Household Blog

Apparently I’m feeling nostalgic this month. Did I tell you that I got more than a little verklempt (and more than a little pissed off) when I found out they canceled Gourmet magazine? The BEST magazine ever? Well, this recipe is a very distant cousin of a recipe in the big yellow book. Theirs is for winter vegetables in a horseradish butter sauce. Mine is a springy-er version.

Carrots & Radishes with horseradish herb sauce

• 1 bunch fresh carrots, scrubbed with ends still on (but leaves removed)
• several radishes—half as much as there are carrots
• 1/4 c. olive oil (or other oil or butter)
• 2 T. horseradish
• 1 1/2 T. white balsamic vinegar (or other)
• 1 t. honey
• 1 t. or so sea salt
• 2 T. fresh herb minced—dill, parsley, thyme, or a combination thereof
• fresh ground pepper to taste

In a small bowl, whisk together everything except the carrots and radishes. Set aside.

Scrub your carrots but do not peel them. Trim the leaves off but leave the very tip of stubbly end. If they’re nice small carrots, you can leave them whole—otherwise cut in half lengthwise as necessary (I like to keep them long, it’s pretty). Trim the ends off your radishes and cut them into matchsticks.

Place carrots in a steamer basket. When it starts to boil, wait one minute and then add the radishes. Steam only until fork tender—err on the side of underdone as you want these a little firm and they will continue to cook a bit after you remove them from the heat.

Place carrots and radishes on a platter and spoon the horseradish sauce over the top. Serve hot or cool—it’s great both ways.

A friend of mine recently asked me how I cook amaranth that I don’t burn it. Oddly, I’ve never had this problem, but when a complication threw itself into my schedule recently, I figured out a solution for her.

Having just put a pot of quinoa on to cook, I received a call demanding a needs-your-immediate-attention Web site update. The quinoa had just started to boil, so I turned off the heat and left it to do the update, thinking I would just come back later and finish cooking it.

Well, it might sound like the most obvious thing in the world, but when I returned to the quinoa about thirty or forty minutes later, it was *perfectly* cooked. So my conversation with my friend came back to mind and within that week tried doing amaranth and rice and hulled oats the same way: bring it to a boil, then cut the heat off and let it cook the rest of the way passively. LIKE A CHARM it worked. Perfectly tender grains, sometimes a little leftover water to drain off even (I often have to add more), energy saved, and my kitchen doesn’t get so goshdurn hot – a consideration because I try not to run the AC until it’s sweltering. And I’m pitta, so that’s saying something.

So I had to share. Have you tried cooking things passively? I’m wanting to try this with pasta and potatoes and such – has anyone tried this already?

Love from foodie land – Anna

I’ve been working on this recipe for about a month now, and luckily there have been several social occasions on which I could test my variations: this torte is RICH – a small slice goes a long way. One torte could easily serve 15 or so people. That said, I’ve found that with practice and dedication, one can work herself up to being able to eat much more than just one small piece.

The inspiration for this torte comes from a chocolate tart recipe I tried out of the big yellow Gourmet recipe book.

Many thanks to my herbalism class at Sacred Plant Traditions for letting me take pictures. This was our last day of class together, and we had quite a feast. This group knows how to eat: marinated broccoli, quinoa with apple and chive blossoms, vegetarian chili, curried egg salad, and that’s just what I remember off the top of my head.

So without further ado:

Gluten Free Dark Chocolate Torte

Crust:

• One 9-inch springform pan
• 1 7.25 oz. package of Pamela’s ginger cookies (yields about 1 1/2 cups crumbs)
• 5 T. butter

Filling:

• 10 to 12 ounces 60% or 70% cacao dark chocolate
• 9 T. butter
• 3 eggs
• 1/3 c. organic raw sugar
• 1/2 c. whipping cream
• generous pinch of sea salt
• 1 1/2 t. vanilla extract

Wrap the bottom plate of your springform with foil or parchment paper and assemble the pan. Preheat oven to 350 and place a cookie sheet on a lower rack to catch any drips (my springform always seems to leak a little butter from its bottom seam).

Soften the unsalted butter for the crust and mix with the cookie crumbs. If you use a different kind of cookie for the crust, you just want to make sure that it equals 1 1/2 cups of crumbs. If you don’t have enough, I’ve had good luck mixing in some shredded coconut to make up the difference. Press the crumb-butter mixture into the bottom of your springform, bringing it about an inch up the sides.

Bake your crust for about 10 minutes. It will be slightly puffy and the sides may have slumped down a bit. Set the springform on a cooling rack and use a spoon to press the sides back up if necessary. Allow crust to cool.

In a medium saucepan over medium-low heat, melt 9 Tablespoons unsalted butter with the chocolate until completely combined and melted. Remove from heat.

In a mixing bowl, whisk the eggs, sugar, cream, salt, and vanilla, then add the chocolate mixture. Pour this filling into the crust, using a spatula to make sure that you’ve gotten every single delicious drop. Smooth the top of the torte with the spatula, then place in the oven to cook for about 25 to 30 minutes. It will not rise much. The edges will be set but the center will still be wobbly. Remove and place on cooling rack to bring to room temperature, a couple hours.

Once cooled to room temperature, place in the refrigerator to chill until the torte is firm, another couple hours. Cut into small slices and serve.

Some variations I plan on trying in the future: adding a layer of jam between the crust and the filling; mixing coconut, dried fruit, or nuts into the filling, or using half dark chocolate batter with half white chocolate batter to do a swirled torte.

When I was fifteen I was passionate about folk music and angry at the world. I was angry at social injustices and centuries-old guilt that had nothing to do with me but still haunted my bleeding heart. I was angry about the damage done to the environment, about which I felt powerless to do anything. I was angry about feeling hurt and weak and guilty and impotent in the face of so much…bullshit. And it probably goes without saying, but fairly often I was angry at my parents.

A favorite teacher at my high school kindly described all this rage as “teenage angst.” Angst! What a perfect word! The “ahhhhhh!” sound, open-throated out only to be choked off by an awkward gaggle of consonants tangled up trying to get through the door at the same time, all knees and elbows. Yep, angst. That about sums it up.

Today, I was reminded today of this angsty period, fortunately with more of a sense of humor than I had at the time. I had dated a boy, the first boy I ever dated in fact, and oh, if I’d known the warning signs then – this boy was a die-hard Republican, conservative to his bones, a fundamentalist hellfire sorta guy, and besides being my polar opposite in every way except age, he loved to get me riled. (I’ve observed this as a recurring pattern over the years. I now recognize it – the people who like to poke at you and laugh when you get mad. I double dog dare you to laugh at me now! *grin*) Knowing how I worshipped at the funky patchwork shrine of Bob Dylan and all his folksy retinue, my boyfriend relished playing that Cracker song that goes, “What the world needs now is another folk singer like I need a hole in the head.” And then that red rage would rise, my cheeks would burn, my eyes would flash, and he’d laugh his scrawny boy butt off.

What was I thinking? This question, by the way, has also been a recurring theme as years go by.

So I was reminded of that today. My mom lent me a book recently. I think my mom and I sometimes speak to each other in books. It’s like a subtle code: “I want you to understand me. Read this. This rings true. Please understand.” Each book shared and opened, more than just a book opens. So my beautiful, patient mother lent me Traveling Mercies by Annie Lamott, and I have been thoroughly enjoying it. It’s a very humorous, wry, and heart-full collection of stories and memoirs from a hilarious, tough ol’ softy kind of dame, dancing around issues of faith and spirituality. I’m not Christian myself, but I am deeply spiritual, and I think my mom knew that I would “get it.” And I do. And I love it, and I love that she shared it with me, and I love what it says about her. It’s passed the great reading test—even when reading it in public, I still get misty-eyed at moments or laugh out loud.

So about two-thirds of the way through the book, this poem by Nanao Sakaki appears:

In the morning
After taking cold shower
—–what a mistake—–
I look at the mirror.

There, a funny guy,
Grey hair, white beard, wrinkled skin,
—–what a pity—–
Poor, dirty, old man!
He is not me, absolutely not!
Land of life
Fishing in the ocean
Sleeping in the desert with stars
Building a shelter in mountains
Farming the ancient way
Singing with coyotes
Singing against nuclear war—
I’ll never be tired of life.
Now I’m seventeen years old,
Very charming young man.

I sit down quietly in lotus position,
Meditating, meditating for nothing.
Suddenly a voice comes to me:

“To stay young,
To save the world,
Break the mirror.”

This was a “woah” moment. I’ve been studying herbalism for over a year now, which led me to permaculture and to ayurveda, which led me back to yoga and meditation, all of which led me to a much deeper understanding and compassion to my own pains and patterns, joys and strengths, and the humility of seeing the road to wisdom disappearing into the distance ahead.

Now I’m laughing at myself for getting so ridiculously riled about that Cracker song lyric. I actually find myself in agreement: “If you want to save the world, shut yer mouth!”

The poem’s last phrase, “To stay young, / To save the world, / Break the mirror!” That’s the commandment. Don’t live in negatives—don’t spout invectives, don’t let rage be your food, don’t let your present life and work waste away for want of nourishment while your soul is mourning things on the other side of the earth: BE PRESENT. Here and now, live in affirmation. Rather than talk about injustice, practice justice. Do something. Live: build create nourish strengthen grow teach learn inspire breathe and be.

A while back, another great teacher told me to make wise choices, because I might be the only bible some people ever read. I still believe in the spirit of that advice. Every choice we make in our worlds matters. Every dollar we spend is a vote. Every bit of love we put into the world, every song we sing, every rift we mend, everything that we learn and teach and learn again—it continues outward, weaving in, passing the thread hand to hand, rippling out until our one tiny moment has touched people in places and times that we will never know ourselves. Our present, our presence, every minute act—positive or negative—has great power. It colors the threads we spin. It stains the fingers of every other person who touches these threads, blending with their own colors, passing on and on and on, under and over and under again.

We are so powerful. Wield with care.

Canning season has officially begun, and my first foray: strawberry jam. On toast, spread over brownies, spooned over yogurt – this stuff is divine. This is the recipe I used this year, no doubt next year I’ll have learned something new and be doing it differently, but this worked this year. You’ll need a water bath canner and clean 8 or 16 ounce canning jars with bands and new lids. Also, I never follow the directions on the box. So, yeah. There’s that. If you have experience with other variations on lower sugar water-bath canning recipes, I’d love to hear your tips – please share your experience/tips/recipes/variations in the comments.

Strawberry Jam

• 8 cups crushed strawberries (from about 5 pounds whole strawberries, cleaned and tops removed)
• 1 1/2 c. raw organic sugar
• 1 packet (1.75 oz) no-sugar-needed fruit pectin
• organic lemon juice

Heat water in your water bath canner to boiling, and make sure jars and lids are clean and warm.

Clean and remove tops from strawberries, then crush them using food processer or, if you like chunky jam like me, a potato masher. Place 8 cups crushed berries in stock pot.

Add sugar and pectin and stir well, heating to a rolling boil – even when you stir it it continues to bubble. Allow to boil, stirring constantly for one minute. Remove immediately from heat and skim any foam off the top, if necessary.

Using a canning funnel, ladle strawberry mixture into jars, filling to a quarter-inch from the top and adding about a teaspoon of lemon juice to the top of each 8-ounce jar and about a tablespoon lemon juice to the top of each 16-ounce jar. Top with lids and bands, tightening only finger tight. Note: no need to stir the lemon juice – I just add it to ensure that the jam has enough acid to prevent nastiness such as botulism. We don’t like botulism, not one bit.

Place each jar in the water bath canner rack as you fill them. When full, lower the rack into the boiling water and cover the pot, allowing cans to boil for five minutes.

Remove cans from rack and place on towel, listening for each seal to “pop.” It may take up to ten minutes for some, but usually it happens pretty quickly for me.

Store jars in cool, dark place until ready for use. Enjoy

Springtime, the farmer’s markets have reopened, glory be to the PTB! Another winter past, another year springing anew, and nothing shakes off the last residual frosty shivers like a curry. In celebration, I got more produce from the farmer’s market than one girl could possibly stand a chance of eating on her own. But I’m going to do it. With a little help from my friends of course. And here was last night’s creation.

Spring Lentil Curry

• 1 1/2 c. dry lentils
• 1 to 2-inch knob of fresh ginger, peeled and minced
• 2 bay leaves
• 1 whole Arbol pepper, or similar dry medium-hot pepper
• 1 carrot, chopped
• 3 to 4 spring onions, white parts and greens chopped and separated
• 1/3 c. chopped fresh cilantro
• several handfuls fresh spinach, chopped (3 cups maybe? ish?)
• 1 can organic coconut milk
• 2 T. curry powder
• sea salt to taste

I use sprouted lentils, and if doing this, be sure to start them sprouting the day before. Regardless, cook your lentils, sprouted or otherwise, in chicken or vegetable broth. Set aside, reserving a little bit of the liquid.

Heat a broad, deep skillet over medium heat. Add butter, ghee, or coconut oil for sauteing, and then add ginger and bay leaves. Cook until aromatic, about a minute. Add carrot and the white parts of the chopped onion and sprinkle with a smattering of salt, stirring until the carrot is slightly tender.

Add lentils, coconut milk, the hot pepper, and curry powder. Mix well and adjust curry to taste, adding more salt if necessary. Allow to cook and thicken a bit, uncovered, about twenty minutes. Add spinach, cilantro, and the reserved green onion. Cook another five minutes and adjust salt and curry to your taste.

Serve over rice. Rub your belly with joy and gratitude for spring.

It may not be the prettiest dish in the world, but it is probably on my top ten list of favorite meals, and on the top five list for sheer nostalgia. I grew up eating Cajun’s Delight – apparently one of my dad’s patients gave him the recipe once upon a time. So hearty, warm, it satisfies all the tastes, and the textures, oh the textures! Crunchy, smooshy, gooey, firm… this is the definition of comfort food to me. And it’s pretty good for you, too. Shoot, when I was vegetarian I probably ate this at least twice a month. Now I’ve made a few alterations, improving in my opinion the taste and nutritional value. Got a picky vegetarian in the family? Give this baby a whirl…

Cajun’s Delight

• 1/3 c. dry lentils
• 1/3 c. dry lima beans
• 1 c. dry rice (I like a wild rice blend, like Lundberg’s)
• 3/4 c. celery, chopped
• 1 green pepper, chopped
• 1 onion, chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, chopped
• 1 c. pecans
• 2 T. sesame seeds
• 1 t. sea salt
• 2 T. barbecue sauce (gluten-free)
• 3 T. oil
• 1 c. tomato sauce
• 1 1/2 t. sriracha!! (I’m sorry, I just can’t say/type sriracha without shouting gleefully :)
• 6 to 8 oz. sharp cheddar, shredded

For the beans and lentils, I prefer them sprouted, in which case, start them the day before (a post on sprouting will be coming soon). If you’re not sprouting them, soak them for 2 to 8 hours before you start preparing dinner.

Preheat oven to 350 F.

Cook rice. Cook beans and lentils (it’s okay if the limas are still a little bit firm, it adds a nice texture). Drain if necessary and pour into a large mixing bowl. Add all other ingredients, but reserving about a third of the cheddar cheese to the side (for topping later). Mix well.

Pat mixture evenly into a 9-inch square casserole. Bake on center rack for 20 minutes. Remove from oven, sprinkle remaining cheese evenly over the top, then bake for another 10 minutes. Let cool for 5 minutes before serving, if you can stand it. I usually end up burning my mouth in my eagerness, so fair warning.

Serves 6 to 8. Enjoy!