This is what I picture the garden spirits feasting on during a magical moon like tonight: a beautiful bowl of papaya, blueberries and blackberries topped with pepitas, dusted with cardamom and drizzled with honey…
Enjoy!
Category Archives: Food
Pretzel Proficient
A few years ago I gave my son a kid’s baking book for his birthday (you can also find a variety of them at the library). What started out as a gift purchased on a whim, has become a really sweet bonding ritual between the two of us.
Every so often we sift through its pages and choose a recipe that catches our eye – cookies, bread, pie, popovers. Then we dive in. I love the process of watching him read the ingredient list, sift the flour, mix in the sugar and react with glee as our creation comes out of the oven.
After we’ve sampled our wares, we write the date of its creation right on the page, and rate the deliciousness factor as well (sometimes he even has a few notes to add). A few years later, we have a sort of ‘scrapbook’ of recipes and hand-written notes, not just a pristine cook book that rarely gets used.
Sometimes I can’t believe it’s been three years since we made a particular recipe – especially when it seems like we did it just a few months ago. Being in the kitchen is such a basic, primal and grounding experience – I’m glad he’s getting a chance to see that bread, for example, doesn’t just come wrapped in plastic under fluorescent grocery store lights – it can actually be made by hand (and tastes so much better!).
This past week we had some extra time on our hands so he chose pretzels, which was a little more involved (the dough has to rise twice and be boiled before being baked). But you can image our delight sitting across from each other, each with a steaming, chewy, salty, crusty pretzel before us, marveling that we actually made this.
Sweetness in more ways than one.
VIP Pie (aka rhubarb pie)
I suppose that, if asked, we each have our own version of a VIP fantasy. For some that could mean landing floor seats at a sports game, or moving to the front of the line at an exclusive club, or getting into a fancy restaurant without a reservation, or maybe even having a personal shopper call you when an item arrives, but before it reaches the sales racks.
We gardeners are a different breed altogether.
For me, VIP means getting a personal invitation (or maybe I invited myself – the details are foggy) to harvest rhubarb from a Master Gardener here in Los Angeles for a pie I’d be bringing to his gardening class the following day. David King heads The Learning Garden here in Venice, CA, along with a number of other fantastic garden-related programs and I had the pleasure of visiting the overflowing garden this past weekend.
I’ve never seen rhubarb growing, never cooked with it, or even eaten it, until yesterday. The long stalks resemble celery, but with huge beautiful leaves at the tips (which I learned are poisonous, by the way-do NOT eat the leaves!). It was great fun to pull the long stems out of the ground, knowing just a few hours later they would be bubbling in my oven in the form of a pie.
Yes, I felt very proud of myself this weekend, having had a personal “VIP harvest” with the L.A. garden guru himself. What can I say, I’m a nature nerd through and through…and…his pie recipe (flavored with cardamom, cloves and orange zest!) was delicious. As we gardeners know, the pleasure of harvesting, preparing and then eating homegrown food makes all the ‘hard work’ worth it – and is such a labor of love that it is certainly not work at all.
David King’s Most Beautifully Delicious Rhubarb Pie!
1 pie crust
1 ¼ pounds fresh rhubarb cut into ½ pieces
½ cup sugar
¼ cup all purpose flour
½ T ground cardamom
½ tsp ground nutmeg
Juice and zest of ½ bright-skinned orange
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F
Combine all ingredients and place in pie crust and bake for approximately 45 minutes, or until the filling has bubbled and thickened. Let cool on rack before serving.
(David’s note: this is a bachelor male’s adaption to a Martha Stewart recipe which takes about 3 hours longer to make)
culinary contradictions…and pie for dinner
I’m one of those people who will drink iced tea while it’s raining in winter and bake a pie when it’s almost 90 degrees on the tails of summer. Like many things in my life, if the mood strikes, I go for it.
I especially go for it when my son initiates a cooking project, such as he did a couple of days ago while we were at the market. Yes, like all parents, I often end up with numerous ‘extra’ items in my cart when shopping with my kid, but when he ran over to me with a small pumpkin in hand, asking if we could make homemade pumpkin pie together, how could I possibly say no?
Yes, we are still nearly two months from Thanksgiving. No, we weren’t having anyone over for dinner. And yes, it was almost 90 degrees outside.
But like drinking iced tea in the rain, I say, “So what.”
Roasting a pumpkin could not be easier. Cut it in half, scoop out the seeds and place face down on a baking sheet in a 350-degree oven until it’s soft (about 1 to 1 1/2 hours).
Then mash up the flesh with two tablespoons of pumpkin pie spice, 1 1/3 cup condensed milk and about ½ cup of warm water. Bake in a pie crust (I made my own) at 375-degrees for an hour. This was the recipe on the sticker of the pumpkin, and it was….delicious!!
And if making pumpkin pie on an extra hot day, in the middle of the week, nearly two months before Thanksgiving, with no guests scheduled to arrive wasn’t ‘rebellious’ enough…we ate pie, and only pie, for dinner.
My son said it was the best night of his life. And in that sweet, seven-year-old moment, I couldn’t have agreed more.
Damn Delicious Strawberry Goodness
Of course I know that autumn is here. I’ve been counting down the arrival of my favorite season since about mid-August.
But….
I just can’t let go of the strawberries. And, luckily, some of the markets here in L.A. are still bursting with them. Even though eating seasonally is how I like to do it, I don’t always have to be totally rigid about it. It’s akin to knowing you’re heading north, while being okay with veering a bit north east or north west on your travels. You get there in the end, and it’s more fun along the way.
And so it is with the strawberry goodness I made last night.
I’m not sure if I’d call it a crust less pie, or a fruit compote or a berry crumble…but I do know one thing: it’s damn delicious. And combining the fruit of summer and the oatmeal topping of fall – it’s my new favorite ‘transitional’ dessert.
Warm, gooey, jam-like, sweet and oozing…it’s pretty much heaven and it couldn’t be easier.
Put about two cups of cubed strawberries in the bottom of a pie dish. Cover with a generous sprinkle of brown sugar and oats. Dot with a few tablespoons of butter and put in a 375-degree oven until it’s warm and bubbling.
It will be hard to wait for this to cool down and my son and I both burned out tongues on it – but it was worth it. We fought over who got the last serving, which I intended to share with my neighbor, but which never made it over to her (sorry neighbor!).
Enjoy!
Stone Fruit Soup
Why do people like to talk so much smack about Los Angeles? I was born here 37 years ago and this fine city still can’t get rid of me.
Accusations about there being no substance or culture here simply aren’t true – just look at the huge art and music scene.
But there is one criticism that, I must concede, is mostly accurate: we really don’t have seasons here. That said, why are 300 days of sunshine a year considered a problem?
When it comes to what’s seasonal, here in L.A. we have a vibrant and delicious way to experience the changing equinox or solstice: through our stomachs. And with bustling farmers markets every day of the week, it’s easy – and fun – to eat our way through the seasons.
Stone fruits seem to be the crown jewels of summer, and since yesterday was the unofficial end of the season, I decided to take the abundant and overripe peaches, pluots and nectarines on the counter and make jam. But not really jam…more like a fruit compote, or stone fruit soup.
The truth is that while I have extreme reverence for the practicality and historic necessity of canning, I personally don’t have the patience to deal with pectin, sterilization and those cumbersome oversized red rubber tongs.
But fruit soup I can do.
There is no recipe here, just trust your instincts and go for it. This is all about pleasure, and it’s hard not to feel kind of sexy while chopping and boiling sweet, juicy fruits; nails painted bright orange; Nina Simone serenading in the background; house blissfully empty.
Cut up the fruit, add a little water and a heaping spoonful of good honey. Simmer over low heat until soft and mashy (that’s a technical term). You could pile this warm over ice cream, refrigerate for a week and spread each morning on toast or just spoon some in your mouth on your way out the door as a last little blast of the season. I’ll be doing all three.
Bye bye summer…you were one long, hot, messy ride.
Figs Falling Freely
I delight in the unexpected. The paradoxical. It keeps me on my toes.
It requires staying OPEN, slowing down and taking a closer look at things, but it’s well worth it for the unexpected gems you’ll find, sometimes in the most unlikely places.
To that end, lately I’d noticed a lot of commotion around a large trash bin near where I live. Cats, squirrels, crows, bees and hummingbirds all seemed to be glued to this hideous blue receptacle that I felt ruined an otherwise lovely garden setting. In my limited viewpoint, I assumed that all these critters were magnetized to the stale contents of this metal monstrosity.
I am continually reminded of how little I know…
A couple days ago, I looked up just above the trash to see that there is a 25-foot tall fig tree just bursting with forbidden fruit.
In that moment the trash bin became invisible as I – just like the animals – became entranced with the figs and their beauty. I adore figs and these celadon delicacies are not only a rare find, but a pretty penny at local farmers markets.
I climbed on top of the trash can (thank you trash can) and helped myself to a few luscious morsels. Ripe, heavy, heavenly…these gorgeous fruits became the subject of a few photos and a watercolor painting before becoming a delicious snack.
I am grateful for yet another opportunity to open to gifts of beauty and sweetness in unexpected places.
Lion Food
Summer is my least favorite season.
Sorry.
It’s just too hot out there for a red-headed Leo. With my fair skin and fiery personality, I’m already cooking most of the time…this season just seems to bring it into overdrive.
In terms of summer food traditions, my alcohol allergy prevents me from indulging in mojitos, craft beer and sangria on the patio. My vegetarian diet prevents me from eating burgers and grilled shrimp at backyard barbeques.
Oh, and I don’t like ice cream.
But at least there are tomatoes.
I do love tomatoes in all forms, and I’m very pleased to say that there is an abundance of them in my backyard right now. Red, yellow, green, solid, striped…juicy gems that beckon to be popped straight in my mouth, or mingled with something else growing back there…my own kind of summer party.
Today it was jalapenos, parsley and a few farm eggs.
I cracked the eggs in a bowl, mixed in the herbs, sliced tomatoes and the (entire) jalapeno. Then I gently cooked the egg mixture over low heat in a puddle of olive oil on the stove. Once set, sprinkle the warm little baby with sea salt.
I ate this morsel midday, comfortably situated inside my woman cave (I mean cool house), while waiting for the sun to go down so I can go out.
Happy little lioness…full belly, ready to emerge with the setting sun, and take the evening by storm.
Spritely Spring Salad
I’ve been having a lot more energy this past week and I can’t deny that I think in large part it has to do with the food.
As much as I’d like to tell myself that nachos and pie (though homemade) are good for the soul, the body truly does thrive on live, fresh, colorful, abundant yuminess.
Salads abound on my table, and I’m getting less and less deliberate about them. If it’s fresh and in the fridge, it’s fair game.
A couple days ago that meant a ‘rainbow salad’ of farmer’s market greens, zucchini from my garden, yellow tomatoes, blueberries and strawberries. Topped with a little drizzle of walnut oil and a sprinkle of sea salt, it was the perfect precedent to a sunset run.
Summer is already knocking at my door with passion, fervor and abundance. Bring it on!
One Love
I have always embraced this idea of One Love – that all of us humans here on earth really are brothers and sisters. We come from the same place and we are moving toward the same place. We are nourished by the same things. Do lines on a map or shades of skin tone really divide us? Never.
Look at nature, look at the garden…look at the farm. It all lives in harmony – One Love. The diversity is celebrated, revered, yet everything is connected. Purple plums grow happily beside kale and chard and berries. They all work together in unison, even down to the way the farmer knows to rotate crops to get the most nutrition from the soil. Harmony.
I love to think about the adage you are what you eat. I contemplate this when I gaze at the ever-changing seasonal ‘palate’ of fruits and veggies that grace my counter. I become the humble artist, happily creating with what Mother Nature herself has gifted.
When you eat from nature, you are not just eating the thing itself, you are eating all that has gone into it. You are eating the seed and the soil and the hand that placed it there, you are eating the sun and rain, you are communing with the bees who pollinated it and you are receiving the love and attention of the farmer or gardener who grew and picked it.
This beauty and Life enters into your body and becomes who you are – there is no separation. As Hippocrates said: “Let thy food be thy medicine.” On a cellular – and soul – level this is so true.
Of course, we don’t just eat for medicinal reasons. Let’s not forget the beauty and sensory pleasure that food brings us over and over again. It is a generous lover. Fortified, satisfied and fulfilled, we go out into the world and offer ourselves to those who need us, in whatever way we are meant to serve.
It’s a progression, it builds on itself. The momentum picks up and you begin to understand that we are connected to every single thing on this planet – all people, all plants, all animals. Taking in the same sun, soil, air, rain…transmuting it back out. We do this every day, even without thinking of it.
We are individually and collectively a living canvas, pulsing with color and vibrancy…each piece dependent on the other.
One Love.
