Drinks

Roasted grapefruit margaritas

grapefruit_FeedMeDearly

I was 24 when a Mexican bird pooped on my face.

How did I know the bird was Mexican? Because we were in Mexico. In all fairness, he could have been an ambitious American bird who’d flown too far south for the winter. But for the purpose of this story, I’ll assume that he was Mexican. And that he was a he because aim was a factor.

It happened during my first trip to Mexico with the man I now call my husband. We’d been on a family vacation with his parents, and had made the last-minute decision to extend our stay. Both of us were in the midst of job transitions and were lucky enough that our calendars overlapped.

Initially, our spur of the moment hotel/apartment search was a flop; nothing was available. His parents weren’t happy that poolside Margaritas had been replaced by a frantic search for a strip mall hotel or kindhearted landlord who would take us in.

Towards the end of our planned vacation, we found ourselves apartment-hunting in downtown Acapulco when a bird, possibly a Condor or a Falcon, pooped on my face.

We didn’t actually see the bird, but Rodney, combining his high school biology and college-level math skills, made some rough estimates based on the poop surface area. Thankfully it had missed my eye, but covered a broad swath of my right cheek. Although I never actually saw the wreckage, I distinctly remember the sensation. Like a mug of hot chocolate had been splashed in my face.

These discussions happened after the fact of course. Rodney’s immediate reaction was to slip into a mild shock, recover, and then attempt to clean it off. A little too quickly I might add, because instead of wiping it off my cheek sideways, he barehanded it down over the corner of my mouth. Our Cat 4 problem had now escalated to a Cat 5.

We needed water. And not your standard issue garden hose as that would have increased the likelihood of a second gastrointestinal flesh-eating disease.

The hunt began for a bodega and bottled water. It wasn’t long before we found one and in that same back alley where the Condor had made me his personal latrine, we washed our tainted bodies.

cincodemayo

continue reading

8 comments
Blog

What a long strange trip it’s been

herbgarden

Friends, I’m writing to you from a very special place. It was a journey to get here, taking nearly 20 years, and 4 separate apartments across 3 cities and 2 states. To be fair, it’s more of a group than a place. As distinctive and special as the other groups that I’ve wanted to join but haven’t had the guts…..“those who have run marathons”, or “those who have jumped out of planes”.

And why? Minimal training is required. Cost is low, value is high. You can do it in your spare time, and if you kill them, others are for sale.

I’m not talking about adopting a family of hamsters. I’m talking about growing your own herbs.

After the early and tragic deaths of one too many sickly Whole Foods basil plants, I finally got my act together and bought a new breed of houseplant. A set of hardier herbs in actual pots that I tend to with regularity. Whole Foods, as much as I love you, those twiggy little basil plants that offer the promise of pesto by the batch, they’ve let me down. They wither the minute I get them home; all the sunlight in the world, a garden to graze and an emerald green thumb wouldn’t keep them alive.

It’s only been a week, but I’m proud to report back that early signs suggest that my real, authentic, farmers’ market herbs are in fact growing. All three! The apple mint, the rosemary, and the forest parsley, which looks like your garden variety curly parsley but with a more intense parsley taste.

I’ve seen graphic images floating around the Internet that compare a brain on cocaine to a brain on sugar. Apparently our body chemistry responds the same way, which isn’t surprising, we all know that sugar is addictive. I may suggest a third category of addiction: brain on herbs. Fresh herbs, not marijuana. That would be the inverse chart. Pure conjecture, but reflecting on my college days, the pot smokers weren’t leaping from the couch, breaking out a Mandoline and thinly slicing radishes. Nor were they following it up immediately by muddling herbs and lime for a sparkling Spring cocktail. That, my friends, is herb addiction.

Herb addiction touches everyone in a family. I’ve had to caution the kids against overwatering because their red toy watering bucket has made the trek across our hardwood floors a few too many times. Not to mention the residual spillage on our couch, which to be honest, knew better days before we owned a dog. But still. It has a few good years left, preferably without mildew and water marks.

Take a trip down memory lane with me. It’s only been a week, but putting down the chef knife was hard with freshly-grown herbs at my fingertips.

breakfast

Six minute egg with tomato & watermelon radish salad with mint and parsley

lamb

continue reading

15 comments
Blog

Spring cleaning

Last year I had what amounted to a pre-mid life crisis. It was late March and I was struggling with indecision – my career felt like it had stagnated and I lacked a creative outlet. My insomnia was incurable as I pondered the existential question: what do I want to be when I grow up?

I told my husband that I needed a break. A real escape.  I’d travel somewhere far, far away. Maybe even Europe. Just a weekend escape, but preferably a place where I didn’t know the language and could focus on the basics: eat, sleep, wander, think.

Fortunately I’m married to the kind of person who can sense an impending meltdown. “Do what you have to do” is all he said.

I opened my laptop and started to search for last-minute travel deals.

No dice.

It’s been a few years since I’ve traveled overseas, but has airfare really doubled? Yes, sports cars are expensive, but a $2,000 decompression trip to Europe was well out of my mid-life crisis price range.

With my European fantasy on hold, I settled for a juice cleanse and a solo trip to the lake. My dog, of course, would join.

I loaded the trunk of our car with my meals for the weekend – beet, carrot & ginger; swiss chard, pear, and lemon; almond milk; coconut milk; turmeric tonic….The world was starting to brighten.

The value of rest can’t be overstated. Parents have a tough job, and scheduling time away isn’t always easy. But it needs to be done. 

My weekend away did more for me than I though possible. I unwound, I read, I slept. I planned to start the blog, and quit my job by summer if things didn’t improve.

With a few coats of paint and some freshly-cut flowers, I’d restored my temple to its former self, and was ready to resume life with a renewed sense of purpose.

Now a year later, I look back to that weekend and realize how much I’ve grown. I’m happier now that I’ve made the tough but important decision to fulfill myself creatively, and not settle for career mediocrity.

The concept of Spring cleaning longer feels cliché. It has meaning beyond vacuuming under the beds, and rotating the mattresses. It’s a time of year to mentally, physically, and spiritually take stock.

And food can play an important role in that process.

detox_salad_horiz-2_FeedMeDearly (1)
Spinach salad with raspberries, persimmon, and almonds

Next week Rodney and I are starting our 3-day juice cleanse. We’ll follow it up with a healthy dose of cleansing foods to keep us moving towards the summer months. Raw vegetables, healthy fats, good proteins (sustainably farmed or caught). It’s less about losing weight, more about being mindful of the foods that we eat, and how we feel.

Watermelon Radish Salad
Sliced watermelon radishes with lemon, sour cream and herbs

And I’m making good on my promise to keep my personal spark alive. A few weeks ago I started an evening watercolor class. And I’m thrilled to have received a yearlong membership to Skillshare for my birthday.  It’s not always easy to carve out the time, but it’s important to find some escape in the everyday, to continue to learn, and grow.

Spring Panzanella
Spring panzanella with asparagus and green beans

So best of luck with your spring cleaning efforts, whether it’s mental, physical, spiritual, or all of the above. Make every day count.

 

6 comments
Savory

Pickled things

Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset

I have a serious question: why are all of the jam and jelly canning classes left until August? Do the preservation experts of the world not realize that strawberry season will be upon us in the blink of an eye? And that perhaps some of us would be interested in learning to properly preserve them at the peak of freshness?

I’ve bought a few books on preserving, and I’m ready to take the plunge, but for some reason, oh I don’t know why, I’m a little scared of botulism. That was one of the reassuring things about making beer – despite the long list of ingredients, and the multi-staged sanitizing efforts, our teacher swore to us that if we messed up, our beer would not make us physically ill. The worst thing that could happen is that we’d brew a batch of horrible tasting but perfectly healthy beer.

That, I cannot say for jam. One wrong move and you’re done, correct? Maybe I’ve read one person’s horror story and am making sweeping generalizations. But one person or many, I’ve been scarred. Jamming can wait until I have a professional tell me the same thing as our beer instructor: relax, you’ll be fine, your jam won’t kill you. Reader, if you’re that jamming professional from whom I seek validation, please speak up. And if anyone knows of a jam/canning class in NYC before the summer starts, I will pay you back with Bitcoins and praise.

But pickles…I’ll blow through a batch of pickles in a few days so there’s never any need to worry about long storage times. And it’s just about the easiest thing you can do in a jar. Water, salt, sugar, vinegar, that’s it. Throw some spices into the mix and you can take the flavor profile in any direction you’d like – classic with dill and coriander, or exotic, like I did last week with some beets, using cinnamon and star anise.

A few weeks ago I tried out some Vietnamese Do Chua – carrot and daikon radish thinly-sliced and left to marinate for a few days in a simple bath of water, white sugar, salt and vinegar.

Processed with VSCOcam with k2 preset

Let me tell you, there is nothing like homemade Do Chua when you’re craving Banh Mi. Not craving Banh Mi yet? Get yourself over to your nearest Vietnamese takeout spot where you can sample the real deal. And if you’re up for it, Banh Mi is pretty easy to make at home – it took 20 minutes to make this bad boy and my stomach was singing all afternoon.

Banh Mi

continue reading

7 comments
Sweet

Biscoff Buckeyes

buckeyes-landscapeLauren showed me a pen right before Valentine’s day. “Look mom, it says ‘Buckeyes’”.

Once I got past my initial panic that she was turning into a college basketball fan, I asked her where she’d gotten the pen. Apparently it was a gift from school. Some caring soul had brought Buckeyes into the classroom, and while her classmates snacked on treats, she and the two other nut-free kids sat in a corner and played with their new pens.

Fortunately she wasn’t traumatized, but she seemed to be genuinely curious about these mystery cookies that she’ll never be able to sample.

“Girl, I’ll make you a nut free Buckeye” I said as I started to dig around online for a similar recipe without peanut butter.

The problem is that she’s also allergic to Sunbutter, the sunflower seed butter that most recipes use as a substitute.

I was just about to call it a day, when I came across a recipe from The Spatularette that used Biscoff spread, a cookie-based butter, in place of the peanut butter.

buckeyes-portrait

I hadn’t heard of cookie butter until recently. But all of a sudden it was an in product, causing near-stampedes at Trader Joe’s over the holidays.

With this country’s fixation on all things cookie dough, I’d jumped to the erroneous conclusion that it was some kind of peanut butter studded with cookie dough. Sounds horrible and gag-inducing, but I wouldn’t put it past some people. If you need further proof, I give you the cookie dough martini.

So I’d turned a blind eye to cookie butter. I hadn’t given it a second thought until confronted with the Buckeye challenge.

buckeyes_biscoff

continue reading

6 comments