Please change my address to www.inpraiseofleftovers.com!

I woke up this morning and it felt like Christmas, except way better.  My friend Priya has been working really hard to create me a beautiful website/blog, and today is the launch day!  I can't wait for you to see it and to continue this kitchen journey with you.  Since I sort of accidentally started this blog just a month ago, something has happened to me.  I think it's a good thing, but my husband Yancey says he's never seen me like this.  Barring an emergency or freak illness, you can expect to find me cooking and talking about food for a long time to come.

So please, please follow me to my new blog.  If you've subscribed to this one, you won't be getting anything anymore. But you can subscribe to the new one!  And everything that's here will appear there.  

Leave comments there for me if you run into any glitches, and Priya, my Incredible Web Genius, will fix them.  Priya is available for other such endeavors, by the way.  Let me know if you'd like me to put you in touch with her.  She is smart, quick, responsive, and very patient with opinionated technophobes like me.  THANK YOU, PRIYA!

See you at www.inpraiseofleftovers.com!

Scones for Candace

After Wyatt went to bed last night, I found this sticker he had made.  He put it right next to the computer.  He told Loretta, "Mom's taking pictures for her new business."

Started thinking about scones this morning for two reasons.  1) I have some créme fraiche in the fridge, as you know by now.  2) The wonders of Facebook have put me back in touch with my old high school friend, Heidi.  Her status the other morning was about baking muffins, and that got me thinking about her mom Candace.  More specifically, about Candace's apricot ginger scones.  Candace was a great cook (and much more precise than me).  I hope she's still cooking.

This is a basic scone recipe from Barefoot Contessa, and I’ve substituted créme fraiche for cream and added lemon zest, dried apricots and candied ginger.  All you need for this is a bowl and your fingertips.  I always bake my scones in a round and cut them into wedges afterward. Easier and more tender results.  You don’t end up with those dried-out edges that  you see in so many bakeries.

By the way, Jordan’s mom Barb, a Californian, sent up a beautiful bag of lemons.  Beware.  It is now officially lemon month. Stock up.

Apricot Ginger Scones
2 c. flour
1 Tb. baking powder
1 Tb. sugar
1 ts. salt
3 Tb. diced candied ginger
1/4 c. diced dried apricots
2 Tb. finely grated lemon zest
7 Tb. cold butter
2 eggs, whisked
1/2 c. cold créme fraiche or heavy cream
bakers’ sugar crystals or sugar for the top

Preheat oven to 400.  Combine dry ingredients in a bowl.  Work in butter with your fingertips until mixture is pebbly. Add ginger, apricots, and lemon zest.  Add eggs and créme fraiche and mix until just holding together.  Pat into a round about 3/4″ high and 6″ diameter.  Cut into 8 wedges and scatter sugar crystals or sugar over the top.  Bake until slightly golden, about 20 minutes.  Let cool a bit before pulling out wedges.  These were delicious with my leftover lemon curd…maybe you have some sitting around!

Créme Fraiche

You will want this little recipe in a minute when I post photos of the créme fraiche scones I made this morning.  Créme fraiche is like the French version of sour cream, and I often substitute sour cream when it's called for because there's no way I'm going to pay $6.00 for the tiny tubs they sell at QFC or PCC.

I had some heavy cream that I didn't want to go bad, so made it into créme fraiche.  Seriously, all you do is let it sit on the counter, and you can tell your kids it's a science experiment.  After it's refrigerated, it turns all lovely and thick and tangy.  I always have buttermilk around because I am a pancake freak, but I've seen créme fraiche made with yogurt or sour cream.  This recipe is the one that's turned out like I want it to, though.

I just had an avacado and chicken quesadilla, and plopped a bit of this next to it. Please forget what I said the other day about calories.  

Chopped Salad 2.0

This time, no cucumber, lemon, dill, or pita.  Shredded rotisserie chicken (thank you, sweet Mary), cilantro, lime, spinach, and red pepper flakes.  The kids had Top Ramen.  Notice I didn't take a photo of that.

P.S.  I was getting a little sheepish about my frequent postings, so I asked Priya and my Mom if it was overkill.  They're the worst people to ask because they love and like me a lot. That's probably why I asked them.  My Mom, in touch with her inner marketing guru, said, "Right now, you're trying to build your fan base, so keep it coming."  Priya reads everything the second it's posted, so she's not saturated.  Maybe she'll change her mind after today.

Quick Mango Treat

At the Lynnwood Trader Joe's yesterday (Yancey's new stomping grounds) and spotted this "nonfat plain pleasantly tart" frozen yogurt.  For $2.99, I had to try it.  It's GOOD!  A pleasing substitute for that (really expensive) frozen yogurt that's popping up everywhere at Red Mango or Pink Sillyhead or whatever all those places are called.  I try not to have actual ice cream around too often because it is my undoing.  This frozen yogurt gives me a little "the-kids-are-in-bed-I-feel-like-celebrating-and-watching-American-Idol" treat without breaking the calorie bank.  Oh yes.  I do think about calories.  There's a post on that coming up which might be right up your alley or you might decide I'm not your kind of gal.  Either way, stay tuned.

I also got a bag of frozen mango chunks at TJ's.  I like to have them around for smoothies.  This time, seeing the mangos and frozen yogurt so cozy together in my cart, I thought of a recipe from Nigella Lawson's Nigella Express, which I have borrowed from the library twice.  This book provoked several "I can do that!" responses, which is what inspires me where cooking is concerned.  Didn't I just say in a recent posting that I'm not into celebrity chefs?  I guess you'd better take much of what I say with a large grain of salt.

Since the book is back in Seattle Public Library's stacks, I can't give her recipe, but it was a kind of "mangos foster" with rum, butter, and brown sugar.  I sauteed frozen mango cubes (Nigella admits to using bagged cubed mangos--we're in good company), in butter and brown sugar and added a squeeze of lime juice at the end.

I poured the warm mangos over "pleasantly tart" frozen yogurt and topped mine with some lime zest.  You could also put toasted coconut or chopped macadamias or bits of crystallized ginger or...agh!  I need to go make another bowl of this.

Do I need to include a recipe for this?  Would that insult you or comfort you?  I'll include one just in case.  Oh--thanks, Nigella.  I guess you're not just another pretty face.  (And Loretta approves, in case you need more endorsements.)

Quick Mango Treat

(serves 4)

2 cups cubed frozen or fresh mangoes

2 Tb. butter

1/4  c. brown sugar

juice of one lime and 2 ts. lime zest

Melt butter in a skillet.  Add mangoes and brown sugar and cook on medium heat until sugar dissolves and mangoes warm and thaw (about 4 minutes).  Finish with lime juice and serve over ice cream or frozen yogurt.  Feel slightly guilty that you've resented Nigella Lawson for being both beautiful and smart.

Love-Where-You-Are Chopped Salad

I am so spoiled.  Privileged.  Lucky.  Whatever you call it, I am not in an office today, not standing in line to buy an overpriced sandwich from Starbucks, not sitting through dull meetings wishing I was in my kitchen.  I am in my kitchen/dining room/home office (our house is 750 sq. ft.), and the glorious prospect of lunch hovers.  

If you're in cubicleland, I've been there, and there are some good things about it.  For one, you can pretend to be working and read my blog instead.  For another, you can have camaraderie that's harder to come by when you're working alone or home with kids.  Look how lonely my life has become, for instance--taking photos of food,  finding 101 uses for feta cheese when I could be stopping global warming or raising money for hunger relief.  But this little salad makes up for the loss of my cubicle and it might even save the world.  I'm sorry if you're reading this over remnants of a Starbucks sandwich and you hate me right now.  You have water cooler talk and I don't.

One of my favorite cookbooks is Jamie's Dinners, and I started making chopped salad regularly after reading it.  I'm not big on the whole celebrity chef thing normally, but come on. It's Jamie Oliver.  He's so cute with that lisp and the way he bounces around the kitchen pretending like being Mr. Mom is a regular thing for him.  (I'm sure he and his wife have 20 nannies.)  Even Yancey has a crush on him.  Jamie says that chopped salad is a gift to your guests (or family or yourself) because you've done oodles of chopping and each forkful packs such varied veggie goodness.  Today, I happened to have some washed, chopped romaine in the fridge, so the work was a little less. (It's prepped only because I was trying to save it from the brink.  Don't think too highly of me.)

I'm too lazy to look up Jamie's recipe right now, but he includes radicchio and a recipe for vinaigrette.  I love radicchio, but it's difficult to find good fresh stuff without going down to Pike Place, another farmers market (Columbia City opens April 30!) or a posh grocery store. And even if said posh grocery store has it, there goes your food budget for the week.  In the summer, I also use tomatoes and we eat it for dinner with a loaf of bread.

So here's the In Praise of Leftovers version.  Today's version, at least.  Still got that pita sitting around, that Bulgarian feta, and some veggies that need rescuing.  I told you--I am serious about this leftovers thing.  I hope I've given you something to talk about at the water cooler tomorrow and that we're still friends even though you're stuck with your shrink-wrapped sandwich.  

Love-Where-You-Are Chopped Salad

(serves 4)

1 large head romaine, washed and coarsely chopped

1 yellow pepper

1 red pepper

1/4 red onion

1/2 English cucumber 

two big handfuls fresh herbs (dill, basil, mint, chives.  I used just dill today)

1/4 c. crumbled feta cheese

handful Kalamata olives

2 or 3 Tb. olive oil

juice from one lemon

salt and pepper to taste

2 griddled pita breads, torn into pieces (brush with olive oil, throw in a hot skillet OR brush with olive oil and quickly broil, getting just one side crusty)

Cut everything into large diced pieces and mix in a bowl (except feta, olive oil, salt, pepper, and pita).  In two batches, dump the salad onto a cutting board and chop into bite-size pieces.  Not teeny-tiny, but enough that things start to mush together just a little bit.  Put back into the bowl, throw the feta in, and juice the lemon and pour the olive oil over.  Season with salt and pepper, break the pita in, and toss gently with your hands.  Wherever you are, cubicle or small sunlit kitchen, don't answer the phone or check your email for a few minutes.

Welcome-Home Pasta

The good news is this pasta was delicious.  The bad news is the whole pan of oven-dried tomatoes has been demolished already.  There go all my meal plans for the week.  And my serving had more tomatoes on it than Yancey's-- I've been watching the kids all week, so I think that's a fair trade.

When Yancey comes home after four days at fire school (we're in week 10 of 12 weeks), we usually eat a late welcome-home dinner.  He's been eating chicken-fried cubed steak and iceberg lettuce shreds all week and is particularly appreciative of me on Thursday nights.  For a family with young children, a late dinner is anytime after 6:00, by the way.   I console myself with the fact that eating earlier is supposed to be better for your health.  

After I got home from my meeting and once the kids started watching Ruff Ruffman, I took stock of anything that might be worthy of a welcome-home dinner.  This is the reason pasta was invented.  In addition to the much-touted tomatoes, I had spaghetti, MORE chevre! (if you buy something at Costco, you'd better be reading my blog for ideas), half a loaf of stale Macrina onion rye and some fresh herbs from my "garden" (read:  struggling plants that prove the existence of a higher power.)  

I quite delight in stale bread, actually.  The better to fry with.  Slice it up, throw it in a hot skillet with olive oil.  There's nothing better.  You can eat the slices alone, as bruschetta, or cube them as I did here to top the pasta with.  I often begin a fritatta this way as well--frying stale cubes of bread in a skillet, pouring the eggs over the top, dotting the whole thing with cheese and herbs, and watching it puff up.  A kind of stovetop savory bread pudding.  Remind me to tell you more about that later.

Anyway, we had a wonderful reunion dinner, exchanging details about the fires Yancey put out during the week and how many people posted comments on my blog.  Sadly, the numbers are still quite low, but I put a brave face on.  

Lest you think the dinner was executed without chaos, take comfort from this photo of my cutting board. Now that Yancey's home, he can clean up.

Welcome-Home Pasta

1 lb. spaghetti

1 log chevre, crumbled (about 6 ounces, I think?)

two big handfuls chopped fresh herbs (I used chives, dill, and oregano)

5 or 6 large slices of fried artisan bread--fry in a couple glugs of olive oil on medium high, then cube it

1 c. oven-dried tomatoes 

olive oil (even better, use the olive oil that the tomatoes roasted in if you can.  I forgot to tell you to reserve it)

salt and pepper to taste

Finely grated parmesan

Cook spaghetti in a large pot of boiling salted water.  Drain it when it's done.  Toss hot pasta with chevre, most of the herbs, tomatoes, salt, pepper, enough olive oil to moisten it to your liking.   Serve in pasta bowls and top with fried bread, parmesan, and another sprinkle of herbs and a drizzle of olive oil.  Whether you're alone or have Ruff Ruffman blaring in your ear, be thankful you made it through another week.

P.S.  Again, this is a recipe in the barest sense of the word.  If you haven't left your oven on for hours for the tomatoes like I have, you could roast some eggplant cubes in olive oil and garlic instead (about 45 minutes) or saute some greens (kale, chard, spinach) or use some good olive-oil packed sundried tomatoes.

Dara's Oven-Dried Tomatoes

It's 5:00 in the Rainier Valley.  By 6:00 I have to make an appetizer, get the kids' shoes on (figure 45 minutes for that), drop them off on Capitol Hill, and be at a meeting in Issaquah (effectively across the continent at this point).  Thank God I have leftover olive tapenade from Easter.  I'll just pretty it up a little, find that scarred knob of goat cheese in the back of my fridge, and scrounge for some crackers.  Okay--5:10.  That's done.

EXCEPT that two-year-old Loretta just pulled the bowl of tapenade off the counter, and I now have glass shard tapenade.  I love my friends at the Community Consulting Partnership (CCP) meeting I'm going to, so I can't bring it. Quick--what else?  I have a cantaloupe sitting on the counter.  I cut it up, toss it with some mint, simple syrup, lime juice, and gray sea salt.  It would have been a blog-worthy success story except the cantaloupe is not only unripe--it actually tastes strangely metallic.  Wyatt is still in the living room making a giant art project involving small scraps of paper, and hasn't even gotten his socks on yet.  I yell at him.  And I take the crappy cantaloupe anyway.

One of the side effects of a food-focused life is that people generally expect you to bring edible things to potlucks.  I was flagrantly promoting my food blog to my CCP friends, and Steve said, "What did you bring tonight?"  I mumbled something about being in a hurry and hoped he hadn't put any of my cantaloupe on his plate.

Thankfully, I am not the only one in CCP that is food-focused, and we always share a wonderful meal together as part of our meeting.  The highlight of this month's meal for me was Dara's oven-roasted tomatoes.  Maybe no one noticed how many I ate.  I was downright selfish about it.  I had just had a traumatic hour, after all.

Dara roasted her tomatoes at 150 degrees overnight (8ish hours, I'm assuming?) in the oven, and they were better than candy.  Chewy, oily, a tiny bit firm, speckled with bits of garlic and herbs.  She served them with crackers and chevre, and I couldn't get them out of my mind.  I've made them before, but never with canned tomatoes.  I could wax poetic about canned tomatoes all day, but I'll save that for another posting.  I haven't bought fresh tomatoes in months because they are so anemic this time of year. 

There are so many things you can do with these.  You'll see a pasta recipe here pretty soon.  If they didn't take so long, I'd have them around all the time.  And they bear no relation to those pieces of bark labeled "sun-dried tomatoes" in the store, don't worry.  I roasted mine at 200 degrees for six hours, and they turned out softer than Dara's.  You can also make more of a tomato confit if you do 300 degrees for 2 or 3 hours.  Whichever way you do it, you will want to down the whole tray right there.  And you won't feel like yelling at your kids anymore.

Dara's Oven-Dried Tomatoes

2 28-oz. cans peeled whole roma tomatoes

3/4 c. extra virgin olive oil

handful chopped fresh herbs (I used rosemary and thyme, which, despite my brown thumb, are from my yard)

2 cloves minced garlic (didn't use garlic in mine this time)

couple big pinches of coarse salt

1 ts. sugar

Drain tomatoes and reserve juice for something else.  Halve the tomatoes and spread out on a baking sheet.  Pour olive oil and sprinkle herbs, garlic, salt, and sugar over them.

Bake at 200 degrees for six hours.  I obsessively check them just because I can't wait to sink my teeth in, but they don't need any monitoring.  As I mentioned, Dara just went to bed.

When they're done, you an keep them in the refrigerator for quite awhile.  I love them room temperature, so I just kept mine in a covered bowl because I knew they wouldn't last more than 24 hours.

Dishing at Crossroads

I convinced my new friends Aaron and Margot to let me photograph their lunches at Crossroads Mall in Bellevue today. If you tell people you have a food blog, apparently you can get away with a lot of things.

But let me back up.  Aaron, Margot, and I are all part of a group called Leadership Tomorrow, and we were at Crossroads for conversations around neighborhoods and community-building.  We had just heard Ron Sher (the developer/philosopher of Third Place Books fame) talk about excessive consumption and the need for gathering places that add value and connection to our lives.  He talked about bridge-building social capital (as opposed to bonding social capital where people like each other because they're exactly alike) and how Crossroads Mall is one model of that. Walking around trying to decide which of the (non-chain!) restaurants was most tempting, the lunchtime hum was more like a plaza or piazza than the washed-up old strip mall some passerby might take it for.

My picture-taking launched Aaron, Margot and I into an animated discussion about food.  It's not every day you end up mutually referring to page 19 of the January issue of Saveur after only 5 minutes of conversation.  Aaron has been curing his own meat, and described with passion the prosciutto that was developing  a fine layer of mold in his laundry room. Margot has been training in the Seattle rain to ride her bike from Rome to Tuscany in June.  At the end of her bike ride, she's taking private cooking lessons from an Italian chef.  We talked about recipe-cataloguing methods, favorite places to shop, and the (acclaimed) Spinach and Mint festival that's been going on in my kitchen this week.  Somehow, I think Ron Sher would have been pleased.  At the risk of butchering several metaphors at once, food is the Third Place of conversation topics.  Or something like that.

I managed to work preserved lemons into our conversation (not hard to do) and even grabbed a lemon off Margot's plate to illustrate my point.  Margot said she's never had a stranger just take something off her plate before and that I really must be excited about food.  I promised I'd post Paula Wolfert's preserved lemon recipe if they would read my blog.  In addition to being a lemon-grabber, I am also unabashedly desperate for praise and recognition.  Margot, I hope you get constant sunshine on your culinary bike trip.  Aaron, I hope I get to try your bacon someday.

P.S. Bought this magazine at Crossroad's newsstand today and feel two ways about it-- 1) Can't wait to read it with a glass of wine and make a list of all the restaurants I want to try 2) I know I'll be annoyed at the snootiness.  If this blog is ever snooty, please rub a preserved lemon in my virtual eye.

Paula Wolfert's Seven Day Preserved Lemons

4 ripe lemons

2/3 c. kosher salt

1 c. fresh lemon juice

olive oil

Scrub the lemons and dry well.  Cut each into 8 wedges.  Toss them with salt and place and place in a glass jar with an airtight lid (I get the kind with a latch from Cost Plus.)  Pour in the lemon juice.  Close the jar tightly and let the lemons ripen at room temperature for 7 days, shaking the jar each day to distribute salt and juice.  To store, add olive oil to cover and refrigerate for up to 6 months.

Psst...what does one do with preserved lemons?  Traditionally, just the rind is used and it's usually cut into thin slivers and added to olives, salads (green, grain, bean), salad dressings, pasta, or things like Moroccan chicken.  I often use the whole thing, though, pulp and all.  My mom has put the pulp in Bloody Marys before.  Yum.  If the whole idea of preserved lemons seems esoteric to you, you can substitute lemon zest when people like me call for them.  If the idea just seems mildly esoteric, make a batch.  You won't be sorry.  And you'll feel so smug when you see the little jar of them at Whole Foods for $20.

Tax Day Comforts

All over town for several weeks now, I've seen Taco del Mar's billboards--"Get a free taco on tax day!"  That's generous of them, I guess, but I've got a better idea.  Pour yourself a cup of coffee and read this.

Since Yancey and I were both self-employed last year, tax day means paying the accountant, writing a big old check, and standing in line at the post office to send it certified mail.  This day has the potential to be Depression Central, but I'm learning to view it differently.  When I write out that check and deplete our savings account, I think of all the things my taxes are going for--Wyatt's wonderful public school (I still can't get over the fact that it's free to us), the stoplight down the street that allows children to cross safely, the first responders that will come to my house should I call 911.  It's far too easy to complain on April 15, so I'm learning to be grateful when I sign those papers.  A little snack and a latte help, too. I'm getting to that part.

I went to PFI today again (more on that later) and whenever I'm there, I always pick up a bag of Greek pita.  They keep it in the freezer, and I usually do, too.  I don't know why this particular brand isn't more widely available.  They sell it at the Greek gyros place at Pike Place Market and a few grocery stores, but I can never count on finding it.  You can, of course, use it for actual gyros or falafel sandwiches, and I do that sometimes.  More often, though, I use it as flatbread or pizza crust.  For the kids, I'll put pizza sauce and mozzarella on it.  For me and Yancey....where do I start?

By now, if I were to ask you, "What are two things in Sarah's fridge?" you would probably answer, "Spinach and mint."  I'm sorry--they are not gone yet.  I am serious about this leftovers thing.  The good news is that you can make these little treats with a limitless variety of toppings.  This week just happens to be the Spinach and Mint Festival.

I made this little Tax Day Comfort for myself while Milo and Loretta were slurping Top Ramen behind me.  I can get a lot done with Top Ramen as my helper.  I read recently that someone named Top Ramen as one of the 8 foods that is worst for you.  Don't call CPS on me.

The feta that I used is Bulgarian sheep's milk feta, only $4.95/lb. at PFI.  It's very soft and ultra tangy.  If you use domestic cow's milk feta, it's quite a bit more dry and you can drizzle more olive oil on top if you want.

Other combos I've been known to make for snacks or family dinners:

• Refried beans, cheddar, pickled jalapenos, red onions, cilantro
• Blue cheese, pecans, caramelized onions
• Pesto, spinach, mozzarella, parmesan
• Ajvar (roasted red pepper spread from PFI) or roasted red peppers, pine nuts, fontina
• Marinara, sausage, goat cheese, thyme
• Etc. etc.

I have been getting so much feedback about this blog--some in the form of comments, others in phone calls or emails.  I am tickled that so many of you are enjoying it, cooking from it, or passing it on to your friends.  I just couldn't be happier about that.  Thank you.

Feta Mint Flatbread

Preheat oven to 400.  Brush olive oil onto a round of pita bread.  Make the base with a handful of roughly chopped fresh spinach and a handful of crumbled feta.  Sprinkle some pumpkin seeds (or chopped pecans or walnuts) and a bit of lemon zest over the top.  (I made mine with some diced preserved lemon, but I always have that around.  I'll post a recipe for it someday.)  Drizzle a bit more olive oil over the top and cook for 6-8 minutes, or until crust is a little brown around the edges and feta has melted a bit.  The idea isn't to get this super hot, but just to meld the flavors.  Since the pita is already cooked, you don't need to keep it in as long as you would a real pizza.  When it's done, sprinkle some chopped fresh mint over the top and cut into four wedges.  I also put red pepper flakes on mine, but by now, you could probably just assume that.

Happy Tax Day.  

Blasted Broccoli, Day Two

Fried rice is the lifeboat of the leftover world, carrying everything in your fridge to safety.  I mean it.  It has rescued me many times.

At home working today, but mostly distracted by what to eat for lunch.  I sent a leftover rice bowl to work with Emily, but had a bit of rice and broccoli left over.  Sane people would simply put those into the microwave and call it good.  I am certainly not above that--I'm just kind of incapable of it.  This is often an impediment.  Maybe that's why I'm so excited about this food blog.  It turns my neuroses into something useful.

My mom gave me a cast iron wok for Christmas a couple years ago (my first wok, amazingly), and it catapulted me into Fried Rice Mania.  Throw anything in there!  It comes out transformed!  Magic!  Watch out, world!  I've calmed down a bit now, but am still on the fried rice bandwagon.

Today's version will be the first of many, I predict, but I hope it inspires you to start taking advantage of what I call the Surface Area Quotient.  It's the same factor that makes old-fashioned donuts better than cake donuts--more surface area in which to be covered in glaze and crusted in the oven.  Rice, with all its separateness and little rounded corners, just waits to be nestled against a hot wok.  I love rice all stuck together, too, but fried rice is like its alter-ego, a sometimes better version of itself.  And I ALWAYS have chunks of it in the fridge, getting all dried out.  I've used really old stuff , and no one in my family is deathly ill yet.

It seems almost silly to call this a recipe, but here it is anyway, and subject to infinite variations.  Normally I put minced garlic and ginger in, but even I drew the line there today.  I have to get some real work done.  You can also just crack an egg right into the wok at the end and stir it around.  I fried mine separately because I like some yolk, but there are definitely at least two camps where Yolk-Loving is concerned.

One lesson I've learned the hard way is that you can put too much stuff in the wok at one time.  It wrecks the Surface Area Quotient and leaves all the food steaming instead of stir-frying.  So this recipe serves one--you can double it for two.  If you want more than that, fry it in two batches.  

Broccoli Fried Rice

1 c. cold cooked rice

1 tsp. vegetable oil

Handful broccoli, cooked or raw (if raw, make sure the florets aren't huge)

Handful fresh spinach (or cabbage), coarsely chopped

1 or 2 ts. soy sauce

1 egg, fried

pinch of salt

few big pinches of chopped fresh mint (pictured) or cilantro

Heat your wok (or nonstick frying pan or cast iron skillet) on high.  When it's hot, add vegetable oil and turn the heat down to medium-high.  Add broccoli and cook for a minute.  Then add rice and spinach and cook for another 2 minutes.  Avoid over-stirring because the rice needs a chance to 1) stick, 2) cook, and then 3) release.  Add soy sauce, stir, and cook for a few more seconds.  Dump into a bowl and put the fried egg, salt, and mint or cilantro on top.  I didn't do chiles or hot sauce today, but of course you could do that, too.

Blasted Broccoli Bowl

Emily is spending the night tonight, helping with the kids, keeping me company while Yancey is at fire school.  One of the many good things about her being here on Mondays is that I get to cook for her.  She is one of my most appreciative audiences and has a special place in her heart for my salad dressings.  This little dish, as you'll see, sports a dressing.

My plan for tonight had been to make a chicken spinach salad with sesame dressing.  Being as it almost SNOWED today, though, I was in the mood for something hot.  The 70 degree day we had last week seems like a sick joke at this point.

So an idea started forming about a rice bowl instead.  I had some broccoli in the fridge and had just bought a beautiful bunch of mint at McPherson's Produce.  I am the luckiest girl in the world to have lived near that produce stand for 12 years.  It's kind of a crap shoot sometimes, but if you're flexible, it never disappoints.  

One of my favorite, favorite things is any meal that combines hot and cold elements, like Vietnamese noodles or a salad with grilled vegetables.  I also have perfected the lazy art of putting greens underneath, in-between, or on top of almost everything.  If I have a bin of baby spinach in the fridge (as I almost always do), it works overtime.  Fiberlicious.

You could do so many other things with this recipe--use tofu, fish, or shrimp instead of chicken, use baby bok choy, green beans, or asparagus instead of broccoli.  The important thing is the layering--cold greens on bottom (spinach, romaine, cabbage, arugula etc.), a mound of hot rice, and then other yummies on top.

As I was at the stove, putting the finishing touches on dinner, Wyatt said, "Mom!  Look!  I'm setting up for your food blog!"  He had stood his school notebook up on the table, put a cluster of grapes at its base, and moved the bottle of Hoisin sauce into the frame.  What a lamb.  I hope I'm not damaging any vital developments in his young brain with my food obsessions.

Blasted Broccoli Bowl

(serves four)

2 chicken breasts, marinated in 1/4 c. soy sauce, 1 Tb. sesame seeds, 1 Tb. minced fresh ginger, and 2 Tb. vegetable oil for about an hour, or as long as you're able 

4 c. washed greens (spinach, romaine, cabbage, arugula, or a mixture)

4 c. hot cooked rice

4 c. broccoli florets tossed with 2 ts. soy sauce, 2 ts. olive oil, and 2 ts. sesame seeds

handful fresh mint, roughly chopped

For dressing (double if you want leftovers):

1 Tb. soy sauce

2 Tb. sugar

1 Tb. minced fresh ginger

1 minced garlic clove

4 Tb. rice wine vinegar

juice of one lime

1 Tb. sesame seeds 

shakes of red pepper flakes

2 green onions, finely sliced

1 Tb. sesame oil

1/4 c. vegetable oil

Turn oven to 450 and turn on your grill (or whatever method you're using for your chicken)

Make dressing--combine all ingredients except for oils and whisk well.   Add oils slowly and whisk until emulsified.  TASTE as you go!  My dressings are notoriously and maddeningly approximate.  One of my favorite tricks is to add more salt if you think the dressing is too oily. Salt absorbs oil.

Grill chicken breasts until tender, about 8 minutes per side.  Let rest for a few minutes before slicing into chopstick-friendly pieces.

Blast your broccoli.  Put a baking sheet into a 450 degree oven and let it heat up for a few minutes.  Toss broccoli with soy sauce, olive oil, and sesame seeds and throw it onto the hot pan and cook until it starts getting browned and crispy in places--about 10 minutes.  Give the pan a good shake a couple times.

Assemble your bowls--greens on bottom, rice, chicken and broccoli, then a drizzle of dressing with a shower of mint over the top.  Serve with sriracha and hoisin sauces on the side, if you like.

Easter Feasting

This is the platter of fig and olive tapenade after being on Sue's coffee table for 10 minutes.  What a wonderful day we had yesterday--church, Wyatt's adorable concentration during the handbell choir performance, brunch at Sue's with our longtime Easter crew.  It was characteristically miserable weather, so the egg hunt was inside.  Of course the kids could care less as long as candy is the end result.  Loretta ate from her Easter basket like it was grain trough and no one intervened.  Too much work.

All afternoon, I was aware that anyone walking into our happy gathering might never guess how much pain, how many surprises and trials had transpired since we were together last Easter.  In her amazing sermon, Angela said that Easter is for those that have loved and lost, for those who feel on the outside, for those who are getting up the nerve to keep going in spite of it all--staying together to celebrate even though it's raining.

And piles of crepes don't hamper the celebration, that's for sure.  I should be embarking on a post-Easter fast right now. (We all know that's unlikely.)  This crepe is filled with sauteed mushrooms, Gruyere, and fresh thyme, and slick with bechamel sauce.   There's not enough storage space in blogger's posting format for me to display every crepe I ate.  Thank God.

Jordan corralled all the kids onto the couch for this sugar-coma shot.  Wyatt and the Ladies.  This ought to brighten Ordinary Time somewhat.

Fig Olive Tapenade

It tastes even better than it looks.  I was a little surprised, truthfully.  I volunteered to bring an appetizer for Easter brunch.  I have some crackers in the pantry and a log of goat cheese in the fridge, but was determined not to make a trip to the store.  By now, you know I always have nuts around.  I also found dried figs and half a jar of Kalamata olives.  I'm an olive-lover, but am not totally ga-ga over most olive tapenades I've had.  Too bitter, maybe?  Anyway, they don't tempt me the way you might expect an olive-lover to be tempted.

The addition of figs did the trick.  They add a sweet and chewy oomph that puts this spread in the "tempting" category.  I am sure there must be recipes for something quite similar floating around somewhere.  I did "make this up,"  but I've probably seen it somewhere.  One of my professors in grad school always used to say that we need to acknowledge the shoulders on which we stand.  In other words, the magazines Bon Appetit, Saveur, and Gourmet, my mother's encyclopedic knowledge of food and her accompanying library, and the never-fading kitchen celebrity, my old Cuisinart food processor.

Dump these ingredients in your trusty machine and have the crackers ready.  And you can take all the credit.  I don't mind.

Fig Olive Tapenade

3/4 c. Kalamata olives

3/4 c. dried figs, roughly chopped

1 small garlic clove

1/3 c. walnuts

1 Tb. lemon zest

1 Tb. orange zest

pinch of coarse salt

splash of orange juice

1 or 2 Tb. olive oil

Combine all ingredients except for orange  juice and olive oil in the bowl of a food processor.  Pulse a couple times, then add the OJ and olive oil.  Pulse again until mixture turns into a paste (but don't pulse the *%# out of it--you want it to be slightly chunky still.)  Add more liquid if you want to or you think it needs it.

Garnish with walnuts and lemon zest.  Serve with crackers and chevre, if you like.

Easter Lemon Curd

I know the word "frugal" has been mentioned on this blog.  That is definitely a primary value of mine, but not on Easter (or Christmas or Saturday mornings.)  Lemon curd contains warehouses full of eggs and butter, isn't eaten for nutritional value, and is, in fact, quite sinful.  The Judas Iscariot of custards.  

I made a double batch today to take to Sue's house tomorrow for our traditional Easter brunch.  She is cooking up stacks of crepes right now.  They wait to receive this lemony blessing (and other fillings like bechamel, mushrooms, Gruyere, or nutella).  Tomorrow can't come soon enough.

In the meantime, here's my tried-and-true recipe from The Gourmet Cookbook, the most dog-eared cookbook on my shelf.  No photos or fanciness, but every single thing I make from that tome turns out perfectly.  A few years ago (before this reliable cookbook came along), I tried a Martha Stewart lemon curd recipe and ended up with scrambled eggs. That's happened to me several times with Martha, come to think of it.

I like to eat lemon curd with yogurt and granola, on crepes, or use it to fill tartlet shells.  Today, we were all sucking it straight off the spatula.  

Lemon Curd

1 Tb. + 2 ts. finely grated lemon zest

1 c. fresh lemon juice (about 3 large lemons)

1 1/3 c. sugar

4 large eggs

pinch of salt

1 3/4 sticks (14 Tb.) unsalted butter, cut into Tbs.

Whisk together zest, juice, sugar, eggs, and salt in a 2 qt. heavy saucepan.  Add butter and cook over moderately low heat.  It will look like this:

Whisk constantly, until curd is thick enough to hold marks of whisk and first bubbles appear on the surface, about 10 minutes.

Immediately force curd through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl; discard solids.  Cool to room temperature, stirring occasionally, then refrigerate in an airtight container until cold.

A Macrina Kind of Day

Ah, Macrina.  How I love thee.  Macrina's newest location in SODO is just seven minutes from my house, and my checkbook is suffering as a result.  Many Friday mornings, I take Loretta and Milo there to kill time before we meet Aimee, Darlene, or Eileen at the play gym.  The toddlers put their grimy hands all over the display case, ask for the biggest cupcakes, and run laps down the length of this beautiful space.  Of all three locations (Belltown, SODO, and Queen Anne) this new spot is definitely my favorite, and it's where they do most of the baking.  I lift the kids up to see what's being frosted behind the display windows, and everyone is always so friendly. What more could you want?

This morning, I bought a loaf of semolina rosemary bread.  Once the kids were down for their naps, I made myself a grilled sandwich with avocado slices, Gruyere, and some caramelized onions leftover from pizza we made last weekend.  This is the silly thing about me--I'm not just doing this because I have a food blog.  I started a food blog because I cannot help but turn even the most solitary of meals into an event.  

If you decide to follow this blog at all, you will, no doubt, get tired of sandwich photos.  I am always looking for an excuse to eat a sandwich.  On cold days like today, I will make it a hot one.  With the exception of hamburgers or tortas, I am often quite disappointed when I order a sandwich out.  It's not about gourmet ingredients, but about getting the crunchy-soft or hot-cold ratios right.  A lot of kitchens and delis just can't do that, it seems.

Of course, I couldn't come home from Macrina with just a loaf of bread.  Around 2:30 or 3:00, before I pick the kindergartners up from school, I'll need a little boost to get me through the afternoon.  This coconut cupcake with little frosted Easter birdies and a shot of espresso ought to do the trick.  I'll have to figure out a way to eat it on the sly. There's no way I'm sharing it.