Traveling

I brought two zucchinis and a bag of sugar snap peas on my trip out west. The first zucchini made it into the veggie fajitas on the first night of a camping trip in the Olympic mountains. I snacked on a few before they went into the pot, and they tasted so good! But then again, food always tastes good after a long hike. The second zucchini went into the mac and cheese on night #2. Yum!

After the camping trip, I stayed at Rachel's in Seattle. She has a gorgeous backyard with the most amazing garden. It felt like my own private CSA. I snacked on plump, juicy raspberries and crunchy sugar snap peas. It helped make up for the fact that I had to abandon some of my CSA veggies at home before the trip.

On the last leg of my journey, I visted Emily, Ben, and Oceanne in Sausalito. We had a delicious dinner at the Michelin-rated Japanese restaurant Sushi Ran. But I must give a shout out to Ben for his inventive "French pizza." On homemade dough, he topped the spinach, corn, and onions - with three eggs.

Delicieux!

Late Start

My first summer CSA delivery came and went a week and a half ago. Lots of greens - lettuce, spinach, green garlic, zucchini, sugar snap peas, mint, as well as mushrooms, rhubarb, and strawberries.

I was so happy to see all of those fresh vegetables after such a long, cold winter - finally! But it seemed like my CSA got a late start this year. Since I get a half share, I only pick up every other week. This year I am in the second group, which means I started the second week instead of the first, so I think that's why it felt later to me.

Unfortunately, my delivery came two days before a weeklong vacation to the west coast to visit some friends. I didn't have much time to eat all the goods, so the first night I made a 3-course meal: my favorite strawberry and feta salad, sauteed chicken with spinach and green garlic, and a rhubarb crisp with vanilla ice cream for dessert.

I always think of the early CSA deliveries as very green and leafy, but that night belonged to the ruby red stalks of rhubarb. I made the recipe straight from the Homegrown Wisconsin CSA newsletter. It truly satisfied. The oatmeal in the crust gave it an extra crunch, although I will go easy on the sugar next time.

Rhubarb Crisp Bars (from Homegrown Wisconsin)

Top and bottom crust
1 Cup flour
3/4 Cup oatmeal (uncooked)
1 Cup brown sugar (packed)
1/2 cup butter (melted)

Filling
3/4 cup sugar
1 1/2 Tablespoons flour
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1 Tablespoon butter (softened)
1 egg (beaten)
2 cups rhubarb (cut into 1/2 inch pieces)

Directions
Mix flour, oatmeal, brown sugar, and butter until crumbly. Press 1/2 into greased 9” square pan. Add rhubarb. Beat egg. Blend sugar, flour nutmeg and butter. Add beaten egg, beat until smooth. Pour over rhubarb. Top with other half of crumb mixture. Press mixture down lightly. Bake at 350 degrees for 20-25 minutes. Great with vanilla ice cream!

The Power of Strawberries

This morning I planned to go to opening day of the Northcenter Farmers Market. It was pouring rain, but I still stopped by. Aside from a few nice days, we haven't had much of a summer yet in Chicago. It's getting a little depressing, but I want to take advantage of fresh strawberries while they are still in season.

Just looking at them cheers me up.

My Name is Lindsay, and I am a Recipe Follower

Yesterday I took part in two of my most favorite Chicago summer pastimes.

I had lawn-seat tickets to see the some of the best singer-songwriters around on one stage - Emmylou Harris, Shawn Colvin, Patti Griffin, and Buddy Miller. They performed at Ravinia, the outdoor pavilion concert venue.

Lawn seats at Ravinia mean only one thing. Picnic! I found this black bean and tomato quinoa recipe on The Kitchn to supplement store-bought cheese, crackers, and strawberries.

At around 10 a.m. I got to work in the kitchen, which felt strange because I typically cook at night. But as the quinoa's nutty smell mingled with the scent of my morning coffee, I mixed spices and lime juice with black beans, yellow corn, and grape tomatoes, and tossed with the quinoa. But no matter how much extra salt and pepper I threw in there, the whole thing tasted kind of bland.

But I didn't have time to tweak. I had to get going so I wouldn't miss a scheduled talk at the other event that's always high on my Chicago summer to-do list - the Printers Row Lit Fest.

To understand the Printers Row Lit Fest, you need to picture several city blocks filled with white tents. Then imagine those white tents filled with tables and shelves. Then think of those tables and shelves piled high with books. Then revel in the fact that those books are heavily discounted. It's a beautiful site.

Many authors also give talks about their books. I had the privilege of listening to chef-turned-New-York-Times-food-columnist-and-book-author Molly O'Neill discuss her new anthology of American food writing.

I have to be honest that since my interest in cooking only dates back about a year and a half, I was not familiar with her work. But in addition to cooking more, I am interested in how food writers write about cooking. How do you describe the tastes and smells? How do you convey the feeling of creating and sharing a meal? How do you explain how those little (or major, in my case) kitchen disasters and hard-fought victories that define the cooking experience?

I made it to the tent just in time to hear the Hearty Boys introduce her and moderator, Leah Eskin (a Chicago Tribune food columnist whose work I am familiar with and a fan of). So I'm sitting there, feeling quite literary and ready to absorb her culinary wisdom, when Molly says something kind of obvious but provocative.

She says (and I paraphrase), "I've learned that there are two types of people - recipe followers and cooks. A recipe follower takes a recipe and makes it exactly as it is written. A cook can look at the recipe and remember it, and may try ways to change it."

As I ponder this, I suddenly realize why the quinoa tastes so bland. I forgot to add green onions! My mind tingles with a mix of dread and relief. How could I forget when they were on the recipe? I can add them later, but would the flavor have been stronger if I had mixed them in earlier? This internal dialogue rages inside my head. It's undeniable. I am a recipe follower.

I think there is a stigma associated with this, that recipe followers aren't creative or adventurous enough to experiment with ingredients and make a dish our own. But when I think about it, I am reminded of why I was intimidated to start cooking in the first place - a great fear of messing up. Compounding that fear were articles, magazines, cookbooks, blogs, and all those picture-perfect dishes that made cooking feel inaccessible and not worth the effort.

Just two weeks before the summer CSA deliveries start up again, it's worth revisiting why I decided to start. Essentially I was bored with my narrow range of food choices and thought that if I paid upfront, I would have to find ways to eat it. I also loved the environmental aspect of eating food that's grown nearby. What I didn't realize was how much better the food would taste and how many new foods and flavors I have discovered in the process.

Now if someone (usually Ryan, who qualifies as more of a cook) suggests a substitution or variation on the recipe, I'll still flinch. But Molly says that being a recipe follower is not necessarily a bad thing, especially if it's how people get comfortable in the kitchen. Relief! I mean who cares as long as I'm making meals from real food and not boxes?

Molly even put it out there in her talk. "What's the worst that could happen? You could blow dinner. So what? Then you order pizza."

I went home, liberated, and added those green onions. Just like the recipe said.

He Likes It! He Really Likes It!

Okay, I know I have to stop posting pictures of the cat, but I wanted to show how well our window plants are coming along. The cat grass shot up immediately. The herbs are sprouting but a little slower, and the lettuce is about ready to harvest.

Southern Exposure

Spring is so close, I can practically taste it. Literally.

We planted some window boxes with a mesclun mix of lettuce, and chives, basil, and sage from seeds. We also picked up a scallion plant, which the cat has already decimated, and some cat grass seeds, which will hopefully distract Karl from the scallion plant.

The CSA starts up again in mid-June, which seems like an interminably long time away. I wish I could grow tomatoes, peppers, and cucumbers, but my back deck doesn't get enough sunlight, and the front lawn is not an option for me.

So last weekend we went to Gethsemane, where the gardening experts told us that lettuce and herbs could grow in a window that gets a lot of light. They also told us to water them often because terra cotta dries out quickly.

I can't wait for that first salad and pasta with pesto.

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.