Simplicity

Food blogging has received a lot of attention lately thanks to the movie Julie & Julia.

While I liked the film and even read some of the book (honestly, I couldn't get through it), there is another food blogger who has had me continually checking back for updates. 

I started reading Orangette a few months ago, although she is a longtime blogger who has won awards and accolades.  She recently published a memoir called The Homemade Life, which includes meaningful recipes that help tell her personal story of family, love, and food. 

Maybe a little over a week ago, she opened a pizza restaurant in Seattle with her husband. It happened to be right around the time that the fennel in my refrigerator was starting to develop brown spots on the outer layers of the bulb.

Fennel was a mystery to me. I don't remember getting any last summer in my CSA and if I did, it probably went bad because I had no idea what to do with it. My limited experience with fennel had come in the form of seeds in a little spice jar in the pantry.

In honor of Orangette's big night, I made her recipe for fennel salad with Asian pear and parmesan. In the book, she prefaces the recipe by stating how much she and her husband love to eat salad and describes how the idea for a fennel salad came from one of his ex-girlfriends but originated with Julia Child. 

It always seems to go back to Julia Child.

But what I loved about the recipe was its simplicity. That's part of what draws me back to Orangette's blog. Simple recipes paired with revealing updates about her life. 

Because let's be honest, and I think Julie Powell would agree. The secret ingredient to a good food blog is not always in good writing and photography or in featuring delicious recipes, but in how much of a peek the writer offers into her life. 

Fennel Salad with Asian Pear and Parmesan (adapted from Molly Wizenberg's book The Homemade Life)

1 medium fennel bulb

1 Asian pear

olive oil

lemon (I used a lime since that's what I had)

salt

wedge of Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese (I used grated parmesan from the fridge)

black pepper

Cut off the stalk and trim the fennel bulb; slice thinly (1/8 to 1/4 inch thick). Slice the pear in thin slices similar to the fennel. Spread the fennel slices on a plate. Drizzle with olive oil. Place slices of pear on top of the fennel. Drizzle with lemon juice (in my case, lime) and salt. Shave ribbons of cheese on top (I sprinkled grated parm). Then repeat all of the layers. 

A Cool Breeze

Usually by this point in the summer, I ache for the cool days of fall. I've had enough heat and stickiness to last me through another Chicago winter.

Not this summer. In July we had an average of 69.7 degrees here in Chicago, and I can't say that I have minded not having to haul out the air conditioner.

But earlier this week temps crept up past normal, and my kitchen felt thick with humidity. I had cucumbers and onions to use and decided that this was the perfect time to make gazpacho, especially since I had gotten a recipe from a wonderful home cook who, fortunately for me, doesn't believe in keeping her recipes a secret.

With her blessing I am posting this recipe. It's so simple to make and includes watermelon, an unexpected ingredient that adds a hint of sweetness and feels like a cool breeze sliding down my throat.

Gazpacho (by Amy Currie, author of Memoirs of a Home Cook)

2 cups tomato juice

2 tomatoes, cored and chopped

1 seedless cucumber, peeled and chopped

1 red pepper, cored and chopped

1 medium red onion, chopped

1 cup seedless watermelon, cubed

1/4 cup red wine vinegar

2 tablespoons olive oil

salt and pepper

Pulse tomato juice, tomatoes, cucumber, red pepper, red onion, and watermelon in a food processor. Add vinegar and oil. Season to taste w/salt and pepper. Serves 6-8.

Carbo Loading

Almost 10 years ago I ran the New York City Marathon. It started out as the most exhilarating experience. As I pounded through the boroughs, thousands cheered when I ran by. That's because I kept pace with four 50-something Brits dressed like the Teletubbies, and yes they carried purses.

Thankfully, the screams weren't all for Tinky Winky. I had a lot of supportive family and friends who followed me along the route and kept my spirits up. I had trained for five months and felt great. But in the Bronx, my legs began to feel numb, my mind clouded over, and my stride went from confident to baby steps. My body was so fatigued, I couldn't imagine running eight more miles.

I had hit the wall. Big time.

Hitting the wall is the term for what happens when the body loses too much glycogen. It's a common occurance during a marathon and can be alleviated by consuming more carbohydrates before and during the run.

To this day, I don't know how I made it through the final hills of Central Park to the finish line. With a quarter mile to go, I even got my legs back and sprinted to the end, where my family was like, "We were worried, the Teletubbies finished 40 minutes ago."

But when I look back on the experience now, I don't think about how a bunch of men twice my age, wearing pastel-colored fur from head to toe, smoked me. No I don't think about that at all. Really, I don't.

What I realize is that I was not eating nearly enough leading up to and during the race. I trained during a hot and sticky summer while living in an apartment with no a/c. While I stuck to the training schedule - and I credit this for the mental fortitude to push through my pain - it kind of killed my appetite. I lost a lot of weight. I can't say that I minded being able to fit into my skinny jeans, but in hindsight this was a big red flag that I was burning way more calories than I was consuming.

Plus I was eating a lot of processed crap, like Rice-a-Roni (a food staple in my 20s), and I made little effort to eat the right mix of protein and carbs, which is essential if you want to perform well in a marathon or other endurance activity. It's not that I didn't know what to eat, it was more that I thought my body could handle it. I was wrong.

I am proud of finishing the marathon, but I don't plan to run another one. I don't think my body is cut out to run 26.2 miles. Nothing should be that painful. Maybe it would have been different if I had eaten better. I think so, but I'll never know. In the meantime, I have run some halfs, 10-milers, and my favorite distance - the 10K, which is 6.2 miles.

In fact I have a 10K coming up in about nine hours. That's what inspired me to make this dish tonight. I clipped it from the August 2009 issue of Real Simple magazine, with a few substitutions.

Linguine with Squash and Chickpeas (the magazine calls for zucchini, I used yellow squash)

3/4 bag of linguine

2T olive oil

2 squash (the mag calls for 3 small zucchini), cut into thin half moons

Salt

1 15-ounce can of chickpeas, rinsed

2 cloves garlic, sliced
1/2 t crushed red pepper

grated asiago cheese (the mag calls for parmesan)

Cook the pasta; reserve 1/2 cup of the pasta water; drain; return pasta to pot. While you're cooking the pasta, heat the olive oil in a skllet, add the squash and salt. Cook until tender, about 4-5 minutes. Add the chickpeas, garlic, and red pepper, and cook for 2-3 mintes. Toss the pasta with the reserved water and mix with the vegetables. Add grated cheese.

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.