Crispy Tips

Whatever you do, do not buy that asparagus steamer.  And don't bother peeling these spears, either.  My hands-down favorite (and ZERO fuss) way to cook asparagus is to run it under the broiler for a few minutes.  This is all you do:

Crispy Tips Asparagus

Turn the broiler on high.  Take one lb. thin asparagus and trim the ends by snapping them where they naturally break.  You'll usually get 1.5 or 2 inches off the bottom.  Rinse them and pat dry. Mound on a baking sheet (avoid non-stick) and coat asparagus with about 2 ts. of olive oil and a good sprinkling of kosher salt. Gently mix with your hands, then spread the spears out in a single layer.  Boil for 4-6 minutes, giving the pan a good shake once or twice until tips are crisping up (but not burnt!) and spears are tender.  Pile on a plate and squeeze a big wedge of lemon over them, sprinkle with a bit more salt and a shake of crushed red peppers.  (My kids won't eat asparagus, anyway, so I might as well spice it up.  Sigh.)

I have been known to just eat asparagus for dinner when it's in season.  I could eat it like popcorn.  Boiled or steamed, though, it doesn't tempt me nearly as much.  I do love it stir-fried or as a cold crudite, but I'll save those praises for another day.

P.S. Last night, we had this asparagus with the End-of-Winter lentils that I wrote about earlier this week.  It was our fourth night eating them, and I'm happy they're gone.

P.S.S. My sister Naomi told me that she read these blog entries to my 3-year-old niece Hannah Mae as a bedtime story last night.  They snuggled up with Naomi's Blackberry.  That's a niece after my own heart!

Eat-it-Every-Day Granola

So many of you have this recipe already or have received bags of this granola.  When I make it, I always give away half.  Usually, I'm not sure who I'm going to give it to, but something always comes up--one of my clients, one of Yancey's (back when he was building houses), someone that's feeling sad or stressed or just not receiving the benefits of a granola-filled life. Maybe now I'll be sending it along to the fire chief.  He seems like someone you want on your side.

My mom is Queen Granola, and was making granola back when it was considered strange.  I remember she used to send it to my grandfather for gifts--he was notoriously hard to shop for, and he always raved about it. During the week after Wyatt was born, my parents stayed here and Mom cooked for us.  Our first morning home, she made a big batch of granola and served it with strawberries and yogurt.  Nothing ever tasted so good.  Oh, to be on the nursing diet again. More recently, I gave some to my father-in-law and his girlfriend for Christmas.  They report not caring much about granola in their previous life, but ended up fighting over the last oats.  I love to hear that.   Kerri, now you can have some all to yourself.

I always eat mine with yogurt, and have it every morning (and sometimes for lunch) when it's around.  Occasionally I'm stingy with the fruit and nuts if I'm running low, but usually my freezer is Nut Central, and I throw in big handfuls of whatever is around.  I have never purchased nuts at the grocery store.  Rip-Off of the Century.  I get them at Costco, Trader Joes, or PFI, and use them in embarrassing amounts.  The batch pictured here has almonds, hazelnuts, coconut, dried figs, cherries, and apricots.  

This week's extra bag is for my sister because I'm seeing her tomorrow and I love her.  Plus she comments on my blog.  Try it and see what good things happen for you.

Eat-it-Every-Day Granola

*The only thing this recipe has to have are the oats, oil, and sweetener.  Everything else is optional and mix/match depending on what you like (or your kids don't like) and what you have in your pantry.  I sometimes add finely chopped crystallized ginger as well.

6 c. old fashioned rolled oats

1/4 c. flaxseed meal, sesame seeds, wheat germ, or combination of any

3 or 4 cups nuts and seeds--almonds (whole, slivered, or sliced), sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, pepitas, hazelnuts, pecans, etc.

1 or 2 c. coconut

1 ts. salt.

3/4 c. vegetable oil

3/4 cup pure maple syrup, honey, brown sugar, or combination of any

2 or 3 cups dried, roughly chopped fruit--apricots, cherries, figs, dates, blueberries, cranberries

Put racks in upper and lower thirds of oven preheat oven to 350.

Stir everything except the dried fruit together in a big bowl.  Spread mixture evenly on two large baking sheets with sides.  If you have parchment paper, this would be a good time to use it.  Bake, stirring granola and switching positions of sheets halfway through baking, until mixture is golden brown, 25-30 minutes.  If you're worried about burning, bake them one at a time.  

Cool granola completely on sheets, then stir in dried fruit.  Keep it in an airtight container and enjoy at least a week's worth of delicious breakfasts.  And give some away.  You'll start to have more friends on Facebook.

Julius! Julius!

"Julius!  Julius!"  My two-year old, Loretta,  still in her PJ's and soggy diaper (remember when, with your first child, you actually changed his diaper in the middle of the night?!), waits not-so-patiently for me to mix her morning cocktail.  Orange juice and soy milk, or "orange julius," as I generously term it.  If you were hoping for an inspiring recipe today, I'm sorry.  The good news is, you don't have to be close to kitchen-savvy to benefit from this little concoction.

Most mornings, I pull out two cartons and , in a 1/2 OJ to 1/2 soymilk ratio, shake up a batch in a Nalgene water bottle (you can also just stir it with a spoon) and pour it around.  For some reason, it always tastes divine.  I am not a big soymilk junkie, and since no one in my family is lactose intolerant, I haven't experimented with things like vegan mac and cheese or scones.  I appreciate the need some folks have to do that, but I suppose I'm still stuck in the soymilk-is-medicinal mode.  Call me an earth-hater.  However, I always have it around for this morning ritual, and I also enjoy its nutty flavor over oatmeal. 

The orange-and-cream combination is a time-honored one.  Remember those little ice cream cups with the wooden spoons?  I had one recently at some potluck or other, and they haven't lost their luster.  In high school, I used to work at Nordstrom back when Bellingham had a thriving downtown with department stores.  The Nordstrom espresso bar was one of the first espresso bars in town, and it was quite a novelty.  It was staffed by the coolest female college students--snowboarders with hippie style and enough avant-garde sensibility to make them stand out in Bellingham.  Maybe I filled up so many punchcards there just to be around them. Of course I wasn't drinking coffee at 16.  Only the Goth kids did that, and I was as straight as they came.  I did partake of the Creamsicle, however, and it's this drink that my lowly orange julius hearkens back to.  The Creamsicle was a type of Italian soda--if Italian sodas don't typify the '80's, I don't know what does.  It was made with vanilla syrup, fresh-squeezed OJ, seltzer water, and heavy cream, all over ice.  I'm salivating just thinking about it.  I have no idea if they still make that or if there's anyone in Seattle profligate enough to drink it, but my friend Heidi Harris and I spent many happy hours sipping those while we inventoried stock in the back room.

Once Loretta is sucking up her "Julius! Julius!" through her little sippy cup straw, I usually have a small window to make coffee and start reading the paper until the next demand comes. As you mothers know, that's priceless.

Banh Mi-licious

Custardy tofu.  Warm baguette.  Crunchy daikon.  Sweet hoisin.  Bring on the banh mi!

On the way home from a meeting this morning, I stopped at Tony's Bakery and Deli on MLK.  Gourmet magazine even mentions this incredible place when they talk about Seattle's two Little Saigons--one in the International District, and the other, in the neighborhood of yours truly.  If you were to embark on a tour of Vietnamese delis between S. Jackson and S. Graham, you couldn't sample them all in year. Thankfully, I don't have to make time for that because I have Tony's. 

There is so much there besides banh mi that it seems a shame to narrow my comments.  I would have taken photos, but I felt shy...is it alright to pull out my camera and act like a tourist?  Are people flattered or offended by that?  Tony's has bazillions of sweets--sticky rice in all colors of the rainbow, various coconut and sesame treats, plastic cups full of milk puddings, slabs of angel food cake.  They have apothecary jars of salted plums, the softest, freshest spring rolls (choice of shredded pork, shrimp, tofu, or Chinese sausage), bubble tea in all flavors (my six-year old Wyatt prefers taro), and a lengthy hot case.  But I was after the lowly sandwich.

I've had a lot of banh mi in the last 10 years.  I used to work at New Horizons Ministries in Belltown, and we would regularly feed our 60 volunteers for under 100 bucks with these things. There were always bottles of hoisin sauce and Sriracha in the fridge that we would pull out for meetings.  I ordered grocery bags full of banh mi for Wyatt's first birthday party.  Of course, he was too busy eating frosting and riding his new scooter around naked to sample them, but I'd like to think they made an impression anyway.

I told my husband Yancey last weekend that I'd been craving a stop at Tony's.  This morning, kid-free and starving, my car practically drove itself there.  The only reason I didn't eat my sandwich in the car is because the Sriracha and hoisin were at home--I can't eat banh mi without them.  The three minute drive with the warm baguette was excruciating.  

Once in the door, sauces in hand, I sat on the deck (in the sun!) and grunted with delight.  The fried tofu in these sandwiches is absolute perfection--custard-like, the right balance of chewy and  moist.  I thought about it the whole rest of the day, and you are suffering under more copious descriptions right now.

This is rockstar picnic food, by the way.  Infinitely portable, each sandwich wrapped in white paper with a rubber band holding in the meat and veggies, you can literally throw them in a beach bag and be done with it.  At around $2 apiece, you could afford to get some spring rolls, too.  Then, you can stop by my house and pick me up.

End-of-Winter Lentils

It's 61 degrees and climbing in Seattle.  Unbelievable.  I went running with a t-shirt on this morning and thought about--you guessed it--what to make for dinner.

Since it's officially spring, I should be making lemon roast chicken with asparagus or even cleaning off the BBQ.  However, I am guiltily aware of several lone items languishing in my fridge and pantry.  I've always been adept at Refrigerator Soup, but am even more conscious these days of making do, not throwing anything away.

So here's my inventory:  a big jar of lentils, 2 small yams, half a bag of spinach (some of it went into yesterday's Asian slaw), a molding onion (no, that's not hyperbole), and a very withered knob of ginger.  I know "they" say to always cook with the freshest ingredients, but I pride myself on being able to rescue things from the brink.  

Lentils were already on my mind because my friend Sue asked for a recipe recently.  In December, when Seattle had buckets of snow right before Christmas, several of us in the neighborhood convened at John and Jordan's house for an impromptu dinner.  I had just made a big pot of curried lentils with coconut milk and brought them over.  Priya made a divine salad with lobster (my first time having it!) and we watched the snow fall together.  So here's another recipe, Sue, that's quite like that one.

Let me pause a moment to sing the praises of lentils.  Unlike other dry beans, they cook very quickly and don't require soaking.  They can also be boiled in lots of water (so as not to stick together) and be rinsed under cold water for use in salads or to toss with pasta.  One of my favorite combos is a cold lentil salad with goat cheese.  They provide a great source of plant-based protein, are forgiving to cook with, and, of course, they are delicious.  The batch I have now came from PFI, which means they are fresher than what's on the bottom shelf at Safeway (though I have bought those plenty of times.)  Fresh lentils cook faster, which is a plus in my book.  If you've never been to PFI and you live in Seattle, stop reading this right now and go there.  You brain will blow up when you see all their bulk spices and beans, their ridiculous (and ridiculously cheap) cheese counter, and the interesting dry goods from all over the world.

I will probably serve these lentils over Basmati rice for at least two reasons:

1. My kids love rice and never get tired of it
2. We'll be able to eat lentils for twice as many nights!  A boon for any mother.

I'll put a dollop of plain yogurt and some chopped cilantro over mine and keep the crushed red pepper shaker or jar of Sambal Oelek handy.  That's one thing about cooking for kids.  I have to tone everything down.  I try to mention things like, "Eating spicy food is cool," but so far, they haven't bought it.

Happy End of Winter.  Really, the only drawback is that I'll miss my LeCreuset dutch oven quite a bit.

End-of-Winter Lentils

1 onion, finely chopped

glug of olive oil

4 cloves garlic, minced

2" knob of ginger, withered or fresh, grated or finely chopped

2 ts. garam masala

2 ts. paprika

2 c. lentils, rinsed

2 small yams, peeled and cubed

1/2 c. orange juice

juice of one lime

1 can coconut milk

couple handfuls of fresh spinach

salt to taste

plain yogurt, chopped cilantro, and crushed red pepper flakes for garnish (optional)

Saute onion in olive oil until soft, about 5 minutes.  Add garlic, ginger, garam masala, and paprika, and saute for another 5 minutes.  

Add lentils to the onion mixture, and cover with about 2 inches of water.  It will look like a lot, but the lentils will soak it up in no time.  Bring to a boil, and let it bubble vigorously for about 10 minutes.  If you don't plan to serve it over rice, you could also add a handful of Basmati rice at this point.  I love rice in soups.

Add the yams and cook for another 20 minutes, or until lentils and yams are tender.  Add orange juice, lime juice, salt, and coconut milk.  Taste and add more salt if necessary and cook for a bit more until flavors are melded.  Throw in spinach at the last minute.  

Serve with a splat of plain yogurt, chopped cilantro,  something to spice it up, and maybe a lime wedge.

After-Church Slaw Delight

There is absolutely nothing like after-church hunger.  I've grown up in church--my dad is a pastor, for Pete's sake, and my sister and I spent many, many hours wandering around, waiting for him to get done with his last conversation  or lock up.  By the time we got home (or to The Bagelry in Bellingham), we were famished and had long ceased to possess anything resembling Sabbath serenity.

Now, my wonderful church (Bethany UCC on Beacon Hill) shares lunch together every Sunday. Sometimes, though, the pickings are slim, and I'm so busy making sure my kids don't load up on cookies or make a fort under the table that I don't have time to go through the line.  Today was one of those days where we got home at 1:00 and I was on the verge of a hunger meltdown. Here's what I found when I opened the fridge:  some shredded cabbage, a bag of baby spinach, some mini cucumbers, half a cake of baked savory tofu, and a bit of leftover miso dressing from this incredible salad that I made earlier in the week.  I also found a bag of Sahale snacks--cashews and dried pineapple with black sesame seeds.  

If you haven't made miso dressing earlier in the week (understandable if you're not always scheming to get into the kitchen like me), you could easily do with a bit of rice vinegar, sugar, salt, vegetable oil, and a splash of sesame oil, or even a bottle of Asian dressing that you might have in the fridge.  The ticket here is TANG.  Whatever supplies tang will turn cabbage into the belle of the ball.  Have I mentioned my recent infatuation with cabbage?  The unsung hero of the vegetable world, for sure.

There are lots of other things you could add to this salad, depending on what's around--chunks of pineapple (fresh or canned), cubes of mango or tangerine sections, slivered carrots or green onions, chopped cilantro, pickled ginger.  Yum.  Now I'm ready to relax into my Sunday.

After-Church Slaw Delight 

1/2 of a small green cabbage, finely shredded

2 big handfuls fresh spinach or romaine lettuce, roughly chopped

1/2 English cucumber or 2 baby cucumbers, diced

1/2 cup chopped (preferably toasted) nuts--cashews, almonds, peanuts

1 c. cubed baked savory tofu or shredded chicken (optional)

Crushed red pepper flakes and black sesame seeds for top (optional)

Miso Dressing (will make more than you need so you can have it next Sunday, too!):

2 Tb. miso

1/2 ts. dijon mustard

2 Tb. brown sugar

1/4 c. rice vinegar

1/3 c. olive oil

1 ts. sesame oil

For dressing, combine everything but the oils and mix well.  Add the oils in stream until emulsified.

Toss the rest of ingredients with the dressing to taste, reserving a few chopped nuts for the top.  Shake some crushed red peppers and sesame seeds (black are my favorite) over the top.  Dig out a pair of chopsticks and finish reading the Sunday paper.  For some reason, I read the Target ad if nothing else.  Maybe toddler sandals will be on sale.

Kristina Kringle for Lent

My dear friend Emily had a beautiful birthday breakfast for me last year.  We all stayed so long and felt so energized and cared for that we've kept meeting--once in Advent, once for Lent, and our next one will be in Ordinary Time at the end of the summer.

This morning we met to talk and pray, and Emily introduced a mediation around waiting that was beautiful and timely.  It turns out that all eight of us are waiting or in transition.  Some of us are enjoying it, but most are squirming or even suffering.  Thank you, Emily and dear friends, for a morning where we can bear witness with and to each other.  

I brought Kristina Kringle, a pastry that my Mom made at Christmas every year.  When I moved out in college, I found the cookbook at a used bookstore in Bellingham (Alice Bay Cookbook:  A savory sampler from Washington's Skagit Valley) so I could make it whenever I wanted.  My mom has always commented on what a magical and "weird" recipe it is, and it garners oohs and aahs everywhere.  

In this month's Bon Appetit, I noticed that Molly Wizenberg (of Orangette fame) wrote her column on Gougeres, which are made from choux paste, a dough of water, butter, and flour. Then it finally clicked--Kristina Kringle isn't "weird"--it's just choux paste!  And I've been making it for years!

This pastry is hardly Lenten, but it's just as good at Easter as it is on Christmas morning.  Maybe even better.  I have modified the original recipe a bit to make more crust--as the Alice Bay Cookbook outlines it, I've always found that the filling made too much.  This modification makes just enough filling for three dough strips.  I've also added slivered almonds.  My Mom never made it without them.  I don't have a photo of it because I am not yet in the take-photos-for-my-blog-mindset.  I'll get better, I hope.

If you make this for your next cry-fest brunch with friends, I promise you that everyone's sorrows will seem at least a little more bearable.  Happy Holy Week.

Kristina Kringle

1 1/2 cup flour

3/4 cup butter (1.5 cubes)

3 Tb water

1 cup water

1/2 cup butter

1 cup flour

3 eggs

1/2 ts. salt

1/2 ts. almond extract

1/4 c. toasted slivered almonds

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Cut together 1 1/2 cups flour and 3/4 cup butter in a food processor until mixtures resembles fine meal.  (You can do this by hand, also.)  Add water and pulse (or mix) well.  Form dough into a ball and divide in thirds.  Using the heel of your hand into 3 two-inch wide strips down the length of a cookie sheet.  You can also make your dough strips longer or wider and just do two, if you want.

In a saucepan, bring 1 cup of water and 1/2 cup water to a boil  Remove from heat.  Add flour, and stir until smooth.  Add eggs one at a time, blending well after each addition.  Add salt and extract.  Spread on top of dough strips.

Bake for 25-30 minutes, or until puffed and slightly golden.  Cool and frost with almond icing and scattered slivered almonds over the top.

Almond Icing

1/4 cup butter, softened

1 cup powdered sugar

1 Tb milk

1/2 ts almond extract

Combine all four ingredients with a whisk or fork.  Blend until smooth and spread over cooled pastry.  Cut into pieces and get ready for compliments.