The Benefits of Ottolenghi-Fying Oneself

Ladies and gents, I'm proud to announce that le chateau is becoming an Ottolenghi-fied household.

What is an Ottolenghi you might ask?  It's not some fun-sounding type of car (though I dream of the day I'll once again even have a car).  Nor is it a silly new exercise fad.  It's not an herb.  It's not some exotic fruit.  Ottolenghi is a last name (first name: Yotam) and he's kind of a BFD chef-man.  I really don't know that much about him, except the dude knows his veg.  Just look at his gorgeous new cookbook!  Plenty! With what appears to be baby eggplants and rosemary and some luscious yogurt sauce with pomegranate seeds, of all bright and beautiful things, sprinkled on top, standing proud on the book jacket.  And guys...that's just the cover of this thing.  I'm in love with this cookbook (and it's hard to make me fall hard for an eggplant) but fall I have, and love I'm in.

The roomie brought this into the house at the beginning of February, and thank heavens because February is absolutely my least favorite month of the year.  It's an entire month of living that saying "it's darkest before the dawn," which doesn't make for a fun 29 days.  Hours drag, and it seems like night will never end.  Wind blows.  I think I saw the sun last Thursday.  I'm over stews at this point.  I mean...one can only have so much veggie chili, you know?

But Ottolenghi came in and brightened the place up.  We made a cold noodle dish, Soba noodles with Eggplant and Mango, which doesn't sound appealing at all in February, but trust a girl here.  Chilled soba (buckwheat) noodles, tossed with pan-fried eggplant, mango, basil and cilantro, and a lime-chile dressing.  Goodness gracious.  I swear, it's been a while since I ate four helpings of a cold noodle salad (remember our Vietnamese Crack Salad obsession?) but this was such an interesting dish I couldn't stop myself, and relatively healthy to boot.  The sweetness of the mango combined with the tang of the dressing, the freshness of the herbs, the slippery coolness of the noodles and saltiness of the eggplant were powerful reminders of summer, of beautiful and and zippy flavors, and it helped all of February move just a little bit faster for this desert gal.

Oh, and Happy Leap Day!  Won't say that again for another four years, so hope this extra day was full of good things for you all.

On what makes a Fine Indian Woman

When I think of Aloo Gobi, for some reason I don’t think of home.  I think of the movie “Bend It Like Beckham” which taught me that once a gal knows how to make a good Aloo Gobi, you’re officially a Fine Indian Woman and will have no problem taking over the world, thankyouverymuch.

Aloo is potato.  Gobi is cauliflower, and when brought together with a bevy of fun spices it is absolutely delicious.  I punked out and bought some store-made naan bread that I warmed up in the oven, which is also where I happened to roast these veggies first instead of sauteeing them because cauliflower is pretty much only fantastic when you roast it (true story). Roasted Veggie Aloo Gobi! I can’t take all the credit for this (inspired as I was by a recipe I found from Gourmet), but still, it was up my Aloo Gobi alley and that’s where I followed it with excellent results.

The roomie tends to rag on me for not making more food from my Motherland, but here I am, with solid Chole Palak, Pulau, Raita, Lassi, Apple Chutney, and Aloo Gobi recipes under my belt and I can’t help but think that’s pretty damn good for a gal from the desert in Arizona. 

To my vegan and veggie-friendly friends, this is one of those dishes that, when served with some warmed up flatbread-of-choice, makes for a delicious, healthy, and pretty satisfying dinner.  And I challenge those of you scared of making your own Indian food to buy a few spices and try it out…it’s not scary, and the flavors are only overpowering if you over-season. I promise.

So eat up! Meatless Monday is coming up, and I hear it's all the rage these days.  

Putting Things Off (A Perfect Example of How To or Not To Start The New Year)

I love New Years.  Isn't it great to look back and take full stock of your life, the good and the bad, and what you want in it, what you want out of it, and above all, how to go about doing it.  Fresh, new ideas.  Sparkling lights.  Mountains of champagne and spontaneous midnight dance parties at the stroke of twelve. Maybe even fireworks, if you're lucky.  Yes, new years is quite the time.

It's also the time to go about getting "healthier" whatever that means.  I've now been trying to start a "cleanse" for what was originally a two week time period.  I've now cut it down to a week, and since I apparently don't even have the time for that it's looking like if I can do a cleanse for two whole days thats about as good as it's gonna get.   I don't know what it's supposed to fight against, but apparently it's something to do with processed sugars, flours, dairy, meats, gluten, and all the good things I usually love to munch.  You'd think that one as determined as I could handle that.  And maybe I can, (this weekend perhaps?) but until then... let's have some doughnuts.  Apple Cider Doughnuts, to be exact.  And if we want to get fancy on the doughnut holes, lets just drape them in syrup and name them Maple Syrup Glazed Doughnut Holes.  Happy New Years to US!

We had our annual "O-Hole-Y Breakfast" this past December where I busted out a brand new doughnut on my unsuspecting guests.  And love them some doughnuts they did.  I really liked how these were cake doughnuts, and I didn't have to wait for yeast to help raise the dough...instead...I just got down to bizniz, and me and the doughnuts succeeded on all counts.

I recently read in a Bon Appetit about the obsession with Maple Syrup in the grand region of Quebec in Canada, and they mentioned dousing hot doughnuts in pure maple syrup and damn if those northern neighbors of ours weren't spot on in syrup-soaked-fried-bread.  Genius!  Inspirational!  Montreal, Quebec City...maple makers...I'll be visiting you soon, I promise.

It was a grand time had by all, and foods with holes continue to wow friends and family alike.  I also made them for Christmas morning brunch and they went over just as well in AZ as they do in DC, so do me a solid and try these doughnuts on an upcoming lazy (and freezing) Saturday morning.  You can high-five me later in the new year (but make sure to do it before the world ends this upcoming December, k?)

Happy 2012 and Happy Food Adventuring!

Fun-Guy Soup

I know what you’re thinking. I can practically see the wheels turning in your head as you send me a snarky mental note.

Really Samantha?  Another soup? A) of all, that's an awful pun in your title.  B) of all, this isn't very Vagabond-y of you and, of all things, it deals strictly in mushrooms which don’t really taste like anything.  I see your adventurous side has taken to long walks in the forest while you search for things that only hermits eat, like nuts, berries, and mushrooms.  I need more than mushroom soup to be a happy adventurer.

Hoping you jump out of that soup bowl and into something more exciting,

--Anonymous Reader

WELL, anonymous readers, I do need to let you in on a little secret.  This ain’t yo mama’s mushroom soup (at least it ain’t mine, bc my mama never MADE mushroom soup. So there.) It especially is not, at all, a Campbells-esque style mushroom soup (which I don’t even consider as being mushroom soup.)  It is, however, from a New York City landmark restaurant, Balthazar, and it is a Cream of Mushroom Soup as you've never had before.  It is lush. It is earthy (which appeals to me since I’m a Virgo. Translation = Earth sign!) But it is completely, utterly, all-encompassingly, mushroomingly… perfect.

There are many riffs of this version in particular floating around the internet, but I foresaw the need to have the Balthazar cookbook on hand years ago when I ran across it in a used-book store, and to the original book I went. You can look a million things up online, but I swear, nothing compares to a soup-spattered page of a beloved cookbook nestled in your cabinets.  

And, surprise of all surprises, it’s pretty easy.  It has a lovely amount of herbs to make the soup juuust interesting enough without overpowering the mushrooms. I kid you not, this mushroom soup wowed my work friends enough to have my boss ask me to cook for her holiday party, featuring pretty much this, and only this, soup. (Turned her down to actually go home for the holidays, but don’t think I wasn’t tempted to spend my days before Christmas wrapped up in my kitchen making boatloads of this magical deliciousness).

I’m sharing this just in time for your Christmas Eve dinners, and as a special present to you this holiday.  I’m glad to have this blog, I’m grateful for your readership, and I can’t wait to see what kind of adventures we can get into together by next Christmas.

Ginger Lovin

This is a bit belated, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY Vagabond Table! Three years and counting.  I cheers to you and your continued, well-written health, and may you continue to share recipes I love with the world beyond my front door.

I'd like to dedicate my first official Winter-timey post to soup.  Seems obvious, but I would like to defend this for a second, if I may.  Especially when this particular soup has already encountered quite a bit of disbelief in its greatness (ahem, MOM), but is really one of the best soups I've made in the past year.  Imagine something velvet-smooth, with the sweetness of carrot, the tang of ginger, a swirl of greek yogurt peeking through and suddenly you have Carrot Ginger Soup and you are not quite ever a fan of normal carrots anymore.  Not like I ever was, but this soup will sit you down, woo you, and make you a believer in the power of ginger.

Speaking of Ginger, I feel like both the food and real-life gingers I know need some winter lovin.  I'd like to proudly announce that, of my friends with babies, of which there are only two, they are BOTH Ginger Babies and both my favorite little ones out there right now.  Can we take a second to appreciate the pigtails below?  My friend Little Ginger as I like to call Miss Miriam, the first of my fave gingeroos? 

I'll share more pics of my new little friend, Blake, at some point when his ginger hair grows out beyond what would usually be called 'bald' on any man 40 years older than he currently is.  More ginger lovin to come, I promise you.

Ginger is also amazing for a sore throat (ginger tea! getcha some) and is nice surprise in this dish, kind of like an unexpected visitor that stays for a while, or a chance meeting with a friend on the street. You never know what might come your way, and I think that alone proves this soup deserves the spotlight in your kitchen on a cold evening. It also doesn't hurt that during these long days Carrot Ginger Soup is like a neon shot of bright orange straight to your kitchen table.

All that's warm and good in life, wrapped up in a bowl, from me, for you. Happy beginning-of-the-holidays and may this be the start to a season of only good things for you.

Up In Knots

For months it seemed like I had no time to write on here.  But now, on my 2nd day staying home sick from work, I've found some time.  And it feels great to sip at some potato (beer!) soup and get back to Vagabond basics while listening to Feist's new album, Metals. 

Looking out my window, the wind is racing, and changing the day from gray to sunny to gray to sunny and everything in between.  It's a continuous movement, and I find myself mesmerized by how constant the weather changes are.  The reliability of change.  A lovely thing, once I start to think on it a bit more.

From The Vagabond Table

Another lovely thing is my finally cracking open Good to the Grain by Kim Boyce (a Christmas present I'd begged for last year) and trying my hand at a few things, most notably the Soft Rye Pretzels (!) for our annual Oktoberfest shindig that went down last weekend.

From The Vagabond Table

In all honesty the roomie and I made 2 types of pretzels, and while the 2nd recipe might have been slightly easier in terms of rising times, this one was the more hearty and flavorful of the two, being a mix between white and rye flours.  If the idea of rye conjurs up images of rye bread, try your best to put them aside...rye bread also gets its flavor from caraway seeeds, not necessarily the rye, and, in an earnest suggestion between you and me, rye deserves a  second chance.

From The Vagabond Table

I found that pretzels are pretty fun to make...kind of like when you rolled play-doh into logs and worms when you were a kid (which is quite a useful skill to maintain in the making of pretzels) and that it's even more fun to knot them up and boil them and sprinkle them and bake them and suddenly have pretzels on your hands.  Real Pretzels! Not the hard kind from a bag at the grocer, but the warm, crackly, soft kind, (mall-variety, but infinitely better).

From The Vagabond Table

These pretzels are even better when served with this Beer Mustard recipe I'd adapted a few years ago, these Bratwurst Bites and this incredible red cabbage dish .  Happy Oktobering to you all and may you soon find a Soft Rye Pretzel in one hand and brew in the other.  Prost!

A Funny Thing

Space is a funny thing.  Sometimes you crave it, a little distance from x-y-z, or sometimes it happens when you didn’t even mean for it to (ie, not writing on here for about 2 months now) and a lot of times, when you get exactly what you (un)intentionally wanted, it isn’t always rainbows and puppies.  (Case in point, I've missed you, Vagabond Table.)

But space is good, too.  It’s good to refocus, to reflect, to put all your energies into one or two things instead of 20 things, because sometimes just a few things require that much time to get through, or, in some cases, get over.   And, either way, or all around, or however you end up interpreting this, that distance is a great healer, encourager, and clarifier.  And lets you value yourself, and your relationships, and your goals in ways that you never quite had the time to do before.   Maybe it even gives you some good ideas for what you want to do in your 29th year of life, as you gratefully bundle up all the 28 years that came before and see what other adventures you can get lost in. 

Taking a step back also helps you realize that simple things somehow end up being most important.   Things like taking 5 minutes to just pause before the day even starts, when you’re still curled up in bed.  Or give a long, long hug to a Grandmother you never get to see.  Even just spending the night chatting about anything and everything with a soul-friend, celebrating a new life coming into this world, your brother’s new start at college, a good friend's wedding (in Colorado!) and remembering to never, ever, ever, sell yourself short of the good things in life. 

Coffee in the morning.  Being lazy on a Saturday.  Listening to summer thunderstorms (or hurricanes!) outside your window and watching the lightning electrify your walls.  Tostada and movie nights, homemade stovetop popcorn, curling up in the blanket your mom knit you ages ago, listening to records, and feeling the first break in heat as Fall starts creeping up.  Late summer peaches being turned into pies.  A gift or rosemary from a friend’s garden.  Simple things, good things.  

And sometimes space works to your cooking favor… for example spaces work most excellently on said Peach Pie, with the classic lattice-woven crust that lets the fruit caramelize while letting the steam out.   Maybe that’s all a bit of space is good for in life…letting things cool off, letting the steam out, letting things settle, and then, when it’s time to dive in, all that patience and space leads to something much better.

Use up those peaches and plums, my friends.  Put them in a pie, put them in a jar, just put them somewhere you get to enjoy every lovely bit of them.  And here's to allowing yourself to pause enough to focus on things you love, and to diving in.  Just like we dived into this Rosemary Peach Pie, but hopefully the benefits of that last longer than how long this pie lasted.  Which, between 3 people, was less than a day.