley in a tablespoon of olive oil. To that I added 3 bay leaves, 2 teaspoons of dried marjoram and 1/2 teaspoon thyme and filled the black soup pot with water. This simmered for over an hour and then I strained it before I had to run to catch a reading by a Ukrainian fiction writer that a friend of mine was hosting.

He read an interesting story about a man who buys something he can't identify at a flea market, but is thrilled nonetheless with netting something for the bargain price of $1.90. It was shaped like a loaf of bread and wrapped in an old Russian newspaper. Through a process of deductive reasoning, he determines it to be Lenin's brain. The man, who is not Russian and never knew much about the dictator, slowly transforms into a middle age reincarnation of Lenin, his psyche filling with the dictator's memories cinematically as the brain- wholly preserved all these years- begins a process of decomposition. The crowd was subdued in spite of the deadpan hilarity of the writing. I wish I were better at being the person in the room with the infectious laugh.

When I got home I put the broth in the fridge for the night without much of an idea about what kind of soup it would become.

This morning I woke up with a notion that the soup would become a spinach and black-eyed pea number. So I got an onion going in some olive oil in the pot and a clove of garlic, then two, then five. It would be garlic-spinach-black-eyed-pea I decided. The spinach, the remnants of a bag of frozen Trader Joe organic that I've been craving since the big spinach "scare" a few weeks ago, danced on the surface in bright green ribbons. As I waited for the flavors to cook together, I started peeking online to see what other spinach and black-eyed pea soups did, and I nearly got swayed to add a can of diced tomatoes since that appeared by my survey to be du jour. Going one better, I thought to add some of spicy chipotle salsa to give it a kick, but I wavered at covering up the flavor of the broth I had worked so hard for. J seconded this after a taste test, remarking that the mildness of the broth reminded him of pho. "What do we need for that?" he wondered out loud.

Chili! I delved into an unopened bag of mystery frozen chilies I had gotten Patel grocery on Devon Ave. a few weeks ago. Tiny little nuggets of fire, the exact species of which went undocumented on the packaging. I threw a dozen of them in there for starters. Then it was off to the local Jewel- whose selection isn't great, but I knew they would at least have some organic broccoli and rice noodles to round out my burgeoning pho-like substance.

I also recalled from the freezer a tofu experiment from earlier in the week.. pre-pressed nuggets frozen in a baggie that I thawed in a pot of boiling water. This is the key to tofu I've been missing all these years. When I finally unzipped the baggie, the warm nuggets of tofu had a firm texture I'd often eaten in restaurants, but had never been able to replicate at home. I reheated a baggie of extra shitakes I had frozen earlier in the week too. I chopped a few scallions, put out a bowl of chili paste, a.k.a. "rooster sauce." Quickly steaming the broccoli florets and giving the nest of dried rice threads a quick boil for about 10 minutes, we had the build-a-pho set-up pictured above.

In the Beginning...

With the poetry blog in hibernation, I"m starting this place to acknowledge the degree to which cooking has taken over my creative energies n the past few months. Having long been a by-the-book cook, requiring the security of exact measurement and published recipe, it's astonishing to find myself venturing off from the printed instruction and experimenting (with so far yummy results!). Something recently clicked when I realized that ingredients are media of form, texture and color just as the art I've spent years in conversation with. That language too possesses a physical and sensual dimension that the analytic nature of postmodern poetry seems too distant from, and that these qualities build a process of composition partially by accident, partially in reference to well-known tropes, mingles the creative act in the kitchen with the creative act on the page to me. As I've joked to people who've asked me how my writing's going lately- it's not, but I'm cooking, and more people seem to "get" my cooking. I wish more of us could undo our training as readers to "get" contemporary poetry, as process of getting that I would argue is in no way dissimilar to eating a meal.

So off the page it is. The first glimmer of this step came a few weeks ago when I thought to use up some whole grain couscous leftover in the fridge by using it to make a rice pudding. Having never made a rice pudding before, I scooted around online to see what the basic parameters of rice pudding are.. and was delighted to discover that it is a dish that nearly every culture around the world claims and makes its own: with coconut milk and mango in Thailand; with aborio rice and candied citron in Italy; with pistachios and rosewater in the Middle East; with cardamom in India; and arroz con leche throughout Latin America. My North African version featured dates, cinnamon, honey and almonds. It was also made with skim milk since I cook a low-fat bias.

Constraints are a useful part of an artistic process, I've found.. continuing to put one in a place that forces choices and innovation. In the gasto realm, J and I start out as vegetarians who make an exception for fish. Add to that the desire to eat low-fat, organic and seasonally. In the last few weeks, I've been cooking with an eye toward omitting wheat, gluten and dairy as well, at the recommendation of my acupuncurist. So what to eat? Plenty! And I've got a weekend of catching up to do.