Pledged to eat in every meal for a week, as part of this Huffington Post+Cathy Erway joint endeavor to promote eating in (duh) and her new book!

Cathy’s a founding partner of Hapa Kitchen, and a superb everything food-related ally. I’ve enjoyed reading her blog, listening to her talk to fantastic guests on her podcast, working with her on numerous events, and just generally being a supporter.

She’s been making her rounds on the media circuit, being mentioned on a few of my favorite blogs and appearing on Good Day NY and the Martha Stewart radio show, among others. Go Cathy!

I know what you may be thinking: I couldn’t keep up with NaBloPoMo this short month and you doubt my ability to maintain eating in every meal for a solid week. Stick with me this week and see how I do!

Today, 2/22/10
breakfast: oatmeal
lunch: leftovers from dinner out Sun. night (this counts, right?)
snack: apple
dinner: chips & salsa (made some veggie curry, but too full from snacking to eat it!)
prep: batter for overnight waffles in the kitchen awaiting tomorrow morning….(I used Mark Bittman’s recipe from How to Cook Everything Vegetarian, recipe to come tomorrow!)

Eeek, another late night with only minutes before the clock strikes twelve and the day’s gone with no NaBloPoMo post! Must. post. strange. veggies.

Above, freaky celery root and rusty-colored golden beets. Underappreciated vegetables. I’ll be back tomorrow with more information about these strange, delicious items and what to do to get acquainted with them.

NYC didn’t get the blizzard we (well, I) was hoping for, but one good thing that came out of our clear, sunny weekend is that I was able to have a productive weekend. The phrase “productive weekend” is not commonly heard ’round these parts so this makes me very happy. Jef had Lasik eye surgery(!) so we even traveled to Manhattan both Saturday and Sunday and still managed to get a whole host of other things accomplished. Feels good. Maybe not as good as being holed up watching movies and drinking hot chocolate as the outside world fades into snowy white, but there’s a chance the Blizzard of 2010 might still be coming our way next week so I’m keeping my fingers and toes crossed.

We had to make the perfunctory trip to Target while we had Patsy (our Pathfinder) out and I found that pretty cloth napkin and green glass in the photo above at a nearby Pier 1 for $1 each, which contributed to today’s high spirits. Now I know there must be some you out there who know what I’m talking about > Jef doesn’t and the purchase(s) led to discussions today about consumerism and not being able to resist a good sale. I’m totally guilty of feeling like I “saved” when I wouldn’t have spent the money in the first place if the darn things (whatever they may be) weren’t on such a GREAT SALE! Obviously, we weren’t necessarily talking about the props above, with their nominal cost, but it is a small scale of what I do all the time. Need to reign myself in more often.

Anyway, the point of this post is to tell you about the soup I whipped up today amidst taking Jef to his eye appointment, doing laundry, taking Mia on a long walk, catching up with a friend who lives on the west coast, and setting up my wedding to-do list.

I used up a bunch of veggies in my fridge to make this soup, all of which will end up in our tummies this week–such satisfying knowledge. The spoonfuls of sweet corn are a golden reminder of summer sunshine on a cold, snowless day and a great contrast against the spicy Old Bay seasoning. Consider this my little nod to Maryland, wishing the Ravens were playing tonight!

Jackie’s Maryland Corn Chowder
Makes about 7 cups

1 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1 cup diced leeks (light green and white parts only)
1 cup diced onions
1/2 cup diced carrots
1/2 cup diced celery
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 Tbsp unsalted butter, divided
1 Tbsp whole wheat flour
6 cups vegetable stock (I used 4 cups of vegetable stock, 2 cups of water, and 1 of these vegan bouillon cubes)
2 cups diced russet potatoes
1 bay leaf
1 1/2 cups frozen sweet corn kernels (use fresh if it’s summertime!)
3/4 cup diced red bell pepper
1 tsp fresh thyme leaves
2 tsp Old Bay seasoning, or to taste (I may have added more!)
Splash hot sauce, optional
Splash Worcestershire sauce, optional
2 Tbsp heavy cream
1 Tbsp butter
Fresh dill, garnish

Heat oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add leeks, onions, carrots, celery, salt and pepper (a sprinkling of each), and saute until soft, about 10 minutes. Add 1 Tbsp buter, let melt, then add the flour and stir for 2 minutes to lose the floury taste (since I ended up pureeing some of the soup, I don’t know that this thickening step was really necessary; feel free to leave it out).

Add the vegetable stock, potatoes, and bay leaf and bring to a simmer. Let simmer for 20 minutes, then add puree about half of the soup (either by transferring to a blender or using an immersion blender and pulsing until the soup is the consistency you prefer, making sure to leave hearty chunks of potatoes). Add the corn, bell peppers, thyme, Old Bay seasoning, and a few drops of hot sauce and Worcestershire sauce, if using. Simmer for 2-3 minutes, then add the heavy cream and remaining butter. Taste, and season with salt and pepper if necessary. Garnish each serving with a bit of chopped fresh dill.

On a snowboarding trip in Vermont a few weekends ago, I prepared a somewhat lavish birthday meal for my friend Erin. First course: beet borscht. I trimmed the tops off of a couple pounds of beautiful beets and scrubbed the bulbs under cold water. After patting dry, I sprinkled the beets with olive oil, salt, and freshly ground pepper and wrapped them individually in aluminum foil. After roasting at 375 for a little over an hour, I unwrapped the jewels and sliced and diced a few and snapped the picture above. Beets are truly gorgeous, so deeply crimson with bright magenta juices. The soup ended up as bright and vivid as the sunshine on the snow outside and and the flavor was earthy and sweet. What’s not to like about beets? I think those who claim not to like them either have eaten only canned or pickled beets, or are perhaps just afraid of the unfamiliar. More on beets and the beet borscht soon.

“Pick up your crazy heart, give it one more try…”

Thoroughly enjoyed Crazy Heart tonight. Can’t get the music out of my head, makes me appreciate my years of growing up in rural towns listening to country and the blues.  And Jeff Bridges is just perfect, in my opinion.

Anyway, on to food. Quickly, as it’s almost midnight and I have to hit send before the mouse runs up the clock!

You’re right, you wouldn’t put these on a plate and eat them. And while most of these books do contain recipes, they’re scattered here and there. These aren’t cookbooks, but of course you know that. They are food books, though. And those up there are just on one shelf of at least three that I have full of food books. Now this don’t even scratch the surface of my cookbook collection (can’t help talkin’ country after seein’ Crazy Heart tonight), and these are in fact kept completely separate from my food-stained cookbooks.

Depending on the way you look at it, the pitiful (or exciting!) thing is, I’ve only read about half of the books I own so I have my personal little library to consult whenever I want to lose myself in the words of those wise enough to put ‘em down on paper and sell them to the masses.

On this particular shelf, I’ve read all four of Ruth Reichl’s books, Tender to the Bone, Comfort Me with Apples, Garlic and Sapphires, and Not Becoming My Mother. I went through a Ruth phase, and I’ll be in another one just as soon as she publishes her next book. I even went to see her read from Not Becoming My Mother and had her sign a book for dear Meme. She’s one of my favorite food writers – witty, funny, self-effacing, and chock-full of hilarious, touching, and grand stories of eating around the world.

I’ve read many an essay from M.F.K’s The Art of Eating, one of THE most provocative, lush volumes of food writing that’s ever existed. Still lots more deliciousness to seek in that hefty volume, yay.

Food Life: Inside the Life of Food with the Grocer Extraordinaire at Fairway Market. Now this one is speaking to me right now. Or perhaps the haunting whisper is from the two yardsticks-long receipt in my wallet…I decided to embark on a 30-minute drive to Paramus, NJ to “check out” the Fairway market there. (I think I got the idea from Deb at Smitten Kitchen.) A fun few hours spent, but my bulging refrigerator and caving-in wallet are at odds. I can’t give this book much play time right now. Plus, I haven’t opened it for at least a year.

I devoured every essay in Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant on a plane ride from California. Great read.

Went to see Amanda Hesser, Dan Barber, Henry Alford, and Alex Prud’homme read from Eat, Memory in a tiny classroom at The New School (man, NYC is awesome!). Actually, I don’t think I’ve read every essay in the slim volume yet. This book’s going back on my nightstand.

The last essay collection on the shelf, Choice Cuts, edited by Mark Kurlansky, has been skimmed quite a bit, but I definitely don’t have a handle on it. I’ll get there. I hate to admit it, but Elizabeth David’s Italian Food has also escaped me. With all of the food porn both online and in cookbooks now, it’s a rare day when I rush to crack the cover of a black and white, all-text type of book. Still, I know there are some juicy bits waiting for me in there.

I have much to learn from James Villas’ books, and not just the two on my shelf (Stalking the Green Fairy and Between Bites). I’m currently working on his upcoming book, Pig: King of the Southern Table. That’s right, a 480-page cookbook all about PIG.

And oh, Michael Ruhlman. I dig his blog and Ratio has been cruising high on my Amazon wish list. But I am completely and utterly ashamed to admit that I’ve yet to read The Soul of a Chef or The Reach of a Chef. Please don’t ask me why, I have no good excuse. But if I can’t be honest here, what good am I?

This post has only proved that it is both truly pitiful and yet somehow still exciting(!)to me that I have, unread, on my very own bookshelves some of the best food books out there. I just love having things to look forward to.

Like buying the Crazy Heart soundtrack. Pardon me, darlins, gotta split!

Short nothing post tonight just to keep up with NaBloPoMo. Great days and tough evenings lately ’round here.

Sorry for this total cop-out, but I haven’t directed anyone to this new site yet so hopefully today’s post will go unnoticed. Forgive me and please return — I’ll be back for real tomorrow.

As anyone will tell you, it’s a rough road trying to find good, inexpensive Mexican food in New York City. Sure, there are a handful of yummy high-end Mexican, Tex-Mex, or Southwestern restaurants, but when you have a craving for cheap, good tacos and burritos, you’re outta luck.

Before seeing West Side Story on Broadway tonight (thanks for the ticket, Erin!), two of my girlfriends and I met for dinner at Tulcingo del Valle in Hell’s Kitchen. We usually only end up on the west side of Manhattan if going to a show or play, or bowling once every two years at the Port Authority (it can actually be a lot of fun, see for yourself) and we’ll try a different restaurant in the area each time.

I’d read some favorable reviews on New York Magazine’s restaurant web site (my usual go-to for recommendations) about Tulcingo del Valle, and when the food came out, it did look mighty appetizing:

Unfortunately, none of the dishes really came through on flavor. My tacos al pastor were markedly missing the sweet pineapple tang, the meat was dry, and I poured out a deep puddle of oil before taking a bite. The guacamole was tasteless. A reviewer had said they were fabulous, so maybe I got stuck with the evening’s understudy? I did enjoy the crunch of fresh radishes with salt as a condiment.

The triple meat salad was characterless and the pipian de poll0 (chicken in pumpkinseed sauce) also a no-show, bland and also with pools of oil, as you can see above. The sangria was booed offstage, as sweet as church wine and featuring a host of little floaty pieces of indistinguishable fruit.

We’ll keep forging ahead in the delicious cheap Mexican food search. In Hoboken, we’ve recently been blessed with The Taco Truck, which I’d choose over tonight’s meal any day of the week (and often do).

Oh, and West Side Story was enjoyable – particularly Anita, what a spitfire! Adored her performance.

What do we know about satsuma mandarins? Well, if it looks, feels, and smells like an orange, it must be an orange. Or at least related to them. This particular variety (biological nomenclature: Citrus unshiu) of mandarin orange is firm, but the deeply pockmarked skin is super easy-to-peel. One dig in with even the most pitiful of fingernails and the whole peel is off in one swipe. The flesh is nice and sweet, but not cloyingly so, and is also usually seedless, making it a great fresh snacking fruit. Citrus fruits: something good about winter, other than snow!

Detailed nutrition information can be found here. I’m currently researching the location from where the majority of U.S. satsumas are imported, more details on that to come.

According to this article, satsumas are rich in folklore:

“Satsumas and mandarins in general have several symbolic meanings in Chinese, which is why you often see them around the Chinese New Year. When leaves and stems are still attached, satsumas symbolize family and friends who will not separate, and a newly married woman is given two mandarins by her new in-laws, which are to be peeled on her wedding night and shared with her husband, symbolizing a happy and full life together. Along with other citrus trees, a mandarin tree placed in the front of the home and full of fruit symbolizes the ripening of good fortune.”

A few great recipes using satsuma mandarins include:
Satsuma Mandarin and Vanilla Upside-Down Cake from marthastewart.com
Satsuma Mandarin Orange Marmalade by Greg Atkinson on wrightangle.com
Franny’s Satsuma Cocktail from Franny’s restaurant in Brooklyn, NY

Trying NaBloPoMo during the shortest month of the year. Cop out? Maybe. Touch realistic? ‘Fraid so.

There’s a LOT going on around here lately – one of which you can plainly see in your browser window. Devour this is moving from Typepad to Wordpress. It’s been a long time coming, overdue in fact, and it will be arduous. Kind of like dicing butternut squash.

While prepping a cozy State of the Union address meal last week, I listened to Spilled Milk, a new podcast co-hosted by one of my favorite bloggers, Molly Wizenberg of Orangette. She and co-host Matthew Amster-Burton happened to be discussing winter squash. I stopped what I was doing to gain wisdom about the best method to peel and cut up a butternut squash. Unfortunately, none of their methods (separating neck from bulbous portion, using a vegetable peeler, etc.) have worked for me in the past so I went with the old tried-and-true: stabbing the sucker a few times with a sharp pointed knife and microwaving the beautiful beast-in-disguise for a few minutes to allow it to soften up. Jeff’s mother taught me this trick and it works better than anything else I’ve tried. I’m sure a sharper knife would help, but that’ll have to wait ’til registry time (yes, wedding registry! ‘Told you a lot’s going on ’round here).

Even after nuking it, I still managed to re-injure my weak wrist while dicing this thing. I’d originally hurt myself falling, I mean snowboarding in Vermont the previous weekend. Carpal tunnel has nothing on butternut squash wrist. However, the diced squash turned out beautifully, if I do say so myself. This recipe from Mark Peel’s New Classic Family Dinners (my new favorite cookbook, much more to come about this) instructs you to dice, then caramelize the squash and add it to the risotto just before serving. Other squash risottos I’ve had showcase the squash in mushier terms; it depends on what you like, but I was happy with the chunks of sweet vegetables mixing with the creamy rice.

I have so much Arborio and Caranoli rice left over from the Risotto Challenge that I’ll be making risotto for years to come. And I’m quite okay with that.

Perfect Butternut Squash Risotto
adapted from New Classic Family Dinners
Serves 4

2 Tbsp unsalted butter
1-1/2 lb. butternut squash, peeled and diced (about 3 cups)
Kosher salt
4 garlic cloves, 1 minced, 3 sliced
2 teaspoons slivered fresh sage leaves
7 cups vegetable or chicken stock
2 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1 1/2 cups Arborio or Caranoli rice
1/2 cup finely chopped onion or shallot
1/2 cup dry white wine
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup freshly grated Pecorino or Parmigiano-Reggiano
1 Tbsp chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

1. Heat the butter and saute the squash for about 20 minutes, occasionally stirring carefully. Add 1 tsp salt, the minced garlic clove, and the sage. Stir together for one minute, then remove from heat and set aside.

2. Meanwhile, have the stock simmering in a saucepan. Heat the olive oil in a wide, heavy saucepan over medium heat, add the rice and 1 tsp salt. Stir constantly until the rice begins to smell popcorny, about 5 minutes. Add the onion  and sliced garlic and stir for 2 minutes.

3. Add the wine and stir until it’s all absorbed by the rice. Reduce heat to medium-low.

4. Begin ladling in the simmering stock, one scant ladleful at a time. Stir until just absorbed, then add another scant ladleful. Stir often (almost constantly) and continue to add stock when most of the previous ladleful has disappeared.

5. After about 25-30 minutes, the rice will be cooked al dente, with just a barely noticeable bite in the center and the broth will be super creamy. Stir in the squash, then taste and adjust seasoning.

6. Remove from heat, add a last ladleful of stock, and stir in the freshly ground pepper, cheese, and the parsley. Devour immediately.

Longest blog title in history, perhaps?

I just find it fascinating the way recipes change hands, particularly since the rise of food blogs. Now don't get it twisted, I obsess over cookbooks and devour them in my daily life as much as one can [don't forget, I work on cookbooks at Wiley Publishing, Inc.]. But no matter how much I fawn over the glossy images and run my fingers along the smooth printed pages, I often end up snatching the majority of my recipes from the ever-untouchable internet.

This Thai-spiced tomato soup came my way through a class I took last week – "Finding Your Voice in Food Writing," taught by Shauna James Ahern (the Gluten-Free Girl), offered by David Leite's site, Leite's Culinaria.  Having been a longtime fan of the Gluten-Free Girl blog and book, I was looking forward to gleaning writing advice from one of my favorite authors. As I rushed from an event in Manhattan back home to call into this over-the-phone workshop, I planned to grab a package of instant ramen noodles, but the printout of Luisa's [The Wednesday Chef] blog
entry (recommended reading from Shauna) changed my mind. The ingredients list included just 1 item I
didn't have at home: a lime. The instructions sounded super approachable and I knew that bowl of homemade goodness would nourish me on that chilly fall night the way a packaged, SuperHighSodium soup never could. I must add, it's easy to get swept away by Luisa's writing. Along with the easy recipe originally from Gourmet, she offered a touching peek into her past, and shared her pained feelings about losing the venerable magazine.

As I knew it would be, this soup was simple to make, but the taste surprised me with its layered-ness. During the class I described the soup as an Indian sari –
colorful, vibrant, bright, shiny — and it still rings true. Its tingling spiciness drapes over you, the lemongrass, ginger, and spices taunt you with every sip.

And as I had expected, the 2-1/2 hour class was mega inspiring — the other women on the line were animated and revealing, and Shauna was simply amazing. She was very smart, kind, comfortable, and generous. In fact, the class felt like a giant hug through the phone. One thing I really appreciated was that Shauna's advice wasn't directed only to writing (although it was the best writing class I've taken, including the long sessions at NYU and The New School); she spoke about life. She talked about taking time with your food, trying a bite and being reflective. Thinking what does this
remind me of?  She reminded me that food is transportive; it needn't be consumed in a
rush, as I dash to make the next thing on my schedule. As her blog and spirit affirm, it's ever so important to take time with the pleasurable things in our
daily lives. A great quote I read recently – "A happy life is just a string of happy moments. But most people don’t
allow the happy moment, because they’re so busy trying to get a happy
life."

Now, looking at the image of the soup and recalling its flavors, I can't help sharing something that's recently come into my possession of a similar hue and surprising quality, something big that's contributed to my string of happy moments.

In the park where Beach St. and Walker St. (our last names!) connect in Tribeca, lower Manhattan, my beloved Jef got down on one knee ("got the ol' knee dirty," as he put it) and asked me to marry him. The ring he slipped on my finger is something like that tomato soup [I realize only a food blogger would suggest her engagement ring shares qualities with tomato soup!]…unexpected, shiny, bright, magical, like a hug from the inside.

Thai-spiced Tomato Soup [adapted from The Wednesday Chef, originally from Gourmet magazine]

Serves 4

1
onion, chopped
3
tablespoons
vegetable oil
1 Tbsp red curry paste
1/2 Tbsp green curry paste [I used the 2 curry pastes because it's what I had in the fridge and it worked great, although pretty fiery! Feel free to use 2 Tbsp red curry paste as the orig. recipe indicates]

1/4
teaspoon
ground cumin
2
(14-oz) cans reduced-sodium chicken broth
1
(28-oz) can crushed tomatoes
1
tablespoon
packed brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
Juice of 1/2 lime

1. Cook
onion in oil in a heavy pot over medium heat, stirring
occasionally, until softened, about 6 minutes. Add curry pastes and
cumin and cook, stirring, 2 minutes.

2. Add broth, tomatoes, brown
sugar, and salt and simmer 15 minutes.

3.
Purée soup in batches in a blender (use caution when blending hot
liquids). Return soup to pot and reheat. You can also leave the soup in
the pot and purée using an immersion blender. Stir in the lime juice
and serve.