tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4234860346527074722024-03-13T04:28:15.497+02:00Hungry Souls נפשות רעבותKitchen StoriesRogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.comBlogger132125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-54085937904137433092016-01-07T21:37:00.002+02:002016-01-22T15:30:02.597+02:00Pie of Pies (or, ליבוביץ צדק)<span style="font-family: inherit;">First of all, I'd like to apologize to any and all non-Israelis who may not understand the pun above, even after reading this post. I'd also like to apologize to any and all Israelis for the pun. I'm sorry, I just couldn't help myself. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Let's talk about pie. Let's talk about the pie of pies, David Lebovitz's Pecan Pie with Bourbon and Ginger. Actually, no. Let's not talk about it. Let's just stop and think about it for a second. Just imagine it. Bourbon. Ginger. Pecan. Pie. I haven't even gotten to the maple syrup, or the <i>three</i> types of ginger and I bet you're already salivating. I know I was when Lebovitz's recipe showed up on my Twitter feed just before Thanksgiving. I had my hands full what with the turkey, cranberry sauce, <a href="http://www.rogueskitchen.com/2015/11/tradition.html">sweet potato rolls</a> and <a href="http://www.rogueskitchen.com/2013/12/a-bowl-of-comfort.html">chestnut soup</a> to make, so I thought, I'm just going to file this one away for next year and delegate the pecan pie to someone else. Fortunately, that someone else ended up being my roommate. Fortunately, I not so surreptitiously emailed her this recipe. Wink. Wink. Nudge. Nudge. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me just say that it is a miracle that that pie made it to Thanksgiving dinner. About 20 minutes after she put in the oven, the house filled with the most amazing smell imaginable. There are no words to describe it. If happiness had a smell it would be the smell of this pecan pie. It took everything we had not to just dig into that pie right as it came out of the oven. As it was, we spent most of the evening hovering over the cooling pie, just so we could catch a whiff. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The Thanksgiving pie was so good, that a month later as my birthday rolled around, I thought, I don't want birthday cake, I want Bourbon Ginger Pecan Birthday Pie. (And somewhere in a fictional universe, Dean Winchester was suddenly happy and didn't know why). So once again, my lovely roommate buckled down to make pie. I had a very happy birthday indeed. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Let this be a lesson, friends. If a David Lebovitz recipe catches your eye, do not hesitate. Do not save it for a rainy day. Make it. It may just forever change your birthdays or Thanksgivings or life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<u><span style="font-family: inherit;">David Lebovitz's Pecan Pie with Bourbon and Ginger</span></u><br />
<u><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></u>
Normally, I would say that one should never, ever change a David Lebovitz recipe, because if there is one food writer in the world who knows exactly what he is doing and whose recipes are meticulously tested down to the last detail, it is David Lebovitz. However, for both the occasions where the pie was served we needed it to be both gluten and dairy free, so we made some changes. If you do not need the pie to be gluten and/or dairy free, please check out the <a href="http://www.davidlebovitz.com/2015/11/bourbon-ginger-pecan-pie-recipe-thanksgiving/">original recipe</a>. Make pie crust! Use butter! (Always use butter).<br />
<u><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></u>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Adapted from <a href="http://www.davidlebovitz.com/2015/11/bourbon-ginger-pecan-pie-recipe-thanksgiving/">David Lebovitz</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">For the crust:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">1 1/2 cups of gluten-free cookie crumbs</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">6 tablespoons coconut oil, melted</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">a pinch of salt</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">For the filling: </span><br />
<br />
1 cup dark brown sugar<br />
1/2 cup maple syrup<br />
3 large eggs, at room temperature<br />
4 tablespoons coconut oil, melted<br />
3 tablespoons bourbon<br />
2 teaspoons grated fresh ginger<br />
1 teaspoon ground ginger<br />
1/2 teaspoon vanilla <br />
1/4 teaspoon salt<br />
2 cups pecans, lightly toasted and coarsely chopped<br />
1/4 cup candied ginger, finely chopped<br />
<br />
<br />
1. Preheat the oven to 350 F. In a bowl, combine the cookie crumbs and salt. Pour in the melted coconut oil . The crumbs should just hold together when squeezed. Pat the crumb mixture into a 9 inch pie pan and set aside. <br />
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2. In a large bowl, mix together the brown sugar, maple syrup, eggs, coconut oil, bourbon, fresh ginger, ground ginger, vanilla and salt. Stir in the pecans and candied ginger. <br />
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3. Pour the filling into the prepared pie crust and bake for about 40 minutes, until it is just set. (As Lebovitz says, the middle of the pie should still jiggle a little. This may take a bit more than 40 minutes). Cool to room temperature and serve. Expect exactly zero leftovers. <br />
<br />Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-53712584530570958682015-11-23T22:49:00.000+02:002015-11-26T13:33:04.651+02:00Tradition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZkDkzNyaNmCQ_K5f71DtWIfvih45gqfum6afN7yGZjiRUJvoGIxlS5zHBQkl2aIIWqHw8uFZINzhJWHETpTJL9B4-PWlKghN-d7dUdetzixFQyOG8SU2rFjok17Egpt5hMuNmjJ5Q5_l2/s1600/2015-11-26+13.27.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZkDkzNyaNmCQ_K5f71DtWIfvih45gqfum6afN7yGZjiRUJvoGIxlS5zHBQkl2aIIWqHw8uFZINzhJWHETpTJL9B4-PWlKghN-d7dUdetzixFQyOG8SU2rFjok17Egpt5hMuNmjJ5Q5_l2/s320/2015-11-26+13.27.06.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
There are some holidays where I feel free to improvise- I view them as an opportunity to try out new recipes and techniques. Thanksgiving is not one of those holidays. Thanksgiving is tradition.<br />
<br />
When I was growing up, my parents had, (and still have), a group of friends who got together three times a year-Thanksgiving at the Sterns, Hanukkah at the Saphs and Purim at my parent's place. Every year it was the same people and the same food. So what could be Purim without my mother's stuffed cabbage, and a gathering of kids watching Rocky and Bullwinkle in the basement; and what could be Hanukkah without Leonard's latkes and boxes of Dunkin' Donuts, and the kids running from adult to adult to ask them increasingly bizarre survey question; and finally, what could be Thanksgiving without Cheryl's sweet potato rolls and that long winter drive down to Hyde Park in the dying light?<br />
<br />
I grew up. I moved away. Things changed. I made my own traditions. Latkes at the Saph's became homemade donuts at Deb's. Purim, also at Deb's. Thanksgiving is mine. The guest list is not precisely the same from year to year, but it's close enough. The menu varies in its small details, but always there is turkey and cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie and green beans and mashed potatoes. Most importantly, always, there are friends and there is community.<br />
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Thanksgiving is so important to me. It has become a way to hold on to my American identity, a way of expressing my belief in the power of ritual and the importance of gratitude. It is a wonderful thing to be able to celebrate it at home with friends.<br />
<br />
This year, I'm adding an old/new tradition- sweet potato rolls. Cheryl's sweet potato rolls are one of my most vivid memories from those Thanksgivings. I loved that they were sweet, and adorably orange. It's been years and years since I've had them, and I think I sort of missed them, so this year I decided to revive the tradition and see if they live up to my memory of them. Spoiler alert- they do. They are both less orange and less sweet than I remember them being, but they are still delightful little things, soft and fluffy and tinged with sweet potatoes. Make them, and they'll very likely end up in your yearly rotation. Sure, it's a bit of a fuss to make your own bread, but if you don't fuss on Thanksgiving, when else are you going to fuss? It's worth it, I promise.<br />
<br />
Happy Thanksgiving. May we all have many things to be thankful for this year.<br />
<br />
<u>Roasted Sweet Potato Rolls</u><br />
<br />
Adapted from Cheryl Stern<br />
<br />
2 medium sweet potatoes, roasted and mashed<br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
3 1/2 teaspoons instant yeast</div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
1 ½ cup warm
water</div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
1/3 cup sugar</div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
1 ½ tsp salt</div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
7-7 ½ cups bread flour</div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon olive oil</div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
2 eggs</div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<br /></div>
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<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a>1. In a large bowl, dissolve the yeast in water. Add a pinch of sugar. Let it sit for a few minutes until the yeast mixture is frothy and bubbly. Add in the sugar, salt, olive oil, eggs, and 3 cups of flour. Mix, and then add rest of flour, mixing until it forms a sticky dough. Either turn the dough out onto a well-floured surface, or place in the bowl of a stand mixer. Knead until smooth and elastic- (about 10 minutes on medium speed in a hand mixer, closer to 15 minutes by hand, depending on the strength of your forearms.) </div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;">2. Cover and set aside in warm spot. Let rise until doubled, about an hour. Punch
down the dough and let it rest for about 5 minutes. Divide into 4 parts. Cut each part into 16 pieces. Roll the pieces into strands-about say, an inch and a half to two inches long. Knot the strands to form cute, little rolls. Cover and the rolls and place them in a warm spot. Let rise for a half an hour. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.14in;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;">3. While the rolls are rising, preheat your oven to 400 f. When the rolls have doubled in size, slide them into the oven and bake for 15-20 min. They are done when the tops are lightly browned and a tap to the underside of the roll produce a nice, hollow sound. </span></div>
Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-27549000229026914832015-10-19T22:31:00.001+03:002015-10-20T18:21:01.788+03:00How to Keep On<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
It started with Toffee Bars, or at least that is how I remember it. I found Jess's blog, <a href="http://www.sweetamandine.com/">Sweet Amandine</a>, by accident, following a link that led me to a link that led me to a link, etc. I liked it immediately. I liked the clean, welcoming design, and Jess's warm voice. I liked how she seemed to understand that food is not only meant to nourish but also meant to evoke memories and feelings and stories. I liked the food. (How could I not? <a href="http://www.sweetamandine.com/2009/09/all-of-it.html">Pluot Cake</a>, <a href="http://www.sweetamandine.com/2010/01/piece-of-cake.html">Olive Oil Citrus Cake</a>, <a href="http://www.sweetamandine.com/2011/06/season-to-taste.html">Lemon Curd Squares with Rosemary</a>- and those are just (some of) the desserts). So, in a move quite unlike myself, I screwed my courage to the sticking place- because I am introverted and socially anxious even in the virtual world- and I commented on one of her blog posts. Jess was warm and welcoming, as she is, but it was the Toffee Bars (or <a href="http://www.sweetamandine.com/2009/02/blended-sweetly.html">Toffee Squares</a>, as Jess has it) that really did it.<br />
<br />
It's hard to describe what Toffee Bars mean to me. I have no memory of the first time I ate them, because always, as long as I can remember,it has been, Mrs. Anis has Toffee Bars. Mrs. Anis is my surrogate grandmother. She has fed me and loved me since I was born and she always- may she live and be well- always has Toffee Bars. Toffee Bars is also one of the first things I learned to bake by myself as a child because they are easy and require not so very many ingredients. To me, they are a part of myself-my child self and adult self and the self that is loved and cared for- all of that is in a Toffee Bar. So, imagine my surprise when they showed up on Jess's blog- the very exact recipe- the one I have, the one scrawled on a browning notecard in my mother's hand. Imagine my surprise to find that to her they were also love and care and chosen family. Something slotted into place.<br />
<br />
Jess and I communicated on her blog and via email for a couple of years. We found other things in common- academics, that one street in Jerusalem we both lived off of, though not at the same time. She became someone I could talk to about food, obviously, but also life, academics, words, things that mattered. She became a friend. Eventually though, we fell out of touch, because, life; and I have fallen out of touch with more friends than I care to admit.<br />
<br />
Then <a href="http://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/313275/stir-by-jessica-fechtor/">Stir</a> came out.<br />
<br />
It's a little bit weird to read a book by a friend whom you've never met; to come to know her again by her own words, and Jess is, by far, one of the best wielders of words I know. Her words choice is so accurate, so onpoint, it is a wonder to read. Like Jess, Stir is warm, personable, and honest. It is in turns both joyful and heartbreaking. It is a book about how to keep on when everything changes and how food can get us there. It is about Jess, and her family and her friends, and her kitchen. It's a wonderful book and I'm very, very glad Jess wrote it. I hope you will read it.<br />
<br />
Jess, thank you for Stir. xo<br />
<br />
<br />
Much as I loved all the food in Stir, and despite the fact that it will probably change the way I make pastry and the way I make challah, the recipe I have to share with you is not from Stir but from Jess's blog, Sweet Amandine. I make a lot of recipes from Sweet Amandine, but this is the one I make the most. It is THE soup. It is the soup that has turned many a fennel hater into a fennel lover. It is the soup that my family now makes every Passover when we've gotten sick of eating and all we want is soup and salad and maybe some matzoh and butter. It is the soup I make when summer slips into fall. It is carrots and fennel, roasted until they go brown and lovely and sweet. It is the genius of a spoon of tomato paste turning dark around a layer of oil-slicked onions and all the depth and complexity it lends. I love this soup.<br />
<br />
Make this soup and think of it as a teaser. Then go out and buy Stir (or take it out of your local library if you have one). Treasures await.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.sweetamandine.com/2010/01/my-regular-seat.html">Roasted Carrot and Fennel Soup</a><br />
<br />
Very lightly adapted from Jessica Fechtor on <a href="http://www.sweetamandine.com/">Sweet Amandine</a><br />
<br />
2 tablespoons olive oil<br />
1 1/2 pounds carrots (about 8 medium carrots)<br />
1 bulb fennel<br />
1 medium onion, diced<br />
1 tablespoon tomato paste<br />
1 teaspoon fennel seed, toasted and ground (or if your me, roughly smashed with a knife on your cutting board)<br />
4-5 cups water or vegetable broth<br />
Salt and pepper to taste<br />
<br />
1. Preheat your oven to 450 F. Peel and chop the carrots into 1/4 inch rounds. Trim the fennel and then cut into 1/2 inch wedges. Toss the carrots and fennel with 1 tablespoon of olive oil and some salt and pepper. Spread on a baking tray and roast for about a half an hour until the vegetables are tender and golden at the edges and smell delicious.<br />
<br />
2. Meanwhile, heat the rest of the oil oven medium heat in a large, heavy-bottomed pot. Add the onions and the fennel and saute until the onion is translucent. Add the tomato paste and stir.<br />
<br />
3. By now, the carrot and fennel should be ready. Add them to the pot with the onion. Stir and then pour in 4 cups of water or broth. Bring to a simmer. Remove from heat and carefully! blend using an immersion blender,adding more water or broth to thin it a bit if the soup seems to thick. Reheat, and serve.<br />
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<br />Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-33977230261016200352015-08-27T23:43:00.001+03:002015-08-27T23:43:59.779+03:00Broken PromisesEvery night I come home from work, or if I am working from home, I close the work documents on my computer and I say to myself, "Tonight, tonight I will sit down and write." Then I go to make dinner. Two hours and a meal later, I somehow find myself on YouTube watching another episode of The Great British Bakeoff, having not written a word.<br />
<br />
I promised you ice cream. I promised you rice. I promised you onion tart. I am delivering on exactly none of those promises.<br />
<br />
I'm going to make it up to you with soup, glorious soup.<br />
<br />
Louisa Shafia's Saffron Corn Soup is one of the best soups I have ever made. Certainly it is the best corn soup I have ever made. It was amazingly delicious served hot and equally as delicious eaten cold. Judging from the title alone, I first thought that this soup would be a delicate thing, but then I looked at the ingredients list and I saw turmeric and dried limes and lemon. I thought they were bold flavors to go with saffron and yet somehow it worked. The turmeric lends warmth, the corn a rich creaminess and sweetness and the lime gives the soup a kick of brightness. Then comes the saffron, weaving it's way through the soup in a floral undertone.<br />
<br />
If you're in America and you can get late summer corn, now's the time to make this soup. If you're in Israel, well, you'll just have to make due with the starchy, sort of bland vegetable that passes for late summer corn around here. Sorry. The soup will still be good though, I promise.<br />
<br />
<br />
<u>Saffron Corn Soup</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Lightly adapted from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Persian-Kitchen-Louisa-Shafia/dp/1607743574">The New Persian Kitchen by Louisa Shafia</a><br />
<br />
A note on ingredients: In Jerusalem, dried limes can be found in most of the spice stores that line the alleyways of the Machneh Yehuda Market. I imagine that they can be found in any good spice store throughout Israel. I know less about finding dried limes in America. If anyone has good leads, please mention them in the comments. <br />
<br />
3 tablespoons vegetable oil<br />
2 yellow onions, diced<br />
1 teaspoon turmeric<br />
6 large ears of corn, shucked<br />
3 dried Persian limes, soaked in hot water for 15 minutes, then pierced with a knife or fork<br />
6 cups chicken stock or water<br />
1/2 teaspoon saffron<br />
salt and pepper<br />
3 tablespoons lemon or lime juice<br />
<br />
1. Over medium heat, heat the oil in a stockpot. Add the onions and cook until they start to brown a bit, about ten minutes. Add the turmeric and the corn, and then the dried limes along with their soaking water. Pour in the stock or water and bring to a boil. Cover the pot and simmer for about 15 minutes, or until the corn is tender.<br />
<br />
2. Remove the pot from the heat. Squeeze the limes against the side of the pot to extract their flavor and then remove them. Let the soup cool a bit. Blend half the soup in a blender or using a hand blender. Add the saffron, salt and pepper. Add the lemon or lime juice, to taste. Serve hot or cold.Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-88021693124288107272015-07-12T22:14:00.001+03:002015-07-12T22:16:49.876+03:00Winner, Winner<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
There is so much food to talk about- ice cream, more ice cream, Persian rice, a rockin' onion tart, a new grill sitting in my backyard etc. All the food, as they say around here. But first, chicken and the mystery that is Jamie Oliver.<br />
<br />
I don't want to like Jamie Oliver as much as I do. As a sometimes grumpy introvert, I should find his relentless cheerfulness and enthusiasm annoying. Plus, he's everywhere. He's always publishing a new cookbook, starring in a new TV show, backing a new initiative, and so and on and so on. Enough. <i>Hallas</i>. And yet, somehow, someway I find his cheerfulness encouraging and enthusiasm genuine. His cookbooks are always good; his tv shows informative, and his initiatives causes that I believe in. I keep on waiting for him to let me down, and he keeps on hitting out of the park (insert parallel British idiom here). How in the ever-loving world does he do it? I mean, where does he find the time and the energy? Obviously he has assistants and staff and sous-chefs and probably a ghost-writer or two, but still. Still. What is this loveable thing we call Jamie Oliver? How?<br />
<br />
Which brings me back to chicken. I've made this chicken a few times now and every time it exceeds expectations. Sure, I mean, look- basil and tomatoes and a whole head of garlic are never going to be bad, but there's nothing quite like the transformation they undergo after an hour and a half in the oven nestled between chicken pieces. I don't know how Jamie Oliver knew it, but somehow he did. Somehow he knew how garlic would mellow and sweeten and tomatoes could collapse and infuse; how the great brightness of basil could become a complex back-note, a bass-line, if you will. Maybe Jamie Oliver knows the science of it, but to me it's a little bit magical- and isn't that the point?<br />
<br />
<br />
<u>Chicken with Tomatoes, Basil and Garlic</u><br />
<br />
Adapted very lightly from <a href="http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/chicken-recipes/tender-and-crisp-chicken-legs-with-sweet-tomatoes/?utm_source=social&utm_medium=RecipeOftheDay&utm_term=2015#ouG56EcMeCiqr8SK.97">www.jamieoliver.com</a><br />
<br />
4 chicken legs<br />
4 chicken thighs<br />
salt<br />
pepper<br />
a big bunch of basil, roughly chopped<br />
a good amount (about two handfuls) of tomatoes (cherry or grape tomatoes work best)<br />
1 head of garlic, broken into cloves but not peeled<br />
half a red chili, chopped (optional)<br />
olive oil<br />
a bunch of new potatoes, sliced (optional)<br />
<br />
1. Preheat the oven to 350 F.<br />
2. Place the chicken in one layer in a pan or oven-friendly pot. Season with salt and pepper. Slice the tomatoes in half (or in quarters if they are very big, and add them to the pot, pushing the under the chicken. Add the basil, garlic, chili and potatoes, if using. Drizzle with a few good glugs of olive oil. Place in the oven, uncovered, and cook for and hour and a half, until the chicken skin is good and crisp and the meat is falling off the bone. <br />
<br />
The dish can be served as is, or you can remove the meat from the bones and serve over pasta.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-27981170712269687802015-06-15T22:01:00.000+03:002015-06-15T22:02:19.505+03:00Three Years<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdc_jCSmDjFVnBSKnz2OaDtILx9veBDbeBm1whzO5yIek6U7W9_OYJ-JmXqjOkBjnHwUGaOXnMv5lQmNRGNMJelSPNNKeXy3l7WC2KjNO-pHDc6MXv1P-K231EFgbZbYs94zF3WKuEAnan/s1600/2015-06-12+12.14.06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdc_jCSmDjFVnBSKnz2OaDtILx9veBDbeBm1whzO5yIek6U7W9_OYJ-JmXqjOkBjnHwUGaOXnMv5lQmNRGNMJelSPNNKeXy3l7WC2KjNO-pHDc6MXv1P-K231EFgbZbYs94zF3WKuEAnan/s320/2015-06-12+12.14.06.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br />
This Passover I saw your mother and met your dog. This was so unexpected, so unanticipated that I did not know how to process it. As it is, earlier in the holiday, sitting together with our friends, I was struck with a wave of missing you so strong that it felt like a physical thing- we weren't even discussing anything related to you-it was just the situation, all of us around a table, snacking, talking. Then your mother, and your dog, who you loved. You talked about him a lot. There he was, nosing at my hands and pushing his head into the curve of my palm to be stroked. And your mother, well, I hadn't seen her in years and years, maybe even over a decade. She looks the same, except she doesn't because loss is one of those things that leaves its mark.<br />
<br />
I wasn't emotionally prepared, but then again, especially now, I tend to think that we are never really prepared.<br />
<br />
Three years.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I've been meaning to write about this ice cream for a while- since Passover, but it's fitting that I'm writing about it now, since that last time I saw Bayla was at the great Mouseline ice-cream parlor in Jerusalem. This ice cream is not quite as good as their chestnut ice cream, but it's pretty close. It's another one of Nigella Lawson's magical no-churn recipes, and it's easy as pie. If you can find chestnut puree you can make this in two easy steps. If you can't find chestnut puree, that's fine too, it's actually quite easy to make. All you need is some vacuum packed roasted chestnuts, sugar, water, and a food processor and you're good to go.<br />
<br />
To ice cream, friends and good memories.<br />
<br />
<br />
<u>No-Churn Chestnut Ice-Cream</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Lightly adapted from <a href="http://www.nigella.com/recipes/view/no-churn-chestnut-ice-cream">Nigella Lawson</a><br />
<br />
1 cup sweetened chestnut puree (recipe below)<br />
2 tablespoons dark rum, chocolate or coffee liquor<br />
1 1/4 cups heavy cream<br />
1/2 cup confectioner's sugar<br />
<br />
1. Mix together the chestnut puree and rum or liquor. Set aside.<br />
<br />
2. Whip the cream and confectioner's sugar until it just forms soft peaks. Fold in the chestnut puree mixture.<br />
<br />
3. Transfer to an airtight container and freeze twelve hours or overnight.<br />
<br />
<u>Sweetened Chestnut Puree</u><br />
<br />
Lightly adapted by<a href="http://www.nigella.com/recipes/view/home-made-sweet-chestnut-puree-2674"> Krakra58 on nigella.com</a><br />
<br />
12 oz vacuum packed peeled roasted chestnuts<br />
1 cup sugar<br />
2 cups water<br />
2 teaspoons vanilla<br />
<br />
1. Combine chestnuts, sugar and water in a saucepan and bring to boil. Lower the heat and simmer for 25-35 minutes until the water thickens and becomes syrupy and is mostly evaporated.<br />
<br />
2. Remove from heat and strain, reserving the cooking liquid.<br />
<br />
3. Place the chestnuts in a food processor and blend until smooth. Slowly add the reserved syrup until it is the consistency of say, pumpkin puree. Mix in the vanilla. Proceed with ice cream recipe above. Left-over puree should be stored in the fridge, though honestly it's so good you'll probably just end up eating the leftovers right there and then.Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-29683657290646809722015-05-12T19:05:00.000+03:002015-05-12T19:22:04.363+03:00Back in the SaddleAs some of you might know, for the past eight months I had been working part-time as a translator for a news agency. I liked the work, I loved the people, I hated the hours. I think maybe, somewhere in the world there are people (namely, my former colleagues) who can get to work at 6am twice a week and still function as human beings. I am not one of those people. Waking up at 5:30 am screwed with my equilibrium. The work was shift-work so my early mornings did not occur on a set schedule-except for the last 4-5 months when I consistently worked every Sunday morning and one other day of the week. My sleep schedule was a wreck. I was losing evenings to early nights, and hours of other freelance work post-shift when I would wake up from my nap groggy and slow. It goes without saying that I haven't been doing much entertaining over the past few months. Weekends were a time to breath, to gather myself in quiet before I had to go stumbling out into the early morning dark again. A lot of friends have fed me over the past little while. A lot of friends provided me with books to read so I could sooth my brain. I am incredibly grateful to those lot of friends.<br />
<br />
I started a new job about two and a half weeks ago. It's too early to tell whether I like the job or not. I'm still getting adjusted, but so far it's been pretty good. The people at my new office seem nice and the work is more interesting than I had anticipated. To be honest though, the best things about my new job so far are the hours and the location. I start work at 9:30 am, and live about a 10 minute walk from my new office. This means I can wake up at 7:30 like a normal person. I can shower, drink my coffee, get dressed, put on make-up, pack a lunch and still have time to check my email before I mosey on down the block to work. For this reason alone I hope I am able to keep this job for a long, long time.<br />
<br />
I have my life back. Suddenly I want to talk to my friends. I want go out. I want to cook new foods. I want to entertain. So entertain, I did. For the first time in ages, I hosted friends over the weekend. We ate outside in my garden, where surprisingly, both the strawberry and blackberry plants have survived the winter. We ate tacos. We drank cocktails with too much gin in them. We talked for long whiles. It was glorious. 10/10 would host again.<br />
<br />
Also glorious was the alternative lentil-walnut filling I made for the tacos. I had originally planned to just make fish tacos, but two of my guests hated fish, so I needed another, non-meat filling for the tacos. Generally, I am wary of foods that are not meat but claim to be like meat. Meat is meat. Other food is other food. But I found this recipe on Food52 and generally Food52 has never let me down, so I figured I would give it a shot. It was by far the most popular dish on the table. And sure, it doesn't look like much-but damn, is it good-meaty and tangy- and pretty much everything you want to put in your taco.<br />
<br />
<u>Lentil Walnut Taco Filling</u><br />
<br />
Lightly adapted from <a href="https://food52.com/recipes/33027-easy-lentil-walnut-tacos-with-cabbage-lime-slaw">Gena Hamshaw on Food52</a> <br />
<br />
1 1/4 cups walnuts, toasted<br />
1 tablespoon soy sauce<br />
1 clove of garlic<br />
1/2 cup tightly packed sun-dried tomatoes (oil packed is best)<br />
1/2 teaspoon cumin<br />
1/2 teaspoon chili powder (or more, to taste)<br />
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar<br />
1 1/2 cups cooked brown lentils<br />
<br />
1. Place the walnuts in a food processor and pulse a few times to coarsely chop. Add the soy sauce, garlic, sun-dried tomatoes, spices and vinegar and pulse a few more times. Add the lentils and pulse until the mixture is incorporated. Hamshaw says the mixture should look crumbly-mine was smooth and had the texture of pate. Serve in tortillas or taco shells with lettuce, tomatoes, salsa, slaw and any other fun taco accouterments of your choosing.Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-89068383812063292932015-03-30T21:53:00.000+03:002015-03-30T21:53:05.306+03:00Chaos Rising<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Passover is chaos. There really is no other word for it, the explosion of noise and activity that lands on my parent's house over the holiday. It's inevitable and there's nothing to do but to embrace it and hold on tight.<br />
<br />
I always have big plans for what I want to cook over Passover. My mother and I begin swapping recipes months in advance and I'm always looking for the most exciting, interesting things to make. My mother, on the other hand, is more practical, and is always looking for the things that are the easy and traditional. This year, our positions are reversed. I sent my mother the easiest, simplest recipe for roast I have ever encountered. It is also one of the best. My mother said, well, I was thinking about lamb if I could find it.<br />
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I envision my mother's Passover kitchen-long and narrow. Someone, one my nieces, is asking for a sweet omelet for breakfast. Another wants yogurt. A third is asking if they can help with the meringues, because I am always making meringues. My brother is making coffee. My hands are probably coated in sugar, or egg whites, or something. This is Passover. I think, lamb. Yes, lamb is good. I love lamb, though I'm really the only one in my family who does. Lamb should be seared, just right, then eased between carrots and potatoes and onion and garlic and red wine. I envision myself standing over the stove searing that lamb, the oil jumping and hitting my skin, while my sister is reaching over me putting up a pot of potatoes to boil and my mother wants to check on something in the oven. I think, nah. Why don't we do away with the searing, and the onions and potatoes and carrots. Let's just open a can of tomatoes, leave the garlic unpeeled and just stick everything in the oven. It doesn't all have to be chaos and noise.<br />
<br />
Let's just do that.<br />
<br />
Happy Passover.<br />
<br />
<u>Braised Beef with Tomatoes and Garlic</u><br />
<br />
From <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2015/02/oven-braised-beef-with-tomatoes-and-garlic/">Smitten Kitchen</a><br />
<br />
28 ounces canned tomatoes<br />
1 3 lb chuck roast<br />
1 head of garlic, cloves separated, but unpeeled.<br />
<br />
1. Preheat the oven to 300 F. If using whole canned tomatoes, give em a good chop. If not, place the roast in a heavy oven-proof pot or casserole. Pour the tomatoes over the meat and then add the garlic. Season well with salt and pepper. Place in the oven and braise for 3-4 hours, until tender. Serve sliced or just falling apart with the sauce and garlic.<br />
<br />Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-78813891698685952902015-03-11T16:22:00.000+02:002015-03-11T16:22:23.566+02:00DIYContinuing a trend from my previous post, I am not very good at this whole "do it yourself" thing. I'd like to be making my own jam, but I'm also afraid of giving everybody botulism. I've made my own ricotta cheese a few times, and it's been pretty good, but I can't really find a recipe that I like enough to keep on ruining perfectly good cotton towels for (don't get me started on the lack of cheesecloth around here).Once, I tried to make a necklace out of an old t-shirt, because Pinterest said it was easy. I don't want to talk about the results. But the internet promised homemade Kahlua with no waiting time, and it was almost Purim, and I was working from home and I needed to <strike>procrastinate</strike> take a break, what else was I going to do? It was the perfect <strike>procrastinating</strike> break recipe, after all- just a few ingredients, and almost zero work time. I was dubious, but I figured, why not?<br />
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<div>
I have never gotten so many requests for a recipe before. It's possible that said requests were the result of inebriation and not the quality of the actual liquor, but having tasted the liquor while sober, I have to say it was pretty gosh-darn good. It was sweet without being cloying and had a deep coffee flavor that somehow managed to not be overwhelming. I even got a few coffee-haters (heathens) to drink it and like it. Beat that, suckers.<br />
<br />
So here, by request, is <u>Homemade Kahlua</u>:<br />
Adapted from <a href="http://thegracefulkitchen.net/2015/03/homemade-same-day-kahlua/">The Graceful Kitchen</a><br />
<br />
I cut this recipe in half, because 4 cups of liquor is a lot if you don't have empty bottles to store it in. Feel free to use the original measurements.<br />
<br />
1 1/4 cup sugar<br />
1 1/2 cups water<br />
1 1/2 tablespoons instant coffee<br />
1 cup vodka (don't waste the good stuff on this-use something cheap)<br />
1/2 tablespoon vanilla extract<br />
<br />
<br />
1. In a saucepan, stir together the sugar, water and coffee. Bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer for 2-2 1/2 hours until you are left with a dark thick coffee-flavored syrup. Cool.<br />
<br />
2. When cool add the vodka and the vanilla extract and bottle.<br />
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Happy Drinking!<br />
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<br /></div>
Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-33228466442824693492015-02-09T21:24:00.000+02:002015-02-09T21:24:36.357+02:00Simple Living<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
I have a reputation for being a little bit of a fussy cook. Certainly I have a reputation as a fussy baker. Now, fussy is a pretty relative term. All things being equal, I think I'm pretty un-fussy. In fact one might say, I am the opposite of fussy. I won't decorate cakes. I won't do writing. The last time I tried to make a frosting flower it came out looking like a sad lump of pink. My double layer cakes are often crooked.But I think what people tend to mean when they say I am fussy, is that I don't often make anything that can be just dumped in a bowl/pan/pot. The recipes I make often have multiple steps and use numerous cooking utensils. I have been known on occasion to even brown butter in recipes that do not call for browned butter, just because I can. Now, this is not a value judgment. No one way of cooking is better than the other. It is simply the way I cook. I like the meditative qualities of cooking and baking-so for me, extra time in the kitchen is something I value. Other people don't find cooking as calming, or don't have the time to spend puttering around, trying new things. That's fine, too.<br />
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The cake (which is honestly more a bar than a cake) I am sharing with you today is about as un-fussy as you can get. It is quick, easy and endlessly adaptable. The recipe is my mom's and it's one of those cakes that showed up a lot in my childhood-along with the ubiquitous Wacky Cake. Often times my mother would make it with apples, though I seem to remember that sometimes it appeared in a blueberry version. When I made it a few weeks ago,for the first time in forever, I used strawberries and rhubarb, because that's what I had in the house. But really, probably any fruit would do. I have a bunch of cranberries sitting in my freezer and I have a feeling they're going to be my next experiment. It'll probably be delicious. That's not bragging. It's just that this cake is really, really hard to screw up. It is not much more than a crumble of flour, sugar, oil and baking powder that gets pressed into a pan, covered with fruit, and then topped with the remaining crumble. The result is more than the sum of its parts. What more could you ask from a cake?<br />
<br />
<u>My Mom's All-Purpose Crumble Cake</u><br />
Adapted from Ricky Krakowski<br />
<br />
The Crumble:<br />
<br />
3 cups flour<br />
1 cup sugar<br />
1 tsp baking powder<br />
1/4 teaspoon salt<br />
1 egg<br />
3/4 cup vegetable oil<br />
<br />
Fruit:<br />
6 medium apples, sliced, or about 3 cups of your desired fruit<br />
1/2 cup sugar<br />
a pinch of cinnamon (or any other spices you feel like playing around with)<br />
<br />
<br />
1. Preheat the oven to 350 f. In a bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Add the egg and oil and mix until crumbly. In another bowl, toss the fruit with the sugar and desired spices.<br />
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3. Grease a 9x13 pan. Press 3/4 of the crumble into the pan. Spread fruit over the dough, then top the fruit with the remaining crumble. Do not press. Allow it to remain pebbly and sandy. Bake for about 30-35 minutes until the top is golden and the fruit is jammy and bubbling. Cool and cut into squares. Serve.Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-52923120294830392422015-01-21T22:00:00.000+02:002015-01-21T22:44:14.918+02:00There and Back Again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
It's been a while. I have been there and back again. And sick with endless cold/sinus thing. And slammed with work. I've barely had a moment to stop and find the headspace to just write, which is sad, because it feels like I have eaten all the food over past month or so. In Chicago, I discovered possibly the best coffee I have ever tasted from a small little company called Dark Matter coffee. It was a revelation. In New York, I had the best lamb chop I have ever had in my life, and learned the smoky tang of a cranberry marshmallow at Pardes, only the best kosher restaurant ever. But these are not important.<br />
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This is what is important: a meal eaten on a fold out table in my parent's room as my mom recovers from knee surgery. Talking with old friends-on the couch, in a car, on the subway, for five minutes, outside of a store. Sitting in the back of minivan, listening to my nieces argue over Harry Potter. It's coming back to my grandmother's house, cold and tired and full and sitting down to a hot cup of tea and cocosh. That's what's important. The moments in between. The just being together.</div>
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<br />
I made these muffins for my mom, because she asked for muffins and I couldn't resist the fresh cranberries when I saw them at Trader Joe's. I've since made them again using rhubarb instead of cranberries, thinking they would impart a similar tartness, but to be honest, it's better with the cranberries. Cranberries are always better. I take these muffins to work with me now. I eat them blearily in the early morning. I think of my mother. I wonder if she is still eating the ones I left in her freezer. It's a way of being together, sharing a quiet moment, even when we're not.</div>
<div>
<br />
<br />
<u>Cranberry-Orange Muffins</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Lightly adapted from <a href="http://www.williams-sonoma.com/recipe/cranberry-orange-muffins2.html">Williams Sonoma</a><br />
<br />
2 cups flour<br />
1/2 cup sugar<br />
1/2 cup light brown sugar<br />
2 teaspoons baking powder<br />
1/2 teaspoon salt<br />
zest of one orange<br />
1 egg<br />
4 tablespoons vegetable oil<br />
1/2 cup milk<br />
1/2 cup orange juice<br />
1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen cranberries<br />
1/2 cup of pecans, chopped.<br />
<br />
1. Preheat the oven to 375 F. Line a muffin tin with muffin liners. Whisk together the flour, sugars, baking powder salt and orange zest. In another bowl, mix the egg, oil, milk and orange juice. Add the wet ingredients to the dry ones and mix until just combined. Fold in the cranberries and the nuts. Spoon batter into the tin (I find that an ice cream scoop works well for this).<br />
<br />
2. Bake for 20-25 minutes, until lightly golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool. Eat. </div>
Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-66805693588447810122014-11-23T15:53:00.000+02:002014-11-23T15:53:59.608+02:00On Tolerance<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
One of my favorite books as a child was Molly's Pilgrim. Molly's Pilgrim is the story a young Jewish immigrant from Russia in turn of the century America. Molly is relentlessly teased by her classmates- for talking funny, for dressing funny, for not knowing the right words for things. As Thanksgiving approaches, her teacher assigns the students the task of making Pilgrim clothespin dolls for their Thanksgiving diorama. Molly's mother, who does not have an historical context for Pilgrims, makes her a doll dressed as a Russian immigrant. For as her mother explains, Molly told her that Pilgrims were people who came to America seeking religious freedom- their family came to America seeking religious freedom, hence they are Pilgrims. Molly anticipates that the teasing will get worse when she brings the doll to school the next day. But to her surprise, the teacher likes her doll best, using it to teach the class a gentle lesson about freedom, difference, and tolerance.<br />
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<br /></div>
<div>
Obviously, as Jewish girl living in America, the story spoke to me deeply and informed the way I grew to think about America and the values that I admired, etched into one of the country's seminal origin stories.<br />
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Of course, most origin stories, hagiographies that they are, are problematic and ahistoric. The story America's foundation sets no benchmark for tolerance, freedom or a celebration of differences. Even today, centuries later, the issues of race, class, freedom of religion, personal freedom and the rights of the strangers in our midst are among the most fraught issues in American society. And yet, my mind often strays to the words of George Washington in his letter of reply to the Jewish congregation in Newport. He writes: </div>
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</div>
<div>
"All possess alike liberty of conscience and immunities of citizenship. It is now no more that toleration is spoken of, as if it was by the indulgence of one class of people that another enjoyed the exercise of the inherent natural rights. For happily the government of the United States, which give to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance, requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens...."</div>
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<br /></div>
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Washington's words have stayed with me since I first read them in college. It is due to them that I remain uncomfortable with the word tolerance and use it only for lack of a better term. We do not tolerate those who are different than us, for toleration implies that it is within our purview to "indulge" them, as Washington said, in what is their natural right. But that indulgence is not our to give. "All possess alike liberty of conscience and immunities of citizenship."</div>
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It is for this reason that I continue to celebrate Thanksgiving though I have not lived in the United States for over a decade. I am thankful to have lived in a country where these values, despite the failures and the fault lines and the racism and intolerance and bigotry that are woven, like dark threads, into American history, could be expressed and advocated as a truth by the first President of the United States. That truth and those values inform my ideals here, in my second home, where even tolerance has been hard to come by lately- in so many ways and in so many places. And that is why I celebrate and am thankful. </div>
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"May the Father of all mercies scatter light and not darkness in our paths, and make us all in our several vocations useful here, and in his own due time and way, everlastingly happy." </div>
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Happy Thanksgiving. </div>
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<div>
Marcus Samuelsson knows a thing or two about diversity and immigration. He was born in Ethiopia, raised in Sweden, and now lives in the United States. His Thanksgiving menu, published in November's Food and Wine reflects that. It is eclectic and unique, and diverse in its inspirations. I wanted to try every single recipe, and maybe I will, but for now, I limited myself to one.</div>
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For years, I've been missing kale and other deep leafy greens. Until recently is has been almost impossible to find anything other than mangold (beet greens) and spinach here in Israel- no kale, no collards, no mustard greens (which is ridiculous, since wild mustard grows in abundance here). But to my great joy over the past few years, kale has begun to appear in Israeli supermarket. It's still on the expensive side, so I only buy it on occasion.However, I do believe that a Marcus Samuelsson recipe qualifies as an occasion. His kale salad with root vegetables and apple is a revelation. It will make a kale-hater love kale, and I know this because that is exactly what happened when I served the salad a few weeks ago. My guests and I, kale-hater and all, decimated it. It was that good. I made a few changes, but those were due to necessity, not choice (I have yet to find a rutabaga in Israel, and two pounds of kale can be expensive,) so I am posting the original recipe with options. </div>
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<u>Kale Salad with Root Vegetables and Apple</u></div>
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<div>
Adapted from Marcus Samuelsson in Food and Wine November, 2014</div>
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<div>
2 pounds kale, washed stemmed and sliced, or 1 pound kale and 1 pound beet greens, washed, stemmed and sliced.</div>
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2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar</div>
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1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons olive oil</div>
<div>
salt</div>
<div>
1 teaspoon lemon zest</div>
<div>
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice</div>
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1 tablespoon soy sauce</div>
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1 tablespoon agave syrup or honey</div>
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pepper</div>
<div>
1 carrot, julienned</div>
<div>
1 apple, peeled and julienned</div>
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1 cup rutabaga or kohlrabi peeled and julienned</div>
<div>
2 scallions sliced thin</div>
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1. In a big bowl, massage the kale with vinegar, 2 tablespoons of olive oil and a teaspoon of salt. Set aside at room temperature for half an hour. </div>
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2. In a small bowl, mix together the lemon juice, zest, syrup or honey, soy sauce, the 1/4 cup of olive oil and salt and pepper to taste. </div>
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3. Add the carrot, apple, rutabaga or kholrabi and scallions to the kale. Toss. Add the dressing and mix again. Serve. </div>
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Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-61765514979145860712014-11-09T16:57:00.000+02:002014-11-09T23:10:55.978+02:00A World on Its OwnThere is a lot of food to talk about. A lot of food that was made and consumed over the holidays. There is a lot of food being planned. Thanksgiving is coming up. I've just received a subscription to Food and Wine (thanks, Tobes) which has filled me with ideas and thoughts and just plain, I want to make that. I am sorry for my extended silence especially when I have so much to say.<br />
<br />
The older I get, the more I come to realize that life seldom goes the way you planned, for yourself or for the people you love best. Over the course of two weeks I received spectacular news from a friend, and then on one joyous, terrible day I received very very good news from another friend while yet another friend shared news that was absolutely devastating. I think each of these friends would say that this was not the way that they expected their lives to be. This was not the story we told ourselves-this makes the joy all the more joyous and pain all the more painful.<br />
<br />
There is a Jewish custom of bringing round foods to a house of mourning (hence the bagels) as a symbol of the circle of life and the ever turning world. I've always sort of hated this custom because at that moment, in that house of mourning, the world does not continue to spin. A world on its own is gone and destroyed in the lack and the absence. And if anything, life is not a circle, but a series of concentric ones, an extended Venn diagram, where you and your loved ones meet and overlap, laugh and cry in conjunction, but separate. Or maybe it is this, we are each our own boat, in the same river, holding out a hand to steady each other against the current. People come into our lives, husbands, wives, friends, babies and people, new and old, leave our lives. We travel together, we travel apart.<br />
<br />
It's an emotional buffeting to be both so very happy and so very sad.<br />
<br />
<br />
For the reasons mentioned above lentils are also often brought to a house of mourning. I did not make these lentils in mourning, in fact, I was in a pretty good mood when I made these on Sukkot- happy to be sharing the holiday with my friends. They are sweet and sour, these lentils and I was surprised by them, because generally, sweet and sour disagrees with me. But I've been thinking about them a lot since I made, and not just because they were delicious and easy and filling, but because my life has seemed so sweet and sour as of late.<br />
<br />
Emily's Sweet and Sour Lentils<br />
<br />
Adapted from Becky Haendel (I do not know who Emily is, but whoever and wherever you are, Emily, thank you.)<br />
<br />
I've made a few changes to the recipe- mostly I've halved it, because 3 cups of lentils is an insane amount of lentils, and cut the sweetness a bit. If you want to go with the original proportions- it was 3/4 cup of honey to 3 cups of brown lentils).<br />
<br />
1/8 cup soy sauce<br />
1 bay leaf<br />
1/2 tablespoon onion powder<br />
1/2 cup vegetable oil<br />
1/8 cup honey<br />
1/4 cup red wine vinegar<br />
1/2 teaspoon allspice<br />
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger<br />
2 cups water<br />
1 1/2 cups brown or green lentils<br />
<br />
1. The recipe is as simple as this: Mix all the ingredients in a small-medium pot. Bring to a boil. Simmer, covered for 40-45 minutes until the lentils are soft and most of the liquid has been dissolved. Serve hot or at room temperature, over rice or with warm pita. <br />
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<br />Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-12633707390154924352014-09-21T16:18:00.000+03:002014-09-21T16:19:30.855+03:00Into the Wild<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've been avoiding writing this post for a while now. It feels premature. I'm not ready to write about my year- to sum up, to take stock. We had no summer. Where did the summer go? How is it September already? What is this turning of the seasons?<br />
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In some ways, this has been a very good year. I moved into a beautiful new apartment. I have a lovely new roommate. And as I keep telling anybody who will listen- I have a garden which gives me an inordinate amount of joy. In other ways it's been a very difficult year. The job that I thought would be steady and stable turned out to be neither steady nor stable, so I left and am now, once again, job searching. My cat spent a good few months being terribly sick and even now I am continually surprised that she is still alive And then, of course, there was the war and the growing feeling of disillusionment and dread that accompanied it.</div>
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But lo, the new year is upon us, for better or for worse. That is the way time works, evidently. This year is into the wild. It's a shmitta year. Shmitta is the Biblical injunction to let your land lie fallow every seven years (among other things) It is a sabbath for the land, which is a lovely concept. The truth is,though, shmitta is kind of a pain on so many levels. I've just planted my garden and am now faced with the prospect of just letting it be- no fertilizing, no pruning, no weeding- just watering and the bare minimum that needs to be done to keep it alive. It's hard. Every morning, I go outside. I check on my succulent with the pink-red flowers first, then the aphid-ravished jasmine, then the newly planted purple basil, the strawberry plant, the blackberry, the rosemary, the zaatar, the oregano and the thyme. I deadhead the plant with the white flowers, the multi-colored petunias and move back to the succulent to deadhead it too. I watch the natural drama unfolding. The little black cat, who's still half a kitten, has climbed up into the pear tree, and all the birds- the sparrows, the chickadees, the bright-stomached hummingbirds, the jays and four spectacular green wild parrots- come out in furious concert to yell at the intruder. I know that the flowering plants and some of the herbs probably won't survive the winter, but there's nothing I can do about it, and I won't be able to replace them until next September. What will this garden look like come spring, I wonder. I'm giving it over to the wild. It's out of my hands.<br />
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I don't know how to say things, to wish things, about the coming year. It's come too early. The war's cold fingers are still digging themselves into my ribs and it's hard to shake them off, to see clearly, to have a plan. I'm going into this one with my eyes shut tight. I'm laying down seeds and hoping.<br />
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<br />
Two recipes for the new year:<br />
<br />
<u>Roast Chicken and Potatoes with Silan (Date Honey)</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Adapted from Lisa Rubin<br />
<br />
1 whole chicken<br />
4 tablespoons of silan<br />
about half an inch of fresh ginger, grated<br />
3-4 cloves garlic, minced<br />
1/3 cup olive oil<br />
salt<br />
pepper<br />
a good bunch of thyme<br />
3-4 potatoes, peeled, sliced and parboiled<br />
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<br />
1. If you have time, season the chicken with salt and pepper and let sit overnight. If not, preheat the oven to 400 F. In a small bowl, mix together the silan, ginger, garlic and olive oil. Toss the potatoes with some olive oil, salt and pepper, and then place them at the bottom of a crock or dutch oven (enameled cast iron is best for this). Take a handful of thyme and place over the potatoes. Place the chicken over the thyme breast-side down. Pour the silan mixture over the chicken, rubbing it under the skin and into the cavity. Stuff the cavity with the rest of the thyme. Roast uncovered for 45 minutes to an hour, or until the internal of the chicken temperature reaches 160 F.<br />
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<u>Apple-Celery Salad with Pomegranate-Mustard Vinaigrette</u><br />
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This is not so much a recipe as it is a list of instructions. Do as you like<br />
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Roast a handful of almonds, allow to cool and chop. Dice an apple (or two) and a fewish stalks of celery. Slice some red onion thin, thin thin. Wash some lettuce, if you'd like, or leave it out if you don't. Pour some vinegar into a small bowl, add a good pinch of salt and wait for it to dissolve. Add a grind of pepper, a few good glugs of pomegranate molasses, more if you like things tart, a nice teaspoon or more of Dijon mustard and some olive oil. Whisk to combine. In a large bowl, mix together the apples, celery, red onion, almonds and lettuce, if using. If you'd like add some nice, mild cheese, but it's totally optional. Dress with the vinaigrette. Eat.<br />
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Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-5543722648854348552014-08-18T11:44:00.002+03:002014-08-18T11:44:54.353+03:00Separations This has been a hard war. All wars are hard, obviously, but everything in all ways nowadays seems hard, hard, hard and too painful to face. Every time I open the news I am hit with a wave of sorrow that seems to swallow my body, so I've stopped reading the news. But it's hard to escape. There are very few degrees of separation in this country.<br />
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In the midst of all this, people are coming and people are going. I'm leaving jobs and starting new ones. The hardest one, I think, is my friend Hannah. Hannah is one of my oldest friends here in Israel. She claims we met on a bus. I have zero memory of that interaction. I remember that we met when we were paired together as study partners on a program we both attended. Somehow, we started talking about books and that was that. We were in. We remained study partners for three years. But more than that, we became friends. Hannah and her family sort of adopted me. I was with them for holidays, on the weekends, on family outings, and when things got tough for me, as they often did, those first few years after I moved, I shut myself in their guest room for a few days until I was ready to face the world again. Hannah and I spent years talking about books and boys and movies and life and now she's moved across the ocean. It's a good thing, her move. Her husband is going to educate young minds. Hannah is going to be writing a brilliant dissertation on Conrad and Dickens. But still, I'm going to miss her. I already miss her.<br />
<br />
Hannah and I often call each other for cooking tips. One day, we were chatting on the phone about life type of things, when I mentioned that I had an unholy amount of cilantro sitting in my fridge, needing to get used. "Oh," she said, "I've got a recipe for you." The recipe was simple-just eggs, onion, tomato, chili pepper and a lot of cilantro- but great. It's the type of thing you make when you are starving, busy and desperately in need of something warm and delicious to eat. Something about the tomatoes keeps the eggs creamy and soft and the cilantro and pepper give it a burst of flavor and heat. I've made a few small adjustments over the ten million times I've made it, but mostly it remains just the way Hannah gave it to me. And now I'm giving it to you.<br />
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Come home soon, Hannah.<br />
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<br />
<u>Scrambled Eggs with Onion, Tomato and lots of Cilantro</u><br />
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Adapted from Hannah Landes<br />
<br />
butter<br />
1 onion, chopped<br />
1 tomato, diced<br />
1 green chili pepper, (or to taste) diced<br />
a huge bunch of cilantro<br />
a pinch of cumin<br />
salt<br />
pepper<br />
2 eggs, lightly beaten<br />
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1. Melt butter in a skillet over medium heat. When melted and bubbly add the onion. Saute until soft. Add the tomato and pepper. Cook until the tomatoes have started to release liquid and have made a sauce of sort. Season with cumin, salt and pepper. Add the cilantro and give it a toss and then, almost immediately add the eggs. Scramble as you would scramble eggs (everyone has their own method, yes I know), the eggs will remain soft and creamy. Eat with bread and butter, or stuffed in a pita.<br />
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<br />Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-88094210434554139282014-07-13T13:42:00.000+03:002014-07-13T13:48:57.954+03:00The word for world is forest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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These are days to try your soul. You went from worry, to sorrow, to fear, to rage mixed with sorrow and then you went numb, until the fear came again.<br />
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You keep everything charged- your cellphone, your computer- just in case. There's bottled water in the hallway, cat food too. You keep as many of the doors as you can closed, keeping the windows out of sight, as if a plank of wood would do much help would they shatter inward- who knows- maybe it would. Sleep in pants, not shorts, just in case. Take short, perfunctory showers. Be prepared.<br />
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Your first instinct is to deny, deny, deny. But you know it is true. You know it can happen. People are people. Hate is hate. You open Facebook and all you see are the us and them, the propaganda, the provocation. It feels like a toxic cesspool, to be honest. Nothing can grow here. Despite our geographical proximity, we have so few opportunities to stand face to face and look each other in the eye.<br />
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"You don't have to call me every time there's a siren in Tel Aviv," your sister says. "I've checked in on Whatsapp." "I know," you say, and you do, but you want to hear her voice, exasperated as it is. You go about your day as normally as you can: job searches, work, cooking with friends. Others are much braver than you. They go out, they socialize, the travel far distances. Not you. You prefer to stay close to home if you can, to be in a place where at least you have plan of action. You can't always though. "Listen," you tell the cat as you're leaving the house, "if there's a siren, go into the hallway, stay away from the windows." She just flicks her ear at you and goes back to watching the birds. She can be so stupid sometimes.<br />
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Your heart-rate speeds up every time you hear the high whine of a motorcycle passing by. It's a strange way of going about your life. You water the plants. You show your neighbor where the public shelter is. One minute you are crouched in the hallway, waiting to hear the tell-tale boom that means a rocket has landed or been intercepted, the next you are sitting in your living room, finishing Americanah.<br />
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You are one of the lucky ones. The very, very lucky ones.<br />
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You've been thinking a lot about an interpretation of Deuteronomy 13: 18 that you once read (though you cannot, for the life of you, remember where): "And He will grant you mercy, and have compassion on you": In the face of great cruelty and violence it takes an extra measure of grace to remain compassionate and merciful. So much so, that compassion and mercy are considered gifts from God. Those words feel apt these days. May we all, in Jerusalem and Hebron, Tel Aviv and Gaza, be granted that extra measure of compassion in these days and all the days to come.<br />
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I'm a stress-baker. It's a thing, for-reals. And when I stress-bake, I don't want anything elegant or delicate. I want chocolate and brown butter, butterscotch and salt. I want comfort food in the form of what is essentially a big-ass chocolate chip cookie. This is what my roommate and I were confronted with when Deb's (of <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/">Smitten Kitchen</a>) Blondies came out of the oven. We ate almost half of them right there and then. I put the rest in the freezer, because otherwise I knew I would just pick and pick at them until they were finished. To be honest, that strategy has been only semi-successful, since I now find myself making excuses to open the freezer. Make these, take a bit of comfort.<br />
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<u>Brown Butter Blondies</u><br />
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Adapted from <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2006/11/blondies-for-a-blondie/">Smitten Kitchen</a><br />
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8 tablespoons (113 grams) butter<br />
3/4 cup dark brown sugar<br />
1 egg<br />
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla<br />
pinch of salt<br />
1 cup flour<br />
3.5 oz (100 grams) dark chocolate, chopped<br />
a handful of walnuts, toasted and coarsely chopped<br />
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1. Preheat the oven to 350 f. Brown the butter. Place the butter in a small saucepan over medium heat. Cook, stirring often until the butter turns a lovely golden-brown color and begins to smell amazing and nutty. Remove from heat.<br />
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2. Combine the butter and brown sugar, and mix until smooth. Beat in the egg and vanilla. Then stir in the flour, salt, chocolate and walnuts.<br />
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3. Spread batter into a buttered 8x8 pan. Bake for 20-25, until set. Cool and cut into small squares. Eat in peace and quiet.<br />
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<br />Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-20146331225621704892014-06-30T13:52:00.001+03:002014-06-30T13:54:12.279+03:00If you can't stand the heat...Quite a few summers ago, my sister and I took a trip to Spain. We spent a few days in Madrid and then wound our way down to Cordoba, where we also intended to spend a few days. It is safe to say that I did not understand the phrase, "a wall of heat" until I arrived in Cordoba. We stepped off the train and into what could only be described as "a wall of dry heat". It was 40 degrees Celsius and just past midday. The hostel we were staying at was beautiful, but it had no air-conditioning, only an slow-moving ineffectual fan, that moved the hot air around our small room. The only bearable time of day was between 3 and 6 am. We did not like Cordoba. Something about the heat turned everything flat and dull and almost oppressive. Maimonides was everywhere, but there were no Jews. The <i>Meziquita,</i> the Roman bridge, the great city that was once a shining star for the three monotheistic faiths, felt like nothing but a tourist trap. The next day we fled to Seville where we learned how the locals deal with the heat and the reason for the preponderance of public fountains in the city. There is nothing quite like sticking your bare feet into a cold fountain on hot day. <br />
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I mention Cordoba because the weather in Jerusalem the past few days has been positively Cordobian. Walking outside is like moving through a furnace. The heat is its own entity.There is no fighting it. You just have to give in. On Friday, I walked out of my apartment with every intention of shopping at the wonderful, cheap green-grocer just a 12 minute walk away. But then, I took one step and said, nope, not happening. I went to the expensive green-grocer around the corner. I did not buy a melon, or anything other than the bare essentials. I walked home as quickly as possible, which is to say not very. The melon is important. The melon is important because without it I could not make <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/recipes/6948/tomato-melon-gazpacho.html">Mark Bittman's Tomato-Melon Gazpacho</a>, which is my go-to summer soup. But I needed cold soup. In fact, still now, all I want to eat, forever and ever, until the heat breaks, is cold soup. I had no melon, nor did I have cucumbers or peppers with which to make regular gazpacho. What I did have though was carrots- in abundance- because I had been meaning to write about Kim Boyce's Carrot Muffins from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Good-Grain-Baking-Whole-Grain-Flours/dp/1584798300">Good to the Grain</a>, which are spectacular, but really, asking anybody to turn on their oven in this weather is just cruel, so I did not write about about them. Chilled carrot soup it was. After a bit of research, I decided I wanted something just a little gingery and sweet, but nothing that would overwhelm the carrot flavor, so I went with a recipe from Food and Wine Magazine, that was pretty much nothing more than onion, carrot, ginger, water and a little sweetener and acid. It was perfect. Just what I wanted. Just what I want, until the heat is gone.<br />
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<u>Chilled Carrot Ginger Soup</u><br />
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Adapted from <a href="http://www.foodandwine.com/recipes/chilled-carrot-ginger-soup">Food and Wine Magazine</a><br />
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1 tablespoon coconut oil<br />
1 medium onion, chopped<br />
2 pounds of carrots, sliced<br />
2 1/2 cups water or stock<br />
2 inch long knobs of ginger, peeled<br />
2-3 tablespoon lemon juice<br />
1 tablespoon honey or maple syrup<br />
salt and freshly ground pepper.<br />
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1. In a medium sized pot, warm the coconut oil until melted. Add the onion and cook about 5-10 minutes, until translucent. Add the carrots, water (or stock) and ginger. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer about 25 minutes until the carrots are tender. Remove from heat.<br />
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2. When the soup has cooled a bit, remove the ginger and add the lemon juice, honey salt, and pepper. Blend until smooth (a hand blender is useful for this). If the soup is too thick, you can add a bit of water to thin it down. Chill. Serve cold.Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-49911591089384600772014-06-15T21:55:00.000+03:002014-06-15T22:01:18.811+03:00Two Years<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's been two years.<br />
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Bay, I still think of you when I drink coffee cold, when I put on lipstick and eye-shadow, when I'm in that cafe we sat in- you'd be disappointed, the quality has gone down and the prices have gone up- just like everything these days- and I kind of wish we were sitting together now, and we could sigh, yes, the world has gone to trash, just like the old ladies we should be together. Bay, I think of you in the middle of the day sometimes, for no reason at all- just a thought of you fleeting and there.<br />
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I guess this is a thing one must learn, how absence can take up so much space. Time is only a buffer in the sense that it makes things less immediate, but loss never becomes anything other than loss.<br />
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The recipe I'm posting today has very little do with what I've written today, but it is about nostalgia.It's about learning to bake bread with my grandmother, her strong forearms and sturdy hands, learning to tell when dough is done by touch and sight. I've never really been successful when trying to replicate my grandmother's challah, which is a thing of beauty, let me tell you, but I have had more success with her whole wheat bread. My grandmother's whole wheat bread is made of 100% whole wheat and yet somehow still manages to remain light and fluffy and slight sweet. It's bread you want to slather in almond butter for your afternoon snack, or just eat plain, straight from the oven. It's whole wheat bread the way you remember it from years back, from your childhood in your grandmother's kitchen.<br />
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<u>My Grandmother's Whole Wheat Bread</u><br />
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Adapted from Mindie Mermelstein<br />
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2 tablespoons dry yeast<br />
4 tablespoons warm water<br />
pinch of sugar<br />
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2 2/3 cups warm water<br />
1/2 cup vegetable oil<br />
1/2 cup honey<br />
7 1/2 cups whole wheat flour<br />
3 tsp salt<br />
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1. Dissolve 2 tablespoons of yeast in 4 tablespoons of water add a pinch of sugar. Let sit for 5-10 minutes. The yeast mixture should start to bubble and froth. If it does not, the yeast is dead. Throw out and start over with new yeast.<br />
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2. Combine the flour and salt in a large bowl. Mix in the water, oil honey and yeast slurry. Combine until a shaggy ball of dough begins to come together and pull away from the sides of the bowl. Turn the dough onto a lightly floured surface and cover your hands in flour as well (though dough will be sticky), knead until it is supple and smooth and is no longer taking in flour. My grandmother says this should take 6-8 minutes. Most people, however, haven't spent a lifetime kneading dough. It took me closer to 15 minutes. Form a nice ball, and put the dough back into a lightly greased bowl, turning to coat all sides. Cover and place in a warm spot to rise for about an hour or until doubled in size.<br />
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3. When the dough has finished it's first rise, punch down and remove from bowl. Let it rest for 5 minutes and then knead briefly. Divide the dough in half. Press half of the dough into a rough rectangle, starting from the width closest to you fold the dough over itself in thirds, much like you would fold a letter to fit into an envelope. Place the loaf into a loaf pan that has been lined with parchment paper. Repeat with the remaining dough. Cover the two loaf pans and leave to rise until doubled in size. This can take anywhere from 30-60 minutes.<br />
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4. While the loaves are rising, preheat the oven to 350 f. When the loaves have finished rising, brush the tops with a little bit of water. Bake for about 40 minutes. Tap the bottom of each loaf, if you hear a hollow sound, the loaves are done baking. Cool on a wire rack. Enjoy.Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-32751949323117262292014-05-27T14:28:00.001+03:002014-05-27T14:28:11.489+03:00A NoteMy wonderful Aunt Jaimie has started a blog about a sundry of things including (but not limited to) fashion, books, advice and life in Israel. Jaimie is the best the thrifter I know and more importantly, my mentor, friend and the person to teach me that being an introvert is not a weakness, but a strength.<br />
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So dear readers, please do pay a visit to Jaimie's blog- <a href="http://takeitorleaveitblog.com/">Take It/or/Leave It</a> and tell her I say hi.<br />
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<br />Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-71536233014894991042014-05-26T22:22:00.000+03:002014-07-18T12:50:44.870+03:00New beginnings (Super Natural Every-day)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It is a fact well known that you do not truly live in a place until you have cooked in the kitchen. I spent the first few days in my new apartment eating sandwiches and junk food and the occasional egg. The kitchen was the first thing to be unpacked, but for the most part I was still living out of suitcases and boxes. And really, when I say unpacked, what I mean is that my friend and I removed my pots and pans and dishes and things I need but don't really need (i.e. my pasta maker) and shoved them into the nearest available space in any given cabinet. It's going to take a while before I really get the hang of where I want things and how to best make the kitchen flow. But still, my kitchen needed inaugurating.<br />
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So we inaugurated it.<br />
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My new apartment has high ceilings, big windows and low light because it is on the first floor and tree-shaded. I wake up in the morning to dappled sunlight. It has built-in bookcases in the living room, a small room for a study, a long kitchen and a garden that is mostly my own. Right now, the garden is still a big of a mess, but I've got a few flowers on the stoop, rose bushes I am trying to coax back to life and a little slip of a blackberry bramble my future roommate bought, waiting to be planted. As I was moving in, one of the movers turned to me and said, "this place is so much better than your old place. So much better." Well, the quality of an apartment has a lot to do with the memories you make in it, but so far I think I"m going to want to stay here for a very long time. Sometimes, if I have a few minutes to spare, I sit on the stoop with my morning cup of coffee and think, how did I get to be so very lucky, living in this apartment on a beautiful quiet street, with a beautiful quiet garden? I have a bad habit of waiting for the bottom to fall out from under me. I'm trying to work on it.<br />
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We inaugurated the kitchen with a new cookbook. Before Passover, Naomi and I decided that we were done with Jerusalem. We'd been cooking from it for more than a year and had made most of the recipes that were a) kosher and b) didn't include eggplant (as I am allergic to eggplant). Surprisingly enough, more recipes were invalidated due to eggplant than were invalidated due to kosher concerns. We loved Jerusalem, but the time had come to move on. We chose <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Super-Natural-Every-Day-Well-Loved/dp/1580082777">Heidi Swanson's Super Natural Every-day</a> (but not Supernatural Every-day, because that would be something entirely different, probably involving my friend Debbie, pie and a cult TV show with hot guys and an unfortunate penchant for killing off female characters. Um. My geek is showing. Sorry.). We wanted something a little bit different than what we had been doing before- to move away from the middle eastern flavors we had come to love and know and to try something a little bit different. I follow Heidi's great blog, <a href="http://www.101cookbooks.com/">101 Cookbooks</a>, and have long admired her recipes and her approach to food. We also liked the fact that Super Natural Every-day is a vegetarian cookbook with a focus on natural foods. Naomi is the first to admit that she's a little bit of a hippie (and hence has an obsession with chia seeds that I can't really fathom) and I am happy to avoid the issues with kashrut that a non-vegetarian cookbook would bring (we almost settled on the Zuni Cafe Cookbook, but then decided that kosher concerns would leave us with too many recipes we wouldn't be able to make). So Heidi's cookbook it was.<br />
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It's been two weeks of Super Natural Every-day. We made Spinach Chop and Yogurt Biscuits with spelt flour, Chickpea Stew with saffron and Tinto de Verano. Everything has been great. Heidi's recipes have this wonderful simplicity to them that is so very different from Ottolenghi. We keep on reaching for the spice drawer-for the cumin, the allspice, the za'atar, the lemon, only to find that Heidi does without. Where Ottolenghi shined with these great punches of flavor, Ms. Swanson's food is clean and subtle and graceful. It is a nice change of pace, a nice way to start in a new kitchen. (It also doesn't hurt that the cookbook is absolutely gorgeous).<br />
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The Spinach Chop made a great brunch and the Chickpea Stew was lovely, but I think in all honesty the recipe I liked most so far is Tinto de Verano, mostly because both Naomi and I were so very dubious about it in the beginning. Tinto de Verano is kind of like chilled out version of sangria. It's not much more than cheap red wine mixed with sparkling lemonade, which makes it cheap and easy. And I know, right now you're wrinkling your nose at the prospect of red wine and lemonade, trust me, we did too, but we were saying goodbye to Naomi's roommate and I had a bottle of cheap red wine so we figured, there's no harm in trusting the cookbook and just going for it. I'm glad we did. It was kind of perfect for a summer evening, light and fruity and cooling and it was clear that we chose the right cookbook. Tinto de Verano, ladies and gentlemen. L'chaim.<br />
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<u>Tinto de Verano</u><br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Super-Natural-Every-Day-Well-Loved/dp/1580082777">From Super Natural Every-day by Heidi Swanson</a><br />
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1 (750ml) bottle of cheap red wine (preferably Spanish)<br />
Sparkling lemonade, chilled (we used Schweppes Bitter Lemon, whatever you use make sure it is not too sweet)<br />
Lemon slices<br />
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1. Pour half a cup (120 ml) red wine into a glass. Add half a cup (120 ml) sparkling lemonade. Mix. Add ice cubes, if so desired. Garnish with slices of lemon. Repeat with remaining glasses (recipe will serve 4-6 people). Serve. Pretend you are much fancier than you actually are.Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-15744625146780752652014-05-13T21:25:00.000+03:002014-05-13T21:26:20.748+03:00Margaritaville<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Here are two things I hate: moving and jet-lag. When I first started writing this post, almost a month ago. I was faced with both of them.<br />
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After months of a soul-destroying apartment search, I finally signed a lease on a new place about a month ago-a week before I left to the United States for two weeks to spend Passover with my family. I arrived back in Jerusalem about three week ago, with exactly two weeks to pack up my apartment and move. Needless to say, I haven't been using my kitchen much in the last two to three months. And even when I have been using my kitchen, I haven't been doing much inspired cooking. I'm sorry to say that I've been eating a lot of cereal, pasta and takeout lately- not that those are bad things- but it's been nothing to write home about, so to speak. It's hard to feel inspired when you are so totally in between- in between homes, in between packed and unpacked, in between time zones, in between selves. It's hard to cook and it's hard to write. My kitchen pretty bare for a while right now- waiting to be packed and then unpacked. I kind of feel the same way, slightly empty, dusty and just waiting for a big change.<br />
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I did, however, do quite a bit of cooking in my mom's kitchen in Chicago. I always do.I made the usuals- <a href="http://www.sweetamandine.com/2010/01/my-regular-seat.html">carrot-fennel soup,</a> almond cookies, <a href="http://www.rogueskitchen.com/2013/04/doing-something-right.html">meringues</a>, braised chicken with garlic and white wine, etc. That's what Passover is for, long stretches in the kitchen, followed by long stretches of eating. I like cooking in my mom's kitchen. I like the silence as I watch the sun come up through the French doors at the back, awake and restless with jetlag during the first days after I land. I like the noise and chaos of three adults and five children, bustling and helping and cooking. The kitchen in my new apartment actually reminds me a lot of my mom's kitchen. It's quite a bit smaller, but like my mom's kitchen it is long and narrow, with black marble counters and a view of a garden. I hope my garden will one day be as nice as hers. I think it is the kitchen that made me say, yes. This place. I can live here.<br />
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Somehow I am the dessert maker hence, the almond cookies, meringues and some spectacular <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/recipes/1016216/chocolate-caramel-macarons.html">macarons</a> from the New York Times. It's just a thing that happened. I do the desserts. I always want to make ice cream, but my mother doesn't have an ice cream maker and more often than not, we have one or more family members who don't want to be eating semi-raw eggs. This year though, this year I had cream and limes and tequila all staring me in the face. God bless, Nigella Lawson then, for providing me with this pretty glorious recipe. No Churn Margarita Ice Cream, doesn't that just sound spectacular? When I read the recipe, I though maybe the lack of a custard would make the ice cream feel anemic, and that if I didn't churn it it would crystallize and turn horrid and awful when I froze it, but neither of these things happened. The ice cream was smooth and rich and tangy. It all seemed so magical. So go my friends, get yourself some tequila and limes and cream- or go wild and play around. I bet this recipe can be used as a template for any number of excellent ice cream flavors. The lazy days of summer are about to be upon us.<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6cbX4DUACYU"> Settle in.</a><br />
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No Churn Margarita Ice Cream<br />
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Adapted from <a href="http://www.nigella.com/recipes/view/no-churn-margarita-ice-cream-32">Nigella Lawson</a><br />
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1/2 cup lime juice<br />
2.5 tablespoons tequila<br />
2.5 tablespoons orange juice<br />
1 1/4 cups powdered sugar<br />
2 cups heavy cream<br />
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1. Pour the lime juice, tequila and juice into a bowl. Add sugar and stir to dissolve. Add the cream and whip with a hand mixer (or in a stand mixer) until thick, but not stiff.<br />
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2. Transfer into an airtight container and freeze overnight. Serve in glasses if you're feeling classy like that.Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-68395634529750448412014-03-02T12:50:00.000+02:002014-03-02T13:41:43.468+02:00Of My OwnTo say that I am an introvert is a gross understatement. I am so far on the introvert scale, I fall off the edge. In order to face the world, I need a lot of quiet, alone time. These past weeks have been a haze of running around this very unpublic transportation friendly city looking at one apartment after another (spoiler alert: I have not yet found a new apartment). Needless to say, I have been a little bit low on energy lately. I'm pretty prone to finding things overstimulating on a relatively quiet day, and these have not been quiet days. So I treasure my alone time. I am greedy for it. I take pleasure in cancelling plans (I have cancelled plans with one specific friend so many times in the past weeks, I am surprised she still likes me). This is not to say that I don't love my friends and want to spend time with them. I have spectacular friends and I love spending time with them. I love the joy and comfort and laughter they bring to my life. They are my emotional bulwark. This is also not to say that I have become a hermit and disavowed any form of social interaction. I go out. I see people. I go to work and make small talk with my equally awkward and intoverted co-workers. I do things. I attend satirical academic conferences on the importance of cake. (And cake is very important as we all know.) But life is so much right now and feels so pressing that I find myself clawing and fighting to carve out some time just to sit, just to be, just to find myself again.<br />
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Usually, weekends are for friends- for sharing food and conversation. Meals are eaten in a group- dinner parties or potlucks. Sometimes I host, sometimes I am a guest, but Friday night dinner and Saturday lunch are almost always spent in the happy company of other people. A few weeks ago, though, faced with the prospect of having no plans for Saturday lunch, I realized that I didn't want plans. Even if plans had materialized, I would have said no to those plans. I needed some "me" time. So instead of eating with friends, I made myself a lovely citrus-fennel salad (even better the next day) and a variation on a chicken recipe my mother used to make when I was a kid. I sat in the quiet and ate my delicious food. I read, I slept, and thought thinky thoughts. I was still until nightfall when I stood up, shook myself off and went out into the world again.<br />
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My mom's corn flake crumb chicken- exactly what it sounds like, baked chicken coated in corn flakes- was a delicious staple growing up. It is one of my ultimate comfort foods. However, me being who I am, I couldn't help but tinker with the recipe. A while ago, a friend of mine, or rather, a woman who served as a surrogate mother figure of sorts all these years I have been far away from my own mother, gave me a recipe for breaded chicken with mustard. It's a good, quick recipe and I used it a lot. Eventually, it too, evolved. Mustard became a mix of mustard and tehina and as of a few weeks ago, bread crumbs became corn flake crumbs. This is how new recipes are born. The chicken is moist and flavorful, the coating is crispy and wonderful. It's a good recipe to have alone or with friends.<br />
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<u>Corn-Flake Crumb Chicken with Mustard and Tehina</u><br />
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Adapted from Ricky Krakowski, Carol Toff and many others<br />
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This is not a precise recipe- think of it more of a list of suggestions and ratios. Want to add more mustard? Go for it. Don't have corn-flake crumbs? fine- use panko or plain old bread crumbs. Don't have time to marinate the chicken overnight? Also, fine. This chicken will be great if you leave it let it sit for an hour, or even just 20 minutes. It's all good and delicious.<br />
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1 chicken, in 8 pieces<br />
1/3 cup tehina paste<br />
1/4 cup mustard (Dijon is preferable, but plain is fine too)<br />
1/2 teaspoon dried marjoram or oregana<br />
a good pinch coarse salt<br />
a grind of black pepper<br />
corn flake crumbs.<br />
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1. The day before you bake the chicken. Mix together the tehina, mustard, marjoram salt and pepper in a large bowl. Add the chicken and mix to coat. Cover with plastic wrap and leave in the fridge overnight. (If you don't have time, just coat the chicken with the mustard-tehina mixture and leave it for as long as you can.<br />
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2. Take the chicken out of the fridge and bring to room temperature. Preheat the oven to 400 F. Pour some corn flake crumbs on a large plate and coat the pieces of chicken entirely, pressing down to make sure the coating sticks. Place in a baking pan. Bake for 45-50 minutes or until a meat thermometer inserted in the thickest part of the chicken thigh reads 165 (you know the drill).<br />
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<br />Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-74645990531454478432014-02-11T21:47:00.000+02:002014-02-11T21:47:01.765+02:00Jerusalem in Jerusalem: Clementine and Almond Syrup Cake with Chocolate Icing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Many a person has asked me for this recipe after seeing the picture Naomi posted on Facebook about two weeks ago. And why wouldn't they? This is one lovely, sexy looking cake. It was also one of our standouts-rich, buttery and bright and everything that is best about citrus and chocolate. Now, I love citrus and chocolate which means I loved this cake (A note to anyone who might want to send me a Valentine's Day gift, or just a gift- chocolate covered citrus peels. That is all.) and thank Ottolenghi for bringing it into my life.<br />
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Happy Valentine's Day. Have some cake.<br />
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<u>Clementine and Almond Syrup Cake with Chocolate Icing</u><br />
Note: Yes, Passover is not yet here, but it doesn't hurt to think ahead- I reckon that this cake could easily be made Passover friendly (and gluten-free) by swapping the flour for potato starch or quinoa flour (for those who use quinoa on Passover)<br />
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Adapted from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Jerusalem-A-Cookbook-Yotam-Ottolenghi/dp/1607743949">Jerusalem by Sami Tamimi and Yotam Ottolenghi</a><br />
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For the Cake:<br />
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons butter (200 grams)<br />
2 cups sugar, divided<br />
4 clementines, zested and juiced<br />
1 lemon, zested and juiced<br />
2 1/2 cups ground almonds<br />
5 large eggs<br />
3/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon flour, sifted<br />
pinch of salt<br />
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For the Icing:<br />
6 tablespoons (90 grams) butter<br />
5 oz (150 grams) dark chocolate<br />
2 1/2 teaspoons honey<br />
1 1/2 teaspoons Cognac or whisky<br />
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1. Preheat the oven to 350F. Lightly grease a 9 1/2 inch cake pan- a springform is best- and line with parchment paper.<br />
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2. Put the butter, 1 1/2 cups sugar and zests into the bowl of a stand mixer. Beat on low until just combined. Add half of the almonds. When combined, gradually add the eggs. Add the remaining ground almonds, flour and salt and beat until smooth.<br />
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3. Pour into the prepared cake pan and bake for 50-60 minutes. The cake is ready when a skewer inserted in the middle comes back slightly moist.<br />
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4. When the cake is almost ready to come out, place the remaining 1/3 cup sugar and the juices into a saucepan. Bring to a boil and remove from heat. As soon as the cake is out of the oven. brush it with the citrus syrup. Cool. (The cake can be stored like this, wrapped, for 3 days).<br />
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5. To make the icing, melt together the butter, chocolate and honey over a double boiler (or in the microwave on low in short bursts). Mix in the Cognac or whiskey. Pour the icing over the cake, letting it drip down the sides. Eat. Fall in love.Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-48057915959421354692014-01-25T22:19:00.002+02:002014-01-25T22:58:24.803+02:00Slow it Down<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sometimes you have to complicate things to make them simple. My life feels very complicated right now, which is what happens with the apartment you've lived in for the past four and half years has been sold and you need to find a new place to live, and you're not sure what exactly you're looking for or what you can afford and sometimes it looks like your cat has pulled through and other times she spends 12 hours- all through the night- puking and you think, cat, you are six years old, you are too young for me to be worrying about you like this and your kitchen cabinets stink vilely because the sink had been leaking underneath them and you don't want to open them for fear of stinking up your kitchen but you need to open them to get to your pots and pans and everything feels like just too much in between phone calls with your landlord trying to work details re: your exit date and phone calls to the fix-it man and checking on the cat.<br />
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So you slow it down. You go into the kitchen- your stinky/not stinky kitchen- and even though you are feeding only a few people that night and you should take the opportunity to do something simple, you go complicated. You go complicated because right now you need to narrow your world down to the knife in your hand, the rhythmic sound of it hitting the cutting board, the smooth skin of a pepper under your hands, the way a tomato yields to a serrated knife, these are the only things that are important at this moment. You need to fill your world with just this. Only this.<br />
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Everything is manageable in the sunlight in your kitchen. Noise falls away.<br />
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To go complicated I went with Deborah Madison, which is ironic, since Deborah Madison is about as uncomplicated as it gets. And to be honest, her potato and chickpea stew from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Vegetarian-Cooking-Everyone-Deborah-Madison/dp/0767927478">Vegetarian Cooking For Everyone</a> is not that complicated, it's just that there are a lot of components. The stew is, as Madison says, delicious and comforting and perfect for a winter night when you want something warm and filling, but not heavy. The real star of the evening, though, was one of the added components to the stew- the romseco sauce that Madison suggests you serve with the stew. All my dinner guests loved it and I ate the leftovers all week- with leftover stew, in sandwiches, by the spoonful. I gave some to my friend who brought me my new computer from Chicago. I gave some to my sister who brought me perfume from Paris. I would give it to everyone, if I could. (And in a way, I guess I am). The romesco sauce is garlicky and sweet, slightly smokey and rich with almonds, hazelnuts and fried bread. It is not an uncomplicated sauce to put together- the bread needs frying, and the pepper needs roasting- but it is so entirely and simply, good.<br />
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<u>Romesco Sauce</u><br />
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Adapted from<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Vegetarian-Cooking-Everyone-Deborah-Madison/dp/0767927478"> Vegetarian Cooking For Everyone by Deborah Madison</a><br />
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1 slice of white bread<br />
olive oil<br />
1/4 cup roasted almonds<br />
1/4 cup roasted hazelnuts<br />
3 cloves of garlic<br />
1-2 teaspoons of chilli powder (to taste)<br />
4 tomatoes<br />
1 tablespoon parsley leaves removed from stems<br />
1 teaspoon paprika<br />
1 red pepper, roasted<br />
1/4 red wine vinegar<br />
1/2 cup olive oil<br />
salt<br />
pepper<br />
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1. Prep: fry the bread in a little bit of olive oil until golden and crisp. Try to refrain from eating it straight from the frying pan. Roast your nuts if they are not already roasted. Roast the pepper, too.<br />
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2. Put all the ingredients, save the vinegar and olive oil in a food processor. Blend. Slowly add the vinegar and then the oil until you receive a sooth, thick sauce. Taste for seasoning. Serve with everything. The sauce will keep, refrigerated, for two weeks.Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423486034652707472.post-25120440873770222832013-12-30T21:32:00.000+02:002013-12-30T21:35:32.814+02:00The Waiting StewThe first time I made this stew, I was delirious and still half in panic mode, having spent most of the previous night in the equivalent of the animal e.r. with my cat. But by the time I sat down to eat it with friends, about 20 hours later, the panic had subsided some- the outcome of some much-needed sleep and the realization that at that point there was nothing to do but wait and enjoy the company and comfort of my good friends. The second time I made the stew, I was anxiously waiting on word about my little nephew, born just a few days before, still unnamed, having breathing issues and in the hospital. By the time I sat down to eat it with friends, again, about 20 hours later, the little boy was out of the hospital though the breathing issue was not- and still is not- totally resolved, and there was nothing I could do, being so very far away, but sit and wait. Now, as I am eating the leftovers of that same stew, I am waiting for the penicillin I have been taking for the last 30 or so hours to finally kick in at full force so that I can get rid of the pesky needle-stuck throat that comes with strep, and get on with my life.<br />
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This is the perfect stew for tenter-hooks, warm and comforting, but still bright even after 20 hours of slow cooking. The brightness comes from the copious 20 pods of cardamom that somehow retain their flavor after all that time. As Charlie Trotter points out in his cookbook, cardamom and ginger are related. The stew reflects that. I found the cookbook <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Charlie-Trotter-Cooks-at-Home/dp/1580082505">Charlie Trotter Cooks at Home</a> in used bookstore, being sold for a whopping 10 shekel (about 3-4 dollars). I couldn't pass it up. Despite the fact that I grew up in Chicago, and still consider it my hometown, I have never eaten any of Trotter's food, but I know enough to know that he changed the Chicago culinary scene forever. I wanted to see what he would do with a home kitchen.It turns out that Charlie Trotter at home is well, still Charlie Trotter- by which I mean complicated. All of his recipes are compelling and accessible, no doubt, but they also inevitably involve numerous components and steps. For the sake of time, and due to the fact that I was desecrating the recipe and sticking in a crockpot to begin with, I streamlined this stew a bit. I think it turned out pretty gosh darn good. I hope Chef Trotter is not turning in his grave. I somehow think he is not.<br />
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Stew for eating with friends and for waiting.<br />
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<u>Cardamom Beef Stew with Potatoes, Celery Root and Parsley Root</u><br />
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Adapted from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Charlie-Trotter-Cooks-at-Home/dp/1580082505">Charlie Trotter Cooks at Home by Charlie Trotter</a><br />
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1 cup chopped celery<br />
1 cup carrot, cut into chunks<br />
2 cups chopped onion<br />
2 tablespoons canola oil<br />
20 cardamom pods, crushed and bundled together in some cheesecloth<br />
1 pound stew meat, cubed<br />
salt and pepper<br />
1 head of garlic, unpeeled<br />
6 cups stock (Trotter calls for beef, I used turkey stock because that is what I had in the house- you can use whatever you have on, even water would probably be fine)<br />
2 cups potato, also diced large<br />
1 cup celery root, diced large<br />
1 cup parsley root (or even better, parsnip, if you can find it), diced large<br />
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1. In a large pan, heat the oil over a medium-high heat. Toss in the beef, season with a bit of salt and pepper, and brown- about 3 minutes per side. Dump the meat into the crock you have set up and turned on high. Toss the vegetables (leaving aside the garlic) into the frying pan (without cleaning it out first), season with some salt and pepper and move them around a bit so they color and take on some of the good, beefy flavor. You may need to do this in batches. Place the vegetables in the crockpot with the meat. Pour in the stock. Add the cheesecloth and the garlic. Cover and let the stew come to a boil. Turn the crockpot down to low and cook for a good 20 hours until the meat is falling apart. Serve over a grain- pearl barley is particularly good here.<br />
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***An even more streamlined version- toss all the ingredients (leaving out the oil) into a crockpot. Cook on high until it comes to a boil, then lower the heat to low. Cook for 20 hours.Rogue Unicornhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08039984221891866369noreply@blogger.com0