A Nosh-less Week.

For the last five days, I've had gastroenteritis – a stomach virus. This was no cute fluffy virus where I had a few cramps and blew my nose and it was over. This was an epic, almost James Cameron-esque sickness, which lasted far longer than it should have, and probably had a few too many twists. I will not go into details, because of all the things this blog should highlight, my intestinal fireworks is not one of them. I will say that this was the first sickness I've had where eating was the last thing on my mind. Usually with a cold, I gorge – mostly pickles, grapefruit juice, really any leftovers, passing wild animals. I just graze all day. Today, for the first time in five days, I felt hungry. I thought about food and didn't go, “Ugh.” I had to celebrate. 

The weather is getting warmer so it's grain salad season. It's the perfect lunch nice and cold out of the fridge. It's utterly customizable – whatever you're in the mood for, you can adjust it. Best of all, it's guilt free in my book. Packed with protein-rich grains, succulent roasted veggies, and tangy citrus dressing, you won't even get bored after a few days of this lunch. I'm excited for a (mild, cool, almost autumn-like) summer full of meals just like this one. And being healthy enough to eat them. 

Southwest-Style Quinoa Salad

1 c quinoa

1 medium garnet yam, diced

1 c corn (frozen is fine)

1 red bell pepper, diced

1 15 oz can black beans, rinsed

cilantro

cumin, chili powder, garlic powder

olive oil

2 limes

salt + pepper

First, get the quinoa going. Rinse the kernels until the water runs clear through a sieve – that dusty stuff on the outside can make the finished product more gummy. Put the quinoa in a small pot with 2 cups of water and boil, then lower to a just-there simmer, cover and let cook for 15 minutes.

While that's cooking, turn the oven to 375 and prep your vegetables. I like to roast the diced sweet potato, diced red pepper, and corn all together on one baking sheet. Toss the vegetables with ½ tsp each of cumin, chili, and garlic, a bit of salt and pepper, and about 1-2 tbsp olive oil. Make sure everything is covered in plenty of seasoning and oil, while not swimming in the stuff. Roast in the oven for 30 minutes, and resist the urge to open the oven – you're more likely to get browned and crunchy bits.

Once the quinoa is fully cooked, pull the pot off the heat. In between the lid and the pot, set a clean dry kitchen towel. Let the quinoa sit like that for 10 minutes – this will help the grain absorb the remaining liquid without collecting all the left-over condensation in the pot. After that, pour out the grain onto a clean baking sheet and let it cool. By the time your vegetables come out of the oven, it should be in good shape.

In a small bowl, whisk together the juice of both limes, 1/3 c olive oil, and ½ tsp each of your cumin, chili, and garlic. Combine the quinoa, vegetables, drained beans, and dressing in a big bowl, sprinkle with chopped cilantro, and toss well. It's good right away, but I like it after it's been refrigerated for a while. 

From Whore, With Love.

Tomorrow is Mother's Day, and in the insanity of preparing the new house, packing the old house, doing as much writing as possible, having an incredibly stressful time at work, and taking a class online... I have neglected to do anything to celebrate my #1 Lady. We've never been big on the minor holidays in my family (Grandparents' Day? Guy Fawkes Day? Who cares?). But this year, I do want to acknowledge the awesomeness that is Mama Ger. 

I spent a big part of my younger years looking out for her, very much in the way she was looking out for me – I just didn't know it. Her parenting style was very laissez-faire. I made my mistakes (plenty) and cleaned up the messes, having been warned that my actions have consequences. Every lesson I learned growing up with her stuck hard. I give her a ton of credit for never uttering the words, “Because I said so.” There was always a good reason, and I was always allowed to argue it. 

What she lacked in the kitchen (I perhaps ate the same 5 meals repeatedly over a 10-year period) she made up for in street smarts. Among the invaluable things I have learned from her:

• You can smoke pot, but don't overdo it, or you might forget what your mother looks like, and you will FREAK OUT.
• If you do acid, don't catch sight of yourself in a mirror.
• Dating 2 guys at once can be fun, and it's not wrong to borrow one of their cars to take the other one out.
• There is no such thing as an “inside voice.”
• Pay more than the minimum payment on your credit card every month, and always a few days early. They will be throwing 0% APR cards at you in no time and your credit score will be awesome.
• Say what's on your mind always. If people get pissy or offended, you probably shouldn't be around them anyway. The ones who stay will show you everything you need to know about love and tolerance.

Ger, even though this year on Mother's Day I will be laying a vinyl floor instead of showering you with scented candles and potted hyacinths, I will forever be grateful to you for being the MOST FUN person I could have spent the last 30 years getting to know. Your method of parenting may have been wild enough to make Mary Poppins hemorrhage and bleed out of her ears... but I had a great fucking time. 

Eating my feelings.

Food is emotional. Sometimes I don’t want it to be, because a voice in my head (she’s attached to this loud, skinny bitch that I just hate) pipes up every time I get sad and reach for a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. “Don’t eat your feelings! They’re going to have to wash you with a rag on a stick one day!”  I mean, always tell that little bitch to shut up and enjoy the ice cream, but still… it’s a thing.

Another voice in my head (the one attached to a normal sized girl with fantastic hair and clothes, I love her) reminds me that I understand moderation on a basic level, and as I am wont to check in with myself on all sorts of levels all the time, it’s not likely that I will end up as a person who needs to be removed from her house by a crane. 

I'm getting ready to leave my apartment in about 17 days. I've lived here for three years with Q, and I haven't felt so at home since I left my parent's house for college.  I've also never moved away from an apartment/house/dorm without being 100% sick of living there. This is the first time I'm leaving a place, a place I love and feel part of, willingly. I'm not running away from anything, for once. I'm just... leaving. 

True, I'm leaving a 2 bedroom apartment for a 3 bedroom house with a back deck, and my monthly rent will be cut by about 70%. It's a very attractive, lovely graduation - a home, a chance to improve my credit and build my savings, an opportunity to live without feeling temporary and like I shouldn't make too much of an imprint. The next few years of my life will be about nothing BUT leaving as big an imprint as possible.  But...it's a seriously emotional time.  

For this particular cocktail of emotions, I needed vegetables, but also.. cheese. So much cheese. A big cheese hug. I found this fantastic recipe after hearing my dad go on and on about my mom’s famous cauliflower gratin (which no doubt involves synthetic cheeze, half and half, and Ritz crackers) and had a go. Tons of veg. Tons of cheesy cream sauce. Tons of “nommy nom” noises while I ate this and watched “Girls” on HBO. (Have you seen this? We clearly need to talk about it.) 

Get yourself a nice warm cheese hug and let those tumultuous feelings melt away. It’s a legit way to deal. 

Broccoli and Cauliflower Gratin

(Adapted from The Kitchn)

Serves 8

2 pounds broccoli
2 pounds cauliflower (about 1 large head)
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 small sweet onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 cups whole milk, scalded
1 cup grated Gruyère cheese
1 /2 teaspoon mustard powder
1/2 cup breadcrumbs or panko (I used breadcrumbs)
1/4 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
1 tablespoon olive oil
Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste

Preheat oven to 350°

Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Cut off the woody bases of the vegetables and tear or chop into bite-sized florets. Add the vegetables to the water and cook until the broccoli is bright green, about 1- 2 minutes. Drain and place in an ice water bath to stop the cooking. Set aside in a large mixing bowl.

In a large skillet, melt 1 tablespoon of butter over medium heat. Add the onions and sauté until soft and translucent. Add the garlic and cook for an additional 30 seconds. Remove the onion mixture and set aside with the vegetables.

Wipe out the skillet and melt the remaining 3 tablespoons of butter over medium heat. Whisk in the flour and cook until the mixture is smooth, about one minute. Pour in the milk (which really SHOULD be scalding – I added it cold and things got awkward) and continue to cook, whisking frequently until the sauce is thickened. Turn off the heat; stir in the Gruyere and mustard powder until the cheese is melted and the sauce is creamy. S+P to taste.

In a large baking dish (I used my trusty 9x13 Pyrex) put together the veggies and cheese sauce and mix to combine.  Season with S+P to taste again if it needs it! Mix together the breadcrumbs, Parmesan, and olive oil. Sprinkle over the vegetables and bake until hot and bubbly, about 40 minutes.

Eat while packing boxes to prevent crying, singing Bette Midler songs, and hugging the cat for an inappropriately long time.

Do? Do Not.

This weekend I took an extra day off. For me, there are Do days and Do Not days. Most days turn into Do's, without planning them that way. You've forgotten to pick something up at the pharmacy, but on the way, you stop at the deli because there are only 3 slices of bread left so you're going to need more soon, but before you go the phone rings and your mom needs you to give her coworker advice because her 18-year old son is about to move into the city and won't he just get shot his first day there? And before you know it, all the hours are gone and you've blindly careened through them. Whoosh.

A weekend of Do days is hardly a break. I took Monday so I could Do Not. It consisted of whim after whim. Hm, I think I'll treat Q to brunch for her birthday! Hm, I think I'll eat an ice cream cone! I think I'll wander through Anthropologie and buy nothing because who in the hell can afford ANYTHING at Anthropologie! Even off the sale rack! Guess what! Fifty dollars for an asymmetrical cotton tee-shirt is not a bargain, you guys! Whims, if you couldn't tell yet, are rife with unnecessary exclamation points. Just lousy with 'em.

A big part of a Do Not day is also cooking without a recipe. Recipes, written ones with food stains, torn messily out of magazines, are a very Do practice. Do this. Do that. Do eat what you've made with satisfaction. I much prefer to end a day like Monday with a contrary experience. Do Not go shopping – use what you have in the house. Do Not look up anything online – trust your instincts and feel your way through. Do Not expect anything – keep tasting and let the dish become what it's supposed to. It's totally zen cooking. The Dalai Lama would love this soup. If you keep a well-stocked pantry (which I'm still figuring out, half-assedly) you've probably got something in there and you don't even know it. Do Not let the hours get away from you. Hold them close and make this soup.

Garlic cloves, minced

onions, carrots, celery, all diced

a can of diced tomatoes

one cup of tiny pasta like tubetti (so cute!)

extras: a bunch of shredded swiss chard, some chunks of yukon gold potatoes, a sliced parsnip, some frozen corn, pieces of a leftover fennel bulb, a zucchini...

This is more of a guiding format than a map itself. Be sure you cook like with like – hard, root-ey vegetables that take a while to soften first, then softer stuff later so it doesn't turn to mush. Adjust as you like it – less onion, tons of garlic. You're the one who's going to eat it!

Sweat the onions, carrots, and celery in a pot with a splash of olive oil until they get soft, and then add the garlic. Once that raw garlicky smell mellows out, add other stuff you might want (except a leafy green like chard). As it all softens together, season with S+P and add your chosen herbs – rosemary and thyme work nicely with this group of characters. Once it's all soft and looking like it belongs together, add your can of tomatoes and a can and a half's worth of water. Bring it all to a boil and once it's there, add the pasta and drop to a simmer for about 12 minutes. If you want, add the chard or other greenery after your pasta is to the right consistency, and after you've adjusted for salt and herb-ey-ness, let it all hang out for another 10 or so. If there's a God, you'll end up with a nice simple pot of soup that, while a bit homely and basic, will satisfy you because it is what it is, and nothing less.