this recent issue of Vermont Life (I’ll be relocating there soon) has a lovely grouping of recipes on spinach. i don’t know why, but i have loved spinach from first taste. and that may have been more than 15 years ago, if i remember correctly. still a single-digit kid, i marked winters with my sisters, mugs of hot chocolate bigger than our faces, long ponytails loosened and static-y under knit hats, our singsong voices hoarse from all the shrieking and laughing that comes with steep backyard sledding hills. 

and here’s that first taste: spinach in it’s purest form, fresh, then wilted over the stovetop. lid removed, steam escaping, tongs gently lifting the deepest green i’d ever seen onto my clean white plate. “now squirt some of that lemon on top,” my aunt said, eyes smiling. our little fingers followed the directions, our feet dangled from the tall chairs, the soft virgin skin of our cheeks got all warm and rosy from that steaming deep green. spinach. it’ll warm your [cold, winter, sledding] belly if you let it. 

Erin Papin of Dylan’s Cafe in St. Johnsbury offers a pretty perfect recipe for “Spinach, Caramelized Onion and Goat Cheese Turnovers.” You can use frozen puff pastry, which saves on time (and stress) without compromising on their homemade, wholesome, iknowwhat’sinthese quality. They are so, so good. 

+ for a meatier bit, my mom added diced chicken to a few of the turnovers. she sautéed the chicken in olive oil and garlic before enveloping them with the spinach, onion, goat cheese mixture.

+ for a quarter turn spin, i added a sprinkling of diced sun-dried tomatoes to the already vegetarian mixture, for extra tang. 

to popeye, and to all adults who can help children love spinach xx

on sunday, the sun was out high and bright, early. my dad is redoing the back patio, which means pulling out (square, by heavy cement square) the old surface and leveling the uneven, clay ground beneath it. my toes, the pads of my bare feet, know those old cement squares intrinsically. sharp angles and crevices, the way they cooled at night. summer, after summer, after summer season, those cement squares held up late-night parties and early morning bowls of cereal. they played stage to countless conversations, varying degrees of graveness and seriousness, humor, make-believe, charades. from the adirondack chairs that once sat at the squares’ edge, just close enough so that your feet could reach out to graze the grass of the back lawn, the whole magical backyard was there for your eyes’ taking. 

the new patio brick will suffice, and beautifully so, but pulling up those cement squares deserved a good sandwich. thick whole wheat bread, dijon mustard, tuna, and some rich cheddar cheese on top to be broiled.

sundays of labor need sandwiches.  xx

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars.” - jack kerouac 

i love julia, and i love jacques, and i love this blog, their videos, and the songs they choose as background. 

watch Bon Appetempt make Crepes Suzette: http://www.bonappetempt.com/2011/10/video-attempt-crepes-suzette.html

there’s something about cooking – the filming and the watching - don’t ya think? it’s calming, and while somewhat passive, we also learn, get a feel for instincts. and food is all about instinct, isn’t it. 

enjoy xx

(Source: addtoany.com)

doors, doors, doors, doors.

adored xx

this string of paragraphs is one of the loveliest things i’ve ever read… and it happens to be all about cilantro (and not about cilantro at all). 

“I Feared You, Cilantro, and Now I Love You Too Much” by Mei Chin

to “leaves like snowflakes, miniature and brilliant green” xx

Happy Pi(e) Day to you! 

“A pie can always be turned out for dessert as long as there are lemons in the house, and American cooks have devised many recipes. President Calvin Coolidge is said to have favored a simple lemon custard pie. The even more common lemon meringue, ever present in public eating places, is one more dish served at Boston’s Parker House that has become a classic in the American repertoire. ”

- American Food: The Gastronomic Story, Evan Jones

And for the meringue. In 1847, Mrs. T. J. Crowen had these lovely instructions for American bakers:

“Meringue Pie:  This may be made by adding to a nicely made and baked tart, a nice whip, made as follows: to the white of a fresh egg, add two tablespoons of finely pulverized white sugar; flavor with lemon, vanilla, or any other flavor, which may be liked, whip the same as for kisses, then with a knife lay it on the top of the tart, and whape it nicely off at the edges, then set it into an oven and close it for a few minutes until it is delicately browned.”

- Mrs. Crowen’s American Lady’s Cook Book, Mrs. T. J. Crowen

I looked to my generation’s trustworthy food man, Mark Bittman, for lemon meringue guidance. If you missed it today, tomorrow’s good for pie, too. 

goodpi(e)night xx

want to understand the point of Slow Food USA?

read Josh Viertel’s article “The Soul of Slow Food: Fighting for Both Farmers and Eaters.” it is a delicious and necessary manifesto about raising the standards of our food industry and our agriculture industry, raising our expectations for the food we eat. raising awareness, raising the bar, raising our level of discipline, raising our level of self-worth, raising the food desert-ed up and out. 

Mr. Viertel says this:

“So far, the basic question has been about our identity: Should we be a movement that meets the interests of those who are naturally drawn to us and who can afford to take part, or should we be a movement that meets the needs of those who are most dependent on our being successful — and who are most vulnerable if we fail?

Underlying is a much deeper question, not just about our identity, but about our soul as an organization and as a movement: Do we have the foresight, the bravery, and the heart to be a movement that does both?

I believe we do, and I believe we must.”

to being both xx