heirloom tomato caprese with late-summer peaches

I am having a hard time writing today.  I keep looking at this picture from our trip two weeks ago and wishing I could be outside.  I've been having this kind of mental itch at work whenever I look out the window that somehow I'm doing something wrong since I'm IN HERE and not OUT THERE.  I usually have to walk to another building whenever I have a meeting, and this morning it was all I could do not to detour to the little patch of slanted grass west of my office and take a tiny snooze in the sun.   Lucca has been scratching at the door in the mornings to go outside and lay on the deck where he'll do this twisty stretch on his back and stick his legs out in all directions and fall asleep soaking up the warmth and the light.  I am very happy that he's so happy, but it is awfully hard to walk past someone who looks like that on your way to work and not feel insanely jealous.  Even if that someone is a dog.

When did it become normal for us to sit at desks all day?  When did we start trying to build spaces for ourselves to work that shut us off from nature and light and people?  When did we create tasks for ourselves that mean everything and nothing?  How long do we go between experiencing things that are real and good and make us (really madly truly) happy?  How do we support each other and encourage each other to take a moment each day to breathe and soak in the sun?

When the voices in our heads started shouting those questions too loudly, we packed four people, two dogs, and some climbing gear into our car and drove due East into the Uintas.  It was a spur-of-the-moment trip, and we left later than we would have liked, but we needed trees and air and space.  Lucca was beside himself with happiness when we finally stopped the car and began hiking toward the crag.  He made his big toothy shark face and rolled himself around in the brush and made his drowning cat noises (which are very harsh and grating but also some of my favorite sounds in the world).  We climbed just a little, hiked a lot, camped at the end of a long, unmarked road, ate wild raspberries and burritos and campfire peach and blackberry cobbler, and fell asleep listening to the rain on our tent.

We're waiting for the next time we can escape, but in the meantime we're celebrating being at home by eating the season and eating well.  Our tomatoes have finally begun to blush purple and red, and the chickens have been so distracted by the goji berry and fat grasshoppers that we've rescued most of the tomatoes before they've been discovered.  We eat them like apples, on sandwiches, or in this salad.

HEIRLOOM TOMATO AND MOZZARELLA SALAD WITH LATE-SUMMER PEACHES

1-2 pounds of mixed heirloom tomatoes 2-3 large ripe, yellow peaches 2-3 large handfuls mixed greens 1/2 pound mozzarella or burrata cheese, cut into 1/4-inch thick slices olive oil balsamic vinegar flaky salt freshly ground black pepper 8-10 fresh basil leaves, sliced into chiffonade (stack the leaves and then roll them like a cigarette and thinly slice them cross-wise into ribbons)

Have two plates ready for serving individual portions of salad.

Cut the tomatoes into a mixture of wedges and 1/2-inch thick slices and set aside.  Slice the peaches in half and remove the pits.  Cut each half into 4-6 wedges and set aside.

Distribute 1/3 of the tomato wedges and slices on each of the plates, then distribute 1/3 of the peach wedges onto the tomatoes.  Divide the greens evenly between the two plates, covering the tomatoes and peaches.  Scatter the remaining tomato wedges (reserve the tomato slices) and peach wedges over the greens.  Place a tomato slice on each of the salads, then overlap with a slice of mozzarella, repeating until all of the slices have been used.

Drizzle the salad with as much olive oil and balsamic vinegar as you like, and season with salt and pepper to taste.  Top with the basil chiffonade and serve immediately.

basics - pasta dough

Making fresh pasta is not a task of convenience.  Most of the time that I cook pasta, it is because I am hungry and need to eat something ASAP, or because I don't know what to make for dinner and don't want to shop for food (since I am hungry and need to eat ASAP).  There are so many high-quality dried (and sometimes even fresh) pastas from which one can choose at the grocery store, that it can seem counterintuitive to spend extra time making something that is cheap, accessible, and near equally satisfying to the homemade version. But for those of us who are detail-oriented, patient, and/or masochists, making pasta is innately fun and awesome, and you can get creative and make versions that you really can't find ready-made.  Plus, homemade pasta communicates the "Here, I purposefully took a lot of time to make something for you that I could have pretty easily made in 10 minutes because I love you and care about you and wouldn't do this for just anyone" sentiment very clearly.  Anyone who makes homemade pasta on a first date is, in my opinion, quite worthy of a second one.

Fresh Pasta - adapted from Thomas Keller

I like this recipe (even though it uses a crapload of eggs compared to other recipes) because the dough is very pliable and forgiving, and not tacky or sticky.  This makes it very easy to feed it through a pasta machine, or roll out on a lightly floured board without sticking and falling apart.  Plus, Thomas Keller himself says there is no way you can over-knead this dough, so it is a great recipe for learning how pasta dough should look and feel without worrying about how much you're handling it in the process.  TK calls for just all-purpose flour here, though I use a mix of AP and semolina for added flavor and color (you can do what you like).  Using a semi-coarsely milled semolina (v. very finely milled) will yield a more rustic texture and appearance, but I really love this and think it adds character and interest to the final dish.

Ingredients:

1 cup all-purpose flour 3/4 cup semolina flour 6 large egg yolks 1 large egg 1 1/2 teaspoons olive oil 1 tablespoon milk

Method:

Step 1: Whisk together the AP and semolina flours, and pour out into a mound on your work surface.

Step 2: Make a well in the center of the flour mixture; you'll need the well to be large enough to hold the eggs, oil, and milk without any spilling over the edge of the flour.

Step 3: Place the whole egg in the well in the flour, and separate the remaining 6 eggs (tip: chilled eggs are easier to separate than room temperature eggs, as the yolk is firm when cold and less likely to break while being handled). Here, I'm using two bowls; I first break the egg into the small bowl, then fish out the yolk with my fingers and add it to the well.  The whites I put in a second bowl to save for another recipe (refrigerate whites in a lidded container if not using that day).

 Step 4: Add the oil and milk to the well.

Step 5:  Use your fingers to break the eggs up and mix them with the oil and milk.  Once combined, still using your fingers, begin turning the eggs in a circular motion within the well, being careful not to let them spill over the sides.  You'll start picking up some flour a little at a time, and incorporating it into the eggs as they're turned.  This will take some time, but that's okay; the slow mixing helps to prevent lumps from forming, which can affect the uniformity and pliability of the pasta during rolling, and the texture of the pasta once cooked.

Step 6:  When the dough begins thickening and starts to lift itself from your work surface, use a bench scraper or pastry scraper to lift the flour up and over the dough, and cut it into the dough.  Keep doing this until all or most of the remaining flour has been cut into the dough.  The dough will still look shaggy (if it looks very, very dry, you may add a tiny dribble of milk here).

Step 7: Gather the dough with your hands into a ball and center the ball on your work surface.  Knead the dough by pressing it, little by little, in a forward motion with the heel of your hand.  Re-form the dough into a ball, and knead again.  Repeat this process several times, until the dough feels moist, but not sticky.

Step 8: Let the dough rest for a moment while you clean your work surface (I just scraped off the loose dough bits, but you may need to clean it more thoroughly if you have a lot of dough stuck to your surface).  Dust the clean work surface with a little flour, just so the dough won't stick.

Step 9: Knead the dough by pushing against it in a forward motion with the heel of your hand.  Form the dough into a ball again and knead it again.  Keep reshaping and kneading the dough in this forward motion until the dough becomes silky smooth (you'll notice a change in the way your fingers begin to move across the dough as you knead).  The dough is ready when you can pull your finger through it and it wants to snap back in place.  This kneading process can take a while (as much as 15 minutes, maybe more).  If you're not sure if the dough is ready, keep kneading.

Step 10:  Once the dough is silky and elastic, form it into a ball.  Double-wrap it in plastic wrap and let it rest for at least 30 minutes and up to 1 hour before rolling it by hand or through a pasta machine.  The dough may also be placed, wrapped, in the fridge if not using immediately; use the next day if possible, as the surface will oxidize over time and turn slightly grey (note: this does not affect the flavor).

Variations:

Whole-wheat pasta dough - substitute 3/4 cup whole-wheat or whole-wheat pastry flour for the semolina flour; if using whole-wheat flour, increase the milk to 1 1/2 tablespoons. Proceed with method as written.

Herb pasta dough - add 1-2 tablespoons freshly chopped herbs (such as chives, parsley, chervil, or tarragon) to the egg, oil, and milk mixture.  Proceed with method as written.

buckwheat bowl

We had some mixed reviews on this dish in our household.  I think that cooked buckwheat can sometimes have a bit of a slimy texture, similar to okra; some people like/don't mind this, while others aren't huge fans.  That said, it has a nicely nutty flavor and light texture that make it an ideal base for more substantial counterparts.

Feel free and sub whatever is in season or in your refrigerator, though including something with a little bite (here, the red onion) with some cheese and nuts will really add another dimension to your bowl; you can also change your grain base to something like barley or quinoa if you're not stoked on buckwheat.  In case you need inspiration for a variation, I think I'll be trying this again with fresh figs, arugula, goat cheese, and balsamic in a few weeks. :)

Buckwheat Bowl

I'm going to give you an elemental breakdown of this recipe, since really this is just piling a bunch of stuff on top of some kind of grain in a bowl.  I hereby give you creative license to throw in whatever feels right to you in any/all of the outlined categories, and I promise to post further winning combinations as we test them ourselves.

Grain: buckwheat
Cheese: sheep's milk feta
Roughage: arugula, sliced raw beets, apple/celery root/onion slaw (made by thinly slicing each ingredient and mixing with lemon juice and a tiny bit of oil), avocado
Legume: chickpeas
Nut: walnuts

beet, carrot, and kale salad with pistachios and feta

My parents are notorious among friends and family for their fierce hatred of beets.  There was an incident many years before I was born involving a cabin, a power outage, beets, and food poisoning, that I believe has festered and expanded into almost a PTSD-level association where the mention of them incites physical shuddering*.

Oh wow, I just thought of the best April Fool's Day joke... I am going to give my dad a copy of Harry Potter, but I'm going to cross out each place that says "Voldemort" and instead write-in "beets."  HA.

Because I trusted my parents' judgement, I thought that I, too, was a beet hater, just like I thought I was a democrat (which turned out to be true) and I was scared of roller coasters (which turned out to be false-ish).  I don't actually remember my first beet, but somewhere in college, I must have ventured out of my comfort zone and given them a try, because I have spent many meals since then trying to make up for lost time.  Beets are freaking amazing.

This salad is a favorite winter-into-spring-into-summer recipe, and is great for when you want your meal to be vegetables, but you want vegetables to be a MEAL.  You will not feel hungry after you finish this salad, though if you're worried, you could always do what I do and make the entire recipe for just yourself.

Beet, Carrot, and Kale Salad with Pistachios and Feta
(serves 1-2 for dinner, or 3-4 as a side salad)

3 large beets, roasted, peeled, and cut into 1-inch dice (see note on roasting beets below)
1 pound carrots, peeled and roasted (I had baby Paris Market carrots on hand; you can use unpeeled young carrots, simply scrub them well before roasting)
1 bunch purple (or other) kale
1/2 cup parsley leaves
1/2 cup pistachios, chopped, divided
1/4 pound sheep's milk feta, divided

For the dressing:
Juice of 1 lemon
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1 garlic clove, finely minced 1 teaspoon kosher salt
A few grinds of black pepper
A few good glugs of olive oil (2-4 tablespoons; I usually err on the side of less, and use just enough to create a dressing with a little body that is still nicely bright from the acid).

Make the dressing in the bottom of the bowl you'll use for the finished salad.  Combine the lemon juice and red wine vinegar, and add the garlic clove, salt, and pepper.  Let it hang out for a moment while the salt dissolves and the acid tempers the garlic slightly (this is a great time to pick the parsley leaves off of their stems or chop the pistachios if you haven't already, OR you can watch this if everything's prepped and ready to go).  Whisk the oil into the acid mixture to emulsify, and taste using a bit of a kale leaf.  Adjust seasoning as necessary, and set aside.

Rinse the kale leaves well, and towel dry.  Lay a leaf flat on a cutting surface, and slice out the stem (you can save the stems for soup, or give them to some soon-to-be-happy chickens).  Repeat with the rest of the kale leaves.  Once all of the stems have been removed, stack the leaves on top of each other and roll them up lengthwise.  Slice (chiffonade) them into 1/4-1/2 inch thick "ribbons" (depending on your kale, you may get pieces of different sizes in your finished salad, which I think is lovely). Run your knife through the ribbons once or twice if you prefer smaller pieces of kale.

Place the kale in your salad bowl, and add the carrots, beets, and parsley leaves.  Toss the salad gently with your hands until everything is evenly coated with dressing.  Crumble 2/3 of your feta over the salad, and sprinkle over 2/3 of your pistachios.  Toss again gently.  Crumble the remaining feta over the salad, and sprinkle on the remaining pistachios.  Serve immediately.

*UPDATE: so, after speaking with my parents, I learned that the cabin/power outage/food poisoning combo was related to CLAMS not BEETS.  The beet hatred, to quote my father, "is genetic."

a hello and a goodbye

Ah.  It feels great to have a home again on the internet. It took me a while to feel comfortable with the idea of putting my work online.  I have started writing, then self-editing, which has often led to self-deleting. I will freely admit, I don't like the idea of someone judging my work (and maybe judging me).  I just don't.  I would probably not be a great pig at a county fair.

But I am braving my dislike of judgement because I have been spending the past year rekindling my loves of cooking, painting, and creating, and I have many things to share with you in addition to even more things to try.

SO.

Hello!

I'm very happy to be here and even happier to see you.

But before I begin this officially, I want to say goodbye to a very special little creature who has been a part of my life for the past year and a half.

Her name was Blue, and she was my chicken.

Now, we have four other chickens, but Blue was special.  She was special in appearance, because she was a Giant Blue Cochin with incredible feathers down to her feet, while our other ladies are all bare-legged.  When she was a baby, the feathers on her feet grew more quickly than the rest of her, and she looked like she was wearing clown shoes.

But Blue was also just... special.  She would do this thing when she walked around where all of a sudden her wings would shoot up high next to her head and then settle back down (every time we saw it happen, we would yell "Touchdown!").  She also made little trumpeting noises that sounded like someone playing the "DOO-do-DOOOOO" noise on a kazoo.  When our Dominique hen was sick and not eating or drinking, Blue would sit next to her under the coop and keep the other hens from pecking at her.  And she liked to hop up on my lap and look me in the eye for a good long minute before tucking her head into her feathered poof of a body and falling asleep.

And then one day last week I came outside and four of the chickens were scratching in the dirt for sunflower seeds, but the poof of blue feathers was nestled in a little hole in the sun with her eyes closed and I sat and watched her for five minutes, neither of us moving, until I opened the door of the run and picked her up as gently as I could and carried her inside.

I sat on the kitchen floor and held her for a while.  I was alone, and it was very quiet, and she was still warm (from being alive?  From the sun?) and soft.  Even though she would fall asleep on our laps, she didn't like us to touch her of our own accord.  It felt strange to hold her and feel the places where her stiff, satin feathers turned to down.  She seemed very heavy, but also light, and I found myself wondering, as I cried, if she weighed 7 pounds or eight or maybe more, and how much of that was feathers and how much was bird and how much did that chicken weigh that I roasted last week and how big were our other chickens and were they all at the peak of their size or were they slowly going down and had Blue been sick and had I not noticed...

We buried her in the front yard next to one of the boysenberry plants.  I wanted to put her in a place where she liked to take dust baths, but Richard very gently pointed out that that was now Lucca's favorite place to dig holes, and it wouldn't be very practical to put Blue there only to have Lucca dig her up again, now would it?  So she is under a pine tree near boysenberries and strawberries and a very pretty English rose, and I put some kale and grapes and sunflower seeds in the hole with her before we covered her up.  So I hope that, if there is an afterlife, and it takes chickens, she is very, very happy.

If Blue taught me one thing, it is that our food has personality.  Chickens enjoy living!  They can be sad, and they can love each other.  They can recognize the people who feed them and the people who don't mind when they muddy up shirts by riding around on shoulders, and they recognize when someone is only visiting the coop to change the water, not to play.  They get very excited by goji berries and grasshoppers, and clean their yogurt snack off of each others' feathers when someone flings it around.  They warn each other of danger, and worry when one of their friends is sick.  They quarrel many (MANY) times throughout the day, but in the evening snuggle next to each other while they sleep.  We, as people, could take a few notes from chickens.

You are probably wondering, will I still eat chickens?  Yes. But I will buy chickens like that knew the sunshine and tasted grass.  I will buy chickens that had room for touchdowns and dust baths.  Maybe, at one point in their life, they even fell asleep on someone's lap.

This I will do because I love Blue.