Yes, it’s been a lot of running around. Do you ever have the feeling, when you are running, that you are actually impossibly bored? Not running, running, on legs. I mean running from one task to another so that your head aches and your shoulders ache, as though they are all connected as shock-absorbers of your violent typing and the meaning of the words going down?

Millions of words. I have typed millions of words. And I have sprinted from place to place, looking for the best chair in the house.

Hence, you see, why my creative energy has gone into things other than typing. Like walking in the April rain, (which is really welcome respite because we have had so little rain this year, and because I have done so little walking) or kneeling over slabs of blank paper and pushing thick pastels around with my palms. That ceases the swelling in my head somewhat, and the pulsing fervor of my fingers.

Cooking is the best thing, though. Cooking means eating, and whether seated or upright, what better time is there than mealtime? No better: my day peaks at three magnificent points. Even the privacy of a hard boiled egg has come to astound me. Every morsel counts, and each one gets my singular, primed attention. I’ve been trained to concentrate so hard on the law, and it’s nice to turn that rigor of thought  onto my meals. Never have I been more present over my brown bag.

Sometimes at night I cook ahead. In my ranked-list of enjoyments, anticipating my meal is a very close second to actually eating it. So I bring jars of food along that remind me of the moments I spent cooking in the evening. The moments when I’m drinking my wine, imagining the respite. Just before I get going again, hurrying to sit still with the whirr and weight of my brain.

Quinoa with Sweet Potato & Pine Nuts

1/2 c quinoa

1 medium red onion, diced

2 c water or broth

1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved

1 baked yam, cubed

1/2 c toasted pine nuts

1/2 c parsley, chopped

1oz chopped feta cheese or grated parmesan (optional)

lemon juice, s&p, olive oil

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In a sauce pan over medium / high heat…

Saute onion in olive oil until tender–about 10–15 minutes.

Add quinoa and stir.

Add 2 c water or broth and bring to a boil–boil about 15 minutes, adding more water if necessary.

Add a squeeze of lemon juice, salt, pepper and olive oil.

When slightly cool, mix in cheese, vegetables, nuts and parsley.

** At lunch, I eat this from a glass jar 1/2 full of raw spinach. Desert is an orange and 2 squares of Almond Sea Salt chocolate.

The grapefruit pictured has been singing to me since my friend Heidi brought a pair of them over on Friday. (She also brought champagne–a good friend.) I ate one for dessert with cinnamon and honey on Sunday night, and have been daydreaming (while driving) about how to use the second. And here I am, up and zinging, as pithy as my plate. So lets keep it brief.

I’ve been planning to use grapefruits in the dinner I’m making for Christopher next Tuesday. Pink grapefruits, with their tugging skins and their shimmering cells, remind me of Valentine’s day. Sometimes bitter, more often sweet. A welcome pickup for the winter blues. I’ll be serving oysters, too, which remind me of love for obvious reasons. Nothing more seductive than that cold tray of ice, tiny, silver forks and the childishness of a slurp.

This plate, by contrast, calls for graceful eating: you have to slice each fruit with a sharp knife and balance the slippery avocados and rolling walnuts on top of your tines if you want to have it all. Dexterity enhances romance, don’t you think? Another upside to the salad will be getting kisses from a man guaranteed not to have leaves in his teeth.

Citrus Avocado & Walnuts Salad

Serves Two

2 large pink or red grapefruits

2 navel oranges

1/4 c toasted, chopped walnuts

1 avocado

1 t agave

1 T olive oil

1 t cider vinegar

Sea salt

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Whisk vinegar and agave in a small bowl and add olive oil.

Cut the skins off the citrus fruits, and slice into rounds 1/4″ thick.

Slice avocado to your liking.

Arrange citrus and avocado on two plates, dress, and sprinkle with salt and walnuts.

Serve immediately.

The best thought was that I need to write more about the world, and less about me. (But if I write it as I see it, aren’t I still writing about me?) Either way, I need to write, so you see the conundrum. When I’m not writing, I am not at my best. But I find myself a rather dull subject after a while. I’m working on it.

But anyway, I’ll share some opinions. I love leeks, and I love my drive to school: this is Beaver Meadow Road. You see how beautiful it is–and how one might want to spend 1,000 words describing it. But I won’t.

I won’t spend 1,000 words on this, either. But it’s just a few feet up. Can you imagine?

Nor will I spend so much on leeks. But I will say this: you will never be dissatisfied if you keep a few leeks and a carton of eggs on hand. And some parsley, garlic and parmesan. This works well on the days (weeks) when you can’t drive to the grocery store. I had a day like that recently and was grateful for my leeks. They are better to eat than canned beans. But I must say, the leeks pictured came from a market in the fall… I’ve eaten many since and would’t advise storing them for quite that long.

I love the circles that leeks make when you cut them, and the colors fading from dark green to pale white. I love the way they get brown in a pan and the way they smell with butter. They go soft and sweet, and are more delicate than their onion cousins.

Leek Frittata

2 leeks, sliced thinly cross-wise and well rinsed (whites and light greens only, please!)

1 T butter

6 eggs

White wine (1/2 c, maybe)

1/2 c grated parmesan cheese or parrano, sliced thin

2 T chopped parsley

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Preheat oven to 350.

Wash them leeks! Really. You’ll ruin the whole thing if there’s sand in a leek, and leeks love to be sandy.

Heat your butter until brown and delicious-smelling, then saute leeks until beautifully golden (this should take time–do it slowly).

Add some white wine if you can and saute some more.

In a separate bowl, beat your eggs with salt and pepper. Add parsley.

If you prefer, you can put the cheese in now, or gently lay it over the eggs before baking.

Place leeks in a a round, oven-proof dish big enough for this sort of thing. (You can also use your skillet.)

Pour eggs over leeks and cover with cheese.

Bake about 20 minutes, though you may need more.

I usually eat this with some toast or little baked potatoes and a green salad. (And I like the dressing from this salad.)

I’ll have wine running through my veins, though, and tryptophan. I’ll listen to the 49ers and Ravens concuss each other, and I’ll be only half conscious. I’ll fall asleep, finally, on the couch, in my in-laws living room.

Imagine! Falling asleep too stuffed and boozy to move…at your in-laws house!! I am not Homer Simpson, so this strikes me as something never to do. But it is just what I will do. I’ve done it for the last 6 years. Next year, Christopher will do it for my parents. And our fathers and mothers and sisters will do the same for us. We’ll all make each other feel better about being lazy by being lazy. That is, after we’ve dragged ourselves to the Turkey Trot to feel somewhat better about the 3,000 calorie overload we plan for later in the day. Knocking 300 calories off of that in advance will sure feel gratifying. I can sense the waves of superiority and adrenaline already. Pass the gravy boat.

The only person who won’t get drunk and sleepy is Christopher’s mother. She’ll have the silver polished and re-arranged an hour after we’ve finished dinner. By midnight, all of the Christmas presents will be wrapped and stored away. Actually, she’s probably already done that. I see myself rising off of the couch at about 5am in search of water or Advil–just when she sits down to her morning papers and bowl of Fiber One. Then I’ll feel good that I’m in law school, because at least I normally behave like a moderately responsible adult. Don’t I? Can’t you tell that I am a responsible adult?

If you’ve got extra turkey, make this chili. No one said the turkey had to be ground. Use your chunks, your hunks, your otherwise sketchy sinews and bones for broth. Just use that big bird up. Remember that once upon a time, people were cold in November, and hungry sometimes. (Also: lest we forget, not too long ago, there were Indians in this country.) Maybe there is someone cold and hungry nearby and you don’t even know it. If you’re too sick of turkey to eat chili, make it for that person, or else just deliver your day-old drab slabs or meat and gray gravy. The thrill of this meal wears off faster than we all expect… unless you don’t have the privilege of passing out at 9pm, sweaty and stuffed.

Enjoy yourself this weekend. Eat much too much, feel bad, and let guilt propel you to do something nice. God bless Am’rca.

Lupe and I walk past a house with so many apples, that they fall and cluster in a stream. I imagine that the water is probably sweet. She’ll run over and taste it, but I have not. Since this picture was taken, the apples have frozen and floated away. We had a cold spell last week.

Often, I walk or run with Lupe in the woods after school. Now I have to go at 2pm, because it starts to get dark by 3:30! I like being outside, because, even though the tree tops are gray, their colors are still around. Like confetti, underfoot.

]]> http://www.breadandcourage.com/2011/11/13/late-fall-vermont/feed/ 0 http://www.breadandcourage.com/2011/10/19/fall-vermont/ http://www.breadandcourage.com/2011/10/19/fall-vermont/#comments Thu, 20 Oct 2011 02:01:15 +0000 isabellypepper http://www.breadandcourage.com/?p=3171 I love fall. I haven’t had a lot of time to cook for myself, but I immensely enjoy eating things other people make, especially if those things involve apples. Also, I love cider donuts.  I’ve even found a recipe to try, someday…when I graduate from law school, start my career, have children and watch them grow up and go away. Then I’ll make some cider donuts.

Though I’ve had less time for cooking than I’d like, I’ve found that life is grand even when it’s not centered around the stove. Especially at this time of year, and especially in Vermont.

It’s been a while, so I’ll go back a bit. Tunbridge, VT: September 17th.

Christopher and I saw some very sweet cows, and a few prize-winning vegetables.

He rode Air Force One, and felt like the king of the green mountains. I had to look away, because the sight of his whirling chair made my stomach turn. There were lots of onlookers. I licked a candy apple and stared at a grass patch.

The next day, (my birthday) I saw these beautiful berries at the farmer’s market. We ate them with Greek yogurt and clover honey. I felt like the queen.

When we visited the lake a bit later, it was quite cold. That didn’t stop my mother from swimming. This photo was taken on October 11. She is braver than I am, although I think of myself as being quite brave.

This takes us to October 11th. Can you believe?! She swam on October 11?

We had to re-stoke the fire, and we ate warm cider donuts with vanilla ice cream.

Then the trees really started to turn. It gets more beautiful, still. Just wait until next week! Life gets better and better.

I also feel compelled on Sunday nights to squirrel away food for the week ahead. I like roasted vegetables and quinoa or Israeli couscous with herbs, leftover black bean soup and anything with Parrano cheese. Towards the end of the week, I pack almond butter and banana sandwiches on cinnamon-raisen Ezekiel bread. But, because Christopher and I make a ritual of roasting a small bird on Sunday night, I often have chicken salad in my Monday lunchbox.

This may be my favorite chicken salad recipe of all time. That says a lot because chicken salad is one of the tastiest dishes imaginable. Anyone who doesn’t like chicken salad is either a vegetarian or a liar. I’ve heard tell that some folks don’t like mayo. I’m not in that camp, but I can understand why you might be turned off by a glistening, jiggly food that’s made of eggs but can last in the pantry for years if unopened. That’s why this recipe is wonderful: it uses a scant cup of plain yogurt, which offers just enough zest and moisture to enhance the taste and texture of chicken.

This recipe is just right in the fall: apples are back, and warm spices taste best in cooler weather. Strafford Organic Creamery sells organic yogurt—-and milk, and ice cream—-which I consume daily. I love yogurt. I am probably the only person in America who exceeds the recommended three cups of dairy a day: I’m above-quota now that we’re in Vermont and Strafford ice cream is in the freezer. {I recently had a conversation with a gentleman who said that he would have Strafford ice cream if he were about to face the electric chair. “That’s the strangest thing,” I replied. “I’ve thought the same.”}

In any event, this salad takes just a few minutes to prepare and is a perfect lunch–it leaves me feeling sated, but not groggy. Fresh apples, tart, chewy cranberries and crunchy toasted walnuts make it special. I owe this recipe to my friend Louisa, who made a version of it over a weekend in July and had me eating chicken salad for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Curried Chicken Salad with Apples, Dried Cranberries & Walnuts

Combine 8oz pulled chicken (I combine light and dark meat from a roast chicken) and 1 c plain yogurt in a bowl with 2 teaspoons of curry powder. Add a pinch of salt, and a dash of pepper. Mix in 1/2 c toasted walnuts, 1/2 c dried cranberries (or dried cherries) and 2 medium-sized, chopped apples. Season with additional curry, salt or pepper, as desired.

I must admit, certain produce is drawing to a close. This may be the last weekend to make good with peaches, so use them while you can. But remember, just because the August fruits are gone, doesn’t mean the summer’s over. I’ll rebel, as usual, by swimming until the geese have flown. I love the way my lips turn a corpse-ish lavender in a late-September lake. It’s perfectly subversive because it’s a bit masochistic. It’s not easy to jump first thing into cold water, but when I’m done, the morning is mine.

I made this crumble last weekend, and there are still peaches lingering at farm stands, so I might make it again on Sunday. It was a great dessert with vanilla ice cream, although I thought it was better the next day: warmed up and served with Greek yogurt after an early swim. It’s got all the components of a satisfying breakfast–oats, stewed fruit, brown sugar. Don’t let it get away.

Happy long weekend. I hope you eek out every last, golden moment of this fleeting season.

Peach and Cherry Crumble

Makes 8 slices

Preheat oven to 350.

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For the fruit:

Pit and peal 8 super-ripe peaches.

Cut 12-15 cherries in half, and pit.

Toss fruit with 1/4c all-purpose flour, 1/4 c brown sugar and the juice of 1/2 lemon.

Spread fruit evenly into a pie-plate.

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For the crumble:

Toss ½ c flour with ½ c oats, 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon and 1/4 teaspoon salt.

Once combined, add 1 c white sugar and 1/2 c gently packed brown sugar.

Blend in 1 stick of cold, diced butter until sugar, flour and butter combine. The butter should form pearl-sized crumbs.

Add 2/3 c chopped pecans to the mixture and spread evenly over fruit.

Bake for approximately 45 minutes, or until fruits are bubbling and oats are browned.

Life is changing a lot–unlike my friends in Texas, who have endured nearly three months of 100+ temperatures, I can feel the fall moving into North Country. It starts with a subtle gust of cooler wind, whirling at my feet. I hear a few more crows cry, and the smell in the air changes a little. It’s not electric yet, but that’s coming. We still have warm, golden afternoons. The wildflowers and hay are high, the leathery day lilies just beginning to wrinkle. The next few months are my favorite time of year, especially in this part of the world. Home.

Moving is difficult. I haven’t written about it: there were so many emotions, and I didn’t know what to say. Christopher and I spent four years making a home, building our own village, and then suddenly–albeit at our own discretion–the place and the people faded in the rearview mirror. We packed up our books, our rugs, our bed. Our belongings were skillfully arranged on the truck like Tetris bricks, set to be carried along thousands of miles of highway.

We drove through Arkansas, Tennessee, Virginia, Pennsylvania then up to New York and Connecticut. The moving van lagged behind, picking up other homes en route. I lay in bed at night in motels with florescent lights shining through grey curtains, itching from stiff sheets. My belly ached and my head spun from too many sweets at Cracker Barrel. I thought about our home… where we lived after we got married, where we collected books and made meals and memories. It unnerved me to think of our things in boxes, rumbling along some unknown highway. We couldn’t get more than an estimate on what day the movers would arrive. They said, “We’ll call when we’re close.”

My parents live in Connecticut, and we stayed with them, waiting for the call. In the meantime, I grounded myself in the kitchen. I love what the land offers in late-summer. Eggplants, squash, tomatoes, maize and fruits became ratatouille, corn salad, blueberry crumbles, peach pies. Still, there were monarchs in my stomach. For over a week, my whole life was up in the air, (or out on the road) and I had no idea what it would be like where I landed.

Well, it’s quite nice here. Our house is small and cozy. Right now I want to stay forever, although that, too could evolve. I’ll miss these summer squash as the September breezes blow in and clear the fields for something new. But I can’t wait for the apples.

Raw Zucchini and Sun Gold Salad

Serves 2 as a side-dish or stater

Slice 1 medium zucchini and 1 medium summer squash into matchsticks.

Cut 1 c Sun Gold or cherry tomatoes into halves.

Make a vinaigrette (reserve extra) and coat zucchini, squash and tomaotes generously, letting them marinate at least 15 minutes.

Toast 1/3 c pine nuts.

Pit and chop 1/2 c black olives.

Chop 2 oz feta into small blocks or crumbles.

Chop 1 large bunch of herbs (I like parsley or basil).

Wash, dry and chop 6 c of greens (optional).

Just before serving, toss greens in enough vinaigrette to coat. Lay zucchini and tomato mixture on top.

Add cheese and olives and sprinkle herbs to garnish.

Add pine nuts last, preserving their crunch.

I am enamored with raw zucchini. I love the stuff, why hide it? Some people bake it into bread, (which is one of my favorite things to eat, no doubt) some into cookies. I haven’t seen a zucchini ice cream, but I have seen it crystalized as a cake topper. If you are sick of summer squash, there are limitless ways of serving it secretly… tucking it neatly into something else and feeding it to folks without saying so. Or candying it and brandishing it as ribbons and bows on a frosting-wrapped cake.

I find that the secret to eating it unabashedly uncooked is slicing it thin. If you get it with a mandoline, or cut it into tiny matchsticks, zucchini absorbs the flavor of what you put with it and isn’t overpowering. In my case, it most often becomes a delightfully crunchy vehicle for Parrano cheese and toasted pine nuts. If you haven’t tried Parrano cheese, brace yourself: it is the slickest baby Parmesan and Gouda could have—smooth, sweet, salty, slightly sharp. Yes, it really is all of those things.

This can be served with lettuce or without, although I find that a bed of greens acts as a nice cradle for drippy vinaigrette. Lettuce helps in preventing a plate from puddle-ing up. I could see this sliced zucchini served on top of cold quinoa or wild rice, in which case the leaves would be unnecessary.

Also- somewhere during my summer squash romance, Christopher and I packed up our entire house and moved it from Texas to Vermont. (The zucchini is equally good in both places, although I feel like I’ve cheated the seasons: summer squash, tomatoes, corn and other hot-weather wonders started appearing in May down south, while they’re just cresting here.) This picture was taken as one of our last lonestar meals, and the camera is at large, so please use your imagination to picture how beautiful this salad can be. Now that I’m settled, there’s more zucchini to come.

Raw Zucchini Salad with Parrano and Toasted Pine Nuts

Serves 2 as a generous appetizer, 4 as a side-dish

For the Dressing

Combine 2 teaspoons of dijon mustard with 6 tablespoons of champagne or white vinegar.

Add 2 teaspoons of honey, a dash of salt and a crack of pepper.

Add 1 tablespoon of finely chopped parsley.

Stir to combine.

Slowly, drizzle in ¾ c of olive oil until emulsified.

Set aside. (You will likely have enough for tomorrow.)

For the Zucchini

Slice 1 zucchini and 1 summer squash into think strips, preferably with a mandoline. Cut into 3” pieces.

In a medium bowl, pour enough dressing over the zucchini to coat.

Let this marinate in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes.

Just before serving, thinly slice ½ c Parrano cheese and toast ½ c pine nuts.

If using lettuce, coat greens lightly in dressing in your serving bowl.

In their bowl, toss zucchini and summer squash with cheese.

Place zucchini in a serving dish, (possibly over greens) and garnish with toasted pine nuts.