Dry Spell

March falls smack dab in between the winter and summer CSAs. We mashed our last potato, chopped our last onion, and peeled our last head of garlic from the January box weeks ago, entering the long local food dry spell that is February through May.

Unfortunately this has also become a long stretch where I'm not cooking very much. While Chicago still offers local food in the long winter months in the form of the Green City Market one Saturday morning a month, I must admit that I like nothing better than to sleep in on Saturdays, make coffee, and settle in to read the news. Even the lure of fresh vegetables won't rouse me out of the house. So I've been buying fruits and vegetables at the grocery store, lamenting how much better the carrots and the onions taste when they come straight from a Wisconsin farm and into my dinner in less than a week.

So what to do when there isn't much local food to eat? Why travel, of course. I usually take a few long weekends during this time, which is nice because I don't have to worry about spoiling food. It's also inspiring to sample the local delicacies of the places that I go, and even bring them home. During a short trip to Santa Fe, I alternated between red chili and green chili, and Ryan picked up a bag of pinon pancake mix. Pinon nuts come from small trees that grow in New Mexico. We've made two batches so far, including this morning. Although I set off the smoke detector, they were tasty with maple syrup. We ate them too fast for me to take pictures.

Another weekend, I went skiing with Ali and Becca in Montana. Ali had given me a bag of Evening in Missoula tea when she last visited Chicago. I'm not much of a tea drinker (coffee, hello), but I love the taste of this tea. It's so not Celestial Seasonings. Although I am still working my way through the first bag, I bought another to bring home.

Speaking of eating local food, I heard from Lauren in Singapore this morning, who was excited to report that she and Mo and their new precious little girl Samara are now getting a box of locally grown organic produce delivered to their doorstep. Apparently in Singapore that means kiwi from Italy, she writes. When I told Ryan, he said they must subscribe to a GSA - globally supported agriculture. But maybe that is as local as it gets in Singapore. Not everyone lives near a farm or has access to food grown nearby. I feel lucky that I do even though it's not year round. Maybe this will inspire me to freeze or can more during the summer. More likely, it will make me want to travel more.

Spicy Valentine

We observed Valentine's Day on Sunday. I made dinner while Karl snacked on the flowers that Ryan got me.

I made a recipe from a cookbook called Where Flavor Was Born, which is organized by spices found in countries along the Indian Ocean. The dish came from the chapter on cardamom - green pods that taste like licorice.

The recipe had plenty of other spices too and turned out to be one of the most flavorful dishes that I've made.

Chicken Cardamom Masala with Cashews (From Where Flavor Was Born by Andreas Viestad)

1/2 cup plain full-fat yogurt
2 tablespoons garam masala
6-10 cardamom pods, lightly bruised
1 1-inch piece of cinnamon stick
2 teaspoons chili powder, or more to taste
2 teaspoons chopped fresh ginger
2 teaspoons salt
1 chicken, cut into 8 pieces, or 4 chicken thighs, halved (I used chicken breasts)
1 teaspoon powdered turmeric
Oil for panfrying
4 onions, chopped
3-5 cloves of garlic, chopped
4-6 teaspoons cashews
1-2 tablespoons tomato paste or ketchup
1/4 cup heavy cream (optional - I didn't use this)
Chopped cilantro or parsley for garnish

I also tossed in cauliflower and made brown rice.

In a large bowl, combine the yogurt, garam masala, cardamom, cinnamon stick, chili powder, ginger, and salt. Add the chicken, turning to coat. Let marinate for as long as you have time. Use a spatula to scrape of as much of the marinade from the chicken as possible; reserve the marinade. Pat the chicken dry using paper towels, and sprinkle with turmeric. Heat a tablespoon of oil in a wide pot over high heat. Add the chicken and cook, turning occasionally, for 10 minutes, or until the skin is nicely browned. Remove chicken, reduce heat, and saute onions and garlic for 4-5 minutes, until starting to soften. Add chicken, reserved marinade, cashews, and tomato paste, cover, and cook for 25-30 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through. Stir in cream (if desired) and cook for 2 more minutes. Garnish with cilantro.

Little Ones

Karl

Grace

Here Come the Sun(chokes)

Not surprisingly, plenty of root veggies came in the final winter CSA delivery two weeks ago.

Last year, I was overwhelmed with potatoes and clueless about rutabaga. This year, I am mildly swamped with potatoes with no rutabaga in sight. Instead we've been preoccupied with something new and different.

Sunchokes.

A.k.a. Jerusalem artichokes, these puppies neither come from Jerusalem nor do they resemble artichokes (according to Wikipedia, Europeans called them "girasole," which means sunflower in Italian. The J. a. is a type of sunflower). But they look more like a cross between ginger root and odd-shaped potatoes.

The Internet recommended putting them into soups and salads. Instead, we made this recipe. Let me tell you, it was a winner. So easy and healthy and nutty (flavored, that is). Ryan is researching grocery stores around Chicago to find out where we can get more.

Quinoa Sunchoke Pilaf (from foodreference.com)

3/4 cup quinoa
2 Tbsp olive oil
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 1/4 cup vegetable (or chicken) broth
1 cup chickpeas, cooked or canned, (drained and rinsed)
1 cup peeled, chopped sunchokes
1 cup peas, fresh or frozen
1 tsp pepper

Place the quinoa in a large bowl; fill with cold water. Pour into a strainer, then return the quinoa to the bowl and rinse 4 times more. Drain well. Heat the oil in a 2-quart saucepan over medium-high heat. Add the rinsed quinoa and cook, stirring, until it cracks and pops, about 3 to 5 minutes. Add the onion and cook, stirring, until the onion is soft. Add the vegetable broth and bring to a boil over high heat. Add the chickpeas, sunchokes, peas, and pepper, and return to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer, covered, 20 minutes. Fluff with a fork. Serve.

Sugar High

For inauguration, I roadtripped to DC and went to a party at my dad's office, which overlooks the parade route on Pennsylvania Avenue.

It was fun and I was thrilled to see Obama take the oath of office (for the first time), but I ate way too much sugar.

First, I sampled some cookies. Then a piece of tiramisu. Followed by an apple bread cakey thing. I also drank an orange mango flavored Nantucket Nectars. I didn't actually eat the cookies pictured above. I was feeling a little gnarly by the time I saw them but thought they captured the spirit of the occasion.

After awhile, my head started to hurt. By the time I got home, I had a throbbing headache.

But it was worth it to see Obama's motorcade speed by on the way to the Capitol. To see Malia's face smiling from the window of The Beast during the parade. To see the Bidens waving to the crowd on Pennsylvania Avenue. To see Bush's helicopter flying away for good.

For that, I'd eat a thousand cookies.

A Moroccan Meal

We try to keep the kitchen uncluttered with gadgets. But for Ryan, the holidays bring out a certain interest in international ceramic dishware. Over the past two years, he has gifted me with a few items that one might not find in most American kitchens.

Last year, he shopped at the Christkindlmart in Daley Plaza and bought me a zwiebeln jar, which means onions in German. This year, he followed up with a smaller knoblauch jar for garlic. Considering the amount of onions and garlic that come in the CSA, and how I use these indispensible ingredients in more recipes than I can count, I treasure these jars. There is the kitsch factor to appreciate too.

He also bought me another item that we had been contemplating - a tajine. The conical clay pots are used in Morocco to slow cook meat, veggies, fruit, and spices. The pointy top collects the steam and returns the condensation to cook the food in the dish. Lovely aromas ensue.

There are many different combinations that can go in the tajine, but commonly used foods include chicken, lamb, pork, fish, onions, peppers, potatoes, tomatoes, apples, pears, prunes, raisins, dates, cinnamon, turmeric, ginger, cumin, paprika, and saffron. Lemons and olives are frequently used ingredients.

Our came from a local giftshop that sells stuff like mood crystals and smells powerfully of patchouli. Unfortunately this odor had seeped into the tajine and failed to go away no matter how much we washed it. Finally we crossed our fingers that the food would taste okay.

The tajine came with a simple chicken recipe. It called for dried apricots, which always remind me of my grandmother, who passed away when I was a teenager.

I have this memory of us taking one of those tiny airplanes with an aisle you need to sidestep through and an overhead compartment that fits nothing but a jacket. It was a bumpy flight through the mountains so to calm our nerves from the turbulence, she took out a bag of apricots and handed them across the aisle one by one.

Each holiday season, my grandfather sends a bucket of trail mix. For some reason, he sent apricots this time. We mixed them with the other ingredients in the dish, put the whole deal in the oven, and passed the time with a Bollywood movie called Uriya.

Two hours later the oven buzzed. We were still watching this very long movie but paused to see how it turned out. The chicken was succulent and infused with flavor. There was no hint of patchouli although it was a bit too sweet - next time I would go easy on the honey. But the meal was one of the easiest to make and most delicious that I've eaten in a long time.

We then watched the end of the movie in which (spoiler warning!) the male lead, in trying to prevent his lady love from committing the terrorist act of detonating a bomb at India's Independence Day parade, begged her to blow them up together instead. And she did.

I suppose there is something to say about the different ways that people show love for one another, but I will leave it at that.

Holman Pottery* Tajine Recipe
4 chicken breasts, skinned

1/4 cup honey

1 large onion, chopped

3 cloves garlic, minced

2 sticks cinnamon

Juice of 1 lemon

2 teaspoons turmeric

1/2 cup dried apricot quarters

Preheat oven to 350. Arrange chicken breasts in bottom of tajine. Pour honey over chicken; sprinkle with onion and then with minced garlic. Add cinnamon sticks and sprinkle with lemon juice and turmeric. Top with apricot quarters, cover. Bake for about 2 hours or until fork can be inserted in chicken with ease. Remove cinnamon sticks from chicken mixture and serve with rice or couscous. Makes 4 servings.

* Makers of our tajine.

A Local Thanksgiving, Sort Of

We had a very local Thanksgiving. Sort of. We went to Maryland but brought a lot of veggies from the CSA with us.

The adventure started on Thanksgiving eve when we boarded an Amtrak train to Cumberland, Maryland - about 45 minutes from Deep Creek Lake, where we spent the holiday with my parents.

The overnight ride took about 15 hours, and it was mostly great. We met some amusing passengers (like this beefy ex-marine type who kept saying "Namaste, buddy" to the baffled snack bar cashier of South Asian descent), watched the snowy shores of the Youghiogany River drift by from the lounge car, and got cricks in our necks from sleeping in recliner coach seats.

We also hauled a bunch of food for Thanksgiving dinner, like sweet potatoes, cranberry relish, pie pumpkin, and potatoes and leeks for a soup the night after.

With a few feet of snow on the ground outside and a cozy fire going, we prepared a fairly traditional dinner that also included turkey, stuffing, green beans, and lots o' wine. I felt so thankful for the food on the table, for the family sitting around it, and for family and friends who weren't with us.

The leftovers were plentiful, and we took all the food back to Washington, DC, where we spent the rest of the weekend. But as fun as the train was on the way there, we flew home with lighter bags but heavier stomachs.