Like A Child

There’s something deliciously comforting in re-creating treats from your childhood.  It’s better than a flashback; it’s more like a rediscovery of memories, of delights, of possibility.  For just a few seconds you glimpse your dreams from long ago, and instead of looking at them with that horrible adult eye of logistics and reasoning and numbers, you simply delight in your hopes.  You dream far and wide and look forward with excitement rather than planning and worry.  While gobbling up something familiar yet new, it’s better than before because it’s slightly more sophisticated, maybe a bit healthier, and it actually seems possible to move forward through your adult days with that restored wisdom of childhood.  

At least, all of that seems possible after a batch of Strawberry Rhubarb Poptarts. 

I got strawberries and rhubarb from the market.  Again, Kim Boyce’s rustic rye tarts went out the window and I instead scrambled to find a recipe for poptarts.  My favorite kind growing up were the brown sugar variety… the strawberry ones seemed too fake and chemically flavored to entice me enough to toast them  up before school.  Yet here I stand, Strawberry (with rhubarb! At least!) poptart in hand and damn if I’m not a little bit in love.

I couldn’t find an ideal recipe, no matter how I tried. So, I smooshed a couple together and got something pretty wonderful. For the dough I went off Smitten Kitchen’s poptart guide, though I used all-purpose, whole wheat, and rye flours (which I have completely fallen in love with, by the by. So creamy! So dreamy! Oh, rye.) I also couldn’t find a strawberry rhubarb jam that seemed just right…so, inspired as I was by a baked rhubarb/strawberry dish in this month’s Bon Appetit, I turned it into a jam instead (also, it has bourbon. Ahem.)

From one of my favorite movies, "Stranger Than Fiction."  This is when Will Ferrell brings Maggie Gyllenhaal "flours."  I'm officially on my way to multi-flour Gyllenhaal glory.

I will say that a measure of a dish's success is based almost exclusively on how fast it disappears.  Since I brought the poptarts to my dear friend Lina's housewarming party, (also known as L-Diddy, also known as my Indian Sister...and congrats again on the new marriage and house, Chris and Lina!) where I had several strangers come up to me to rave about poptarts with loud thank you’s and hugs, so I’d say that it was a success.  These little guys are  suitable for both special occasions and everyday breakfasting, but maybe not your toaster because these puppies are oven-toasted, thankyouverymuch.

Chin up, adults.  Have a poptart and remember what you were like as a kid.  Start that dreaming again, no logistics allowed, and let’s get ready for an epic summer, shall we?   

Let's Have A Toast

I had a big plan to make some of Kim Boyce's rye-crust tarts with a strawberry rhubarb compote this weekend, but sometimes things just don't turn out the way you plan.

Instead, they turn out better.

Faced with half an hour to make a summery dessert I grabbed my ice cream maker, a lemon, the strawberries I'd intended for the tart, and...wait for it...champagne.  Opa!  Summer time!  Let's raise a glass, shall we?

Usually when I make a pint of sorbet or ice cream it lasts us for..a week, at least.  But this pint lasted...between three people... twenty minutes.  Actually, less than that, but who's counting?  I'm fortunate enough to have snagged a quick photo or I might have assumed I'd have dreamed the whole thing up.  Summer is here!  I can feel it in the air, and I captured this pic to prove I had in my hands, too, for a few minutes at least.

Strawberries, lemons, mint, champagne.  Could it get any better?  I think not.  Especially when this goodness is mushed about, frozen, and still tickles your mouth with the last bit of bubbly that makes champagne so extravagantly lovely and fun.   Friends, I have brought you summer, just in time, but now you can cheers with your spoons rather than glasses; besides, drinking champagne now seems so last season.  Let's dig into this Strawberry Lemon Champagne Sorbet with spoons instead.

Cheers, summer of 2012.  Cheers indeed.

Wild Things Cake

After these past few weeks in DC (besides a quick, glitter-filled, sunny stint in Vegas), I'm almost convinced that I unknowingly picked up and moved myself to the upper Northwest.  One day it's heavy rains and gray clouds, and the next is a breezy, crisp, sunny (not to mention perfect) day. 

I repeat.  Weather is so weird!  DC weather is the weirdest!

But these perfect peeks at the sun are absolutely the best.  Picnics, bike rides, farmers markets and more, all without the gross humidity and ungodly amounts of sweating.  It truly is a springly miracle and I don't mind a week of rain if I get sun for the weekend. 

I'm actually needing a bit of sunshine right now.  One of my favorite children's book authors, Maurice Sendak, passed away this week and I just feel a bit...afloat.  I didn't know him , but I felt like I did, and his drawings and stories were one of the strongest anchors of my childhood.  One of my favorite books, Where The Wild Things Are was a lovely, fantastical, imaginative story, and, I'm trusting, a reflection of the type of man he was as well.

I think I speak for all my fellow Wild Things friends by saying: "Oh, please don't go--we'll eat you up--we love you so!" 

I'd like to think that he might have enjoyed sharing a slice of this French Lemon Yogurt Cake with me, and we could talk about the importance of children's literature, general adventuring, wild rumpus-ing, dreams, and the various whatnots of our lives.

Or maybe you could enjoy some French Lemon Yogurt Cake with the people who inspire you in your life too.  This cake isn't very hard at all, and is actually perfect for picnics and your own adventuring, (with your favorite Wild Things, who always love a good cake, of course).

"Then from far away across the world he smelled good things to eat, so he gave up being king of the wild things."

Crunch Time

It seems like every week that passes I’m more and more convinced (and surprised) by my crazy need for the crunch.

Since I was a kid I always put potato chips in my sandwiches or crispy fries in my burger (Hello! They needed that little extra somethin-somethin.)  My mom loved (and still loves) to call me out that I "just crunch too dang loud" when I eat chips.  Har har, Mom.   .... but seriously, I'm sure I do.  Call me crunchy, call me granola, but at least I have something to back it up: my ever-present, super-necessary, crunch factor.

I came across this recipe a few weeks ago in an Ayurvedic cookbook called Eat, Taste, Heal which has been fascinating on all levels, not the least of which are some pretty stellar cooking recommendations, such as these Spicy Crunchy Chickpeas. 

Weird? Maybe.  Crunch factor? Yes.  Awesome? Heck yes!

The thing is, these are as spicy as you want them to be, and include ingredients you should hopefully already have in your cupboard.  I mixed together what I had on hand:  turmeric, coriander, cayenne pepper, salt, pepper, curry powder, cinnamon, garam masala, cumin, smoked paprika… then just cracked open a can of garbanzo beans, rinsed them, threw on a few tablespoons of my muy awesome spice mixture, and was done. 

After tossing the Spicy Crunchy Chickpeas onto the cooking tray and popping them into a low-heat oven for about 45 minutes I suddenly I had a pretty healthy (and tasty!) crunchy snack that was not a chip (I'm sorry chips, I will always love you, but sometimes I need something that's actually good for me).

These are great for munchies before dinner parties or get-togethers, and make for most-excellent travel snacks.  Also, this is budget-friendly (extra score).   So many positives, no negatives!  I love things like this: simple, crunchy, and ready before you know it.  Thanks ancient Ayurvedic wisdom!

How To Be A Baller

I’m pretty sure that everyone loves a good meatball. Except, of course, those who don’t eat meat which is quite a conundrum, but for those of you who are fish-friendly, Jamie Oliver has proven once again that he is a badass and a baller (and I've proven that my puns get worse with age).  Let me introduce to you Fish Meatballs or as the Italians like to say "Le Migliori Polpette di Tonno." Que sexy sounding, no?

Oliver (or can I call him Jamie? At this point, after so many recipes I’ve tried of his, I feel like we should be on a first-name basis) has pretty specific instructions in Jamie’s Italy to use Swordfish or Tuna (fresh, uncanned). However, sometimes a girl needs to think on her feet when her local Harris Teeter doesn’t seem to have any of those varieties, and instead I chose a steak-like Mahi Mahi, combined with a can of tuna, and the next thing I knew I had a bubbling pot of meat(fish)balls that was loved by all. Another amazing thing about these meatballs is that they have pine nuts (!) and cinnamon (!!) along with parsley and oregano and truly...I was in swoon-mode. So was everyone else at the Oscars viewing party I brought them to, where we had dishes like mine that I’d nicknamed “Moneyball Meatballs”, “Girl with the Dragon Rat-TATOO-ouille,” and “My Week With Marilyn Martini.” Aren't my creative friends super awesome?  I think so.

These meat(fish)balls weren’t difficult but meatballs are of the more labor-intensive variety of food to make anyway…but you can’t blame them, it’s just in their nature what with the sauce-making, the fish-cooking, the ball-rolling, the pan-frying and such. But the effort put into these meat(fish)balls are worth the work, I promise. Even more than having meatballs on top of spaghetti, I’d prefer mine in a crusty/toasty loaf of bread, with-- who knows?--maybe some arugula tossed in and I’d call it a damn good day.

Here’s a sweet little throwback for you guys: let’s all remember our favorite meatball song from childhood:

On top of spaghetti,
All covered with cheese,
I lost my poor meatball,
When somebody sneezed.


It rolled off the table,
And on to the floor,
And then my poor meatball,
Rolled out of the door…

...and I forget the rest, but that comes with age too.  In conclusion, enjoy Jamie's Amaze-Balls Meat(fish)balls!

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.