Sisterly nuptials, Part the first.

When a friend gets married, it's one thing. The preparations are all very exciting and the wedding itself great fun. But when one's only sister gets married -- that's something else entirely.

And so it was with my dear sister last weekend. She married a lovely, lovely man and, even though I'm not the kind who "always wanted a brother" (I was fine with just one sister, thank you very much), I'm very happy he's joined our family.

As the only sister and only bridesmaid to this particular bride, it fell to me to plan a number of fun things. First (and foremost), I helped the Bride plan the wedding. Second, I planned the Bachelorette party. Third, I planned and hosted the Bridal Shower.
So, when it came time to plan these events, I went way overboard. (At this point, it's appropriate to thank my long-suffering husband, who put up with a LOT on the bachelorette/shower weekend.) For the bachelorette party, I cooked a big hangover-prevention dinner and made some nice cocktails before the girls headed out to Cuchi Cuchi for a night on the town. (If you find yourself in Cambridge, in need of a cocktail, go there.)First: the cocktails. We're still working on a kicky name that has something to do with my sister's name or interests, but for now it's called the Mango Sunset.
Ingredients:

• Mango Juice
• Grenadine (I used homemade - recipe below)
• Tequila

Mix the tequila and mango juice, then pour grenadine down the side of the glass so that it settles at the bottom and only slowly infiltrates the mango juice, hence the Sunset.

Homemade Grenadine is EASY to make and SO much better than the processed crap. Just make a simple syrup, but use pomegranate juice instead of water. Equal parts pom juice and sugar. Bring to a boil, boil until sugar completely dissolves and syrup forms, remove from heat. Done.

Then: The Pizzas.
Unfortunately I didn't photograph the best of all the pizzas - the one for which I'm generously going to give you the recipe (which by all rights I should keep SECRET). I made three pizzas - a veggie pizza with Turkey Bolognese, a Three-Cheese Pizza (with the same Bolognese), and a Potato Pizza recreated after Number 5 at Cambridge, 1.

Potato Pizza (Yes, it sounds strange, but it is the most delicious starchy thing in the world).

Ingredients

• 4 potatoes, peeled and washed; 2 sliced thin, 2 cubed
• Dollop Sour Cream
• 2 T butter
• Fontina cheese in small slices
• Part Skim Ricotta
• Garlic
• Big bunch fresh rosemary
• Olive Oil
• Pizza Dough (I bought some from Bertucci's, because I felt lazy)

1. Cover the 2 cubed potatoes with water in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Generously salt water and cook until very soft.
2. Meanwhile, preheat oven to about 400. Slice the remaining two potatoes very thinly
3. Drain water from cooked cubed potatoes and mash with rough-chopped rosemary, butter, and dollop of sour cream. Set aside.
4. Roughly flatten pizza dough on a well-oiled pan (or pizza stone, if you prefer). Brush top of dough with olive oil. Season with salt and pepper. Sprinkle finely chopped garlic over dough.
5. Place potato slices on dough.
6. Randomly drop dollops of ricotta (goat cheese would also be DELICIOUS) onto the dough. Distribute fontina slices across dough.
7. Sprinkle more rosemary over the entire pizza.
8. Bake at 400 until dough is golden brown and the cheese has begun to bubble and brown. Be sure potato slices are cooked through.

Note: Do salt very generously. The pizza will be bland with all that starch without enough salt.

RIP Irving Penn

In my efforts to get back into photography, I've started paying more attention to photographers, both Art Photographers and Fashion Photographers, not that I think there should be such a divide. Isn't it just as big an accomplishment to artistically photograph products for consumption (in this case, clothing) as it is to artistically photograph, say, a leaf?

Anyway, we'll miss you, Mr. Penn.

Down for the count

I have a big, whomping, hardcore, two-part post about my sister's wedding and associated festivities in the pipelines, but I also have a big, burly, mean head cold that is making it very difficult to think or write clearly. So, the big, whomping wedding post will have to wait.

Yesterday I felt well enough by the evening to be hungry and had just enough energy to stand up and cook myself some dinner. I knew I wanted something hearty, packed with vitamins and good things, something spicy enough that I could taste it without it scalding my poor husband's undulled taste buds, something aromatic enough to clear my sinuses, but not so smelly that its scent would still be around when my cold has subsided. It was a curry kind of night.

I'm new to curry cooking. I try to be an adventurous cook, but I'm often cowed by overly complex recipes or ingredient lists containing more than ten items. When I received a copy of Raghavan Iyer's 660 Curries (if you like curry and don't own this book, buy it immediately), I read it straight through. The first part has amazing instructions on how to think about the different spices called for in curry recipes, the differences between the regional cuisines of India and the many different kinds of curries encompassed in his tome. It's a brilliant, non-condescending, informative, gentle introduction to what always struck me as a complex and intimidating cuisine. I like this book a lot. (Disclaimer: I am not Indian, I have never been to India, and, as such, I cannot vouch for the authenticity of these recipes. I can, however vouch for their deliciousness.)

The one curry I've made repeatedly from this cookbook is called Moghalai-Style Chicken (with spinach, almonds, and raisins). I made it last year for our dating anniversary. It was perfect yesterday, because we received a whole mess of beautiful spinach in our Boston Organics box. Anyway, I'm losing my train of thought (I think the cold medicine is wearing off). With no further ado:
Moghalai-Style Chicken (Kishmish Waale Murgh)
(adapted from 660 Curries by Raghavan Iyer)

• 1/4 c canola oil (I was out and substituted olive oil, which wasn't as bad as I feared)
• 1 large red onion, chopped (the more the better, in my opinion)
• 1/2 c golden raisins (I like their sweetness with the caramelized onions, so I use more than this)
• 1/2 c slivered almonds (They will burn. Be careful.)
• 2 boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into small chunks - last night I sliced them, which actually made them soak up more of the flavor, I think.
• 1 T Punjabi garam masala (He gives us a recipe for this elsewhere in the book, but I haven't gotten my act together to buy the spices and make it. I used Whole Foods brand. It's fine.)
• 2 t coarse kosher or sea salt (I prefer the flavor of a really coarse sea salt - if using anything else, increase the salt to taste)
• 1/2 t cayenne pepper
• 1/2 t ground turmeric
• 8 oz fresh spinach leaves, washed and chopped (We topped out at 10 oz yesterday. It shrinks so much, it wasn't overwhelming. And it's healthy too!)

1. Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium heat. (Don't try this in a wok. It may become a crusty burned mess, if the pan doesn't have a nice, heavy bottom. Or maybe I'm just careless.)
2. Add onion, raisins and almonds. "Cook until the onion softens and then turns dark brown with deep purple hues and the raisins turn honey-brown and look succulent, 15 to 20 minutes." (This is the kind of helpful suggestion that makes the book so great. Also, SERIOUSLY don't try to up the heat. You will burn everything. Trust me.)
3. Stir in the chicken and cook it until it sears and turns light brown.
4. Stir in spices and salt. Cook for 20-30 seconds.
5. Stir in the spinach and 1/2 c water. Bring to boil, reduce heat to medium-low and cover. Simmer, stirring occasionally until chicken is cooked through.
6. I like to serve it with brown basmati rice. Very tasty.

**Note: I decided at some point to add a big spoonful of ginger paste to this recipe. Yesterday I added two. It adds a nice aroma, but doesn't overpower the other ingredients. Try it. Maybe you'll like it? Last night I also served it with a small glass of orange-flavored airborne. An inspired pairing, if I say so myself.

Also, a question: I have a gluten-free friend coming to stay and would like to bake her something tasty. Do you have a fail-safe, non-complicated, delicious gluten-free recipe? Also, do you have a good suggestion of a low-maintenance gluten-free flour? I dig all the mixing of various flours, but I just don't need to have all of them on hand. I'd like to keep it simple. Suggestions much appreciated.

Security Blanket

Sometimes something terrible happens and, even when everything resolves itself miraculously well, you can see cracks forming in an edifice you had previously held to be unshakable, unchangeable, permanent. Whether you have any warning or not, this kind of occurrence has the power to shake even the most staunchly positive Pollyanna of us all to the core.

When these things happen, as they have of late, what do I do? First, I keep a stiff upper lip. Second, I have a private and generally very dramatic meltdown. Third, I pull it together and cleave to something comfortable, reliable, something that is always the same as it always was and something that will, for all eternity, remain comforting, reliable, warm.

Obviously, I'm a stress eater. After all, what besides food (provided you have a reliable ingredients and a good relationship with the particular stove and oven at your disposal) is so reliable and comforting? When under normal stress, things like cake, Cheez-its, chocolate, and cream cheese do me just fine. On the other hand, when things get really out of hand, I need something a little more serious to prop me up. Most recently I turned to Mac and Cheese.

If you're running off to the cupboard to zap some Easy Mac, HALT. Go no further! A far superior Mac and Cheese awaits you. And if, like me, you find yourself soothed by procedure, routine, and production, then this, friends, is the Mac and Cheese for you. There is no microwave involved. No vaguely-cheesy orange powder. No tablespoon of butter and half cup of milk. This is a much more involved Mac and Cheese but let me assure you: as with so many things, what you get out of this Mac and Cheese is directly proportional to what you put into it. If you're lucky, it may even give you back more than you bargained for.

Luckily, my recipe-source (and inadvertent source of this month's stress) had recovered fully enough to dictate this recipe and help cook it by the time I was up to needing some emotional sustenance. I can't take credit for this recipe. As ever, all credit to my mom.

Reliable Comfort Food
Ingredients

• 1 box macaroni noodles (I used Barilla Elbows)
• 1 stick butter
• 1/3 cup flour
• 1 t dry mustard
• nutmeg to taste (ca. 1/2 t)
• 1/4 t salt
• 1 quart milk
• 1/2 lb White American Cheese
• 1/2 lb Monterey Jack Cheese
• 1/2 lb Cheddar Cheese (medium sharp)

Assembly

1. Pre-heat oven to about 400.
2. Cook pasta in generously salted water for approximately 3/4 of the suggested time. Drain and set aside.
3. Shred American, Monterey Jack, and Cheddar Cheeses on the largest holes on a box grater. Set aside
4. Make a roux: Melt the stick of butter over medium heat. Add the flour and whisk until smooth. Add milk and cook over medium-low heat until sauce bubbles, thickens, and just begins to brown. Add dry mustard and nutmeg.
5. Add cheese and stir until melted and smooth.
6. Add pasta to cheese sauce and stir until well coated.
7. Pour pasta and sauce into a (large) oven-safe dish- in my case this was a 9"x13" stoneware baking dish AND a 9"x9" brownie dish.
8. Bake at 400 until it begins to brown on top. If you're lucky, your oven will brown it more or less evenly. If you're me, your oven will beautifully brown one side and leave the other more or less raw. It tastes fine either way.

We all ate this as a "side dish" to accompany a sesame-ginger marinated pork tenderloin, alongside some delicious lima beans, (see image above) but we all knew that the Mac was the main attraction. It's okay to exercise a little denial when it comes to this dish. We all know that you just want to eat carbs saturated with cheesy fat. And sometimes there's just nothing at all wrong with that.In other news, look what my orchid has been doing! He's (I'm firmly of the opinion that anything named after testicles should be called he, though perhaps orchids could be the drag queens of the plant world - hence my deep and abiding love of them) certainly been up to the task of brightening up the house the last couple weeks! I like how that last little bloom is cocking its head at the camera and being so coy to open up. What a tight little ball of joy.

Jellies and jams and pickles, oh my!

**A lot has happened since I began writing this post. I'm sitting in my mom's hospital room now, as I finish it. She's on the mend, but it's been quite a scary few days. So, this post is for my mom, with whom I look forward to many, many years of canning, cooking, and all those good things.

I remember many Augusts of my childhood, especially in those early, pre-preschool days, spent as my grandmother's and mother's side while they (we, I thought) canned the mountains of vegetables that my grandpa coaxed out of the earth in his garden (which was, gothically, located on the State Hospital grounds). Hour after hour, just as the Summer heat peaked for the year, leaving most of us breathless, they'd stand over the stove, milling tomatoes into juice (which would become vegetable soup or chili when Summer's sweat became a distant, almost longed-for memory), stringing, trimming, and finally packing green beans into quart jars, ready for the pressure cooker.

I remember (fondly) helping by peeling the wax pencil and writing dates on the lids as they came out of their hot bath. I remember dozens of jars of tomato juice and beans, and in a few banner years, hundreds, lining the shelves under the basement stairs in my grandparents' house, where it was cool and dark and there were commonly spiders. I took a special pleasure in sneaking into that small space and scaring myself out of my wits at the thought of spiders and other unknown things creeping out of the dark.
At some point, I grew bored of watching the women in my family putting up Summer produce for the Winter. At some point my grandpa stopped gardening on such a large scale. And at some point my grandma stopped canning and this all became relegated to memory, a somewhat peculiar habit held over in my family by those Roosevelt Democrat elders who were worried about potentially lean Winters, even though we always had more than enough to eat in our homes.

I suffer no illusions that my canning now will make up for the years I missed canning with my grandma while I could have, but trying my hand at it makes me feel a little closer in a tiny way. In my case, there was only a very little salt and no tomatoes in sight and I shied away from the pressure cooker (I have visions of Arroz con Pollo stuck to my ceiling - and if you don't know what I'm talking about, look it up) and decided to give jelly and jam a go. (And pickles, but I can't take credit for that idea - more about that later.)

Remembering what seemed to a very small child to be a very large production, I decided to tackle this task with help rather than on my own. Luckily, my newly-minted-Somervillian friend Christine was excited at the prospect of giving all this ridiculousness a go and we spent today up to our elbows in brine, pectin, and produce.
Experiment #1. Dill pickles. Christine expressed a great deal of interest in trying to can pickles. So, we stopped off at the Harvard Farmers Market and bought 20 or so pickling cukes and a big handful of dill. With a few mishaps on the way (dill pickles without the dill, briefly, but caught in time), we managed to make eight beautiful jars of tiny dill pickles, steeping (mellowing?) away in a fragrant, herby brine.Experiment #2. Grape Jelly. One of the finest things about the apartment where the Brit and I are living now (since May) is the beautiful back yard that we share with the other five apartments in our little corner of Cambridge. There is a rather stunning grape arbor that, this Summer, became overburdened with a bumper crop of big, fat, purple Concord Grapes. Christine and I went out, armed with one puppy and two big grocery bags and picked, conservatively, 15 pounds of grapes. Our recipe called for three pounds of grapes, with the goal of producing 4 cups of grape juice (but you can add a little water if you don't have enough). Our three pound batch rendered more like eight cups of juice, so we ended up making two batches of grape jelly. And there's about 12 pounds of grapes in the freezer, waiting for a (cooler) rainy day. Result: many, many jars (of both 4 oz. and 8 oz. varieties) of grape jelly.Experiment #3. Spiced Plum Jam. The Harvard Farmers Market also boasted a lovely array of late Summer produce, of which we selected Plums as our final ingredient of the day. As the chopped, pitted plums cooked down into a happy, syrupy slurry (Thank you, Seven Spoons, for the phrase "a warm slurry of bacon and sweet shallots" which reminded me that slurry can be a good word, too.), I decided to add some spice. "I feel like some spice would make sense with plums," I said to Christine, already a little delirious from the jars upon jars of grape and pickles we had done, and I threw in some ground cloves and ground cinnamon. Suddenly it smelled like Christmas and I knew it was a good idea.**Note: While we had plums on hand, I made this plum cake. It was delicious. This picture is before baking.After eleven hours of this business, with aching feet and back, and more than one burned fingertip (and a couple burned spots on face and feet from flying, boiling jelly), I can say with confidence that canning is a LOT more work than you think it is, no matter how much work you think it is.

Also, I can't wait to do it again.

Well, hello.

This is what I woke up to this morning.Granted, I cheated by buying an orchid from IKEA that already had buds (but no blooms!), but I'm convinced that my influence has saved it from languishing in that grim warehouse. This was the thanks I received for rescuing it.

That was the pleasant start to my day. How are all of you?

Two things: one happy, one not

First, the Bad. A friend posted this link on Facebook. A school with no books. They've decided to buy 18 Kindles instead. Unless the school only has an enrollment of 18 students, this horrifies me. The students who can't get their hands on a Kindle are meant to read on the internet (or maybe the school expects everyone else's parents to BUY them one - hello class distinction!). Gross. My happiest school hours were spent in the library, surrounded buy books hundreds of other students had read over the years, discovering things I wouldn't otherwise have learned. Ugh.

Second, the Good.A Back-to-School (where, at MY school, we still have books) Breakfast of Champions

• 1 package fat free vanilla yogurt
• 6ish blackberries
• 8ish strawberries
• some flaxseeds
• a glug or two of almond milk (thanks, Sweet Amandine, for suggesting these last two!)
• two ice cubes (if your blender can take it)

Blend.

Season Straddling

Well, it's happened. The sun has started to set earlier, there's a distinct chill in the morning air, the apples and pears are coming in, and I expect pumpkins to start appearing everywhere I look. Also, school has started.As such, I've decided to stop worrying about it getting cold and just embrace all that Fall has to offer. Tomorrow I teach my first class of the semester, so it seems like the right thing to do, getting used to the season.

BUT. I'm not done with Summer yet. So, I made yet another batch of pesto, threw it over some pasta and cooked up some corn on the cob. I also pan seared some salmon filets and topped them off with a little pesto cream. This was the summery portion of our program:
As part of this Fall-embrace, I'm reminding myself of all the things I like about that peculiar snap in the air. Students lugging backpacks across the Yard and the first tiny white traces of frost. Lucy huffing and puffing while playing outside and little clouds of steam rising from her snout. Hot tea. Pumpkin soup. Butternut Squash.

And so I decided tonight to oh-so-cautiously nose my way into warm-fruit-dessert-season with a very free form pear galette. This is really the one-toe-at-a time way of heading boldly into Fall. Like a coward entering a cold ocean. But the subtlety of the pear's flavor paired with the rich muddy brown sugar is a gentle entree into Pie Season.

The results of this experiment were delectable as dessert, but will be breathtaking for as pre-teaching breakfast. Wish me luck tomorrow and, next time you need to fortify yourself and start to ease into the new season, make one of these puppies.
Early Fall Pear Galette

Ingredients

• leftover pie dough (2 1/2 c flour, 2 cups butter, pinch salt, 4 T ice water)
• two pears, quartered, cored, and sliced thin
• 3 T dark brown sugar
• 6 vanilla wafers, crushed
• 1 T butter
• 1 T granulated sugar

Preparation

1. Preheat the oven to 425.
2. Roll out the pie dough until it's (VERY) roughly circular, about 10" in diameter.
3. Sprinkle the crushed vanilla wafers around the middle of the dough. They absorb some of the liquid from the fruit and add a layer of crunch and some substance to the floor of the galette.
4. Arrange the pear slices in a roughly spiral pattern. It doesn't really matter how you arrange the slices, but if you take a little effort (I took a TINY bit of effort), it will be prettier.
5. Sprinkle the brown sugar over the fruit more or less evenly.
6. Fold the edges of the dough over about two inches to create the crust.
7. Pop the galette into the oven for about 30 minutes.
8. Melt the butter.
9. When the crust begins to brown, brush the top crust with butter and sprinkle granulated sugar on top. This gives a little more crunch and sweetness as well as encouraging the crust to brown.
10. Bake about 15 more minutes (for a total of about 45 minutes, I think. Though to be honest I didn't time mine.)

Slice and serve warm with ice cream or whipped cream. I chose Caramel Pecan from Emack & Bolio's. It was a good choice.

Also, if I were more committed to the Fall Thing, I would have added some spice to the sugar - maybe ginger and/or cinnamon? Is this the sort of thing you would be tempted to add cardamom to? I think I have a passionate love for cardamom, but have actually never cooked with it myself. A little citrusy tang might also not help. Maybe a squeeze of lemon or even just lemon zest? What do you all think?

Fun with Fuji Color

When I went to K and B's wedding a couple weeks ago, I decided to shoot some color film, which is something I hardly ever do, and have never done in the medium format clunker I was warming up. (My preeeecious Mamiya 645e.) The results? Very, very nice. The scanning does detract a little from the color, but I still think they're quite pretty.
Of course, it does help to have pretty things around to take photos of.

*All shot on 12 Fuji Velvia 100 or Provia 400 with my Mamiya 645e. The rest of them are here.

The Haul

Yes, they're scrawny and imperfect, but I grew them myself and I love them.Also, they'd better taste DAMN good, since they're clocking in at, oh, about $4,000 a pound.

Summer winding down

The last few days of Summer are still ahead of us, but with the semester (and teaching duties and looming research) starting next week, I find myself prematurely nostalgic. It seems like just minutes ago that it got warm and only a couple of weeks ago that I finished grading and put away my teaching persona for the year. But today I went and excavated my desk in preparation for another Fall and I can feel the last few minutes of freedom slipping away.

Unfortunately, the copious free time I granted myself this Summer is slipping away with the last few weeks of warm weather. And with that free time goes the time I've spent cooking and baking and developing film and scanning negatives and writing these blog posts. Doesn't mean I'm not coming back, though. It just means that the recipes will be more carefully chosen and the photos worth a few more than 1,000 words on average (hopefully).

This past weekend was the last big hurrah of the Summer, featuring my best friend's wedding to a lovely guy. I was busy doing bridesmaid duty, so I've no recipes to share. However, I appointed myself the unofficial photographer of the three days' events and took a few hundred photos. Here's a selection of the best ones. Hopefully a few more posts and recipes before work descends and it's all to-do lists and moaning about the waning afternoon light. Don't give up on me!

Plum perfect

Yesterday I found myself (after many failed efforts and near-misses) in the same place as a farmer's market at the right time. I had trekked over to campus to use the computer lab (to scan negatives - very exciting), only to find said lab to be closed for the rest of the summer. However! The Harvard Farmer's Market was just setting up and it seemed that everyone had harvested everything all at once this week. Tomatoes and dahlias and beans and lettuce and greens and squash and berries and peaches, oh my! I'm a lover of farmer's markets and let me tell you, this one was spectacular.
My haul: three adorable patty pan squash, a handful of heirloom tomatoes, some cherry tomatoes, a quart of plums, a pint of lovely, juicy intensely-flavored blueberries, and two heads of fresh lettuce (approximately the size of MY head). Luckily we were having my sister and her betrothed over for dinner or I'm afraid much of this would have gone to waste. Dinner ended up being 1) a big, big salad with lettuce, tomatoes, pepper, Spanish tuna (canned in olive oil!), and a little balsamic; 2) Pasta with a fresh batch of my own homemade pesto (now with garlic!); and 3) Two delicious clafoutis(es?) that I whipped up with the help of the decadent produce I brought home with me. I made blueberry (delicious) and plum (transcendent).
You all may remember that I had a dubious encounter with clafoutis before. I say dubious not because the result wasn't delicious or the recipe didn't work (in fact, Sweet Amandine's recipes never seem to fail), but because I was so uncertain of the whole process, not having eaten, seen, or heard of a clafoutis until very shortly before I made that one. My previous effort at this delicious dessert was tasty, but I like my desserts to have either a little more tooth or a little less substance. Alas, that clafoutis landed right in the textural middle ground that makes me so uneasy. I searched around and found another recipe that seemed promising and gave it a whirl. The results were spectacular.

Fresh fruit clafoutis (adapted from epicurious.com)

• fruit of your choosing (I used about 15 plums, halved and pitted for the plum one and about half a pint of blueberries for the blueberry one)
  
• 1 tablespoon plus 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 teaspoon cornstarch (for each batch of fruit)
• 1/3 cup all purpose flour
• 1/4 cup almonds, toasted (I toasted mine in a pan on the stove as if they were pine nuts)
  
• 4 large eggs
• Pinch of salt
• 1 cup whole milk
• 1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, melted
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/2 teaspoon almond extract (I used amaretto)
• Powdered sugar

1. Preheat oven to 325°F.
2. Generously butter two deep dish pie plates.
3. Combine the fruit, 1 tablespoon sugar and cornstarch in medium bowl; toss to coat.
4. Arrange the fruit in pie plates.
5. Blend the flour and almonds in food processor until the nuts are finely chopped (ideally until they almost disappear).
6. In another bowl, whisk the eggs, salt and remaining 1/2 cup sugar together.
7. Whisk in the flour and nut mixture.
8. Add milk, melted butter, vanilla extract, and amaretto; whisk until smooth.
9. Pour custard over fruit.
10. Bake clafoutis until set in center and golden on top, about 55 minutes.
11. Cool slightly. Sprinkle powdered sugar over and serve warm.

**Notes: The ground nuts in this recipe give it a really nice occasional crunch. Also, the (scant) leftovers made a delicious breakfast this morning.

**Warning: The original recipe purports to serve SIX people. There were four of us and we almost polished it off. Bear this in mind if you're inviting big eaters. Better yet: keep it ALL to yourself. You'll thank me.

Bad mood food

Sometimes it's really hard not to let the little shit get to you. Whether it's a quibble with a spouse or a sibling, creeping dread about much-procrastinated work, or an ongoing battle with various vermin (in my case: mice), it's just really hard sometimes to keep perspective. What do you do to bring yourself back to earth in these situations?

I turn to food in any kind of extreme mood (doesn't matter if it's euphoria, stress, or the depths of depression) - this explains the many, many pounds I gained during college and in the first couple years of grad school. I've been trying to think of something to eat that will refocus my excess energy in a positive direction, but all of my comfort foods are really just too warm to eat in this weather. (The ridiculous humidity and high temperatures of this week are contributing to my mood, no doubt.) So, what's a girl to do?

Looking in my fridge and taking stock of what I have handy, I note: mushrooms, corn, eggs, bacon, and not much else in the way of raw potential. Alas.

Corn chowder sounds delicious, but I don't have the requisite central air to make soup palatable in this weather. Corn fritters would really hit the spot - the thought of the creamy delicious insides and the crispy fried outside makes me weak in the knees, but the last thing I (or my dreadful summer skin - another thing to stress about given my upcoming bridesmaid duties) need is to stand over a pan of hot oil to make them. Succotash? Would be delicious, but no lima beans are handy. One thing's for sure - today is a day for waiting until it's dark to eat and maybe for eating on the roof.

...
What I discovered a few hours after writing the foregoing is that a few things can go a long way toward fixing that kind of pre-semester, late-Summer malaise: roof lounging (as suggested above) as the sun sets and the air begins to cool, corn on the cob, quiet conversation with my lovely husband, cuddle time with the sweet dog, and good, not-too-heavy/not-too-light black beans. Good hearty food and pretty determined relaxation. Oh, and a fan (recently brought back from Spain as a gift from my parents). I highly recommend all these things next time you find yourself in a snit. I'll get you started on the black beans. They're delicious.

Bad mood black beans

• dried black beans (I used about half a pound that I had left over)2 bay leaves
• about a liter of chicken broth (can be combined with water to taste OR veggie broth can be substituted)
• salt and pepper to taste
• spices of your choosing (I used ground cumin and some Ras al-hanout that was a gift from Morocco)
• bacon to taste (can be omitted)
• cheddar cheese to taste

1. Soak the black beans for at least an hour before cooking.
2. Heat a little olive oil in a pot. Add the bacon (chopped up) and cook until crispy. Add the (drained) beans and cover with broth.
3. Throw in whatever seasonings you want to use.
4. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and cover. Simmer until beans are tender and soup has thickened. You will need to stir often and add more broth/water to keep it from burning and to make sure the beans get sufficiently softened.
5. Once you're happy with the consistency (it can be soupier or thicker depending on your taste), turn off the heat and stir in the cheese (shredded works best).
6. Serve with couscous and with a dollop of sour cream on top.

So, what are your bad mood foods? Oh, and hello, Cape Town!

A taste of Southern Indiana

Every year in my home town they have this fundraiser for the American Heart Association called the Taste of Southern Indiana. It's just what you would expect: samples from all the local restaurants with a bunch of cardiologists on hand. While I can't give you a taste of all my favorite restaurants at homes (Jaya's, Jimmy Jeng's Szechuan, Los Bravos, DiLegge's, Turoni's), I can give you a little taste of what I like to do and where I like to go when I'm in my old home town. This is just a small taste... many many more photos are here. More are coming soon. In the meantime, enjoy!P.S. I'm totally digging Google Analytics telling me where my readers are! A big hello to Melbourne, Montevideo (do I know someone in Uruguay?), and Birmingham! An equally big hello to Falls Church, South Bend, and Los Angeles! And Bloomington! And, naturally, Boston! You're all most welcome here! Leave me a comment and let me know what's going on in your corner of the world!

Simple pleasures

While I was home last week, I daily indulged in the treats of the season. Farm-fresh produce is abundant in Indiana throughout Summer, but I was extra lucky to arrive when the corn, blackberries, and melons were all reaching the height of their juicy, colorful, fullness. This type of tasty, natural beauty is great fun to photograph as well, so here's a little taste of late Summer in
IN.Figure 1. Zucchini.Figure 2. Corn.
Figure 3. Blackberries with Greek yogurt and honey.

So many odds and ends... and a wee clip show

Figure 1. They like straight lines in Indiana.

Yesterday I winged my way home to Indiana for a brief, but much-needed visit. Since then, I've been wallowing in puppy-love, eating too much good Mexican food and my mom's mushroom soup (Stay tuned for THAT recipe. It will make you weep.), going to the movies (which is the official pastime of my home town), and sleeping in my old bed. All in all, the perfect first twenty hours home.

Figure 2. The Liberty Hotel. Perfect place to toast your own personal ball-and-chain.

But! Before I came home, there was an anniversary to be celebrated. My dear Brit and I have been married (legally, though not with huge, froufy fanfare) for one year and two days now and it still seems like the best decision we could ever have made. To celebrate on Saturday I did not cook. So I have no nuptially-themed recipe to share. But we did go to Clink at the Liberty Hotel and eat a lot of really delicious food, drink a couple of delicious cocktails, and some really delicious wine. Figure 3. Seared scallops with lobster, mushrooms, parsnips (puree), and dates. Holy. Crap.

This all followed a lovely day spent at the ICA and wandering downtown and snapping photos. You can see the initial results here, with medium format goodness to follow when I'm home and developing again.Figure 4. Boston view from ICA.

For now, though, I'll share with you the recipe for the World's Best Banana Pudding, courtesy of my mom. Again. She's getting accustomed to my frantic, last-minute "Please tell me how you make x dish!" emails and is responding with aplomb. I only hope one day I have the memory for recipes that she does.

(The occasion for this recipe was my sister FINALLY coming back to town after being away for altogether too long. She's always been a sucker for banana pudding and I thought it might be appropriate for some welcome back comfort food. She approved of the end result, as I'm sure you all will, too.)

Banana Pudding (courtesy My Mom)
Figure 5. I used miniature trifle dishes.

• Combine 2 small packages of Instant Jello pudding—French Vanilla Flavor (sometimes hard to find—but def. better than regular vanilla) with 3 cups of milk (I use skim milk!)
• Add 1 can of Eagle brand condensed, sweetened milk and beat with mixer until it starts to thicken.
• After you stop beating and as the pudding thickens add a 9 ounce container of Cool Whip (I use the light variety) Fold this in gently to avoid deflating The Cool whip (the purpose of this is to lighten the pudding).
• Layer Vanilla wafers, sliced bananas, and the pudding mixture to create the finished product. It looks pretty to do in a trifle bowl. I usually crumble some vanilla wafers on top for panache! Do not leave bananas on top—as they will darken when exposed to air.

As ever, I suggest you note the ingredients (and quantities) before going shopping. If, however, you find yourself at home with, oh, I don't know, only one (1) package of French Vanilla Instant Pudding, you can halve the recipe. The proportions are very approximate and really, short of using stale vanilla wafers or rotten bananas, I'm not sure how you could screw this up. I recommend it for hot-weather colds, broken hearts, or warm welcome-backs. Also, as my mom suggests, pot-lucks.

Culling Time

I have, as you all know, a little window-box herb garden. Unfortunately, my basil (beautiful flat-leaf Italian basil from Pemberton Farms) grew a little out of control and was choking out my thyme and sage. There was only one thing to do. I trimmed and cut back and culled and ended up with a pile of fresh basil that just didn't know what to do with itself.

So, I pulled out my food processor, grated up a big chunk of parmesan, threw in some pine nuts, added the basil and processed until it smelled nutty and cheesy and fresh. I then added olive oil until I liked the color and consistency. My best guess as to quantities: 1 cup basil leaves, 3 T pine nuts (all I had left), and about a cup of oil. Also, salt and pepper.**I tossed some of the pesto with penne (which we ate alongside some delicious chicken sausage), but there was a lot left over. What to do? I pulled out an ice cube tray, discarded its cubes and filled up six of the little wells with pesto. I left them in the freezer overnight and am now left with six delicious little green cubes, just waiting for a craving to hit. I highly recommend you all kill some basil today. The results are stunning.**Note: I did not add garlic. This was simply an oversight, but it did result in a mild and versatile pesto.