Red

3 1/2 Weeks

Inspiration

Food is a big inspiration for my photography, but probably the biggest of all is Karl. He likes to hang out in the living room, which gets southern exposure and the best light.

I often keep my camera on the coffee table for easy access when he looks especially cute.

For some reason, his left ear does not always make it into the photo.

Or his right one, in this case. Guess I will need to work on that.

Five Little 'Toes

Okay, I admit it. The photos that I posted yesterday of our Topsy Turvy tomato plant--I took them about a week ago.

Four new tomatoes have sprouted since then.

Four!

This is getting exciting.

Down and Out

My back deck has always been, shall we say, a little inhospitable to growing vegetables.

Anything that needs full sun will not find it there. Partial sun, yes. Shade, there's plenty. But sunbeams that cast a warm glow all day long, not happening.

Lately this has made me sad. Joining the CSA made me realize how good fresh-harvested veggies taste, and I have begun to wish that I had some green space to grow my own. Container gardening is popular in the city, but without much sunlight, I have always thought it would be a futile effort.

Well a few weeks ago, Ryan came home with Topsy Turvy (As Seen On TV!), a long hanging container that grows tomato plants upside down. Dubbed a new gardening trend by the New York Times, there are several purported benefits of growing tomatoes this way: less pests, fewer weeds, easier watering system, to name a few.

I admit, I was skeptical. First of all, he bought it at a 7-Eleven. Now I don't know a whole lot about gardening, but I know enough that 7-Eleven isn't typically the place to go to buy such supplies.

The thing looked pretty tacky, too, with it's shiny, plastic-like material, leafy pattern, and green plastic scalloped-edged lid with a hole in the middle for watering.

But after reading the Times article and taking my annual early-summer visit to the local plant and garden center--where I gamely select marigolds and the like for container boxes that hang over the side into enough sunlight to keep them perky for most of the summer--I decided to throw caution to the wind. I tucked in a sun gold tomato plant with my flowers and feeling uber impetuous, grabbed basil and sage plants too.

Aided by the sunnier space between the railing and roof of my deck and the nutrient rich worm compost that Ryan has managed throughout the winter, I think the tomatoes might have a fighting chance.

We put the plant through the hole at the bottom and used a circle of styrofoam with a slit cut to the center to secure it in place. Then we carefully scooped a few inches of potting soil around the plant, added a few inches of compost, and topped off with more soil.

I am supposed to water daily. Within a few weeks, I think I'll be able to tell whether I can add cherry tomatoes into my salads. Stay tuned.

Sleeper Hit

Every so often, a recipe comes along that causes us to pause and say damn, that was so good and easy. Why haven't we made this before?

And then it effortlessly slides into the recipe rotation like it has been there all along.

Ryan recently discovered one such recipe, Spicy Orange Salad, Moroccan Style, that was featured in the New York Times Magazine a few weeks ago.

Seriously people. This is so easy to make, it's ridiculous. The flavors are so surprisingly different. Who knew oranges and olives went together so well?

The most time-consuming part is peeling off the pulp. But once that's done, just combine with a mixture of olive oil, vinegar, spices, olives, and it's ready to go. No oven needed, no refrigerator necessary (but fine, if you want to serve chilled).

Ryan has made it on two separate occasions and garnered at least three requests for the recipe. So in case you wanted to ask, here it is.

Spicy Orange Salad, Moroccan Style (from the New York Times)

3 large seedless oranges (clementines work well)

1/8 t cayenne

1 t paprika

1/2 t garlic

3 T olive oil

1 T red-wine or sherry vinegar

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

1/3 cup chopped parsley

12 pitted black olives

Peel the oranges and the pulp. Cut each orange into 8 wedges. Cut each wedge into 1-inch pieces. Set aside. Mix cayenne, paprika, olive oil, garlic, and vinegar into a bowl. Add salt and pepper to taste and whisk. Add oranges, parsley, and olives. Toss. Serve cold or at room temperature.

Serves 4.

Adventures at the Chicago French Market

On day 3 of my new job, I finally ventured into Chicago French Market - the new French-style indoor market located just steps from all of the Metra trains in Ogilvie Transportation Center.

Despite the florescent lighting and windowless, boxy space, it is nothing like a traditional food shopping experience.

Booths of fresh produce, ethnic delicacies, handmade pasta and breads, and a variety of artisan cheese, meat, and pastries stand ready for harried commuters to dash in and out moments later with enough ingredients to make whatever meal is envisioned for the evening.

Or so I thought.

I got there in plenty of time to wander around and look for items for this recipe - Feisty Green Beans from 101 Cookbooks. I was immediately drawn to this dish for its central use of green beans, one of my favorite veggies, and combination of spices.

I set out to find all of the ingredients that I needed to buy. Onions, garlic, green beans, and sour cream were easy. We had virtually everything else in the pantry except tofu, which was no where to be found.

I asked the cashier at the produce stand and she shook her head. I browsed the shelves of another small grocer. Nada. I did an entire loop around the market, and saw nothing that resembled tofu. I was starting to think that I would substitute chicken, when the guy behind the counter at Chicago Organics caught my eye.

"Can I help you?" he asked, eager to please.

"I'm looking for tofu. You don't have any by chance," I said, with hope.

He paused in thought, shook his head, and then said the words I dreaded to hear.

"No. I don't think anyone sells tofu here."

But then, then...

He reconsidered.

"But you might try asking at the Asian sandwich shop over there," he said, nodding to Saigon Sisters across the aisle. "Just ask, they might have some to sell to you. You never know."

I had nothing to lose.

I approached.

"Do you happen to have any uncooked tofu," I asked the smiling woman. "I need it for a recipe and can't find any."

She disappeared in the storage room, emerging a few minutes later with a vacuum-sealed package of fried tofu. Not uncooked, but good enough for me.

"I'll sell it to you for $2.50," she said. "And do you want some bread?" she gestured to a bowl of mini-baguettes. "You can have it for free."

I paid, took a loaf, and went off in search of cheese.

I barely made my train.