Huevos rancheros, sin huevos

I've been craving protein.  But with my primary sources of protein verboten for the moment, I've had to rely on beans, beans, and more beans.  For breakfast this morning, I fried up some canned black beans with a little garlic and chopped onion, seasoned them with salt, pepper, and cumin, mashed everyting together, and then stirred in some chopped cilantro.  I spread the beans on top of a corn tortilla, topped that with a little tomatillo salsa I made a few days ago, and then a dollop of tofu sour cream. (That tofu sour cream, by the way, is labeled "better than sour cream." But it lies.)

Not too bad.  But damn, it would have been just perfect with a runny egg on top!

I don't care what Google says, there is no such thing as vegan quinoa risotto

My internal conversation as I brainstormed dishes to try while on The Cleanse:

Risotto, yum.

But cheese is out.

Could make risotto just without the cheese.

That'll just make me long for cheese even more.

Something risotto-ish but different?

Another grain.

There's quinoa in the pantry.

Quinoa, good thinking!

[Google "vegan quinoa risotto."]

Cool. Someone else has thought of this, so I'm not off my rocker.

So I set out to make my vegan quinoa risotto. I sauteed a green onion and a clove of garlic in some olive oil, and then added a diced red pepper and yellow squash. Let the vegetables soften, and added a splash of white wine vinegar. Then added a cup or two of well-rinsed quinoa, and started adding vegetable stock about 1/2 cup at a time. It cooked down, I added more stock. It cooked down again, I added more stock again, risotto-style. Seasoned with salt and pepper, and stirred in some toasted pine nuts. When I sat down to eat I had visions of faux-risotto (fauxsotto?) dancing in my head.


But though the rhythm of cooking was familiar from the many pots of risotto I have shepherded toward starchy, creamy goodness, this so-called "quinoa risotto" bore no resemblance to the real deal but for technique.

And yet, it wasn't totally unfamiliar. It was very similar to exactly like, um, shockingly, quinoa. Quinoa with mixed vegetables, to be precise. Who would have guessed? And it was quite good, as far as quinoa with mixed vegetables goes. Had I been anticipating quinoa with mixed vegetables (or had I had a nice piece of chicken alongside), I probably would have been quite pleased. But I was hoping for risotto, and this, this my friends, was no risotto.

A cleansing ritual

Have you heard of The Cleanse? Everyone’s doing it, you know. Oprah's doing it. Dooce is doing it. Hell, my MOM is doing it.

There’s a book you can buy that lays out the whole thing, but the basic idea is that, for a maximum of 21 days or as long as you can stand it, you cut out foods that screw with your digestive system. Which means no gluten (so goodbye to most carbs that aren’t rice- or potato-based), no animal products (going vegan, at least briefly), no sugar (this one isn’t too hard, as I don’t have a major sweet tooth), no caffeine (already went cold turkey a few years ago), and no alcohol (hmm. this could be interesting).

Even though it’s supposed to be 21 days, I’m only committing to about 11. You see, we’re going down the shore for a week on July 5. And the shore without gin and tonic, seafood on the grill, and strawberry-rhubarb pie is no shore at all. And maybe I’ll pick it up again after the shore. But for now, it’s a week and a half.

So I decided to do The Cleanse after I visited the fam this past weekend for my mom’s birthday. We had a fantastic weekend filled with fantastic food. We started off Friday night with a surprise party for my mom at a Turkish restaurant in New Jersey, Samdan. They did a wonderful job with our party of sixty, serving us family style in a lovely private room. And everyone found something to eat (and enjoy), even though our group included both intrepid eaters and those who’d never heard of hummus before. (Seriously. There are people who have not heard of hummus. Crazy, I know.)

Dinner started with appetizers of a tomato- and cucumber-based shepherd’s salad, hummus, a marinated eggplant dish, a thick yogurt dip reminiscent of tzatziki, and deep-fried pastry filled with cheese and parsley. The cheese pastry was widely adored, and each of the other dishes had its own adherents—I polished off the yogurt, while my sister devoured the eggplant. The main course included donor kebab, spiced ground beef, and grilled chunks of chicken and beef served over pilaf. The meat was tender and flavorful, and the portions were enormous. Dessert included baklava, a honey-soaked sponge cake, and a milk custard dusted with cinnamon. The baklava was sweet and a little over-saturated with honey, but the cool, sweet custard was a wonderful finish to the meal.

That was Friday. Saturday entailed bagels with cream cheese and lox (because I don’t travel to the New York metro area without eating at least one bagel), and a pool-side barbecue prominently featuring chicken wings, burgers, and margaritas.

And then Sunday. I’m going to post a more formal review of the restaurant shortly, but suffice to say that dinner Sunday was...decadent. Just decadent. Really, that’s the only word.

And so, The Cleansing begins.

Kitchen sink quesadillas

Quesadillas are one of my favorite ways to use up whatever veggies I happen to have laying around the fridge. We almost always have tortillas and some kind of melty cheese around, so it makes for an easy weeknight dinner. And although I rarely make this exactly the same way twice, the basic concept is very adaptable.

I always start off by sauteeing my veggies with a little olive oil and garlic, seasoned with salt and pepper. Tonight, I had a few squash and a green onion still kicking around the fridge from last week's CSA, plus a red pepper. I sliced the onions thinly (including the greens), and roughly chopped the pepper and the squash (one small green and one small yellow). All kinds of veggies will work here. Spinach is one of my favorites, and you can also use diced chicken or another meat if you're so inclined.


Once the veggies are nice and soft, I deglaze the pan with a little bit of lime juice. If I'd had cilantro, I would have thrown it in at this point, but no such luck tonight.

Then I put my quesadillas together. I use a flat nonstick griddle for this, which makes it easy to construct and flip the quesadillas. First, I soften the tortillas -- flour, in this case -- by just quickly heating them on each side on the griddle.

Then I brush one side of each tortilla with a tiny bit of olive oil. The first tortilla goes into the pan, oiled side down, over medium heat. Then I spread a handful of grated melty cheese (this time, it was monterey jack) over the tortilla, then a layer of veggies, then another layer of cheese. I also happened to have some crumbled cotija laying around, so I sprinkled that on too. The second tortilla goes on top, oiled side up.

If you've timed it right, the bottom tortilla is nice and brown by this time, and you're ready to flip. Use a nice big spatula, and work quickly and surely. Another minute or two to cook the second side, and it's ready to go. Cut into quarters, and serve with whatever condiments are on hand -- salsa, sour cream, guacamole, whatever.



The best thing about tonight's version? I had leftover veggies. Kitchen sink omelette for breakfast!

One down, a bushel to go

My refrigerator is sagging under the weight of the vegetables from our CSA. Kale, collard greens, beets, squash, basil, and the list goes on. By the circumstances of fate, though, I am saddled with food enough for four but only one mouth to feed. And even though I love to cook and I eat well -- very, very well -- this is more food than one girl could possibly eat in a month, let alone a week. With only six days until the next batch comes in, I had to resort to the old cook-and-freeze. So now, instead of taking up space in the fridge and taunting me with their short shelf lives, those lovely veggies can take up a longer-term residence in the freezer.

First on the agenda was soup -- kale soup, to be precise.


I started with a pound of cannellini beans -- the good kind -- and cooked them up all plump like. Into another pot went some rendered pork fat, a chopped onion, and a head of garlic that I’d roasted. Then the beans and their liquor, a few cups of pork stock, a parmigiano reggiano rind for flavor, and salt and pepper. After a good while, I fished out the cheese rind and gave the rest a buzz with the hand blender until it was smooth-ish. And then, in went the kale. In my eagerness to clear something -- anything! -- out of the fridge, I was tempted to dump in the whole ginormous bunch of kale, but I quickly realized if I did that I’d have kale with white bean sauce rather than white bean soup with kale. So I held back. A little.

I finished my bowl with a little grated parmigiano and a dollop of pesto (because figuring out what to do with the basil was a no-brainer, really), and it was pretty good. Not quite thick enough for my taste, though. Turns out that four cups of stock plus the bean liquor was a bit too much for one little pound of beans. But, thin or thick, the rest is now in the freezer, where it is likely to stay, at least until October when the CSA winds down and I don’t spend my weeks eating in a race against time with all those damn veggies.

Good birthday eats

If you read enough barbeque websites, eventually you'll come across the unassailable piece of advice that true barbeque cannot be rushed.  And it can't.  But sometimes, when you've got 25 people coming over at 3pm, you have no choice but to speed things up.

For my first experiment with pulled pork, I worked with a pork shoulder, which I smoked for several hours on Friday night and continued smoking on Saturday.  By about noon, though, it was clear that the shoulder needed some quality time in the oven if dinner was to be served at a decent hour.  I don't think the final product suffered too much, though.  And we were plenty distracted from any weaknesses in the pork by the coleslaw, rice and beans, grilled corn, and two sauces (an Eastern Carolina vinegar-based sauce and a Western Carolina tomato-based sauce), not to mention the pitcher of sangria served alongside. 

And the table looked great, if I may say so myself.  It was anchored by a gorgeous plant that arrived as a birthday present from my in-laws just few hours before the pork came out of the oven.  What timing!

How a yearning for shellfish results in a diatribe about eating animals

Because I have been indoctrinated by the cult of Pollan, I have a very hard time eating these days without contemplating the implications of my food choices.  So although this blog will mostly feature stuff I'm cooking and eating, illustrated with pretty pictures and occasionally a full-on recipe, I can't help but delve into the brainy side of food now and again.  Just so you know.

***

I had this great post planned.  It was going to start off lyrically with a beautiful tribute to that seasonal delicacy, the soft-shell crab.  It was going to end with a picture of a perfectly sauteed crab, and I was to have all my crusteacean desires sated.  But it was not to be.  That post will have to wait.  Instead, you get to hear about my aborted attempt to purchase soft-shell crab at Whole Foods, and the arrogant fishmonger who deserves to be whipped with a flaccid squid tentacle.  (On a positive note though, at least I get to use the word "fishmonger."  Repeatedly.)

So I went to Whole Foods in search of soft-shell crab.  I didn't see any, so I asked.  And oh, did I get an earful in response: a lecture about crabs, courtesy of my Whole Foods fishmonger.  Whole Foods, he informed me, would never carry soft-shell crabs.  It wasn't ethical, he told me.  Because they are caught, shipped, and sold live, there is no way to ensure they are treated well throughout.  Clearly, I had forgotten about Whole Foods' decision a few years ago to stop selling live lobster and crab.  Silly, silly me.  But the decision, and the fishmonger's defense of it, are nonsensical for a variety of reasons, not least of which because we insist on ascribing human emotions and experiences to a CRAB, an animal that has a brain the size of a pea.

Meanwhile, plenty of the animals who provide the meat sold by Whole Foods -- salmon, chicken, and pigs, just to name a few -- are much more complex than your average crab.  And though Whole Foods tries to ensure that those animals are well-treated, they ultimately are killed for human consumpution.  I just can't see how transporting a live crab crosses some magical line that killing a pig does not.  But I suppose that, with a live crab, the customer (or the fishmonger) cannot ignore the fact of its life, or its death.  With the pig, we are removed from that.  We don't have to think about it.  We don't have to see it.  And we most certainly don't have to DO it. 

It was telling that the fishmonger also said that he was not willing to "cut the face off a crab."  This was an objection of a different kind -- a personal objection, not one based on company policy or ethical considerations.  And, yes, the process of killing and preparing a soft-shell crab is not the most pleasant.  But I doubt killing a pig is very pleasant, either.  The fishmonger was more than happy to sell me a fish carcass, just as long as he wasn't directly responsible for rendering it a carcass in the first place.  Which, ultimately, strikes me as irresponsible and disrespectful of the animals we do eat.  If we can't recognize and come to terms with our role in this amazing food chain that we are a part of, then we have no business eating meat.  I do eat animals.  I have eaten animals that I killed myself.  I am not ashamed of that, and I don't think I should be.  And I resent this fishmonger for making me feel that way. 

Although I left Whole Foods that day without any soft-shell crab, my run-in with the fishmonger just made me more determined to track down soft-shell crab.  But so far I haven't been able to find any in Nashville.  If you live around here, do tell.  Do you have a source?  Do you know a guy?  I'll do anything I have to do, go anywhere I need to go.  And I promise there will be a recipe and pictures once I get my hands on the raw materials.  I just really want me some crab.  Is that so much to ask?!?

[NOTE TO INTERESTED PARTIES: I do have a friendly Whole Foods fishmonger, a friend of a friend named Jeff.  Jeff is courteous.  Jeff is thoughtful.  I could NEVER imagine Jeff lecturing a customer on the propriety of her food choices.  This fishmonger was not Jeff.]

It's the most wonderful time of the year

For most people, the season from Thanksgiving to Christmas is the time of the year when they crave the familiar comfort foods that they were raised on. Like my sister, for instance, who insists on broccoli casserole every. single. holiday. (A classic 50s-era convenience dish, the main ingredients in that casserole are, predictably, broccoli, cream of mushroom soup, mayonnaise, and crushed Ritz crackers.)

I, on the other hand, tend to push the envelope during the holidays by (gasp!) adding some crystallized ginger to the cranberry sauce, or (egads!) replacing the sweet potato dish with a first course of sweet potato ravioli with sage butter, or (heavens!) suggesting we smoke the turkey instead of roasting it.

Instead, the time of the year when I get the most sentimental is summertime. As soon as the weather turns warm and I can smell smoke from grills fired up around the neighborhood, I start craving those classic midwestern picnic salads, all of which tend to involve some type of mayonnaise-based dressing, over some type of sturdy base ingredient. Potato? Pasta? Cabbage? Yes, ma'am.

For a Memorial Day picnic this year, I knew I wanted one of those classic, creamy salads. Inspired by a lovely little side-dish at Monell's, a family-style Southern eatery here in Nashville, I decided to use broccoli as the base rather than the more-familiar potato or pasta.


Broccoli Salad

As with most dressed salads, I would recommend making the full quantity of dressing, but not adding it all at once, because who wants to be overdressed in the middle of summer's heat? You may find that 2/3 or 3/4 of the full amount of dressing is perfectly sufficient.

Dressing
1 c. mayonnaise
1/4 c. sugar
2 tbsp. apple cider vinegar
2 tbsp. lemon juice

In a small bowl, combine all dressing ingredients.

Salad
8 c. broccoli florets, trimmed to bite-size
1 c. shredded carrot
1/2 c. chopped red onion
1/2 c. raisins
1/4 c. sliced almonds

In a large bowl, combine all salad ingredients. Add about 2/3 of dressing and stir to combine. Add more dressing if desired. Season well with salt and pepper.

As with many salads of this genre, this one improves over time, so I like to make it the night before. It will keep several days in the refrigerator.

Makes enough to fill a nice, big, picnic-sized bowl. (Which means it probably serves 6 to 8 as a side dish.)