ME, MYSELF, AND WHITE BEAN HUMMUS

This is a funny thing for someone who is ostensibly a food blogger to admit, but, I'm just not very good at feeding myself. I don't mean the actual 'open mouth, insert food' part, I've pretty much got that basic move nailed down. I mean it in every other sense in which that phrase can be taken, though. I am not always the best at remembering to nourish myself, to create art and beauty and plates of lovingly crafted sustenance when it's only lonely old me that's the audience. Cooking for a crowd, feeding a family, prepping for a party....sure, all these things inspire me to new heights of creative wonder. But dinner for one can be a tricky thing. 

All that precious time spent dicing and roasting, all the theatrics of the swirl of garnishing oil, of bringing the steaming plates to the table, of brandishing the carving knife, all that work for.......what? Who's going to see this, to appreciate this, to consume this, but.......me?

I'm going to have the chance to confront that idea over and over again for the next three weeks, as my other half has taken a too-great-to-pass-up temporary work opportunity and has flown away to the Midwest, while I'm here holding down the fort alone. Keeping odd hours and making meals of random assortments of cheese on sliced bread, furiously working the crossword until two in the morning while forgetting to eat, then guiltily eating three Greek yogurts in a row, these have been my general go-to plan whenever I've been alone before.

No longer. Dinner is about more than food, right? Right. And feeding oneself can be a chore, or it can be a lovely little performance for one. No melancholy meals of limp breakfast porridge for this one, no more sadly lacking sandwiches. No clichéd solitary ice cream dinners, eaten straight from the carton, standing up in the kitchen by the harsh glow of fridgelight (okay, can't actually promise that I won't do this one ever, I mean come on. Hazelnut gelato is a thing I am powerless to resist). I will have fresh vegetables. I will take the time to make soup from scratch, even if no one's around to applaud. I will even roast a whole chicken, stuffed with fresh herbs & lemon, if the mood strikes.

I will feed myself. And I will start with this white bean hummus.

This is technically a white bean dip masquerading as a ‘hummus’, since it’s made without tahini, the nutty sesame-based paste that gives classic hummus its flavor. In its absence, though, the golden, rich flavor of roasted garlic sings through clearly, as does the zippy, herbaceous kick of fresh rosemary. And in terms of its creamy, hearty consistency it feels exactly like hummus when spread on a cracker (or a raw carrot, or a pita chip, or my absolute favorite, a rustic slice of crusty bread toasted golden brown). I just recently made a batch of this to take to a party, since it's a dish that travels well and feeds a crowd handily, but it would have made an equally excellent dinner for one with a side of greens and some crusty bread. Hummus or bean dip, you’ll have to decide what to call it, but either way I think you’ll just call it delicious.

White Bean ‘Hummus’ with Roasted Garlic & Rosemary

4 cloves garlic

2 cans cannellini beans, drained and rinsed

¼ cup olive oil, plus extra for drizzling

1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

2 tablespoons water

1 tablespoon fresh rosemary, finely chopped

Salt & pepper

Begin by preheating your oven to 350 degrees. Lay 4 cloves of garlic—papery skins and all—on a 6-inch square of aluminum foil and twist to form a foil packet. Place in the oven and roast until garlic is soft and browned and so amazing-smelling that you want to spread it directly on bread (about 40-45 minutes). Remove, let cool.

Place cannellini beans in a mixing bowl, or in the bowl of your food processor if using one. A food processor will give you a smoother, creamier dip, but I sometimes like to simply crush my beans with the back of a fork for a more rustic texture. Either way is fine! Squeeze the roasted garlic cloves directly from their skins into the bowl with the beans, crush with fork or pulse with food processor to combine. Add olive oil, lemon juice, water, and rosemary, continue to blend until you reach your desired consistency. Add salt & pepper according to taste. Drizzle with a little extra olive oil before serving.

POSOLE WITH BUTTERNUT SQUASH AND PUMPKIN SEEDS

[Photos by Tim Butterfield & Laurel Morley]

'Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.' - Charles Dickens

For some, the comfort food that conjures memories of home is a huge, steaming bowl of spicy greens or a fragrant pile of creamy grits. For others, the word home evokes specific thoughts of briney steamed clams, a family macaroni recipe doused with cheese, homemade blackberry ice cream or freshly baked rustic bread.

From my own past, the scent that drifts up in my sense memory is rich with spices, the deep earthiness of toasted cumin and ground ancho chilies, sweet slippery golden slices of butternut squash melting alongside kernels of hominy in broth, chunks of long-simmered pork shoulder bobbing at the rim of the pot.

The conjured magic of home. The creosote smell of the desert after rain. My fingertips running along the exact loops and rustic arabesques of the carved wooden sideboard that stood next to our dining room table, the rough feeling of the grain beneath my hands. The arid, toasted aroma of spices. The manic peal of laughter that rang whenever someone--and it was often, we were an exceptionally jokey family--let fly a truly funny voice or well-timed punchline. The sleeping form of a dog stretched on the cool floor. My bare-soled feet slapping the rough glaze of terra cotta tiles. The sweet heft of carrying a steaming pot of soup to the table, always carefully and with two solemn hands on both handles, to be shared among many bowls. Happiness in my nose and fingertips, happiness in my very skin and to the ends of my hair. That is home.

This soup, my friends, is also home. Posole, a rich, flavorful stew with deep pre-Columbian roots in Mexico, traveled northward long ago to my childhood home in the desert and has been a beloved staple across the southwestern states ever since. This hearty soup can be made in a multitude of varieties; my favorite always includes tender pork, the sweet autumnal flavors of butternut squash and ground pumpkin seeds, and an uninhibited kick from seasoning with various spices. Share it among friends & loved ones, and don't forget to inhale deeply.

Posole with Butternut Squash and Ground Pepitas

Makes 8-10 servings

Total preparation time: 2 1/2 hours

2 quarts chicken stock

3 cups cold water

2 tablespoon canola or vegetable oil

1 lb. boneless pork shoulder, cut into roughly 2-inch cubes

3/4 cup white onion, chopped

4 serrano chilies, seeds and ribs removed, then minced

2 tablespoons ground chipotle (ancho chile powder would also be great here)

1 tablespoon smoked paprika

1 tablespoon ground cumin

1 tablespoon dried oregano

3 garlic cloves, minced

1 1/2 cups roasted hulled pumpkin seeds (pepitas)

2 lb. canned hominy or pozole

3 tsp. salt

2 tablespoons vinegar or lime juice

2 tablespoons honey

1 butternut squash, with the hard rind & inner seeds removed, sliced into fat 1/2" matchsticks

Garnishes:

small amount of ground chipotle or ancho chile powder

fresh cilantro leaves, hand-torn or roughly chopped

Pour chicken stock and two cups of water (reserving the third for later) into a large pot, heat just to boiling then drop to medium and let simmer.

Dry the cubes of pork shoulder thoroughly by patting them all over with paper towels. Heat one tablespoon of oil in a skillet over medium high heat, then brown the meat on all sides and place in pot with stock. Add remaining tablespoon of oil, onions and minced chilies to skillet (leave all the leftover browned bits in the pan from earlier, they will add flavor), dropping heat to medium and stirring often. Cook until softened and lightly browned, about five minutes, then add spices and continue to stir for another minute.

Transfer onion mixture to the bowl of a food processor or pitcher of a blender, add remaining cup of cold water, pepitas and minced garlic. Blend until a smooth paste forms, then scrape this out of the bowl and directly into the simmering pot. Place a lid on the pot and let this cook over medium heat for at least an hour.

Drain and rinse the hominy kernels, add to pot. Let simmer for another hour.

Taste soup and add salt, vinegar or lime juice and honey in the quantities listed (or to taste, whatever is your preference). Add butternut squash slices and continue to simmer for about fifteen more minutes, until squash is tender. Remove from heat and serve warm; garnishing with a dusting of ground chipotle or ancho chile powder and a scattering of cilantro leaves is optional, but highly recommended.

HAPPINESS IS A WARM BREAD PUDDING

Something's different. The other day, I sheared my skinny dark 'city' jeans in half at the knee, to make a farm-rolled pair of summery shorts instead. I think that just about sums up the transformation neatly.

Things are definitely changing around here. There's been a kind of loosening lately, a slipping and untying of the knot that's lived in my stomach for I don't know how long. My hard metropolitan face is chipping away, thankfully. I've been doing some baking. I want to talk to you about bread pudding in a moment--I need to talk to you about this French toast-style challah bread pudding made with maple syrup and a crumbly topping, like, urgently--but first, we need to talk about something else.

Guys, I am so danged cheerful these days. I don't know what's come over me. Yesterday, I caught myself whistling. Whistling.

I am impossibly, unbelievably cheerful most of the time, even in those moments when I only seem to be concentrating on something else. I promise you, since relocating back to my arid little outpost in the desert, there are cartwheels going on behind my eyes pretty much twenty-four/seven (except maybe when I'm pumping gas, which as it turns out is a thing I really didn't miss and still kind of hate). The other day I was out for a stroll, walking the dog around the grassy hills of our little stucco complex, and I passed a few gently waving flowering bushes, looked up and saw a stand of palm trees glittering in pre-sunset rays of light, and I thought.......okay. Wait just a minute. Would you just look at all this for a minute? We are all so lucky to even be here right now. Hey you, kid languidly kicking around a soccer ball on that lush hilly lawn, which you probably think is a lousy lawn and wish was bigger and flatter and more soccer field-like....are you kidding me? Do you even know how lucky we all are? Where I just came from, you'd be kicking that ball around in a stairwell.

 A few weeks ago, I would have looked up and seen only grey concrete and malnourished city trees, then mounted the steps to a tiny apartment that faced an air shaft. Now there are palm trees, and and apartment full of windows that floods with light every morning. Now I'm out walking a dog, my dog......our dog. Now even grocery store cashiers and random pedestrians seem friendlier to me (note to self: they actually are friendlier, must remember that it's okay and even expected to say hello to anyone and everyone you meet, not necessary to avert your eyes and sweep all attention to jabbing fingers anxiously at your smartphone at the approach of another human). Now even the hot, dry summer breeze across the parking lot feels like a breath of fresh air.

What I'm saying is, I've been feeling pretty great lately, and I've also been making maple syrup-kissed, crumble-topped challah bread pudding, and you should maybe feel pretty great about that, too.

Challah Bread Pudding with Maple Syrup

Makes 6-8 servings, depending on hunger/greed level

For its delicate sweetness and airy, chewy crumb, challah is always my go-to for French toast. It stands to reason that any French toast-inspired bread pudding made with this delicious bread would also be pretty fantastic....and you're not wrong. It definitely is. If you can make this ahead of time and cover the whole thing in plastic wrap, leaving it in the fridge overnight to soak, so much the better. If not, make it at least an hour before baking so that the bread cubes have a chance to take on as much of the custardy maple mixture as possible before going into the oven. 

The crumble topping on this takes it into a realm that's almost coffee cake-like, and that's a pretty great place to be, as well. Enjoy this with a cup of strong, dark coffee and smile! :)

3 cups of 1" challah cubes, plus 3 extra tablespoons challah breadcrumbs

2 cups milk

2 eggs

3/4 cup syrup (maple if you're feeling rich, pancake syrup if you're not, I won't judge), plus 2 extra tablespoons

1/2 teaspoon salt (divided into 1/4 and 1/4)

2 tablespoons butter

1 tablespoon flour (use whatever you have on hand; I used some gluten free millet flour I had in the pantry)

1 tablespoon raw sugar

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together milk, eggs, 3/4 cup of syrup and 1/4 teaspoon of salt until you have an even mixture. Place bread cubes on top, gently stir and toss to combine until bread is evenly coated. Use 1 tablespoon of butter to coat the sides and bottom of a glass 9" x 5" baking dish. Place bread cube mixture in the dish, pouring any remaining milk mixture over the top. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for one hour to overnight. Cover remaining ingredients and set aside.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a small bowl, mix breadcrumbs, 2 tablespoons maple syrup, 1/4 teaspoon salt, 1 tablespoon butter and raw sugar, pinching with your fingertips until a coarse, crumbly mixture forms. Sprinkle evenly over bread pudding, bake uncovered at 350 for 45 minutes until golden brown and puffy with deliciousness. Let cool slightly, then devour.

WATERMELON AND FETA SKEWERS WITH MINT OIL

I’m an unapologetic watermelon enthusiast, it is one of my absolute favorite hot weather treats! I could eat it all summer long from the moment it starts to appear on grocery store and farmer’s market shelves. Blended into fruit juice, frozen into popsicles, sorbets and slushes…..to tell the truth, I’ve even been known to eat dripping wedges of it while standing directly over the sink.

While it often needs no dressing up at all, I really like this take on watermelon that turns it from ethereally sweet pink fruit into a two-bite salad, the sugariness of the melon balanced by the salty chunks of feta and the peppery earthiness of olive oil and mint. 

Watermelon and Feta Skewers with Mint Oil

Makes 20 skewers

Ingredients:

20 toothpicks or small bamboo skewers

40 1” cubes of watermelon

20 smaller cubes of feta cheese (about 1” x ½”)

3 tablespoons of fresh mint leaves

3 tablespoons of olive oil

Carefully thread a cube of watermelon onto a toothpick, followed by a cube of feta and then another of watermelon, leaving at least ½” of skewer showing at the top. Repeat with remaining toothpicks. Lay watermelon feta skewers out flat in a single layer on a tray.

Place mint leaves and olive oil in blender or food processor, blend until leaves are pulverized and you have a lovely, brilliant green minty oil. Drizzle the watermelon feta skewers lightly with this mixture, then serve!

SWEET SUMMERTIME ZUCCHINI BLOSSOM FRITTERS

My former farmer's market in Sunnyside was a tiny treasure-trove of wonders. Less than a block long, they still managed to have everything we wanted and then some, and on any given week Tim and I left the small cluster of stalls with a bulging bag of produce, jars and loaves. 

Every few weeks, some new, breathlessly anticipated seasonal item would show up....it was pretty common to see me jumping up and down, tugging on sleeves and whisper-shouting, 'Look, sour cherries! Ramps! Golden beets! Look, the first peaches of the summer! LOOK, OH MY GOD, THE GRAPE TOMATOES ARE OUT!!' But the arrival that got me most excited, the most ephemeral and waited-for summertime treat....was the appearance in July of fat, golden, tubular zucchini blossoms.

Delicate and tender*, tasting similar to zucchini and very faintly sweet, these are possibly the closest you can come to capturing sunshine on a plate. These particular zucchini blossoms begged to be stuffed with lightly sweetened goat cheese and covered in a cracklingly crisp, tempura-like outer shell. 'Take us home,' they whispered to me, 'take us home and fill us up with goat cheese, dip us in a cozy bath of batter, give us a quick dunk in sizzling hot oil and drizzle us with honey, oh yesssss. We will be deliciousssss.' 

Who am I to argue with flowers?

[ *Not to mention desperately perishable, these are a 'cook them the same day you buy them' item for sure. For that reason, you'll never see them in a conventional grocery store, but have to track them down at a farmer's market or a friend's garden instead, which explains my overzealous excitement at seeing these golden lovelies arrive for the season. Well, that and the fact that I just really love any opportunity to eat flowers. ]

Sweet Zucchini Blossom Goat Cheese Fritters

Makes 6

3 ounces soft goat cheese 

1 tsp lemon zest

1 tsp honey (plus more for drizzling)

6 zucchini blossoms, lightly rinsed and patted dry 

vegetable oil for frying 

1/2 cup rice flour 

1/2 cup seltzer

In a small mixing bowl, combine goat cheese, lemon zest and honey, smushing together with the back of a spoon until you form a uniform paste.

Very gently place 1 tablespoon of this goat cheese mixture into the center of each blossom, being careful not to tear the petals. Coat skillet with about 1 inch of oil and place over medium-high heat (pan is hot enough when the oil begins shimmering and a few drops of batter flicked into it begin sizzling right away).

While you are waiting for your oil to heat up, whisk together flour and seltzer until a thin, smooth batter forms. The carbonation in the seltzer gives the batter a certain airy....je ne sais quois. I don't know. It's bubbly magic.

Once the pan of oil is hot, lightly dredge the stuffed zucchini blossoms in the batter. Allow any excess to drip off and then place (Care. Full. Ly.) in pan and fry until golden brown, about a minute or two on each side. If necessary, do this in batches so you don't overcrowd the pan.

Use a slotted spoon to transfer to a paper towel-lined plate, let cool slightly then drizzle with honey and serve. You're probably going to get honey all over your face while enjoying these. Just go with it.

WESTBOUND AND DOWN, PART ONE

Moving day is tomorrow. All week long I've been whittling away at our kitchen supplies, trying to get the cupboards bare. This morning, I woke up and brewed our last cup of coffee, ate a handful of broken tortilla chips, and boiled our very last egg for my breakfast.

Cleaning out the pantry, I found all sorts of random nuts, dark chocolate and dried fruit (I snack the way a squirrel snacks, apparently), and swept anything that looked like it might play well with other ingredients into a bowl.

A somewhat hideous blue plastic bowl, because all the pretty things have been packed.

In fact, if you're me, you'll go ahead and hastily assemble your tasty materials and then and only then will you realize that....you packed up the whole kitchen, pots, pans and all. Not even a baking sheet remains.

No worries. You'll just form that sucker into a rough half-inch-thick square by hand, you're kind of a badass like that. And then you'll score some lines into it with a knife, and slide it into the oven resting on nothing but a sheet of parchment paper (thankfully, there was still parchment paper!) and let it bake at until it's golden brown and crispy at the edges, chewy in the center, and smells like heaven.

Leaning against the kitchen counter earlier this afternoon, still-warm granola square in hand (fragrant with toasted pecans, sticky with dates, somewhat oozing little pockets of dark chocolate), I surveyed the chaos that was my apartment for almost the last time. Tomorrow we're waking up very early and loading all of this onto the back of a truck. And then we're off, heading for the first leg of a three-day journey.

We'll eat these handmade granola bars along the way, literally tasting the last of our lives in NYC, watching through the windows as the east speedily becomes the west.

Moving Day Granola Bars*

About 16 pecan halves

The last double handful of a canister of rolled oats, maybe two cups

A few heaping spoonfuls of almond butter that's so expensive at the good grocery store but you just can't keep yourself from buying it, and then a few spoonfuls more

A scoop of pepitas left over from my last homemade batch of granola

About a third of a bar of 85% dark chocolate, left behind on the shelf from making avocado chocolate mousse, remaining uneaten only because too it's dark to eat out of hand, roughly chopped into 'chip' size

About 8 Medjool dates, diced into little bitty pieces so that their sticky sugariness will help everything hold together

2 tablespoons of butter, melted, because....BUTTER

A generous squirt of maple syrup, because I love maple syrup

A sprinkling of demerara sugar, because I keep it to put in my coffee and, oh what the hell, right?

A generous pinch of salt, to balance all the sweet

Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Combine every last ingredient in a large mixing bowl, mix until everything is evenly combined. Spread it out on a sheet of parchment paper (don't be like me, though. Put that parchment on an actual baking sheet, will you?), using the back of a spoon or your wet fingertips (run them under water, works like a charm for pressing out sticky things) until it takes the shape of a square about 1/2" thick. 

Score lines (to form 16 squares) into the mixture using a wet knife.

Bake at 300 degrees for about 30 minutes, until your desolate, packed-up apartment begins to smell happy and buttery again, and the edges are just beginning to turn golden brown. Remove and let cool at least halfway (although they are pretty great with a little lingering oven warmth in them). Eat one, then sigh and lean back deeper into the kitchen counter, then eat another. Think about your life. Breathe. Think about the future. Smile. You're gonna get through moving day, little one.

( *An impending cross-country move is by no means a requirement for making these granola squares, although it certainly does help with all that. You could just make these as a way to clean out your pantry, if you want. They're good for that, too)