POEMS ABOUT FOOD

Surprise!

2011-12-26T02:55:00.000-08:00

Why, thanks for this beautiful cake;
Your thoughtfulness makes my heart ache!
Double-layered? How grand!
I'll just slice it here, and--
YOU PUT A SMIRNOFF ICE IN THIS CAKE, YOU LITTLE JERK?

Surprise, PAF is back! It's a Christmas miracle?

I actually didn't mean to stop blogging for so long without explanation, nor did I mean to kick off my hiatus with an emo-type poem about the world ending. Oops.

To tell you the truth, I just decided not to post for a couple weeks, and then a couple weeks became a couple months, and then I was kind of enjoying the break for a (long) while, and it would've been awkward to post an "FYI-not-so-brief-hiatus" message at that point. But I never intended for that post to be Poems About Food's "Last Meal," so here I am again.

Tonight for Christmas family time, we watched Julie & Julia. Amy Adams' Julie Powell says of blogging, "It's like there's this whole group of people who are sort of connected to me. They need me in some way. Like, if I didn't write, they would be really upset." And I think, do I have readers like that? The stats say I have a fair amount of followers, even as far away as Australia (thank you, kangaroo) and Korea (thank you, StarCraft Cake), but I'd like to think I haven't upset anyone by taking a break for a few months.

But then, in the film, Paul Child asks his wife, "What is it you really like to do?" and Julia responds, "Eat!"

That is why I like to blog, and that is why I will keep blogging, however sporadically. I love, love, love to eat.

I also love mischief, which is why I stayed up until 4 AM the night before a tournament to bake the topic of this post for my friend Teresa. My friend Teresa who was very nice and offered to bring me new cleats to the fields at our tournament, whom I repaid with this Trojan cake-is-a-lie cake. I know, I am a little jerk.

Vegan Chocolate Mango Cake with Mango Icing (and Mango Ice!)

lightly adapted from my friend Annie's favorite chocolate cake recipe

Ingredients for Cake

3 cups flour
2 cups sugar
1/3 cup cocoa
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 tsp vanilla
2 tbsp vinegar (I used fancy TJ's stuff, but any white vinegar will do)
3/4 cup oil
2 cups room-temperature mango puree

Ingredients for Icing & Decoration

1 15-oz container Earth Balance Natural Buttery Spread
powdered sugar
vanilla extract
mango puree
dried mango

Ingredients for Icing

1 bottle Mango Smirnoff Ice (for cake construction, it helps to have 2 bottles)

Directions

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Sift the dry cake ingredients into a large bowl and mix well.

Pour the vanilla, vinegar, oil, and mango puree over the dry mixture.

Mix well again.

Pour about 2/3 the batter into a 9"-diameter springform cake pan. Bake for 40-50 minutes, or until a toothpick/knife/other pointy object inserted into the center comes out clean.

(If you are lucky enough to have two 9"-diameter springform cake pans, pour the rest of the batter into your other one and bake both layers at the same time.)

In the meantime, prepare your icing!

Pour some mango puree into a pan and let simmer, stirring occasionally, until it reduces to syrupy consistency. Pour into a cup and refrigerate.

Scoop the Earth Balance into a smaller bowl and, with a hand mixer, mix in powdered sugar and a dash of vanilla extract to taste.

Julienne the dried mango.

Your first layer should be ready by now!

When it's cooled a bit, put it on a plate and use the springform pan to bake the rest of your batter for 35-45 minutes.

Lay the bottle of Smirnoff Ice on top of the cake and cut an outline around it with a knife.

Remove the bottle and scoop out a bottle-shaped cake ditch with a spoon.

Stick the bottle in, filling any holes with the cake innards you've just scooped out.

By now, your second layer should still be baking, but your mango puree reduction should be cool enough to pour over the icing mixture!

Blend well and taste. Mmm.

When it's ready, put your second cake layer on a separate plate and use your second bottle of Smirnoff Ice to measure and scoop out another cake ditch.

Pour and spread some icing onto the bottom cake layer, filling in potential holes with cake innards.

Flip the second cake layer onto the first cake layer, taking care to line up the cake ditch with the bottle...

…and marvel at your handiwork!

Pour the rest of the icing over the cake.

Decorate with julienned mango. And an innocent little flower, to be extra-sneaky.

Give to your unsuspecting friend.

Mwahahahaha!

Last Meal

2011-05-29T13:09:00.000-07:00

If everything is going down
Shuddering down to fiery end
If everything is over now
I'd like
For my last meal
A nice seafood dinner.

Nothing fancy
Well, nothing too fancy
Just some crab or lobster
Or (if that's not quite affordable)
Some langostinos
To commemorate my presence on this earth.

But in case that's not possible either
(If, for example,
The seas have already risen above our heads
Or receded
Down below our awareness)

Well, I'd mostly just like
For us to share a meal.
Something from the sea would be nice
But anything will do

Just please
At the end
Hold my hand

I was only vaguely aware that the world may have ended last week. And now that the Rapture has been postponed to October, I only vaguely care.

If the world ends, so be it.

But for many, this time of year marks a more concrete, certain kind of end. To those graduating this year -- it's customary for everyone you know who's even slightly older or wiser than you to shower you with helpful advice. I don't purport to be wiser, but I'm not about to break from tradition.

To the lost-and-confused, those unsure of the next step and thus afraid to take it -- you are not alone. Many people don't know what they want in life, and they wander around a while getting to know the world and themselves, and this is not depressing. People who've known they've wanted to be doctors or actors since age six are solidly in the minority; we are meant to explore the possibilities of what we are meant to do in life. So if you're lost and confused, the best words I can think of to say to you are those of John Jay, inscribed on a common-room wall in my freshman dorm:

"Hold fast to the spirit of youth -- let years to come do what they may!"

To those in the minority -- people who've known they've wanted to be doctors or actors since age six -- remember to embrace spontaneity and change; they're what gives life its luster. And when the real world changes (as it often does) and things get tough (as they often do), roll with the punches, and stay true to your own loves and virtues. This is a reassurance as much as it is a warning -- a history of success and knowing-what-you-want-to-do doesn't portend a lifetime of such things. We may change our direction in life as many times as it takes to find true passion, but even upon finding it, we must continue to move forward with tenacity and integrity. So if you are lucky enough to have found your passion already, I share with you the words of Albert Camus:

"Integrity has no need of rules."

Wherever you are, whomever you are…you are you, and you've done a good thing just now. Congratulations! Kindly celebrate, perhaps with a few of your favorite dishes, definitely with a few of your favorite people. And for goodness' sake, don't take every little piece of advice you're given.

Ginger-Scallion Langostino Tails with Bamboo and Sugar Snap Peas

Ingredients

2 lbs frozen (raw) langostino tails
8-10 precooked bamboo shoots
4 cups sugar snap peas
2-3 stalks scallions
1 large slice ginger root
2 tbsp cooking wine
2 tbsp corn starch
2-3 tbsp canola oil
1-2 tsp salt
1-2 tsp sugar
1-2 tsp black pepper

Directions

Thaw the langostino tails in the fridge. After about 3 hours, mix with the cooking wine and a few pinches of salt. In a colander, allow to thaw for another 3 hours at room temperature.

In the meantime, string and wash the sugar snap peas, and slice the bamboo.

Heat 1 tbsp oil in a wok over medium heat, add the bamboo and snap peas, and sprinkle with a few pinches salt. Stir-fry for 3-4 minutes, until pea pods are tender.

Transfer to a separate bowl.

Chop the scallions.

Add the corn starch to the thawed and drained langostino tails.

Add the scallions and mix well.

Heat another tbsp oil in the wok, this time over high heat. Add the slice of ginger and sauté for about 1 minute, until fragrant.

Then pour in the langostinos and stir-fry for no more than 5 minutes -- the meat should be firm, but not chewy. Add some salt to taste.

Add in the bamboo and peas, and sauté for another minute. Season with sugar, salt, and pepper to taste.

Serve fresh and piping hot, with rice, if you'd like. (Serves 6-8.)

Día Festivo

2011-05-05T22:42:00.000-07:00

Un tazón se ofrece rellenos
Solamente en tiempos amenos
Que yo siempre les hallo--
¡Feliz Cinco de Mayo!
¿Tradiciones? Problemas ajenos.

O, a bowl offers stuffing's nutritions
Just in special-occasion conditions
Which I often purvey--
Happy fifth day of May!
Someone else can take care of traditions.

It's true -- stuffing is a food reserved for special occasions.
Also true -- every day is a special occasion if you try hard enough.
And this week is particularly rife with holidays -- Cinco de Mayo, Mother's Day, (Gotta Get Down On) Friday….

Yes, I realize Cinco de Mayo is usually an occasion for Mexican food. But doesn't $2 Tacos every Monday night sort of take the exclusivity out of it? Plus, what's wrong with a break from tradition? My parents, after all, usually serve Chinese food on Thanksgiving and Christmas. And what better way to shed love and appreciation on the woman who raised you than with a soggy casserole dish full of stale bread and veggies?

Kidding aside, this soggy casserole dish is full of win. When Albert came over for Thanksgiving this year, his only request was for a nice, traditional holiday stuffing. No fusion twists, no cranberry-crème fraiche atrocities. So we collected the most homey ingredients we could find, made space between the Szechuan green beans and soy-garlic duck, and served up a special-occasion stuffing I now crave constantly.

Good thing Friday's coming up.

Special-Occasion Stuffing

adapted from allrecipes.com

Ingredients

1 loaf sliced white bread (the cheaper, the better)
1 onion
5 stalks celery
5 cloves garlic
1 cup walnuts
1/2 cup chopped parsley
12 oz (1.5 sticks) butter*
1 cup free-range chicken broth*
salt, to taste
pepper, to taste

*can substitute Earth Balance and vegetable broth for vegan stuffing

Directions

Take the bread out of the package and let sit on an uncovered plate overnight.

Dice the onions.

Chop the celery.

Mince the garlic.

Chop the walnuts.

When the bread is nice and slightly stale, cut it into cubes.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and butter a large casserole dish.

In a large pan (or wok, in my case), melt the remaining butter over medium heat. Add the onions, celery, and garlic. Cook for 3-4 minutes, until soft.

Stir in the walnuts, salt, and pepper.

Add the bread and parsley, and stir well to cover. Pour over the chicken broth and stir some more.

Transfer to the casserole dish.

Bake for 30-40 minutes, until savory and irresistible.

Sprinkle with some fresh parsley and serve. (Serves 6-8.)

Salad Ballad

2011-04-28T23:19:00.000-07:00

O, here's a ballad on a salad from my memory.
Though on the face, 'twas not the case my meal was odd at all,
The fact endures -- my take and yours'll hereupon agree--
That leafy lunch was such a bunch of strangeness, great and small.

So hearken, guys, just close your eyes and conjure up a bowl,
A lovely bowl that's mostly full of vegetables galore--
Fresh carrots chopped and aptly dropped atop clean, crunchy slaw;
Tomatoes, too, of every hue, and easy to adore.

But as we sneak a second peek, we'll get a sudden sense
Unusual acts have come to pass throughout our salad's youth
That actuate a current state of novel countenance...
A countenance that makes no sense -- and that's the honest truth.

For every trace of green's effaced -- yes, every leaf erased--
No kelly pea, however wee; no moss, chartreuse, or jade;
No forest herb or cucumber; no sage or celery…
Yet all that's left post-em'rald theft seems colorfully arrayed.

Red cabbage tossed and gladly lost up dreamy streams of sauce;
Tomatoes, small and sweet and all but dyed ruby and gold;
And carrots, made a lovely shade by beta-carotene--
Resplendent, though my story's no Best Legend Ever Told.

For stranger themes have happened around poetry and food;
The salad turn was subtler, naught markedly afoul.
What type of salad has no green? What person notes such facts?
The same one who can't overlook the absence of a vowel.

Well…my camera broke.

So I've been cooking a fair amount of interesting things, but with no way to share them with you. But that's okay, because now I have an excuse to go back and post about interesting things I had no time to write about last quarter!

It's amazing the difference a day off can make. I'm probably just as busy as I was last month, but now, I've got weekends. Weekends. Oh man, how I've missed them. And after working seven days a week for ten weeks straight, I'll never, ever take them for granted.

My friends at the commune last summer were flabbergasted that the film industry didn't always afford days of rest. They asked, "Not even one day a week? When will you see your family?" I had an inkling it'd be difficult, but I also kind of thought I'd been working seven days a week for many years. It turns out a sleepless weekend of problem sets and programming projects is still infinitely less stressful than no weekend at all.

That's because weekends -- even working ones -- brighten, break, and spice things up. The absence of weekends sucks. But sometimes, with food, the absence of standard ingredients (like, say, greens in a salad) doesn't suck. Not one bit. On the contrary, it brightens, breaks, and spices things up!

Greenless Greens

Ingredients

1/2 head red cabbage
2 large carrots
1/2 cup red grape tomatoes
1/2 cup yellow cherry tomatoes
1/2 red onion
1/3 cup vinegar
1/3 cup pickle juice
6 tbsp sugar
2 tsp salt

Directions

In a small bowl, combine vinegar, pickle juice, sugar, and salt. Thinly slice the red onion, and let marinate for several hours in the fridge.

Roughly chop the red cabbage.

Use a peeler to make thin ribbons out of one carrot; chop the other into bite-sized pieces.

Toss in a large bowl.

Halve the grape and cherry tomatoes. Add to the bowl.

Top off with the marinated onions, juice and all.

Toss well and serve! (Serves 4-6.)

Brunch

2011-04-05T10:33:00.000-07:00

Beware	the	foible	in	free	will,
The	roiling	choice	that	troubles	you--
Foible	choice	up	just	to	fancy...
In	that	just	necessity,	keep	true.
Free	troubles	to	keep	cheeks	stuffed!
Will	you	fancy	true,	stuffed	hullaballoo?

When Lewis Carroll's awesomely clever table-poem popped up on the internet last week, several friends sent me links to it. These friends know me well. I love wordplay, especially the kind that's a little smart, a little crazy, and more than a little inventive. I'm smitten by authors who are equally adept at writing in the language of poetry as they are mathematics -- Carroll, Pynchon, Hofstadter, and the like. So to kick off National Poetry Month, here's a post in honor of one thinker I admire very much. Callooh! Callay!

This month also marks the end of production season, at least for a little while. Remember when school started and I bid adieu to cozy, unhurried breakfasts in favor of sleep and efficiency? Well...we're still in school, but the first thing I did after we finished shooting our winter projects was sleep in until the sun was high in the sky and eat a nice, comfortably lazy brunch.

Brunch is potentially hazardous in its inveigling of free will. So many choices abound -- breakfast foods or lunch foods? sweet or salty? hot sauce in moderation or with everything? -- that it's pretty impossible to try it all without ending up stuffed. But one need not make a choice at all. On a well-deserved, leisurely morning, an acceptable -- nay, encouraged -- place to end up is stuffed...and these eggs are an excellent course with which to start.

They might actually be the best eggs I've ever eaten. They're homey and layered and incredibly satisfying. Plus, they don't take much time or effort to make; the first time I made them, it was out of leftovers found in the fridge on a busy weekday! ...What can I say? I love food recycling -- especially the kind that's a little smart, a little crazy, and more than a little inventive.

Sweet-and-Savory Apple Curry Eggs

Ingredients

2 tbsp olive oil
2 cups frozen spinach
1/4 cup diced yellow onion
1/6 cup diced apple
1/6 cup diced yellow bell pepper
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
3 egg whites
1 tsp curry powder*
Greek yogurt for topping

Directions

In a small bowl, beat the egg whites with the curry powder.

Heat the olive oil in a pan over high heat.

Add the onions and saute for about a minute, until fragrant.

Throw on the frozen spinach, mix, and cook until wilted.

Add the apples and bell peppers, stir, and saute for another minute.

Mix in the parsley, reserving a little for garnish.

Pour in the egg white mixture, and use a spatula to keep the edges from sticking to the pan. Let cook for 1-2 minutes, until golden brown on one side.

Flip and cook on the other side for 1-2 minutes.

Serve with a dollop of Greek yogurt and a sprinkling of fresh parsley.

*If you want this dish to be gluten-free, make sure the curry powder contains only spices, and no added fillers or MSG.

3. Pie

2011-03-22T15:14:00.000-07:00

14159 I take a slice excitedly
265358 My hungry hands are fixed, unitedly
979 Unvarying, exactly encircled--
32384 One in the handsome bowl
6264 Around my mellow soul.
338327 It's not integral, but it ascends
950 Ingestion-bound, transcends
2884 My constant, plodding bite--
197 A midsummer delight;
169 A winner overnight!
399 And dexterous, rapacious,
375 The fingers reach--
10 O, irrational--
5 Again.

Happy Belated Pi Day!*

We just finished seven tumultuous weeks of production. I hear Steven Spielberg works out and loses some thirty pounds before each of his shoots because he knows he'll gain it all back during production. This is a completely unfounded rumor, and I found no evidence of its veracity on Wikipedia...but if it's true, I don't blame him. In fact, I wonder -- does Steven Spielberg also get sick and have fever dreams about lighting ratios? Does Steven Spielberg also sleep in a gigantic pile of his own clean laundry because he hasn't had time to put it away? Does Steven Spielberg also miss his little brother?

Whatever the case, I think Steven Spielberg may be on to something. Because across this single school year's production seasons, I've (kind of amazingly) gained 19% of my own body weight, lost a whole bunch of muscle mass, and -- gasp -- felt Pi Day pie guilt for the first time in my life. Pie guilt is the worst kind of guilt! No one should feel regret for eating pie, especially not on March 14th. I missed celebrating a bunch of holidays last week -- my brother's birthday, my birthday, St. Patrick's day -- but on Einstein's birthday, I made damn sure to eat some pie. And from now on, Spielberg-style, I'll make sure I never feel guilty about it again.

When I was little, I only ever made pies with my mom. She and I, being very busy women with full-time jobs and times tables homework, respectively, dared not take on a pie whose recipe required three hours of our precious time. Instead, we bought pre-made pie crusts, filled them with yogurt and strawberry slices and the special ingredient (love), and stuck them in the freezer. Fifteen minutes -- voilà!

Those pies were delicious, but it's no wonder I've had trouble empathizing with the phrase "the joy of baking" for some time now. So when my friend Shenzi came over to make a pie that actually required an oven, I was happy to find that it was completely worth our time and effort. Those three hours spent measuring and mixing, waiting for temperatures to fall and rise, and having sweet pie smells balloon warmly into every corner of my apartment -- they were therapeutic. The result (we named her Pie-y) wasn't picture-perfect, but she was flaky and golden and tartly sweet, and as the first pie I've ever made from scratch, she was perfect to me.

*I haven't nerded out over poetry or math for a while...so here's a pie-shaped poem written in Standard Pilish, chock-full of shape-and-number wordplay.

Blueberry-Strawberry-Cranberry Pie
heavily adapted from Cook's Illustrated and Baked Perfection

Ingredients for Crust

2 1/2 cups flour
1 tsp salt
2 tbsp sugar
12 tbsp cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/4-inch slices
1/2 cup chilled solid vegetable shortening
1/4 cup cold vodka
1/4 cup cold water

Ingredients for Filling

3/4 cup white sugar
3 tbsp corn starch
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
2 cups frozen blueberries
2 cups frozen cranberries
1 cup frozen strawberries, quartered

Directions

Combine 1 1/2 cups flour, 1 tsp salt, and 2 tbsp sugar in a food processor. Add 1/4-inch slices of butter (reserving about 1 tsp for brushing crust) and scoops of shortening and process for about 15 seconds, until clumpy. Add remaining 1 cup flour and process until evenly mixed.

Scoop the mixture into a medium bowl. Add vodka and water, and fold and stir until doughy.

Divide dough into two even balls, wrap with cellophane, and place in the freezer for half an hour.

In the meantime, prepare the filling by mixing the blueberries, cranberries, and strawberries in a medium bowl. In a separate bowl, mix the sugar, corn starch, salt, and cinnamon -- then sprinkle over the berries and stir.

Let sit and thaw for about ten minutes, then carefully strain out as much juicy liquid as you can. I don't have a strainer (oops), but even just using a spatula and the rules of physics, I was able to extract about a cup of excess liquid that would've kept the crust from staying dry and flaky.

When ready, remove the dough balls from the freezer and roll them out on a floured surface with a rolling pin. I didn't have a rolling pin, either (oops again), so we used a cylindrical vodka bottle covered in flour...worked like a charm.

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Line a 9-inch pie tin with one crust.

Pour in the filling mixture.

Cut the other crust into 1/2-to-3/4-inch strips.

Make a lattice top (Shenzi taught me how to do this -- amazingly easy!).

Crimp the edges, use any excess edge dough to make pretty designs for the top of the pie, and brush with reserved tsp of butter.

Cover edges in tin foil and place on lower shelf of oven. After about 30 minutes, remove tin foil and rotate 180 degrees. Then bake for another 20 minutes or so, until golden brown and scrumptious.

Devour about 22/7 fresh slices. Immediately.

Wrap Rap

2011-03-10T00:36:00.000-08:00

after "Drug Ballad" by Eminem

Back when doin' schoolwork meant problem sets,
This is how I used to eat (no regrets).
I used to pair baked with some steamed goods; "Let's
Just stick to fair trade at luncheonettes."
And snacks were rare -- plates would fill with balanced meals
(And if you care, weighed, my pounds were 'round ideal).
It'd take an air raid to pound my even keel....
I conceive good food until I start conceivin' reels.
Then, Tupperware's greasy;
It ain't easy to cease increasin' the piece of my patiss--
Are we to police
All our control 'til we roll, film shoots nutrition parole?
I can now tell production's taken its toll.
The whole trio's my feast -- Cheetos, Fritos, Doritos;
It's a feat to be so replete with trans fats and sweets.
Crawl out the trap as I snap the lens cap,
Stop eating crap, and conclude, "That's a wrap."

Hello, old friend! Sorry I've been gone so long. I never could've anticipated how uniquely stressful and utterly time-consuming the past month would be for me.

I spent February cooking little and sleeping even less. I forgot about days off, forgot about the whole wide world outside this tiny little corner, and, if it's not too corny to say, chased magic hours in the least magical way possible. I lost a loved one for the first time in my life, but had no time to grieve properly. I pushed on, sometimes sick and often miserable, missed a million distant things, and thought, If I can just remember how pretty the sky looks right before sundown....

At times like this, it's difficult to muster the creative energy to write a good food poem. It's difficult, in fact, to muster the energy to delight in food and art at all. But here's a short post to assure you that Poems About Food isn't gone for good -- despite the unannounced hiatus, it'll get back on its feet and keep on going, and so will I.

Super-Quick Snack Wrap

Ingredients

1 spinach tortilla
1 tbsp roasted garlic hummus
1 tbsp organic peanut butter
1 stalk celery
1/4 avocado
1/4 apple

Directions

This one's very self-explanatory -- it's all about simplicity and freshness.

Julienne the celery, and cut the avocado and apple into thin slices.

Lay the tortilla on a plate, and cover it with hummus.

Spread the peanut butter over the hummus.

Place the celery strips in a row in the middle of the tortilla.

Lay the avocado slices on top of the celery strips.

You guessed it -- lay the apple slices on top of the avocado slices.

Fold up one end and roll into a wrap. That's it!

Potluck

2011-01-22T00:49:00.000-08:00

What's that, you're hosting dinner? Yay!
I'll bring fruit salad. Is that cool?
Oh, no? Someone called dibs on that?
That's fine, I'll bring a mixed cheese tray.
Aw man, that's taken too? Okay.
I can't have dairy anyway.
Well, how 'bout drinks? Dessert? Come on!
How many friends did you invite?
And why was I the last to know?
This feels a little like a slight.
Hey now, come on, I only kid.
This'll be fun -- can't wait to go!
So maybe I'll bring cups and plates?
They're always good to have, although
Environmentally, foam's bad,
And paper just disintegrates...
Scratch that, I'll just bring chips and guac.
That's safe, and something no one hates.
Wait, what'd you say? I can't bring chips?
I guess you've got those. What a shock.
You don't? Well what, then? What's the deal?
Uh huh, um, but -- no, you can talk.
I see...you don't know who I am.
I saw your invite, though, for real!
I'd just assumed -- well, Facebook said--
All righty then, enjoy your meal.

Every time I've been to a potluck in recent memory, I've ended up bringing a variation on cooked carbs mixed with veggies, proteins, and random things found in my pantry. It's not that I don't want to switch it up every now and then. It's just that I never know how much each person's gonna eat, and bringing interesting food that can be scooped from a single bowl is a challenge unto itself.

My production group just had a potluck to kick off our teamwork this quarter.* As per usual, I didn't have time to shop for ingredients. So I promised a "vegetarian dish -- details TBA," threw a bunch of stuff in a pan at the last minute, and got this.

It's delicious!! I'm supposed to be waking up in four hours for a tournament, so no time for details, but trust me. This thing is the bomb dot com. It's excitingly fried-rice-like, refreshingly salad-like, and so, so easy to prepare. Happy potlucking!

*I was invited, I swear.

Healthy Veggie Potluck Delight

Ingredients

1 cup cooked brown rice
1 cup cooked barley
1 cup cooked quinoa
3 cloves garlic
1 large cucumber
1 avocado
1 cup cherry tomatoes
1/2 cup cashews
2 tbsp sesame seeds
3 tbsp brown sugar
3 tbsp soy sauce
3 tbsp olive oil

Directions

Mince the garlic, dice the cucumber and avocado, and cut the cherry tomatoes into quarters.

Heat the olive oil in a pan over medium heat. Add the garlic and cook for 1-2 minutes, until fragrant.

In the meantime, mix the brown rice, barley, and quinoa together (I cooked them all together in a rice cooker, so they were already mixed). Mix the brown sugar and sesame seeds with the soy sauce.

Add the grain mixture to the pan, pour over the soy sauce mixture, and turn the heat up. Cook for 4-5 minutes, stirring occasionally.

When the grains have cooked to your satisfaction (I like them a little bit crispy), add the cucumber, avocado, cherry tomatoes, and cashews. Mix and serve. (Makes about 2 quarts -- perfect for potlucks.)

Poaching

2011-01-13T09:33:00.000-08:00

So in frisbee, it's when the defender
Floats on into the lane -- a game-ender
Only when it's done right;
Otherwise, it's just tight
For the offense's open contender.

But this poem's off the mark just a mite;
Poaching food's about what I should write.
That simmering splendor
Cooks proteins so tender...
They don't float, but it's love at first bite!

So...I had grander plans for this post.

I was gonna write a whole thing about my new year's resolutions, about how I've been resolving to be a good person for the past three years or so, but that this year, I was making some more concrete resolutions, too. I was gonna publicly declare, on this here blog, my intention to do things like work out every day and not eat after midnight.

But then I got sick, and despite my best efforts, I stopped working out completely. Actually, I stopped doing everything completely. I've been in an exhausted, slow stupor for 72 hours, at least 50 of which I've spent deep in fever-dream sleep. You'd think I could've at least written a blog post or two from bed, but no...I was so tired, even getting up to make toast and soup seemed to require a little too much effort.

I'm starting to feel better now, but I still have a lot to think through. This quarter, I plan on devoting myself completely to making every single film I work on the best it can be, and that's gonna require a number of sacrifices. Sacrifices like my health, if this week's been any indication. And seeing as the short almost-day I just spent in Santa Barbara was the last time I'll see Albert for the next ten weeks, sacrifices like my (and his) happiness.

So no biggie -- just sacrificing a little health and happiness here. But so I don't go changin' too much, I've modified my 2011 resolutions accordingly:

1. Be a good person. I always resolve this, but never by rote. I'll always try my best to live with compassion and integrity.

2. Be a baller in the following arenas: family, friendship, girlfriendship, filmmaking, and ultimate.

3. Be happy. Don't forget that there's a big, beautiful world out there that demands exploring!

This food experiment exemplifies the spirit of my resolutions perfectly. I made it with Albert, and though I'd never poached fish or peanut-buttered vegetables or attempted African fusion before, it turned out filling, delicious, healthsome, and absolutely worthwhile. Plus, getting to spend some time cooking and eating with company was therapeutic and awesome.

African Tea-Poached Salmon with Curried Peanut Butter Broccolini
based loosely on a traditional Tanzanian recipe

Ingredients for Salmon

2 6-oz salmon fillets
2 packets African Red Bush Tea
1/2 cup Greek yogurt
1/2 tsp curry powder*
1/2 tsp dill, chopped
2 lemon wedges, for garnish

Ingredients for Broccolini

1 bunch broccolini (about 16 spears)
1/2 yellow onion, diced
1 cup soy milk
4 tbsp organic peanut butter
2 tbsp curry powder*
1 tbsp olive oil

Directions

Cut open the tea packets and, in a medium pot (or, if you're like me, a scavenged Pyrex bowl), cover the skinless side of each fillet with the contents of one packet.

In a separate bowl or hot pot, boil 6-8 cups of water, and pour over the salmon. Place on stove and let simmer (gently!) for 10-12 minutes. Don't overcook! Remove fillets from water.

In the meantime, mix the Greek yogurt, 1/2 tsp curry powder, and dill together. Then mix the peanut butter with the soy milk. Dice the onion, and wash and separate the broccolini spears.

Heat the olive oil in a pan over medium heat. Add the onions and curry powder, and cook for 2-3 minutes. Then add the broccolini and peanut butter mixture, and cook for another 7-8 minutes, until the broccolini is tender and the peanut butter mixture is reduced to a thick sauce.

Place half the broccolini spears onto a plate. Spoon over a generous portion of the peanut-buttery onion sauce.

Place a salmon fillet on top, spoon over some of the curry-dill yogurt sauce, and garnish with a lemon wedge. Repeat with the other half (serves 2, obviously).

*If you want this dish to be gluten-free, make sure the curry powder contains only spices, and no added fillers or MSG.

Mashup

2010-12-31T15:30:00.000-08:00

What I need today is to cook something weird--
Something nice but eclectic to eat.
True, peculiar food might not taste like James Beard,
But creation is lovely and 1337.

I've not yet tried using the oven or grill
To make versatility [that] I savor,
But the trick's in the mix, and my magic chef's skills
Mix my favorite things for awesome flavor.

We can all agree, now, that no matter the food--
Yes, no matter the perfect invention--
No matter if it's downright purple-hued,
We should try it without apprehension.

For it's dashing clear lines, I can only conclude,
That makes smiles a foregone conclusion.
So I'll root for discov'ring new mashups of food...
I want you to try cooking some fusion!

Inspired by DJ Earworm's annual end-of-the-year pop mashup, I made this poem out of pieces of all the other ones I've written this year. A fusion poem!

Traditionally, the end of the year is about evaluating the changes in one's life. Successes and failures, triumphs and regressions, stuff like that. As such, I feel I have to admit something to you, dear reader, and it's this -- I've fallen off the wagon about a zillion times this year.

My most recent swan dive off the proverbial wagon was brought to my attention by my friend Louise, who reminded me I have a food blog by asking for some recipes from it. She then sorted, compiled, and sent out a way-awesome collection of recipes by and for her friends and family. (Thanks, Louise!) But the subject of her e-mail said "HOLIDAY RECIPES," and I thought about it for a moment, and that's when I realized I probably should've posted a few more recipes this month. OOPS.

Oh, and another thing -- I've been eating like a crazy person. I know I said I was going back to normal in November, but now that I'm looking back, I see that film school pretty much shoved me off the wagon and watched, cackling, as I convinced myself I could eat like I was still playing water polo and finely-tuned a midnight-snacking habit. But today, I did a little objective evaluating and concluded that, compared to pre-film school me, I weigh 10% more and play polo 100% less. ...OOPS.

The objective evaluating was supplemented by this workout/food/drink log I've been keeping, a look at which is fascinating and definitely fodder for a future post. But in this post, let me just apologize humbly and hope you had a happy run of holidays. I can blame film school for my fat, and I can preemptively blame it for a sparseness of posts during winter quarter (intense production season...don't say I didn't warn you). But this? This was just me making winter break a break from everything.

Please accept my apology in the form of this Japanese-inspired salad. It's fun, unique, and exciting, just like I want all my posts to be. It's a clean, light, healthy appetizer. A fresh start, if you will.*

*Oh, you won't? That's too bad, because if you think I'm gonna cool it with the dumb wordplay just because we're starting a new year...you're very, very wrong.

East-Meets-West Salad

Ingredients

3 oz enoki mushrooms
1/2 cup edamame
1/2 small orange heirloom tomato
1/2 small yellow heirloom tomato
1/8 cup peas
2 orange slices
1/2 tsp olive oil
1-2 tsp soy sauce
1 tsp balsamic vinegar
1 tsp Nori Komi Furikake

Directions

Slice the heirloom tomatoes about 1/4-inch thick.

Heat the olive oil in a pan over medium heat. Add the enoki musrooms, edamame, and soy sauce, and stir-fry for 2-3 minutes. Stir in the juice from one orange slice, setting the other aside for garnish.

Plate and sprinkle with Nori Komi Furikake.

Arrange the heirloom tomatoes in alternating colors around the mushrooms. Drizzle with balsamic vinegar, and sprinkle with peas.

The Cakes are a Lie

2010-12-12T14:07:00.000-08:00

Oh, a metaphor is a device
That is used to divert and entice
So it won't come to light
That this poem that you write
Has to do with, well, nothing but rice.

It's the fib that you tell for your guests' sake
So they never experience the heartbreak
Of discovering hors d'oeuvre
They've declared "so superb"
To be nothing but leftover rice cakes.

I'm posting this one from 35,000 feet in the air! Finals are over, I'm alive and well, and I'm headed to New York to see old friends and remind myself what being cold feels like.

I've missed New York so much in the past few months -- more than I ever thought I would. There's something unparalleled about the city that's, for me, much more specific and personal than heavenly pizza or efficient public transportation. (Although I've missed those, too.) Maybe it's these vagabond shoes talking, but I will always associate New York with the spirit of striking out and finding a dirty old overpopulated maze to be absolutely breathtaking. It's a defiance that allows a broke college student to declare a posh metropolitan jungle her home and wonderland. It's a series of exhausting problem sets, terrible colds, and exigent personal dramas that have somehow turned into what will widely be regarded as "the best four years of [my] life." It's magic.

And in the spirit of New York, here are some straight-up swanky holiday hors d'oeuvre that I literally threw together with what was left in my kitchen post-finals. I had some leftover rice, a single egg, and a smattering of flavor experiments waiting to happen. But don't let my wide-eyed, nostalgia-induced, probably-romanticized love of New York fool you -- these rice cakes are really, really good.

Crispy Holiday Rice Cakes

Ingredients

1 cup cooked brown rice
1 large egg white
1 clove garlic, minced
handful parsley, chopped
1 tbsp organic peanut butter (optional*)
1 tsp soy sauce
1/2 tsp dijon mustard
juice from 1/4 lemon
1 tbsp olive oil
sriracha, to taste

Directions

Mix everything but the olive oil and sriracha in a small bowl.

Heat the olive oil in a pan over medium-high heat. When hot, drop 2- to 3-inch clumps of the mixture onto the pan.

Press down on each clump with a heat-resistant spatula. Cook flattened cakes for 2-3 minutes on each side, until brown and crispy.

Serve with sriracha. Serves 1-2 as a snack, 4-5 as an hors d'oeuvre.

*These also taste great without the peanut butter -- I tried them both ways, and can't conclusively say which version I like better.

Portable Dessert

2010-11-30T15:00:00.001-08:00

A sandwich is quite easily defined.
A slice of bread or two, you'll always find.
Beyond that, though, it's anything you want--
A holder for your favorite things combined.

It's only fitting that this month of portable foods be sandwiched by two sandwich poems. Also, that it ends with dessert. I've had many a well-rounded meal this month, and many of those have been rounded out by that oh-so-important course at the top of the food pyramid.

Too much dessert is no good, obviously. But there are times -- final exam times, sick-at-home-because-the-weather-in-LA-is-confused times -- when it's downright necessary. And when it's quasi-healthy and can be mistaken for breakfast, it doesn't need an excuse.

P.S. What is that acrostic, you say? It's the rhyme scheme for this month's rubaiyat. [Insert pun about well-rounded meals and coming full-circle here.]

Dessert Sandwich

Ingredients

2 slices sandwich bread (I used whole wheat)
1/2 banana, sliced
1/4 cup Raisin Bran
peanut butter
Nutella

Directions

Spread the peanut butter on one slice of bread and cover with Raisin Bran. Spread the Nutella on the other slice and cover with banana. Press the two slices together. Smile!

Portable Pasta

2010-11-20T14:03:00.000-08:00

In just under a quarter of an hour*,
Take something made of water and some flour
And use your magic chef's skills to create
A filling meal -- just boil, stir, devour.

*I fear, my friend, that this might come across
As blasphemous, or maybe as a loss--
But when I was a kid, I never ate
A single pasta dish that needed sauce.

A lot of people scoff at the idea of jarred pasta sauce. I scoff at the idea of pasta sauce in general. This is not to say that I don't love pasta with sauce...I do. I just don't think every pasta dish requires it. It's a byproduct of my childhood -- my mom seldom made pasta, and when she did, we always had it plain, with only butter and salt for flavoring.

That's a little too plain for most people's tastes, but the two quick pasta dishes I bring you this week shouldn't be. They're intriguing and cohesive in flavor, pretty to look at, and conveniently sauceless. And, as is the case with everything I'm posting this month, they can be enjoyed both hot and cold.

Sauceless Pasta #1

Ingredients

2 cups whole wheat noodles
2 cups frozen French green beans
1/2 cup sliced almonds
1 lemon
1 tsp salt
crushed black pepper, to taste

Directions

Bring a medium pot of water to a boil, then add the noodles, green beans, and salt and wait until cooked (about 7-8 minutes). While waiting, throw the almonds in a pan and toast on the stovetop for about a minute.

Strain the noodles and beans, combine in a bowl with the almonds and juice from the lemon, and sprinkle with pepper and lemon zest. Serves 1-2.

Sauceless Pasta #2

Ingredients

2 cups whole grain rotini
4 cups frozen chopped spinach
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups cherry tomatoes
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp salt

Directions

Bring a medium pot of water to a boil, then add the rotini, spinach, and salt and wait until cooked (about 8-9 minutes).

While waiting, heat 1 tbsp olive oil in a pan over medium heat. Saute the garlic until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add the cherry tomatoes and stir.

Strain the rotini and spinach, and combine in a bowl with the garlic, tomatoes, and remaining tbsp olive oil. Serves 1-2.

Portable Foodie Cred

2010-11-12T17:36:00.000-08:00

Atop the list of Most Pretentious Grains
Sits quinoa, unpronounceable, which feigns
A fancy smile, but actually belongs
In normal weekday salads, sides, and mains.

Don't be afraid of quinoa! Its name on a restaurant menu is pretty much guaranteed to raise the price of each item by a few bucks, but when you get over the twelve-dollar price tag on your "Chef's Healthy Andean Grain Salad," you'll realize it's just a bunch of very normal chopped-up things mixed together, and that quinoa is a grain just like any other grain.

And just like any other grain, quinoa can be purchased cheaply, prepared quickly, and enjoyed often. The only thing that sets it apart is its nutritional value -- it's a great source of iron and gluten-free fiber, and despite being vegan- and vegetarian-friendly, it's a complete protein.

So. Quinoa isn't just for classy restaurants and upscale health-food delis. It's not just for patronizing gourmands and pushy vegans. Quinoa is for the common man! So get out there, throw some quinoa and veggies in your rice cooker, and call yourself a foodie.

Chef's Healthy Andean Grain Salad (...Kidding.)

Ingredients

1 cup quinoa, rinsed
10 stalks asparagus, chopped
5 oz baby carrots, chopped
2 tbsp lemon juice
1/2 tsp powdered vegetable broth*
black pepper, to taste
2 cups water

Directions

Put all ingredients in rice cooker. Press "on" button.

Serve alone, or with whatever your heart desires. (Serves 3-4.)

*If you want this dish to be gluten-free, make sure the powdered veggie broth does not contain gluten ingredients.

Portable Diwali

2010-11-06T15:50:00.000-07:00

No matter if you're Hindu, Jain, or Sikh,
The food you bring to work should shine this week.
Diwali mubaarak, your lunch should say,
In piquant shades of hing and fenugreek.

November marks a return to normalcy for me. October was different, drastic -- thirty straight days of processed snack foods, gross energy drinks, and exhaustive evening binges capped off by a glut of fun-sized candy bars and baked goods dyed orange.

My wacky new schedule kept me from eating as much or often as I usually do, and as a result, I was constantly hungry and searching for the closest, most convenient thing to devour. Lots of prepackaged junk gobbled hurriedly during bathroom breaks. Several protein shake-meal substitutions. And almost every night when I got home, two or three heavy dinners to make up for the ones I'd missed during the day. It was like someone told me eating less meant eating better, and I took it upon myself to disprove the myth.

Anyway, now I'm done shooting my film, and it's time to take care of myself again. I still have a weird schedule, but I'm resolving to start packing more substantial-but-healthy lunches, dinners, and snacks. If all goes as planned, Portable November will be a series of posts for very busy people -- tasty, nutritive, packable food that's also fast and simple to prepare. I think the rubaiyat reflect that nicely -- relatively easy to write and quick to read.

First up -- Portable Diwali! I like to think of this genre of American-Indian fusion as "New Indian." Here are two tasty, highly Tupperwareable New Indian meals in celebration of the festival of lights.

New Indian Lentil Salad

Ingredients

1/2 cup lentils, cooked
1/2 cup barley, cooked
1/4 cup cilantro, chopped
1 cup cherry tomatoes
1 tsp turmeric
1 tsp coriander
1 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp mustard seeds
1/2 tsp fenugreek
salt, to taste

Directions

Mix everything together. That's it.*

*The name of the game here is simplicity. I cook a bunch of grains and legumes in my rice cooker, put them in the fridge, and just scoop from various sealed containers and add spices to make mix-and-match meals during the week. Also, everything can be served either hot or cold, so no worries if you get to work/school and realize there's no microwave. Pretty convenient, isn't it?

Knockoff Roti Roll

Ingredients

leftovers from that other Indian dish I made
Greek yogurt
whole wheat tortillas

Directions

Scoop as much filling as desired onto a tortilla. Add a dollop of Greek yogurt. Roll up, microwave for about 20 seconds, and remember how awesome it was to live down the street from this place.

Sandwich

2010-11-03T18:45:00.000-07:00

Toasted slice of bread.
Awesome flavor explosion!!!
Toasted slice of bread.

Happy National Sandwich Day!

Sliced bread's sweet and all, but more often than not, it's the stuff that goes between two slices that makes a sandwich special, memorable, and worthy of a national foodie "holiday."

Some great sandwiches are built around the meat -- the mouth-watering East-Coast-deli roast beef of Liz Lemon's dreams, the cozily familiar turkey, the ever-versatile chicken. Sandwiches themselves are ever-versatile -- you've got your dainty little crustless teatime sandwiches, your middle-of-the-night greaseball abominations, and every variety of picnic sandwich under the sun. I've even got a solid breakfast-and-dessert sandwich recipe, but that's for another day.

Today, I give you a meatless sandwich that was built around a hodgepodge of flavors, cravings, and cultural influences. It's healthy and colorful and definitely unique. It's got elements of American, Indian, and Asian cooking. At its basest level, I suppose you could call it an egg sandwich...but really, it's a flavor-packed mélange of deliciousness squeezed between two slices of bread.

Scrambled Sandwich

Ingredients

5-6 cauliflower florets, chopped
1/4 red onion, diced
1/4 tomato, diced
1/2 cup lima beans
2 egg whites
3-4 tbsp sunflower oil
1 pinch turmeric
1 pinch cumin
1 pinch garlic powder
1 pinch cayenne pepper
crushed black pepper
salt
Sriracha
kung pao stir-fry sauce
4 slices sandwich bread (I used whole wheat)

Directions

Put the bread in the toaster. Mix the egg whites with salt and pepper to taste.

Heat the sunflower oil in a pan on medium. Add the turmeric, cumin, garlic powder, and cayenne pepper. Cook until fragrant, about 1 minute.

Add the cauliflower and red onion, and cook for 2-3 minutes. Then throw in the tomatoes and lima beans.

Pour the egg whites over the veggie mix and cook sort of like an omelette.

If you're like me, you'll have trouble flipping an omelette so heavy with veggies, and it'll turn into a messy egg scramble somewhere down the line. No worries. Egg scrambles taste just as good.

Now, to assemble the sandwiches! Start with one slice of toast.

Squeeze on a bit of Sriracha.

Add half the veggie egg scramble.

Top with stir-fry sauce, to taste.

Cover with the other slice of toast.

Cut in half (to be fancy).

Repeat as necessary! (This recipe makes 2 sandwiches.)

Taking Both Sides

2010-10-29T22:42:00.000-07:00

My craving for breakfast food's often confused and eclectiC
Until I am grasped by the impulse for baking with guilE.
For I have been known to just waver in every which manneR,
Found scratching my head in the baked-goods-and-cereal aislE.
I've found a solution to settle this awkward dilemmA--
Now, cereal muffins -- the product of error and triaL!

I shot my film this past weekend! I had an incredible crew of talented, dedicated fellow filmmakers who really worked as hard as they could to make our shoot a success. There's no baked good in the world that could possibly thank them enough, but I wanted to bake them something awesome anyway.

Since I started planning this film, I've gone through twelve boxes of cereal and seven boxes of cereal bars...apparently, pre-production really chips away at my self-control. I thought it'd be appropriate, though, to thank my crew with a riff on the Special K Cereal Bars that were my most recent comfort food.

I almost did homemade cereal bars, but you can't really give someone a cereal bar as a token of your gratitude. ...But what about a cereal bar masquerading as a muffin?

I found a recipe on Dine and Dish for cereal muffins, and after tweaking it a little for more breakfast-bar crunch and thank-you-treat sweetness, I had my cereal-bar muffin down. Despite its resemblance to a cupcake, this muffin is pretty healthy, and it's easy enough to make before breakfast (or after a weekend of film shoots).

Anyway. Thanks, amazing friends who helped on this shoot! And thanks to the friend who lent me his fancy DSLR for production stills (and later, pictures of muffins)...he didn't get a muffin, but he should've, because I'm not sure I can go back to taking food photos with my glitchy little point-and-shoot after this.

Cereal Bar Muffins

heavily adapted from Dine and Dish

Ingredients

1 egg
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 cup soy milk
1/4 cup organic honey
1 cup flour, sifted
1/4 cup brown sugar, packed
3 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 cups Special K Red Berries
8 tsp Betty Crocker Praline Crunch Ice Cream Topping

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease 8 muffin cups.

In a medium-sized bowl, beat egg, and whisk with oil, milk, and honey. (A hand mixer will help with the sticky nature of the organic honey.)

Add the flour, brown sugar, baking soda, salt, and cereal.

Mix until flour is moist.

Pour batter into muffin cups. Fill each cup about 3/4 full.

Top each cup with 1 tsp Praline Crunch.

Bake for about 22 minutes, until edges are cereal-bar crispy and a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean.

Distribute to amazing people. (Serves 8.)

Radish

2010-10-22T12:30:00.000-07:00

Bitter, boorish root
Touched by salt's complaisant hand
Seems a softer thing.

So a couple days ago, film school made me depressed for the first time. There's no real cause for alarm -- my classes have been great, my first project's on track to shoot this weekend, and despite what they say about film school, I've still found time to have a little outside life (!) here and there. It's just that we watched The Deer Hunter, and I'd never seen it before, and there were a couple scenes I couldn't quite get through without tears streaming down my face.

It sounds a little artsy and exclusionary, but I've really been learning how to watch films these past few weeks, and that's had a considerable influence on how I connect to them as an audience member. The Deer Hunter is intense and distressing in and of itself, so for me, watching and connecting to it was an overwhelming experience...an experience that lingered on way past the ending credits. It didn't help that when we got out of the screening room, it was still gray and rainy, like the afflictive rain of the movie's Vietnam. We missed lunch. I was completely drained. I thought for sure I'd go the rest of the day in a disconsolate stupor.

But at the end of the day, I went home to rehearse with my actors, and just getting to know them and their characters made me feel better. Best of all, though, going home meant getting to spend time with my parents. I haven't done that in a while -- been together with loved ones in a warm place for the evening. My mom hung out in my room as I prepped it for this weekend's shoot. We talked about The Deer Hunter; she'd seen it before, but couldn't remember much about it except that it had "the man with the thing on his face" (that's Robert De Niro). I laughed a lot. By the time I went back to my apartment, I wasn't shell-shocked at all; I'd just seen a really good, impactful movie, and I was psyched to be making my own.

The study of film can be a painful, hard, exhausting thing. But when tempered by restorative elements, it can be wonderful -- a reminder that our movies speak to others, a technical example, an artistic inspiration. And I know it's a stretch, but radishes are the same way. Pretty on the surface. Kind of peppery. Kind of bitter. Kind of plain. Not quite worth the effort of picking and scrubbing and slicing unless placed in the right context.

There's a simple, traditional way of preparing raw radishes, which is to slice them up, put them on generously buttered French bread, and sprinkle them with sea salt. I wanted something healthy, and I didn't have French bread on hand, so I used red pepper hummus and toast instead. The resultant flavors and textures -- creamy, crunchy, peppery, fresh-and-salty-radish-y -- played off each other in a happy way, and were a real testament to how salt brings out the best in ugly-duckling foods.

Radish-Hummus Sandwiches

inspired by the traditional French preparation

Ingredients

1 bunch/bag organic radishes
1 container red pepper hummus
sliced bread (I used multigrain sandwich bread)
coarse sea salt
black pepper

Directions

Wash the radishes, cut into thin slices, and sprinkle with sea salt, letting sit to absorb the flavor. Toast the bread. Spread as much hummus as you'd like on the toast. Arrange the radishes on top. Sprinkle with black pepper.

Rain Bake

2010-10-15T18:48:00.000-07:00

In Southern California, rain is rare.
So rare, in fact, that if it ever pours,
Los Angelans will panic and declare
That it's not safe to drive or go outdoors.

But, trapped inside, I find a new delight--
The kitchen counters gloominess outside.
The oven warms; rich spices do invite
Attempts at recipes I've not yet tried.

Fresh baking smells might lead you to deduce
I'm prepping for some kind of holiday.
The truth? A cake is simply my excuse
To make your stormy day a bit less gray.

By bringing friends together, food's endowed,
With silver lining, every dark rain cloud.

Having recently spent time on both sides of the equator, I've had the unusual pleasure of experiencing all four seasons in a one-month time span. However, this month's biggest meteorological anomaly hasn't been snow one day and sun the next -- it's been plain and simple rain.

I really like the rain! Taking walks in balmy SoCal showers and exuberantly riotous mid-afternoon downpours makes me happy. Today, though, the rain is wimpy and chilly and halfhearted, too tired to try. Umbrellas are taken out, then put away, then taken out again. Kids in sweatshirts draw up their hoods and shoulders. A girl in a sundress walks by looking cold and confused. Everything is desaturated in color and not-quite-saturated in water.

Today is the perfect kind of day for a Rainy Day Cake. A special pick-me-up, a spontaneous "be happy, friend," a digital "I miss you" (...an apology for neglecting the food blog -- I'm making a movie; I hope you understand!). Because it's my boyfriend's favorite, carrot cake is the just-because dessert I present to you today. Because I like creative food, it's got complementary layers and smiley-face icing. Because it's Pinktober, that smiley-face icing is pink.

Be happy, friend!

Rainy-Day Carrot Cake
adapted from Inside the Kaganoff Kitchen

Ingredients for Cake

3 cups carrots, washed
3 eggs
1/2 cup soy milk
1/4 cup orange juice
3/4 cup vegetable oil
2 cups flour, sifted
2 tsp baking soda
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 tsp salt
2 tsp vanilla extract
3 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1 cup walnuts, chopped (I didn't do this, but I should've!)

Ingredients for Pinktober Frosting

8 oz light cream cheese
1/4 cup unsalted butter
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp rosewater extract
1.5 cups confectioners' sugar
6-8 drops red food coloring

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Put the carrots in a blender, and blend briefly until you have small, grated-like pieces with a little carrot juice and mush. This saves tons of grating time, but be careful not to blend too much, or it'll become baby food.

Mix together the eggs, soy milk, orange juice, oil, granulated sugar, and vanilla. Then gradually add the carrots, flour, baking soda, salt, and 2 tsp cinnamon. (Also, the walnuts. Why did I forget the walnuts.)

Grease a 9-inch round cake tin and pour in half of the batter. Bake for about 35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean. While baking, mix the nutmeg, cloves, and 1 tsp cinnamon into the remaining batter.

After the first layer bakes, remove it from the cake tin and repeat with the remaining batter (or bake both layers at the same time if you have the luxury of 2 round pans). Let cool.

For the frosting, soften the cream cheese and butter, then combine with the vanilla and rosewater extract using a hand mixer. Beat in the confectioners' sugar. Apply liberally to the assembled layer cake, reserving 1/3 cup for decoration.

When you're ready to decorate, mix the food coloring into the reserved frosting, scoop into a ziplock bag, cut a little hole in one corner, and go crazy.

Presentation

2010-09-27T01:05:00.000-07:00

I can only conclude
That no matter the food,
It's a little bit rude
To serve something poo-hued.

I had one day without Tupperware this week. I've been assembling all these microwave-friendly lunches and dinners for eating between classes, and they've been very good, but getting to cook something meant to be eaten off a plate was the special occasion at hand.

So I made this really simple Indian dish based on the ingredients I had in my fridge. I finally got to apply my Bhakti training! The end result was beautifully aromatic, but -- how do I put this lightly? -- it, uh, looked like a turd on a plate.

Turns out dark brown lentils, light brown chickpeas, dark green spinach, and a whole bunch of brownish spices don't cut it, looks-wise. And I'll eat anything if it tastes good, but this was a special occasion, and I really wanted to savor it. So I chopped up some mini bell peppers, fixed my presentation problem, and was both visually and viscerally satisfied.

Visually Appealing Lentils, Chickpeas, Spinach, and Peppers

Ingredients (serves 2)

3-4 tbsp sunflower oil
1 tsp pepper
1 tsp turmeric
1 tsp coriander
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp garlic powder
1/2 tsp ginger powder
1/2 tsp mustard seeds
1/2 tsp fenugreek
1 cup lentils, cooked
1 cup chickpeas, cooked
4 cups spinach leaves, washed
3-4 mini bell peppers, chopped

Directions

Heat the sunflower oil in a pan over medium heat.

Add all the spices! Stir and cook for about 1 minute, until they start getting fragrant.

Add the chickpeas, lentils, spinach, and a dash of water if they're too dry. Saute for 7-8 minutes, until the spinach is wilted and the lentils are a bit mushy.

Sprinkle with the bell peppers (you can saute those, too, if you want), and serve with rice or naan.

Goodbye to Breakfast

2010-09-17T02:18:00.000-07:00

Goodbye to Breakfast,
To lovely warm bread crust,
To coffee enjoyed to the dregs;

Adiós a muchas cosas,
Aux terrines et mimosas,
And, of all nationalities, eggs.

Oh, eggs! Poached and boiled,
Coddled, baked, fried, and oiled,
Universal, sustaining, and quick;

Slow enough, though, to savor,
I recall with a quaver.
With slight sorrow, my lips do I lick...

My brief moment of mourning
For the meal of the morning
Now displaced by a need to sleep in.

I can hardly believe it, but I've officially started film school. The thought incites an...odd feeling, to say the least. After years of going to school to fiddle with equations and prove theorems and derive universally correct explanations for things, I now spend my days playing with cameras and making up stories and searching for my very own, very original narrative voice.

That last part's gonna keep me busy for a while. It hasn't even been a full school week, but I can foresee warm, gloriously lazy sit-down breakfasts becoming a thing of the past. Photographing food in natural daylight, too -- I haven't even been home to cook while the sun is up, and, in fact, was so tired after our later evening classes that I ate cereal for dinner a couple times this week.

And you know what? I don't mind one bit. It's true, I love cereal with all my heart...but this? This maddening whorl of art and technology and awesomely eccentric professors and ten-minute catnaps and fellow students who'll soon be so close and warnings about time commitments and tongue-in-cheek advice about saying goodbye to friends and loved ones every which way? I love it so much more.

Nonetheless, I resolve to find ways to stay in touch with the world outside film. I want to make films about that world -- for people in that world -- and I'm not sure it's possible to do that honestly if I become too far removed from it. I might be giving up an awful lot of stuff in the next four years. One of those things will surely be cooking and posting as regularly as I was this summer. But consider this an embracement of change, an eager statement of intent, and an homage to the breakfast days of yore.

Chilly Edamame Eggs

chilly as in chill and relaxed -- not, you know, cold

Ingredients

3 free-range egg whites
1/8 cup shelled edamame
4-5 cherry tomatoes, sliced in half
1/2 tsp soy sauce
cracked black pepper, to taste
a dash chili oil
olive oil

Directions

Beat the soy sauce and pepper into the egg whites.

Mix the chili oil with just enough olive oil to cover a frying pan. Heat on medium-low. Pour the egg whites in and, as they cook, push the cooked edges towards the middle of the pan with a spatula. Wait until the bottom side is halfway cooked (1-2 minutes), and sprinkle the edamame and tomatoes on top.

Wait another 30 seconds or so, flip, and cook the other side over medium heat (I like the variety in texture the fried crispiness provides...keep your flame on low if you'd prefer softer eggs) for 1-2 minutes. Consume at a leisurely pace.

Spirulina

2010-09-08T22:20:00.001-07:00

It might taste like grass
But all children will eat it
If it is bright green.

I'm back in the States! Getting over the jet lag was easy, but getting through the thousands of e-mails that have accumulated in my inbox since I stopped having regular internet access is less so. So I'll put them off a little bit longer by writing a little bit about green stuff.

Green means spring -- and in my last days on the farm, I got to see winter give way to spring with my own two eyes. Flowers blooming, new seedlings in the garden, baby goats being born...the whole shebang. And as much as the idea of spring gets tired out always attaching itself to things like budding flora and clean rebirths, every moment of my country spring filled me with absurdly naive, wide-eyed wonder. Baby goats will do that to you.

Also, green means new! And in a time when I'm feeling slightly-to-very nostalgic about everything -- leaving engineering, leaving New York, leaving Australia -- I could use a reminder that I'll be embarking on new adventures soon enough. My "first day of school" is in four days! So many new things to learn and old friends to meet...no matter how many first days of school I've had (a lot), they always make me feel a bit like a giddy little kid.

And so, I present this healthsome not-just-for-springtime smoothie that giddy little kids love -- because come on, it's bright freaking green.

Green Smoothie

another one from the Tribe of Asher

Ingredients

1.5 frozen bananas
flesh from 1 avocado
1 cup multivitamin juice (or any juice, really)
1 tbsp spirulina

Directions

Blend all ingredients together. Soak up the healthiness. (Makes 1-2 servings.)

On Cooking for a Commune

2010-09-01T08:42:00.000-07:00

Well, measuring quantity's never a cinch--
Just what is a dash or a smidge or a pinch?
Trade ounces for gallons, swap teaspoon for cup,
And generally bulk that ol' portion size up.
...Also, doing the dishes sucks.

When I leave the increasingly familiar Sydney suburbs to work on an organic farm in the countryside, I expect many things to take me by surprise. I expect to be stunned by the beauty of the country landscape. I expect to be astonished by the work ethic of farmers who build their lives around taking from and giving to the land. I expect to be amazed by the feelings I feel when I eat something out of the ground, care for a farm animal, and commune with nature for the first time. Expectations aside, I'm still plenty surprised to find myself living in a commune of over forty other people who call themselves the Tribe of Asher.

This is neither the place nor time to get into the specifics of their spiritual foundation, suffice it to say that they're part of an international confederation called the Twelve Tribes -- not quite Christian, not quite Jewish, not quite hippie, but exhibiting serious signs of each. The members of the community do, in fact, work on an organic farm; they build and garden, raise chickens and goats, and make their own bread and yogurt. The bakery is their livelihood. The bakers support the entire community by selling their organic wholemeal breads at farmers' markets, and, after a fourteen-hour day preparing mixes, forming loaves, and cleaning, I can attest to the difficulty of the job. But just as admirable as the bakers' work is the job of the women in the community -- they're responsible for preparing meals and snacks for dozens of hungry mouths, every day, very many times a day.

On the Sabbath, they prepare an especially delectable set of meals. A woman named Yael, whom I've come to know as a wonderful cook and conversationalist, teaches me how to make the first meal of the day -- cake for breakfast! It's a healthy carob cake served in thick slices with homemade yogurt and lemon myrtle honey, and tastes absolutely decadent compared to the savory millet breakfast we usually eat. The original recipe is hilariously community-sized; it calls for thirty-two eggs, and yields eight heavy trays of cake. Here, I present a recipe of more moderate proportions.

Truly Communal Carob Cake
original recipe from Yael of Asher

Ingredients

1/2 cup milk or yogurt
170 mL oil
250 g sugar
2 eggs
1 tbsp vanilla essence
1/2 cup oats
3/4 cup water
1/2 cup carob powder
250 g flour
1 tsp bicarbonate soda
1/4 cup coconut flakes

Directions

Preheat oven to 180 degrees Celsius (356 degrees Fahrenheit).
Beat yogurt, oil, sugar, eggs, and vanilla essence together.
Boil the water. Stir into oats, and bar mix until creamy.
Combine yogurt mixture and oat mixture.
Mix carob powder, flour, and bicarbonate soda into yogurt-oat mixture.
Pour into baking pan, sprinkle with coconut flakes, and bake for 30-40 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean.

Kangaroo Two Ways

2010-08-29T01:09:00.000-07:00

Kangaroo, the other red meat,
Always grilled on blazing heat,
Never tender 'nough to eat...
Gotta try it raw -- it's neat!
And in soup, a harder feat.
Really let it stew, don't cheat;
Oh, then your heart will skip a beat--
On hearty 'roo you'll dine. Dude, 1337.

I'm about to digress unabashedly into the story of my Six Foot Track adventure, but eventually, I'll get around to making my main point, which is that Aussie hospitality is rock-solidly awesome. I could be wrong, or I could just be adjusting to life outside a big city, but I have yet to meet an Australian who wasn't confoundingly nice.

Okay. Here we go.

Unexpected flooding and expected-but-nonetheless-painful knee problems see me stranded in the mountains, a roaring river where a path should be, with a probable stress fracture and a setting sun. After attempting to cross the river at many points in many creative ways, I decide to backtrack and try to find people or a campsite before nightfall. I get to the only vacation lodge in the area, and am highly disappointed to find it completely empty and locked up...but highly excited to find very weak, fleeting patches of glorious cell phone reception. After calling the police and realizing my call will always be dropped before I can explain my situation, I spend the next two hours trying to get a text message out asking people to contact the police or park rangers for me. I finally manage to send the text to every single Australian cell phone number I have -- a grand total of five.

Then I collect a bunch of supplies for warmth, injury treatment, sustenance, and protection, lock myself in the lodge outhouse, and prepare to wait out a long, cold, stormy night sitting on a toilet with a floor mat wrapped around my legs. I've never been so simultaneously freezing and ecstatic as when, not three hours later, I hear a man's voice yell, "HELLO?" from the dark. I yell back as loudly as I can! I limp out of my home base and see flashlights! I hobble towards the lights, and they sweep and scan towards me, and I meet the police and paramedics happily in the middle of nowhere.

The paramedics who drive me back in their four-wheel-drive ambulance (really) are a kind-spirited married couple named John and Sue. They wrap me in warm blankets, give me muesli bars and juice, and make excellent conversation. We talk the whole way to the Oberon Hospital, as the wind picks up noisily and the rain comes down outside. They've been on call for the evening, and I've interrupted their dinner with my distress call, but they good-naturedly answer my questions about Australian cuisine. When I ask about the best way to enjoy kangaroo, John says he prefers stew because it keeps the meat from getting too hard and chewy. When I ask for a recipe, he nearly shouts in a super-friendly Australian accent, "How you do the kangaroo stew, Sue?" Really.

A couple days later, at my first ultimate practice in the Southern Hemisphere, I meet another friendly couple -- my team captains, who'd called the police on my behalf without ever having met me in person. Once again, they surprise me with their kindness. I get to practice on crutches and basically just throw for a bit before sitting down and watching, but when practice ends, my new captains invite me to cancel my hostel reservation and stay with them for the night. Then, not only do they drive me around to see Wollongong's scenic spots, offer me tea and beer, and introduce me to good Australian pub rock and bad Australian television, but they make a hearty, warming minestrone soup completely from scratch for dinner. It makes me forget it's winter. It makes me forget I could be eating greasy bar food in a hostel, all by my lonesome.

That seals the deal. Before I leave my great aunt and uncle's to come work on a farm in Picton, I decide to thank them for their own overwhelming hospitality with a home-cooked meal. I make kangaroo two ways. Tartare, because I'm curious. And, of course, hearty and warming kangaroo stew from scratch.

Kangaroo Tartare

Ingredients

2 oz kangaroo steak
1/2 small white onion
1 tsp brown sugar
1 tsp olive oil
zest from 1/2 small orange
1 Asian pear
4-5 basil leaves
crushed black pepper
sea salt

Directions

Heat the olive oil in a pan. Finely dice the onion and cook over medium heat until soft and caramelized, about 20 minutes, adding the brown sugar midway. Remove from heat and cool.

Chop the kangaroo steak into very small pieces. In a small bowl, mix the kangaroo, caramelized onions, and orange zest, black pepper, and sea salt to taste.

Serve on slices of Asian pear, topped with some freshly chopped basil leaves and a sprinkling of orange zest.

Kangaroo Stew

Ingredients

1/2 lb kangaroo steak
1 white onion, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tbsp olive oil
4 carrots
1 parsnip
1 rutabaga (in Australia, they're called swedes)
2-4 potatoes
1 tomato, diced
1 bunch thyme
1 cup red wine (I used a Koonawarra cabernet sauvignon)
1.5 cups water
crushed black pepper
sea salt
1 tbsp flour

Directions

Heat the olive oil in a pan. Add the onion and cook over medium heat for about 3 minutes. Cut the kangaroo steak into bite-sized pieces, and add to the pan with the garlic. Cook until the steak is brown, about 6 minutes.

Wash, peel, and cut the remaining veggies. Place everything (kangaroo included) into a large pot with the tomatoes and thyme. Pour in the wine and water. Stir, bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Let cook, covered, for at least 1.5 hours (longer is better), stirring occasionally and adding salt and pepper to taste.

When cooked, pour out about 1 cup of the broth, mix in the flour, and stir back into the stew. Serve in wintertime to up to 8 friendly Aussies (or 4-5 really hungry friendly Aussies).

A note on the morality of eating kangaroo meat: Kangaroos are hunted for the specific purpose of keeping their population size down here; if they're left alone, they won't have enough resources to go around, and they'll starve. So base your eating choices on your own conscience, but if it helps, kangaroos are always free-range and never killed just so you can eat them.

Just Salad

2010-08-23T22:46:00.000-07:00

Are there clear lines between salads of fruits and vegetables?
Tables cleared and lined so often with both, soaked in dressing....
Sing, muse, of the rare no-dressing-added dish;
Dish, muse, on the flavors simplicity imparts--

"Parts fresh and natural form a whole
Wholesome without need for further tampering!
Ring out the newfangled, ring in the wholesome...
Some foods are best enjoyed the way they are."

I went for a run last week. It was my first marathon-length run ever, it was along the notoriously challenging Six Foot Track through Australia's Blue Mountains, and it ended in a police rescue...but more on that later. The fact of the matter is, despite all the unexpectedly rocky uphill miles, despite wades across icy creeks and skids-to-stops before terrifying drop-offs, I was still moved more than anything by the untouched majesty of the bush and mountains. I saw entire forests, windblown and growing at severe angles from imposing mountain faces. I saw otherworldly rock formations, walls built for extreme climbing, caves like mouths of monsters. I saw wild bulls and kangaroos and wombats, enormous and strong and beautiful in their freedom. In short, I finally got to experience the Movie Nature Moment in real life -- Chris McCandless' overwhelmed reverence in Into the Wild, Fantastic Mr. Fox's awed salute to the truly wild wolf. Even when I ended up camped out in a deserted outhouse after sundown, freezing cold and wet and injured, I couldn't help but notice the grandeur of the tallest trees shielding me from the wind, swaying and reaching way up into the sky, falling just short of the brightest constellations. These were things unmarred by man, and necessarily so.

I wasn't going to write about this impromptu fruit salad I threw together in Cairns -- it's really only made from fruit and salad, and it's even more absurdly simple than last week's eggplant -- but this week's adventures have renewed my appreciation for keeping it simple and natural. If I'd had more than three ingredients at my disposal, this salad would not have turned out as well. It would've had more variety of flavor and texture, yes. But the dish at its base -- no dressing or croutons or nuts or garnish, just incredibly fresh grown things -- lacked nothing. Like the vast and mighty Australian mountains, it was perfect untouched.

Literal Fruit Salad
just fruit and salad...really

Ingredients

1 box fresh organic strawberries
1 large tangelo
1/4 cup each green oak lettuce, baby beet, spinach, & tatsoi

Directions (not that you need 'em)

Wash all ingredients. Cut strawberries. Squeeze tangelo juice over salad mixture, add strawberry slices, and toss.

Strawberries and tangelos are both in season in Queensland right now, which is what made this stupidly simple salad so stupidly good.

Eggplant, or If My Dad Were Dave Chappelle

2010-08-18T23:27:00.000-07:00

If my dad were Dave Chappelle,
Eggplant would serve as his Grape Drink.
The humor would be hard to sell,
But he could make it in a blink.
"White people, they have Healthy Food,"
He'd joke, "and some of that is valid.
But I like veggies purple-hued--
And what the **** is salad?"
With purple vegetable in tow,
He'd be on Comedy Central late
And soon, his audience would know
Just how to cook that Chinese plate.
For just one line'd explain it all,
The dish his daughter loves a ton.
"That's the ingredients," he'd call,
"Sugar, soy sauce, purple." Done.

Finally...after days of sightseeing, snorkeling, and skydiving in Cairns, back to internet access for a few hours! I'm only feeling a little apologetic for the hurried writing and less-than-brilliant pictures, because I'm posting these things WHILE ON VACATION IN AUSTRALIA. So if you haven't already, let the expectation-lowering commence.

I'm confused.

It all started in 2008, when I went to my first free vegetarian cooking class hosted by Columbia's Bhakti Club. I'm pretty sure I started attending because that was the school year I wanted to go without spending any money on food, but I quickly became enamored of the club and its hosts, Dave and Pandit, two incredibly friendly and kindhearted Hindu monks who genuinely delight in sharing their food and company with students. They remind me of the true definition of "good people." They never try to push their beliefs onto club members, and they are inconceivably welcoming even to the hungry college kids that get to cooking classes late and just line up for the free meal at the end. At the time, I felt I had to do something to counterbalance that increasing number of moochers (yes, a bit paradoxical in the context of my free-food thing)...and so, with a nod to Dave and Pandit's compassionate vegetarianism, I started eating vegetarian on Tuesdays, the days of our cooking club meetings.

To this day, I still try to take a brief moment to think grateful thoughts before eating meals, as we did before every Bhakti dinner. But Tuesday vegetarianism gave rise to other experiments in eating compassionately. I started by eating meat only when I really craved it, then realized I hardly ever craved any meat besides seafood. I even went vegan for three months, but with that, I realized that I sometimes needed animal products for my health and happiness, and that veganism couldn't be my long-term plan. Most recently, I've gone back to eating meat only when it's necessary and I can't find veggie protein substitutes, but with the added condition of it being wild-caught or humanely raised.

As there aren't many affordable free-range options at home, this has resulted in my unintentionally going pescatarian since July 4th. But before I left for Cairns last week, in the tradition of classic Chinese dinners, I prepared a hot dish and my great aunt prepared a cold one; the hot dish was my dad's "famous" eggplant, and the cold one was free-range beef.

Thus began my brief but puzzling encounter with beef and conscience. I was completely fine with eating free-range animals in theory, but when it came time to do it, I hesitated. I ate some sprouts and green onions. I ate bowlfuls of my own eggplant until my relatives joked that I should leave some for them to try. Then, my great aunt started pointedly urging me to eat some of her dish, and it was a matter of courtesy and pride, and I could hesitate no longer. So I tried it -- ten thin slices of traditionally prepared Chinese wu xiang niu rou ("five-spices beef") -- and it was damn good.

I went back to munching on eggplant as soon as I'd had a sufficient taste of the beef, which is, I think, why I ended up not feeling badly at all about eating the meat. It was as delicious in moderation as it would've been in excess. I have yet to figure out exactly where to go from here, but I think I'll be able to steer clear of any more deer-in-the-headlights food dilemmas as long as I keep following my own morality...and appreciating the meat I do eat. Plus, the supplementary eggplant dish I copied from my dad was filling, homey, and so simple it hardly requires a recipe.

Daddy's Famous Eggplant
a ridiculously simple Chinese tradition

Ingredients

1 eggplant
3 tbsp dark soy sauce
1.5 tbsp brown sugar
1.5 tbsp ginger root, chopped
1/8 cup olive oil

Directions

Wash the eggplant, and cut into pieces -- diagonally, so much of the flesh of the vegetable is visible.

Heat the olive oil in a wok over medium heat. Add the ginger and cook until fragrant, about 1 minute.

Add the eggplant. Stir and cover. Checking and stirring occasionally, let cook until soft-but-not-too-soft, about 15 minutes. Pour away any water that may have come out of the eggplant during cooking.

Add the sugar and soy sauce. Stir and taste...clearly, you might adjust quantities based on your tastes and the size of the eggplant.

Tim Tam Slam

2010-08-12T17:02:00.000-07:00

Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am--
Thus is the way with the Tim Tam Slam.
It started with a cookie sweeter than jam,
Biscuits loving chocolate like Jim and Pam.
Along came a beverage warm as Siam,
Fresh and wholesome as a lamb
And smooth as River Tam...
And into my cup my Tim Tam swam.

What they say about Tim Tams is no scam;
That they double as straws is far from a sham!
Both ends bitten off of my sweet Tim Tam--
Oh, that sweet Tim Tam that was sweeter than jam--
Warm soy milk became a battering ram,
Crashing at the head of a melting chocolate dam...
And then, in an instant, the dam broke. Damn!

I reveled in the flavors, happy as a clam,
And even now that I'm done, I'm smiling, I am!
How many Tim Tams could I cram
Into one sipping 'fore my drink went on the lam?
Nine cookie-straws in all, a tasty traffic jam.
I say this as a challenge, a fun little exam--
Can you beat me in the number that you jam,
The number that you jam into one sipping, madame?
Because I want you -- this, I say like Uncle Sam--
I want you to try a Tim Tam Slam.

As soon as I got to Australia, my new friend and fellow foodie Diane urged me from the States to try a Tim Tam Slam. Staying with relatives who only speak Chinese, who refer to the local Chinatown simply as "town," I'd found myself having Chinese cultural experiences left and right, and was jonesing for an Australian one. So the first opportunity I got to go into "town" with my great aunt, I picked up some Classic Dark Tim Tams, brewed up some fresh homemade soy milk, and had a little Chinese-Aussie fusion based entirely upon the Wikipedia article about Tim Tam Slams. My first two Tim Tam Slams went swimmingly. And then on the third, I did something gross but good and finished the entire package of Tim Tams by the time my cup was empty.

Classic Dark Tim Tams are like if an Oreo and a sugary dark chocolate bar had a baby, but were somehow completely cool with you eating that baby. Fresh homemade soy milk is unlike any store-bought soy milk you've ever tasted. The former can now be purchased in the States, and the latter is ridiculously easy to make...if you have a soy milk maker. If not, I feel like the sky's the limit when it comes to delicious Tim Tam-hot beverage pairings (Choco Cappuccino + chai latte! Chewy Caramel + butter beer! Mint Crisp + anything!), but this one was definitely a keeper.

Aussie-Asian Tim Tam Slam

Ingredients

1-2 (or 11) Classic Dark Tim Tams
1 cup soy beans

Directions

Soak the soy beans in a bowl of water overnight. Then, twenty minutes before drinking time, place them in a soy milk maker with water, and cook according to your particular machine's instructions (i.e., press a button and wait).

When done cooking, pour the liquid through a sieve to remove soy bean skins.

Bite off both ends of a Tim Tam. Place in a cup of hot soy milk, suck, and enjoy until Tim Tam has disintegrated. Repeat with as many Tim Tams as necessary.

Cilantro

2010-08-10T04:26:00.000-07:00

Just like your name, you start out quick
Pick yourself up out of backs of minds
Explode a little
Then linger--
ci-laaaawn-tro.

Some say you taste like soap to them
What a shame, to taste soap where you are.
To me, you taste like earth
Zest and herb and essence all in one
One sprig.

Arrived in Sydney this morning. Don't know how much of the fourteen-hour flight I spent sleeping, but it must not have been a lot, because this is what I found jotted down on the loose sheets of scrap paper in my carry-on:

IN-FLIGHT ENTERTAINMENT WITHOUT HEADPHONES: AN UNINFORMED REVIEW

IRON MAN 2: 'Splosions. RDJ still awesome.

MAN V. FOOD: Spicy chili. Gratuitous amounts of it. An Abe Lincoln costume (not gratuitous).

INTO THE UNIVERSE WITH STEPHEN HAWKING: Aliens. Stephen Hawking still awesome.

JUST WRIGHT: Queen Latifah's happiness hinges on a man's affection. For the most part, he is satisfactorily affectionate, and so we get to watch Queen Latifah be blissfully happy for two hours. Also, practice reading lips, because close to 80% of the lines in this movie are predictable.

DATE NIGHT:

And that's when I put on my headphones. I don't remember writing a lot of that.

Aaaanyway. I'm staying with my great aunt and great uncle in Pymble; it rained all day, and I spent most of the day feeding the wild parrots outside the house, doing warranty-voiding things to my iPhone, and relearning Chinese. I haven't spoken this many consecutive sentences in Mandarin or Shanghainese in years, and I'm sure the case is the same with my relatives and English. We whiled away the hours talking about everything from cookies to Buddhism, stumbling doggedly through broken grammar and forgotten words.

At some point, my great aunt asked me what I like to eat, and we somehow had a lengthy conversation about vegetarianism and humanely raised farm animals. Turns out we're on the same page when it comes to eating meat -- it's tasty, but too sad to eat if it's spent its entire life being mistreated. She tells me Australia has a lot of free-range animals and animal products, though, so maybe I'll try some of those over the course of my trip.

Then, she asked what I like to cook. Chinese or American? Oil or butter? Dinner or dessert? I thought, simple things. Flavorful things. Things fit for a rainy day. And this is what popped into my head.

Garlic-Cilantro Fried Rice

Ingredients

4 cloves garlic, minced
1.5 cups cilantro, chopped
3 cups mixed brown and white rice, cooked
1/4 cup olive oil
2 tbsp soy sauce

Directions

Heat olive oil in a wok. Add rice, making sure to break up into clumps and coat evenly with oil. Cook for 2-3 minutes.

Clear a space in the wok and add garlic; cook until fragrant, about a minute. Mix into rice and add soy sauce. Cook until the rice on the edges of the pan is slightly crispy.

Mix in cilantro. Serve as an easy side dish that makes the most out of what naturally good ingredients have to offer.

MPFR

2010-08-07T23:46:00.000-07:00

Mostly prepared from recipes
Mass-produced for restaurants,
My peculiar food's refreshing--
Minted personally, fixed regardfully,
Miscellaneous parts forming results,
Mad planning finally realized....

Mmmm, perfect -- for real.
Manly pineapple fried rice
Makes proper farewells right.

Too much has been written about goodbyes for me to do them any justice. Goodbyes in poetry inspire foolhardy gestures or debilitating depression; in plays and films, they exude a sense of melancholic finality; in novels, they are singular turning points.

In my goodbyes, I am simply taken by surprise.

That's how it was when I said goodbye to my friend Paul last week, and it's also how it was when I said goodbye to my students this morning.

I've been working at an educational camp at Stanford for the past week*, teaching engineering (and ultimate) to a group of eighteen really quirky, individual middle schoolers, each and every one of which has found a way into my heart in some way. After our first class, I was pretty down on myself; the kids were so varied in age and maturity levels, and I didn't think there was any way I'd be able to give them all a positive learning experience in seven days' time. But as we got to know one another, I got to know myself as a teacher, and they got to know engineering and the power of invention as an expression of themselves. Yesterday, after our last class, many of my students came up to me and told me I was their favorite teacher. A few gave me gifts of lanyards and yarn necklaces. One kid -- a boy who'd spent most of his first class disinterestedly distracting others -- told me that he hated being made to go to school over the summer, and that he disliked any school subject that wasn't a sport, but that he'd enjoyed my class. I don't think I've ever been more happy at the end of a fourteen-hour work day.

Anyway, this morning after final presentations, the kids began the prodigious ritual of saying their camp goodbyes. There's a recent episode of This American Life called "Notes on Camp" that discusses several summer camp traditions in a wonderfully nostalgic way (definitely check it out), but one it misses is the very end of camp.** Even after a single week, my students trade phone numbers and addresses; they ask for my e-mail address, and get me to pose for pictures with them. We all sign each others' camp t-shirts like they're yearbooks -- mine says things like "U R the best teacher ever!!!" and "You are awesome! I hope your [sic] here next year!" and "You are the best ultimate frisbee person I know!!! :)" (That last one's my favorite, because one day, these kids will be ten times better than I'll ever be, but they have no idea.)

Everyone promises to keep in touch. Nobody wants to leave, or really feels as if an entire week has gone by already. When I bring those who've come from far away to the airport, I see them through their respective security checkpoints, and then they meet up again inside the airport to say goodbye again.

No matter how many times they say it, they won't realize it's actually over until they're alone again. Then they'll go back to their everyday lives -- they'll forget to write or e-mail, remember their other friends -- but camp will become a singular place and experience in their minds. They'll miss it during the year, watching next summer approach from impossibly far away, wishing they'd said goodbye better.

Before I left for Stanford, I had a farewell dinner for my friend Paul, who's joined the Air Force and leaving for Basic Training in Texas. He isn't going until September, but we have terrible timing, and I head to Australia tomorrow and don't get back until the day he leaves, several hours too late. I made a variation of one of his favorite dishes, pineapple fried rice (PFR)***. It's a meal that always reminds me of Los Angeles, of lazy summers spent paddling through waves at the beach until we are tired and hungry, and then of contented evenings spent carb-loading with PFR and beer.

I didn't realize we might never have another summer like that until I left. Alone again, I wish I'd said goodbye better. But I kind of think everyone might feel the same way...so I'll assume they know how much I'll miss them when I'm in Australia. HAGS, Paul and friends; U R 2 COOL 2 B 4GOTTEN.

*We had really limited internet access, and even more limited free time, so...that's why this took so long to post. Also, if this entire thing sounds like it was haphazardly jotted down in fifteen minutes by a sleep-deprived camp counselor, it's because it was.
**And here, I start employing the present tense à la Ira Glass. Thanks for letting me rip off your style, Ira.
***I messed this up a little when I made it -- the recipe was still in beta (read: in my head), and I cooked with too much marinade and pineapple juice, which resulted in rice that was mushier and starchier than I would've liked. But I'm presenting the recipe I would've used had I figured this dish out the first time around.

Manly Pineapple Fried Rice

Ingredients for Manly Steak

1 lb steak
3/4 cup Guinness
1/4 cup soy sauce
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tbsp Sriracha
1 tbsp chili oil
1 tbsp pepper
1/4 tbsp salt
1/4 cup brown sugar

Ingredients for PFR

2 tbsp oil
2 shallots, chopped
3 green onions, chopped
1 Mexican green chili, finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 each of red, orange, and yellow bell peppers
manly steak
6 cups mixed brown & white rice, cooked
1/2 cup cashews
1/4 cup frozen peas, thawed
1/2 cup dried cranberries
1 pineapple, cubed
1 cup cilantro, chopped
Sriracha and curry powder, to taste

Directions

Chop steak into bite-sized pieces, removing all fat and bones. Mix all remaining manly steak ingredients together; pour over steak and let marinate, refrigerated, for at least an hour.

Heat oil in wok. Stir-fry shallots, green onions, chili, and garlic briefly. Add the steak and stir-fry very briefly (even raw, it should be delicious and edible, and it'll cook more as you add the other ingredients in). Add bell peppers and rice; stir-fry until slightly crispy on the edges of the wok.

Add cashews, peas, cranberries, and pineapple. Stir-fry for a few moments longer.

Mix in cilantro, Sriracha, and curry powder. Serve in a hollowed-out pineapple for kicks.

The Perfect Tournament Food, Part 2

2010-07-29T15:48:00.000-07:00

So cookies are my chosen food
For munching on the sidelines,
But sometimes, I am in the mood
For different eating guidelines.
'Cause after several tournaments
Of cookies all the time,
I start to feel reborn, immense,
Like Buddha in his prime.
But still, I need my energy,
My protein and my fat.
So how do I go sugar-free,
Unprocessed -- raw, at that?
I take a look at frisbee past
When marks didn't exist,
Before we learned to run so fast
Or throw flicks from the wrist.
"The Hippie Era," some would say,
When tossing on the lawn
Was still the only way to play,
"Bring weed" a thought foregone.
Oh, how I'm glad the game evolved,
Became an actual sport!
But still, my food problem unsolved,
To hippies I resort.
I make some vegan power bars
From healthy, raw granola;
The nuts and berries are the stars,
The oats an old friend (hola!).
"Vegan?" Relax, they're still legit--
With chocolate flavor, too!
They're just to change it up a bit.
(Cookies, I still love you.)

I don't think eating cookies at tournaments will make me fat. I think four games of ultimate (that's like eight hours of sprinting) are more than enough to combat the damage from 5-6 measly little baked goods. And it's not about cutting carbs, either. When I brought these power bars to the San Diego women's tournament last weekend, these are the other things I consumed: 5 bagels, 2 veggie burgers, and 6 beers. Also, the power bars aren't exactly low-carb anyway.

No, this foray into raw foodism happened because, every so often, I start to feel unclean. I find myself snacking on so much processed food, especially when I'm traveling every weekend, and all my body craves is something base and raw and unsoiled. Sometimes, when I'm not playing ultimate or water polo, I accidentally spend a meal or two eating nothing but fruits and veggies and grains and uncooked tofu. Call it gross or boring if you want, but as much as I love indulging in the decadent, when I've indulged too much, I'm unwittingly drawn to clean, modest food.

So I made something raw and vegan this week, something without added sugar or heat. In essence, I just scavenged for ingredients around the kitchen, mashed them together in a pan, and let time bring out their flavors. The process reminded me of my conception of cooking as a child -- putting little foods that tasted good together to make one big food that tasted even better, then putting that in a fridge or oven somewhere until you were ready to eat it. The result, as well, recalled childhood, when the simplest handful of almonds or piece of fresh fruit could be enjoyed for what seemed like hours in the happy sun.

Raw Vegan Power Bars

Ingredients

1 1/2 bananas, sliced (preferably ripe)
1/2 cup shelled almonds
1/4 cup raisins
1/4 cup dried cherries
1/4 cup dried cranberries
2 tbsp cocoa powder
1 tsp cinnamon
5 oz all-natural peanut butter
1/4 cup sunflower seeds
1 1/2 cups rolled oats* **

Directions

Blend the bananas, almonds, raisins, cherries, cranberries, cocoa powder, and cinnamon with a food processor. At this point, if you're like me, you'll help yourself to an ample sample of the mashed mixture. It will be good.

Add the peanut butter, and mix until it's distributed uniformly. If you're like me, you'll have to try another spoonful at this point, just to make sure it's still tasty. (It will be.)

In a large bowl, add the sunflower seeds and oats to the "batter" and mix thoroughly until everything dry is coated.

After pausing to taste one last time, spread the mixture on a shallow baking pan, pressing with a flat, wooden spoon to make sure it's packed in enough. I only had big baking trays, so my mixture didn't cover the entire surface, but if you can help it, I think a small one would work better.

Refrigerate overnight, cut into bars, and distribute to happy teammates!

*If you want these bars to be gluten-free, make sure that you use oats that are specified "gluten-free;" normal oats are often processed near wheat or barley.

**Commenter Jecka points out that "rolled oats are not actually 'raw.' In order to make them rolled, they are steamed and lightly toasted. Basically, oat groats and steel-cut oats can be raw, but you have to read the packaging and/or ask the market." Oops, thanks for the info!

StarCraft Cake

2010-07-26T23:11:00.000-07:00

Right at midnight tonight, there'll be panic
As GameStops 'round the world become manic
With a retail debut--
Holy crap, StarCraft 2!--
Its appeal reaches 'cross the Atlantic.

In Korea, the frenzy will peak;
Eager gamers will cheer, shout, and shriek,
Copies (cradled with love)
In the avid hands of
Each and every respectable geek.

When they get home, they really should try
Adding sweets to their psi or supply
Baked goods raise APMs
And start internet memes*
Although, baby, this cake's not a lie.

It fills Terran with verve and elation,
Readies Protoss for carrier creation.
Chocolate makes it OP
(Other cakes say, "GG!"),
Rushing hydras to Zerg domination.

Dating a StarCraft fanboy has taught me many things in the past year, but one in particular -- StarCraft 2 is a big freaking deal. Over a year ago, TeamLiquid** started hosting these really creative game-themed contests, the winners of which would receive StarCraft 2 beta keys. The first one Albert (my boyfriend) ever told me about was a StarCraft cake-baking contest. At the time, I'd never even baked before, but when his birthday rolled around, I made a cake with some ready-to-go mix and tried my best to decorate it with the face of his favorite progamer. Albert appreciated the effort, but let's be real...the face I made out of sprinkles and brown sugar was hardly a worthy or accurate representation of Lee Jaedong. Also, it tasted kind of boring.

I've been waiting a whole year to try again. This time around, I made a big chocolate painting of Jaedong's face, and little ones of hydralisks, the coolest-looking component of the Zerg race. Then I tried to bake a simple chocolate cake from scratch. My first attempt failed -- I forgot to grease my new cake tin, so the whole cake collapsed when I tried to turn it onto a plate -- but I used the opportunity to create an even better and more delicious cake. The end result, decorated with sweet chocolate paintings, is best enjoyed with birthday drinks...or with the sounds of StarCraft 2 roaring through your headphones.

*I'm told I pronounce this word incorrectly...but I can't stop.
**For those uninitiated into the world of South Korea's national sport, TL is a forum for StarCraft enthusiasts at its most basic, and a fount of fascinating stories, contests, and life advice at its most extensive***.
***Those initiated into the extensive world of TL will appreciate the fact that this post's poem is in limerick form.

Dark Chocolate Strawberry Cake with Chocolate Paintings

heavily adapted from Citrus and Candy (and Eye Candy)

Ingredients

400 g bittersweet chocolate
50 g unsalted butter
12 extra-large eggs, separated
50 g granulated sugar (I couldn't find caster sugar)
1/2 cup strawberries, washed
1/2 cup strawberry yogurt
1/2 cup Boston Cream Pie yogurt
white and dark chocolate (for chocolate paintings)
strawberry preserves

Directions

Prepare chocolate paintings per Eye Candy's instructions. Refrigerate until ready to use.

Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Grease a 10-inch springform cake tin.

Melt 360 g chocolate over low heat. Add the butter, stirring gently until completely mixed in.

In a separate bowl, whisk the egg yolks with 30 g sugar. Stir into the chocolate mixture.

In another bowl, whisk the egg whites until stiff but not dry. Beat in the remaining 20 g sugar.

Pour a quarter of the egg-white mixture into the chocolate mixture, beat well, and then fold the chocolate mix into the remaining egg whites.

Reserve 1/4 cup batter, then pour the rest into the cake pan and bake for about 35 minutes. Remove from cake pan and let cool. The cake should collapse into itself a little, forming a shallow bowl.

Melt the remaining 40 g chocolate over low heat. Stir the two yogurt flavors together, and mix the chocolate into them -- upon hardening, it should form tiny chocolate chunks in the yogurt.

Slice and arrange the strawberries in the cake's "bowl." Drizzle the reserved batter over them.

Fill the rest of the "bowl" with the yogurt mixture.

Place your big chocolate painting on top.

Arrange any smaller chocolate paintings around the side of the cake, attaching with dabs of strawberry preserves.

The Perfect Tournament Food

2010-07-22T22:21:00.000-07:00

Sugars, carbs, and proteins
Are what I need today,
So don't give me no green beans--
I don't need those to play.
'Cause vitamins are good for me
But right now, I need power;
I think that we can all agree
It's junk I must devour.
Pancakes that are full of grains!
Be gen'rous with the butter
For fat will help me through the pains
It takes to be a cutter.
I'll eat McMuffins, though, alas,
McDonald's makes me sick.
Ben Wiggins says they'll make me fast
And I want to be quick!
The best thing I can nibble, though
(A tip for all you rookies)
Is made with love and fat and dough--
That's right, I must eat cookies.
Cookies filled with crushed-up nuts
Are best, without a doubt.
The protein helps me make good cuts;
The fat helps me lay out!
The carbs will hit me right away
With energy to bound
And I'll be poached the livelong day--
Baked goods don't mess around.
So in your search for frisbee food,
Let cookies end your puzzlin'.
(You know, Beau Kittredge sky'ed that dude
Because he ate a dozen!)

Apologies for the delay in posting -- I totally meant to write something up when I got back Sunday night, but I had some complications with heatstroke in Colorado and have been recovering/lazy for the past few days. The heatstroke was totally worth it, though...a few hours spent wandering around the Denver airport in a very slow and confused state were decidedly overshadowed by an entire weekend spent adventuring around Boulder in a very happy and excited state!

I love ultimate for some of the same reasons I love cooking. For starters, both were forbidden childhood activities -- the first time I ever played a sport, I was already in high school, sneaking out to the lacrosse fields while my parents thought I was at math team practice. I didn't even know frisbee was an organized sport until I got to college. And, coming late in the game to both cooking and ultimate, I was nowhere near naturally skilled at either.

I think that's the biggest draw for both. There are some things I do because I'm good at them and it's fun to be good at stuff, and there are other things I do because I have to do them regardless of my interest in them. (I try not to let too many things sneak into that second category, but alas, the real world sometimes insists.) And then there are the things I do because I'm not good at them, because they're singular and alluring enough for me to want to get better -- things like writing, listening, mathematical analysis, and yes, cooking and playing ultimate. These things deserve my efforts and frustrations. They charm me, take me in as an unpolished stranger, and compel me with my own ineptitude. They humble me into practicing -- they are why I keep a food blog; they are why I jog back and forth throwing hammers to myself in the backyard; they are why I sprint up concrete hills in the blazing heat with a smile on my face.

They are also why, despite my proclivity for stuffing my face with wild abandon, I try to follow Seattle ultimate guru Ben Wiggins' guide to ultimate eating before any tournament. Doesn't matter how big or important said tournament is -- at the end of the weekend, I don't want to be able to blame any sub-par performance on poor nutrition. And so I start my week off with lots of tofu and beans, switch to veggies on Wednesday, eat a bowl of rice or pasta with every meal starting Thursday night, and try for nutrient-rich Mexican food over the weekend. After all that, if I'm relegated to the D-line or don't score a single point the entire tournament, I know it's because I need to practice, learn, and work harder, and not because I should've chugged Muscle Milk on Monday.

Wiggins has this to say about Saturday-morning pre-game meals:

Why: You are about to play 4 games. You must have fuel.
What to Eat: A mix of carbohydrates, simple sugars, and protein. Fruits/vegetables will help keep mineral levels high, but right now you are mostly concerned with energy for the day. Pancakes/waffles make for good carbohydrate energy. Do not neglect protein, though -- fats and proteins make for longer energy throughout the day. No sense in crashing after game #1. This is why Sausage McMuffins and the like are more than just a humorous choice -- they actually give a pretty good spread of carbs, protein, and fat.

And that's what makes Dishing Out the Good Stuff's piped peanut butter cookies the perfect tournament food. Flour = carbs. Peanut butter = fats and proteins. Chocolate = simple sugars (and endorphins!). I made these into dairy-free ice cream sandwiches at home by blending frozen bananas and squeezing between two cookies, and really, the added potassium would've made them a great on-field meal this weekend. But because ice cream melts, I just brought the cookies to GRUB.

The tournament was awesome, as were the people and the party. Since moving to the West Coast, I've realized I have a lot to learn every time I go to a tournament, and this was no exception -- I was by far the least experienced player on my team, and though I tried hard, I didn't play very well...but I had those cookies, so I can't blame it on the food. I'll just have to keep trying and practicing and improving. And eating cookies. I'll definitely have to keep eating cookies.

Piped Peanut Butter Cookies

from Dishing Out the Good Stuff, which got it from The Williams-Sonoma Baking Book

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups unsalted butter, melted
1 1/2 cups brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 cup all-natural creamy peanut butter
1 egg
1 tsp vanilla
1 1/3 cups flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
3 oz semisweet chocolate

Directions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Beat together melted butter, egg, brown sugar, granulated sugar, peanut butter, and vanilla. Mix in flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt until well-combined.

Shape dough into 1-inch balls and place on greased baking sheets about 2 inches apart.

Using the tines of a fork, press on each dough ball to flatten.

Bake for about 12 minutes, until edges are slightly browned.

When cooled, place chocolate in a ziplock bag and float in a pot of water over low heat until melted. Cut a tiny hole in one corner of the bag and pipe chocolate into cookie indentations. Refrigerate for about 15 minutes to harden.

Ode to Honey Bunches of Oats

2010-07-15T12:53:00.000-07:00

On television, hard-hatted factory workers proclaim,
"The magic's in the mix!"
And truly, every day, I have not one bowl,
But at least six.
That simple alchemy of flavor,
Texture, nine essential vitamins and minerals
Wraps a honey smile 'round my flakes.
As well, their versatility I savor,
Using them in pancakes, snacks, and dinner rolls--
One spoonful isn't all it takes.
A panel on that bright, familiar cardboard box
Says Vern's big idea's to thank
For the bunches, flakes, the meaning of expensive tastes
That do not break the bank.
Now Vern's perfect invention
Enthralls, delights in ten different varieties,
Each one the real McCoy,
Each one a reliever of tension--
Pouring manna of oats over anxieties, I lie at ease,
Sit back, and taste the joy.

I'm leaving to catch a flight to Colorado in a couple hours, but before I go, let me sing the praises of Honey Bunches of Oats, as they deserve to be sung.

My love for cereal runs deep. I'm a huge fan of Post Blueberry Morning, any kind of Chex, and Fiber One Oats 'n Strawberry with Almonds (okay, that one's not really a cereal, but it's breakfasty and fiber-licious). But there's a problem. I'm not proud, but I've been known to consume entire boxes of cereal in a day. Multiple days in a row. For as many days as I have boxes. And cereal -- especially "fancy" cereal like Blueberry Morning -- ain't cheap.

Honey Bunches of Oats, though, often is! It's no Poor Man's Blueberry Morning, either. That simple little formula of flakes plus bunches is uniquely addictive. Three different types of hearty, familiar flakes...just sweet enough, with a hint of cinnamon...crunchy little honey-baked surprises for which it's almost impossible not to dig...perfection, and impossible not to dig.

So when they went on sale for 2/$3 last week, we bought six. Six whole boxes! And I've been finding ways to hoover them away ever since:

For breakfast, bowls of Honey Bunches of Oats (HBO for short) with fresh blueberries, peaches, bananas, honey, and soy milk.

For dessert, vanilla bean ice cream rolled in HBO and dusted with cinnamon.

For healthy daytime snack, HBO topped with bananas, Greek yogurt, and honey.

For sinful midnight snack, dark chocolate-banana crepes sprinkled with HBO. (I didn't take pictures.)

And for a family dinner to remember, sweet-and-citrusy, sharp-and-peppery, HBO-crusted mahi mahi on a bed of delectable salad.

Citrus Honey Bunches of Oats-Crusted Mahi Mahi with Baby Mixed Green Salad
(very) lightly adapted from Pham Fatale and the HBO Website

Ingredients

1.5 lbs mahi mahi fillets
2 cups Honey Bunches of Oats (I used HBO w/ Almonds)
2 tbsp crushed black pepper
1 tsp salt
3 cloves garlic, minced
2 lemons
2 large valencia oranges
1/4 cup olive oil
4 cups baby mixed greens (romaine, arugula, chard, frisee, radicchio, etc.)
1/3 cup mixed herbs (parsley, dill, cilantro, etc.)
1/2 cup nonfat Greek yogurt (improves lactose intolerance!)

Directions

Rub the mahi mahi with the salt, 1 tsp crushed black pepper, and a tiny bit of olive oil. Sprinkle with the garlic, cover, and let sit in the fridge for half an hour.

Grind the Honey Bunches of Oats in a food processor. Zest a lemon and an orange into the mix, and add 1.5 tbsp crushed black pepper and 1 tbsp olive oil.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Rub a baking tray with some olive oil. Heat the remaining oil in a pan, and sear the fillets for about a minute on each side. Move them to the baking tray and liberally press on the cereal mixture. Bake for about 10 minutes.

In the meantime, whisk the Greek yogurt with the remaining black pepper, zest and juice from one lemon, and zest and juice from one orange. Toss with the baby mixed greens and herbs. Divide into shallow bowls, and top with slices of the second orange.

Place the fillets on top, squeeze the remaining lemon over each to taste, and sprinkle with orange zest.

Okay, off to Colorado. When I get back -- cookies!

Winter Summer Rolls

2010-07-12T23:35:00.000-07:00

W00t! I -- for the weird fusion of seasons--
How I wish'd to offer one suit of reasons.

But I'll be honest; 'tis as you can surely comprehend it--
Any end reason but curiosity's, eh, complete bullshit.

Okay? For Vietnamese din' plus squash is so enormously tasty!
Yo, it makes flavors possess you in loud manners quite hasty.

Ah! Yummy. Ooh gosh...I'm righting fragmentations, and--
Oh my. Rhyming anagrams is, IMHO, getting out of hand.

Yes, in the spirit of mixing things around haplessly until something vaguely palatable appears, I've written a poem of anagrams. The lines in each couplet are anagrams of each other. Also, the first letters of each line rearrange to spell "WOAAH BOY!" because this poem -- and the dish that inspired it -- is all kinds of ridiculous.

My (maternal) grandma is easily the best and most prolific chef in our family. We used to go over to my grandparents' apartment every other weekend for a much-anticipated feast of healthy, incredibly flavorful Chinese food. Now that everyone's a little bit busier, we enjoy the fruits of her culinary labors several times a week, in the form of Tupperwared meals she prepares specifically for my mom to reheat at home. Yup, my grandma's pretty amazing.

In the past few weeks, though, my grandpa's been in and out of the hospital, so she hasn't had time to cook for us, let alone for herself. My mom reported that one day, on a rare respite from my grandpa's bedside, my grandma went out and "treated" herself to Chicken McNuggets for lunch. She, selflessly sending savory shrimp balls and hearty Chinese stews to her family on a weekly basis, resorting to McDonald's -- I resolved immediately to pack her a healthier, tastier, and more exotic special meal.

I decided on summer rolls -- also known as Vietnamese spring rolls -- because they're portable and can be eaten without heating up. I decided to fill those summer rolls with baked butternut squash, fried sage, and other cold-weather comforts because I wanted to make them wholesome and warming...and because I thought it would be interesting.

And how interesting it was. The sweet squash and crispy sage played off each other awesomely, the toasted walnuts took the place of traditional Vietnamese peanuts, and the lentils, barley, and shiitakes made a lovely earthy base for the spicy stir-fry sauce. My grandma was delighted by her lunch (though, really, what grandma isn't delighted by a meal cooked by her granddaughter?), and spent a good ten minutes excitedly talking through the mishmash of surprising flavors with me.

Winter Summer Rolls

Ingredients

1 butternut squash
1 tbsp crushed black pepper
1 tbsp parsley flakes
1/3 cup olive oil, plus more for coating
1 packet sage
4 cups shiitake mushrooms, washed
1/2 cup lentils, dry
1/2 cup barley, dry
2 cups walnuts
kung pao stir-fry sauce
1 pack Vietnamese rice paper
water (for softening rice paper)

Directions

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Cut the squash in half, remove the guts and seeds, rub with olive oil, and sprinkle with crushed black pepper and parsley flakes. Place both halves face-down on an olive-oil-coated baking tray, and place in the oven for about 45 minutes, until tender.

Cook the lentils and barley together, in a pot of water over medium heat for about 30 minutes.

In the meantime, heat about 1/3 cup olive oil in a frying pan, and fry the sage leaves flat in the oil for about 2-3 minutes on each side, until crispy and aromatic. Spread them out to cool on top of a paper towel on a plate so the excess oil drains.

Sauté the shiitakes in the remaining sage oil (there shouldn't be much left), stirring until the mushrooms are meaty but not watery. Crush the walnuts with a food processor, and, in a separate pan, toast for 1-2 minutes. When the squash is baked, cut into long, summer-roll-friendly strips.

Assembly is simple. Soften each sheet of rice paper in a plate of water, then scoop on several spoonfuls of the lentil-barley mixture. Add a squash strip, a scoop of shiitakes, and several sage leaves. Sprinkle with toasted walnuts, add kung pao sauce to taste, and wrap up.

Chocolate Guinness Cake

2010-07-10T23:03:00.000-07:00

On the birthday of Irishman Stephen,
I should bake him a hoax to believe in.
He might think that it's true
That his favorite brew
Comes in cakes 'stead of cans -- how deceivin'!

I realized midway through yesterday that it was my friend Stephen's birthday. I'm to blame for failing to remember earlier, but so is Facebook for failing to remind me. Anyway, Stephen has the distinction of being the most Irish person I know. He's not 100% Irish by blood, but the kid loves Ireland. He's got shamrock belt buckles and novelty shirts galore, pines almost exclusively after redheads, and drinks Guinness like a bro drinks Natty Ice.

When I realized it was his special day, I knew immediately that I wanted to bake him Nigella Lawson's chocolate Guinness cake. I also knew that I had to find a way to obtain all the ingredients without access to a car. I've been meaning to learn how to cycle so I can maybe do triathlons before I run out of time to stay in good swimming/running shape, so I decided to dust off my childhood bike and ride it to the grocery store to gauge my level of biking fitness.

Riding a bike was not like riding a bike. I did not remember how to do it. Here's the thing about children's bikes -- they aren't intended for use by adults. Here's the thing about children's mountain bikes -- they aren't intended for use on treacherous uphill roads. And here's the thing about children's mountain bikes with six broken gears -- they aren't intended for use at all.

I made it from my house to the grocery store all right; the route is mostly downhill, and I wasn't carrying much. The way back, though, is a different story. I huffed and puffed my way up hill after steadily inclining hill, cursing my bike's comically tiny wheels. The bag of Guinness and perishable dairy items on my shoulders felt impossibly heavy in the midday heat. Several passing drivers honked and waved to me, not because we actually knew each other, but because All Asians in Gender-Obscuring Bicycle Helmets Look Alike. Not one of them offered me a ride.

I got off the bike and walked the last three hills, arrived to a gloriously air-conditioned kitchen, and baked Stephen a cake fit for a true Irishman.

Chocolate Guinness Cake

adapted from Nigella Lawson and Stone Soup

Ingredients

14.9-oz can Guinness Draught
250 g unsalted butter (I used margarine)
75 g cocoa powder
400 g granulated sugar
1.5 cups fat-free sour cream
2 eggs
275 g flour
2 tsp baking soda
2 blocks light cream cheese
180 g confectioner's sugar

Directions

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees, and grease a 23-centimeter springform tin.

Heat 8 oz Guinness with the butter in a saucepan until melted. Stir in the cocoa powder and granulated sugar, beat the eggs with 2/3 cup sour cream and mix in, and whisk in the flour and baking soda. Pour the batter into the springform tin and bake for 45-50 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the cake comes out clean.

While waiting for the cake to cool, combine the cream cheese, 2/3 cup sour cream, confectioner's sugar, and remaining 6.9 oz Guinness with a hand mixer.

Ice the cake liberally, bring it to your friend Stephen, and bring your friend Stephen to an Irish pub.

Grilling Salmon

2010-07-03T01:55:00.000-07:00

Get nice fillets of salmon from the store
(Remembering Alaska-caught is best).
In Tupperware (or bags, if you're hardcore),
Let marinate (that means to let them rest).

Light up the grill! Put on your fine fillets!
I caution you -- don't let them overcook
Nor get engulfed in flames, outright ablaze
(Grills have a lid under which you should look).

Sear salmon for five minutes on each side
And revel in the smells that start to waft--
Like soy sauce and brown sugar on a tide
Marooned on shores of fish so moist and soft.

O, once you've tried a bite of your success,
No fried McFish exists with which you'll mess.

Last week, my dad's cousin came to visit us from China. It wasn't entirely clear whether he was here for business or for pleasure -- he spent a lot of time shopping around for American things for his family, but he also spent a lot of time inside, glued to his computer or reading carefully over many sheets of paper.

It finally came out that he was studying for his citizenship interview. When he wasn't out shopping, he spent all day indoors memorizing the amendments of the Bill of Rights, the names of the California senators, and the faces of those presidents featured on money. After about a week with our guest, my mom started struggling to come up with new things to cook for him, so I volunteered to try. I also decided to try to use the grill in the process, since I haven't had one at school and have thus never used one in my life before.

I found a recipe on Let's Dish for some sick-looking soy sauce and brown sugar grilled salmon. (It's probably obvious by now that I really like seafood. I don't really crave other types of meat too much -- the exceptions occur mainly on special occasions or if it's In-N-Out -- but I love fish.) Followed the marinating instructions faithfully, oiled the grill grate, lit up the grill with caution, and set my lovingly marinated fillets on top.

It was only natural that at some point several minutes into my first grilling experience, everything caught on fire. I think I'd set the heat for too high, or maybe positioned the salmon too directly over the flame. Anyway, my dad and I saved the fish before it was too late, I lowered the heat to medium, and the rest of the grilling process went perfectly smoothly.

Our Chinese-inspired dish, flavored with Asian aromas but grilled outside over hot hot heat in the tradition of true Americans, ended up being the first meal we served to my dad's cousin after he passed his interview. He was so happy! I imagine much of this happiness was due to his impending citizenship...but he liked the fish a lot, too. He's coming back in a month or so to get sworn in as a citizen of the United States of America. I'll have to think of something absurdly patriotic to serve him then.

Have a happy Independence Day, everyone!

Soy Sauce and Brown Sugar Grilled Salmon
adapted (for the most part, blatantly stolen) from Let's Dish

Ingredients

1.5 lbs salmon fillets
1 lemon
1 tsp pepper
5 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 tsp salt
1/3 cup soy sauce
1/3 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup water
1/4 cup olive oil

Directions

In a small bowl, mix the pepper, garlic, salt, soy sauce, brown sugar, water, oil, and juice from half the lemon until the sugar is dissolved. Place the salmon fillets in a large ziplock bag and pour the mixture over them. Refrigerate for at least an hour.

Oil the grill grate and set the grill to medium heat. Grill the fillets for about 5 minutes on each side. Setting aside some thin lemon slices for garnish, squeeze the remaining half over the fish. Eat and enjoy outside with family, friends, and fireworks.

I served mine with bok choy and garlic-cilantro fried rice, a recipe for which I'll probably post at a later time.

Mise en Place

2010-06-29T14:22:00.000-07:00

Mise en place (pronounced [miz ɑ̃ plas], literally "putting in place") is a French phrase defined by the Culinary Institute of America as "everything in place," as in set up.
--Wikipedia

Hey, look, I started a food blog! Those of you familiar with my fondness for eating will not be surprised by this. Those of you unfamiliar with my fondness for eating will be pleased to know that I am passionate about food, that I always have been, and that one year ago, I discovered I could also be passionate about looking at pictures of food on the internet. Ah, for a lover of food to meet food blogs. I spent hours drooling over photographs of ambrosial dishes, poring over recipes, and reading stories about the circumstances of their creation.

I grew up in a fairly traditional Asian household. My parents banned me from the kitchen when I was little for fear that learning to cook would "distract me from my studies." When I started reading food blogs at the age of twenty-one, an engineering student scrounging for cheap, good food in one of the most expensive cities in the world -- New York -- I'd still never set foot in a kitchen to do anything more than microwave popcorn and badly scramble eggs. It sounds like a corny college stereotype, and yes, it is, but it's also true. In more desperate times, I even spent eight months living off free food given out at events on campus, but that's a story for another day. My point here is this -- the day I started looking at food blogs, reading about the things people created in their kitchens was like reading about the invention of the freaking LHC. I was mesmerized.

Imagine the year that followed as a movie montage of me training, fighting, whatever -- learning to cook. You see me trying to plate simple foods like the pros, striving with immense concentration to place little sprigs of basil on top of my plain boiled pasta. A clip of me baking my first Thanksgiving pie, which sets off several fire alarms, yet ends up being not only edible, but delicious. You watch clips of me watching clips of Top Chef. A shot of my first vegan dish. Another of an awesome carrot cake. And all of a sudden, I'm pumping my metaphorical boxer arms in the air, having swung and mumbled my way through the metaphorical heavyweight champ that is food preparation. ...I don't know, I've never seen Rocky.

In any case, I've had an incredible time getting to know food better. It's an amazing thing, really. I love food that presents me with exciting flavors, that really piques my curiosity. I love food that brings family, friends, and strangers together. I love food that is healthy, and I love food that is not. I love food that looks and tastes good. I love poems for no reason. Welcome to my blog.

Almond-Crusted Tilapia with Onion-Shallot White Wine Sauce

Ingredients

1 lb tilapia fillets
1 cup white wine
1/4 cup olive oil, plus more for frying
2 tbsp crushed black pepper
1 tbsp parsley flakes
1 tbsp salt
1 cup almonds
1/2 cup flour
1 egg
1 tbsp soy milk (soy because I'm lactose intolerant...but you can use regular milk, too)
1 onion, diced
1 shallot, diced

Directions

In a small bowl, combine white wine, olive oil, black pepper, parsley flakes, and salt. Place tilapia fillets in a large ziplock bag and pour the mixture over them. Refrigerate for at least an hour.

Crush the almonds in a food processor. Whisk the egg with the soy milk. When the fish has marinated, brush each fillet with flour, dip in the egg mixture, and cover with almonds. By "cover," I mean "press them on with your hands until they don't fall off." Messy and undignified, perhaps, but kind of fun.

Fill a frying pan with olive oil (not that much). Cook fillets on medium heat for about 3 minutes on each side. Remove from pan.

Add the diced onion and shallot to the pan. Pour the white wine fish marinade over them. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer for another few minutes. Pour over fish. Voilà!

I served mine with brown rice and bok choy, both easy to prepare in a hurry. As you can see from the photo above, I also never quite let go of my affinity for little leafy garnishes. The entire thing, minus marinating, took about half an hour. My parents were impressed. Success.