As a food blogger, I have a choice.  I can make getting the shot and documenting the meal the priority, or I can make interacting with my guests and eating the meal the priority.  Guess which way it went last night.

When this mind-blowingly delicious dish first made it into the bowl, it was gorgeous.  A riot of color.  My friend Deb was here with kids and we had spent the early part of the evening catching up, dishing out pasta and chickpeas and carrots and hummus to our tribes while we drank white wine.  On the stove, our chickpeas were bubbling away in a pot of water and the onions and (veg) sausage were in a sauté pan making us hungry with their smell.  (There are few things in this world that smell better than onions sautéing, in my opinion.)  The kids, having not seen each other in a long time (a month is a long time when you are seven, six, five, and four), ran downstairs to play and I put the finishing touches on our dinner.

You know when you just know something is going to be good?  This recipe comes from Gail Simmons’ book Talking with My Mouth Full which is a memoir with just a few recipes.  I think she is very interesting and intelligent but the book just doesn’t do her justice (sorry Gail!).  However, if the rest of the recipes are as good as this one, I will recommend you buy the book anyway.  A quick glance at the ingredients list told me this would be a winner.  Lots of chickpeas, fresh artichokes, smoked paprika, spinach – some of my very favorite things.  I have been using more vegetarian sausage products so I knew swapping the kielbasa for Tofurkey would not be a problem.  I spooned us each a healthy portion and then paused.  Should I take a photo?  I’m hungry.  Deb is waiting for me in the dining room.  Where is my light?  Where is my memory card?  Which lens do I have on my camera?  Oh, look at all that steam – hard to capture that in a photo.  Screw it.  I’ll take one after we are done.

So this happened.  A picture that does not do this dish justice.  A kind of wilted flabby picture.  One you might very well pass by.  Don’t!  This stew has such a smoky hearty flavor and so many wonderful textures that I kind of fell in love with it.  I had planned to make it with frozen artichokes but then found some fresh beauties at the store and went that way instead.  I hear that frozen artichokes are a pretty acceptable substitute but when fresh are available, I always buy those.  I find breaking them down to be oddly meditative.  I know, there is so much waste! with fresh artichokes.  I’ll tell you what I tell my classes – get over it.

Finally, I used dried chickpeas in this dish because I really prefer them and I don’t think they take nearly as long to cook as most directions say.  With even a quick soak (2 hours), they cook up nice and tender in about 45 minutes.  But I’m sure canned would be fine here.  Use 2 15-ounce cans.

One Year Ago:  Lemon Cream Tart
Two Years Ago:  Black Bean Tostadas with Slivered Cabbage, Avocado, and Pickled Onions
Three Years Ago:  Butterscotch Spiral Coffee Cake

Chickpea, Artichoke, and Spinach Stew
Adapted from Talking with My Mouth Full
Serves 6-8

Gail says this serves 4 but it makes a HUGE amount of stew!  She adds 2 cups of stock to the dish, which would probably yield even more servings, but I opted to leave it out for a less liquid-y stew.  Next time I might add ½ a cup or so.

2 cups dried chickpeas, soaked overnight and drained
Olive oil
1 large onion, finely diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
½ pound vegetarian sausage (I like Tofurkey brand Italian style – use half a package)
One 28-ounce can diced Italian tomatoes
2 large artichokes, trimmed, chokes removed, hearts quartered and reserved in lemon water
2 tsp. smoked paprika
1 bay leaf
Kosher or sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
10 ounces fresh spinach

In a medium saucepan, cover the chickpeas with 2 inches of water and bring to a boil.  Reduce the heat to low and simmer until the chickpeas are tender 45-60 minutes.  Add water as necessary to maintain level.  Drain the chickpeas and set aside.

Place a large heavy pot (like a Dutch oven) over medium heat.  Drizzle in just enough olive oil to coat the bottom of the pot, then add the onions and a large pinch of salt.  Cook until the onion begins to turn translucent, about 5 to 7 minutes, then add the garlic.  Cook for another 2 minutes, then add the sausage.  Continue to cook until the sausage starts to brown, about 10 minutes.  Add the tomatoes with their juices and cook until sizzling, about 4 minutes.  Add the artichoke hearts, smoked paprika, and bay leaf; cook for 5 minutes.  Add the drained chickpeas and bring to a boil.

Reduce the heat so that the stew simmers, then cover the pot and allow the artichoke hearts to cook through and the flavors to meld.  Check periodically to make sure nothing is sticking and add a bit of water as necessary.  When you can easily pierce an artichoke heart with a fork, remove the cover and start adding the spinach in batches.  Cook until all the spinach is wilted – this will take another 5 to 7 minutes.  Taste and adjust the seasoning as necessary.

I graduated from college with a degree in theatre.  I got plenty of “What are you going to do with a degree in theatre?”, though thankfully, not from my parents who were supportive of a less conventional major.  I attended a liberal arts college so there were plenty of English and Art History majors, but there were also lots of Economics and Government majors who all thought their degrees would be more “useful”.  My college roommate’s father allowed her to major in theatre but only if she double majored in Economics.  Not a lot of crossover in those two fields.

While I did not go on to become an actress, nor did I ever attempt to become an actress, I feel like my degree has been extremely useful in my life.  At the most basic level, I learned a lot about theatre and plays and I had a chance to read some of our greatest examples of literature.  Randy and I make it a priority to go the theatre and I am always amazed by how much knowledge I have retained.  (I can’t say the same about my math class.)  I got to experience putting on the makeup and costume of another person and becoming that person for a few hours every night.  I learned the art of working ahead – getting school work done a week before it was actually due so that I would have production week free from those pressures.  I also learned how to do work behind the scenes as a stage manager, makeup artist, costume assistant.  I learned that, no matter how intense the butterflies in my stomach, I would never actually throw up, and how to channel that adrenaline into a better performance.

Beyond those four years of acting, directing, reading, I also learned how to speak clearly, make eye contact, appear calm even when I am not, and use my voice effectively.  I’ve used those skills while performing in plays or singing in coffeehouses but also in every job interview I have sat through, every date I have been on, every presentation I have ever made, and every class I have ever taught.  Like many of my classmates, I would never have imagined myself doing what I do now when I was throwing my cap up in the air in May of 1992.  But I can’t believe how much I love it.

I know I mention my cooking classes here often but I don’t think I’ve mentioned how I feel about them.  I love teaching.  I really do.  I taught yoga from 2001-2003 and I loved that as well.  Sometimes a special thing happens between teacher and student, especially when the teacher is really passionate about what they teach, and I feel lucky to have experienced that feeling in two different spheres.  I am in planning mode for my spring quarter of classes and am really excited about what the next few months will hold.

Alas, teaching means testing.  And I don’t mean making my students take a test.  I mean searching out recipes, or developing my own, and making sure, time and time again if necessary, that they work.  I mean sometimes eating the same thing several nights in a row while trying to get it right.  It’s all worth it of course.  But sometimes, when I am gearing up for a busy couple of weeks, I miss just being able to, you know, make dinner.

I had a little window before my cooking life became not my own and I knew I had to take advantage of that freedom to just make something I wanted to eat.  Not test.  As is often the case, I got a little overwhelmed with choices.  I have so much bounty in terms of recipes between books, magazines, blogs, restaurant experiences – how to choose what to make.  Perhaps you are familiar with this feeling.  As I started to get overwhelmed and ordering pizza started to seem like a good idea, I opted to just stick with a cookbook that is relatively new to me and exciting.  It was the jumping off point for this salad and also has the least imaginative name ever.  But boy, did we love this dish.

We don’t often eat eggs for dinner.  You should know that as I’m typing that sentence, I am simultaneously promising myself that we will eat eggs more often for dinner.  I love a good poached/fried/soft-boiled egg but none of those options sound good to me at breakfast time.  It would make sense, seeing as I love them and that I am a vegetarian, that eggs would be a regular part of our dinner routine.  I’ve just never made them a priority.  But when I see a recipe like this one, really just an egg curry, and it speaks loudly to me, it is clear I need to rethink the egg and dinner relationship.  As I was getting ready to serve this lovely, filling, and nutritious dish, I decided it seemed a little thin, so I added chickpeas.  Not necessary, especially if you add more eggs, but I thought the combination was great.

Two Years Ago:  Red Lentil Dhal
Three Years Ago:  Oatmeal Chocolate Chunk Cookies

Sambal Telur
Loosely adapted from Vegetarian
Serves 4

4 eggs
2 tbsp. vegetable oil
4 shallots, 1 chopped for garnish, 3 thinly sliced
Kosher or sea salt
3 garlic cloves, minced
2-inch piece of ginger, finely minced or grated
1 tsp. coriander seeds, crushed
1 tsp. cumin seeds, crushed
½ tsp. ground tumeric
1 tbsp. sambal oelek, or other chile sauce
1 14-ounce can diced tomatoes
2 tbsp. tomato paste
1 14-ounce can coconut milk (can be “lite”)
1 tbsp. tamarind concentrate
1 tbsp. light brown sugar
1 15-ounce can chickpeas, rinsed and drained

Place the eggs in a medium saucepan and fill to cover with cold water.  Bring to a boil, then turn off the heat and set the timer for 6 minutes.  Immediately scoop out the eggs and place in a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking.  Drain and set aside.  (This amount of cooking time will give you an egg with a very soft yolk.  Let them sit for another minute, 7 total, if you like your yolk a little firmer.)

Place a large sauté pan over medium-high heat.  Drizzle in about 1 tablespoon of the oil.  Add the chopped shallots along with a healthy pinch of salt, and cook, stirring frequently, until cooked through and brown, about 5 minutes.  Shallots burn very easily so keep a close eye on them.  Scrape the shallots out onto a paper towel lined plate.  Set aside for the garnish.

Return the pan to the heat.  Pour in the other tablespoon of oil, then add the sliced shallots, garlic, and ginger, and cook for a minute.  Add the coriander, cumin, tumeric, sambal oelek, the canned tomatoes, and the tomato paste.  Sauté for 5 minutes, stirring frequently.

Stir in the coconut milk, tamarind, and brown sugar along with a large pinch of salt.  Bring to a boil and simmer for about 5 minutes until the mixture thickens.  Add the eggs and the chickpeas and simmer for a few minutes more to heat it all through.  Serve over rice and garnish with the fried shallots.

When I was a little girl, my favorite colors were pink, purple, and red.  In that order.  Tomboy I was not.  I wasn’t overly froufy but I did love to wear dresses and pretend jewelry, I begged my mom to let me get my ears pierced when I was six (she let me), and I could not wait until the day when I could wear makeup.

In seventh grade, I changed schools and it was suddenly not cool at all to wear dresses or skirts.  Jeans only and those jeans had to be Levi 501′s – the kind that you bought indigo blue and stiff as a board, and had to wash a million times to get them to look cool at all.  I pretended, in those years, that I liked wearing jeans that were clearly cut for male bodies and that my favorite color was blue.  I got a blue ski jacket and painted my bedroom blue and all the while I missed pink.  And purple.  And red.  And dresses.

Somewhere along the line, in high school, I reclaimed myself and my girly ways.  I wore dresses again and became known for my love of purple because, at some point in those blue years, purple overcame pink as my true favorite.

The only way this ties back to food is beans.  This is the time of year when school starts and when I start seeing fresh shelling beans at the markets.  Do these cranberries beans look like something found nature?  Or something that might be found, say, in my closet.  Or something that my kids would color for me because they are now aware of the concept of having a favorite color and they know what mine is.   I gathered all the ingredients for a stew at my farmers’ market and it all is so beautiful, is it not?

Sometimes cooking is just assembling really great ingredients and doing just a bit to bring out their flavors.  When you are using peak of the season produce, it’s easy to make something delicious.  This is not to say that this stew makes itself.  I took the time to roast the squash because I like it best that way but you could certainly just add it raw along with the potatoes to save yourself a step and a baking sheet to wash.  You also need to cook the beans separately but seeing as these are fresh, it only takes a half hour or so.  At my markets, you will often see the beans pre-shelled for you.  It is nice that someone did the dirty work for you and I used to buy them that way.  But the truth is that the beans in the pods are much fresher, they are cheaper, and shelling them is even easier to do than shelling peas.

One Year Ago:  Braised Purple Cabbage with Apples, Pecan Molasses Bundt Cake with Bourbon Glaze
Two Years Ago:  Carrot Soup with Ginger and Lemon, Soba Noodles with Mushrooms and Bok Choy, Holly B’s Peanut Butter Brownies
Three Years Ago:  Dimply Plum Cake

Cranberry Bean Stew with Maple Roasted Delicata Squash and Sage
Dana Treat Original
Serves 4

1½ pounds delicata squash, cut in half, seeded, and cut into ¾-inch chunks
Olive oil
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 tbsp. maple syrup
1 cup fresh shelling beans
1 medium red onion, diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 tsp. fresh thyme leaves
1 pound new potatoes, cut into 1-inch chunks
½ cup dry white wine
1 red bell pepper, seeded, diced
2 cups vegetable broth
½ bunch Swiss chard, leaves only, chopped
4 sage leaves, slivered, for garnish

Preheat the oven to 400ºF.  Place the squash chunks on a baking sheet and drizzle with about 2 tablespoons olive oil, a large pinch of salt, a few grinds of pepper, and the maple syrup.  Using your hands, toss well.  Place in the oven for 10 minutes.  Remove and flip the pieces over, return to the oven and bake for another 10 minutes, or until completely tender and browning in spots.  Remove and set aside.

Bring a medium saucepan of water to a boil.  Pour in the beans and cook, keeping the water at a mellow boil, until the beans are tender but not mushy, about 25 minutes.  Drain and set aside.

Heat a large soup pot over medium heat.  Add just enough olive oil to coat the bottom and then add the onion along with a large pinch of salt.  Sauté until starting to soften, about 5 minutes, then add the garlic.  Give it a stir, then add the thyme leaves.  Stir in the potatoes and cook, stirring occasionally, until the potatoes are browned in spots, about 8 minutes.  Things will start to stick but don’t worry about it.

Pour in the wine and scrape up any browned bits on the bottom of the pot.  Stir in the red pepper.  Pour in the broth and bring to a boil, then lower the heat to a simmer and cover.  Cook until potatoes are just tender, about 10 minutes.  Remove the cover and add the squash and the beans.  Stir well, then add the chard.  Continue to cook, covered, stirring occasionally, until the stew is heated through, the chard has wilted slightly, and the potatoes are fully cooked, about another 10 minutes.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.  Serve in shallow bowls garnished with fresh sage leaf slivers.

As a food blogger, the photography portion is not my strong point.  I know this.  I consider myself to be on the low side of decent.  I’m better than many and worse than many.  I am at peace with my place in the food photography world.  When I have the time and some creative juices are flowing, I may take a picture that is better than decent.  But most of the time I am rushing, fighting against the waning light or the ticking of the clock and my husband’s appetite and patience.  You might notice that my sweet shots tend to be better than my savory.  That is because I can shoot cookies the morning after I have made them and when I don’t have anyone wondering when we are going to be ready to eat already.

I mention this now because it is truly a shame that I don’t have the skills or the tools to make this dish look more exciting than it does in these photos.  You might look at them and think, “Chickpeas – yum.”  You might look at the recipe and think, “That’s it?”  Have you been reading this site for a while?  Do you trust me?  You know I am not prone to hyperbole, right?  That I am the first to admit when something does not live up to my expectations or didn’t turn out right, or was just so-so?  I have to say, this is one of the best dinners I have made in a while.  And if we are talking about dinners that take next to no effort, then this might be Top of 2011 So Far.  Randy, who always says, “Thank you for a nice dinner” but often just plows his way through his plate without fully appreciating what is there, said no fewer than six times, “Oh wow this is yum!” and got up to get his own seconds.  Except there were none!  (Hint: Double the recipe!)

How is this possible?  It’s shallot, a few dried herbs, chickpeas, broth and lemon juice.  Oh, but wait.  There are also some slow roasted tomatoes and slow roasted cloves of garlic that make an appearance just before serving time and those two things add so much depth, such savory umami-ness, almost creaminess to this dish.  I am no stranger to slow-roasted tomatoes or to roasted garlic.  But I would never have thought to include them in a chickpea stew and shame! on! me! for not doing this sooner.

So, I made two mistakes.  Mistake #1 was that I opted out of making a full batch of the tomatoes.  My thinking went along the lines of “why on earth do I need to buy 8 pounds of tomatoes and have 5 jars of slow roasted tomatoes and garlic in my refrigerator?”  Silly silly Dana.  If I had made the full batch, we could have this dinner once a week which would make both of us very happy.  I could also use those tomatoes and garlic in all manner of things.  Mistake #2 was not listening to my gut when it told me that 325º is far too high for slow roasting anything.  Sure enough, after about an hour the edges of the tomatoes were starting to turn one shade of brown past caramelization and I pulled them out.  Sometimes I feel this blog exists so that I can make mistakes so you don’t have to…

One Year Ago: Fresh Pea Soup with Pea Jelly
Two Years Ago: Chocolate Chip-Pretzel Bars
Three Years Ago: Raspberry Cream Sandwiches

Lemony Chickpea and Oven-Dried Tomato Stew
Adpated from Food & Wine
Serves 2-3

I think this was originally meant as a side.  If you are making it as a main, I would definitely double it, even for 2.  Leftovers would be amazing but I wouldn’t know since we didn’t have any.  Because I didn’t have enough tomatoes, I added some sun-dried ones as well to bulk my stew up.  Don’t be tempted to skip making the oven-dried ones though.  Trust me.  Finally, I sprinkled a bit of chopped mint over top for color – normally I use parsley but I was out.  We both liked the flavor of the mint so that is a keeper step.

Olive oil
1 large shallot, finely chopped
1 19-ounce can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
½ tsp. dried oregano
1 bay leaf
¼ tsp. crushed red pepper
Kosher salt
3 cups vegetable broth
Juice of 1 lemon
1 cup Oven-Dried Tomatoes, coarsely chopped, plus 4 garlic cloves from the jar
2 tbsp. chopped fresh mint

Place a large saucepan over medium heat.  Drizzle in just enough olive oil to coat the bottom, then add the shallot along with a large pinch of salt and cook over moderate heat, stirring, until softened, about 5 minutes.  Add the chickpeas, oregano, bay leaf, and crushed red pepper.  Cook, stirring frequently, until the herbs are fragrant, about 5 minutes.  Add the broth and lemon juice and bring to a boil.  Simmer the stew over moderately low heat until the broth is reduced by half, about 20 minutes.  Stir in the Oven-Dried Tomatoes and the garlic and simmer for 5 minutes.  Discard the bay leaf.  Season the stew with salt and serve over with rice or with crusty bread.  Garnish with chopped mint.

Oven-Dried Tomatoes
Makes 2½ pints

8 pound firm but ripe plum tomatoes, cored and halved lengthwise
½ cup olive oil, plus more for packing
2 heads garlic, cloves separated but not peeled
12 large thyme sprigs
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat oven to 250º and position 2 racks just above and just below the middle of the oven.  Working over a medium bowl, pry the seeds and pulp out of the tomatoes and discard.  Pour ¼ cup of the olive oil onto each of 2 very sturdy, rimmed, light-colored baking sheets.  Arrange the tomatoes, cut side down on the baking sheets and scatter the garlic and thyme all around.  Make a tiny slit on each tomato.

Bake the tomatoes for about 45 minutes, until the skins begin to wrinkle.  Shift the pans from top to bottom halfway through.  Carefully pinch off the skins.  Flip each tomato and bake until the surface looks dry, about 1 hour.  Flip the tomatoes again and continue baking until the surfaces look dry but the tomatoes are still slightly plump, about 2 hours longer.  Season the tomatoes with salt and pepper and let cool completely.

Discard the thyme sprigs and peel the garlic cloves.  Layer the tomatoes with the garlic in five ½-pint jars.  Add enough olive oil to cover the tomatoes by at least 1 inch.  Slide the blade of a knife along the side of each jar to release any air bubbles.  Seal the jar and refrigerate for up to 2 months or freeze for up to 6 months.

Before I get to today’s post, I just wanted to let you know that I have added a few classes to my calendar.  If you have ever wanted to learn some baking skills, using four different doughs and one batter, check out my class 4 Doughs, 1 Batter.  It is sure to be a fun and delicious class!  Details on the classes page.

Is it Friday yet?  I thought this week would pass very quickly.  Saturday marks the two year anniversary of doing yoga retreats with my friend Jen.  Because I can no longer be trusted to keep track of my calendar in my brain, I planned a trip away with Randy and some friends over the very same weekend.  So, for the fist time in 12 retreats, I will not be on Bainbridge getting my yoga on.  Before you cry for me, I will be in Napa getting my sun, wine, spa, and food on – so I will not be suffering greatly.  But I treasure those retreats and the amazing people who attend them.  I will be sad to miss the group.

I could not leave Jen in a lurch food-wise so I offered to make the food anyway.  Usually, I have the better part of a week to get ready for a lunch for 25 people – this time it was compressed.  Menu planning, shopping, cooking and food delivery all had to happen within a span of a few days.  In other words, I had a whole lot to get done before that plane left with me and a large glass of wine on it.

So, with much to do and not a lot of time to do it in, I figured the days would fly.  And then on Sunday, Spencer, my four-year old, decided to try and go down a slide with a plate of food in hand.  He fell and fractured his wrist.  A buckle fracture, which is not that severe, but still pain, an x-ray, and a splint.  Oh, and a very mad little boy who did not want to be injured and did not want to show his friends at preschool his fancy splint.

On Tuesday, I got the call that Graham, my six-year old, got pushed at school and went head first into the white board.  The words “gash” and “scar” were used and it was all I could do to hold it together.  Back to the pediatrician we went where we learned that it had been cleaned well, did not need stitches, and would most likely not scar.  But our doctor did reinforce my belief that if he had lifted his head even 1 millimeter as he hit, he would have lost his eye.

By that night, the persistant stuffiness in my nose that I was trying to believe was allergies turned into a full-blown cold.  Much nose blowing, coughing, and mouth-breathing ensued.

So my week did not fly.  It dragggggged.  I had too much to do; cooking for Saturday, trying to prep for classes I am teaching next week, planning for future classes, attempting to stay on top of my day to day, and my family – including me – was falling apart around me.  Food was starting to feel like work.  This happens to me sometimes.  My art, the thing I love most to do, becomes no fun.  And it’s not like I can walk away – we all need to eat.  Three times a day preferably.

It is times like these that I reach for nourishing dishes.  Nurturing and nourishing.  Of course, I always want to nourish, it’s just sometimes I need it.  The inspiration for this recipe comes from a book called Plenty and no, it’s not the Ottolenghi one.  Believe it or not, I have two cookbooks called Plenty, both written by English authors.  This Plenty, like the other, is a treasure of seasonal, healthy, interesting recipes.  Unlike Ottolenghi’s, this Plenty features plenty of meat.  But it is the rare cookbook that I am happy to put on my shelf, even though I can only make a small percentage of the recipes.

I tweaked this recipe significantly.  I probably could have just made it up myself and it would have been just as lovely.  But with my stuffed up head and my slightly dented heart, it was nice to have a little guidance.

One Year Ago:  Gianduja Gelato and Spaghettini with Mushrooms, Asparagus, and Tarragon
Two Years Ago:  Niçoise Salad and Mexican Brownies

Kaye Korma Curry
Adapted from Plenty
Serves 4

I used asparagus for something green in this dish because I had some in my refrigerator.  Not quite right – too vegetal.  Try using a small handful of trimmed green beans or 1 small chopped zucchini instead.

Canola oil
2 tsp. black mustard seeds
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 inch piece fresh garlic, peeled and minced
½ tsp. tumeric
1 tsp. ground coriander
8 ounces fresh tomatoes, chopped
2 large carrots, peeled, halved, and sliced on a diagonal
1 pound red potatoes, cut into chunks
1 15-ounce can chickpeas, rinsed and drained
1 15-ounce can “lite” coconut milk
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 cup frozen peas
2 tbsp. chopped cilantro

Place a Dutch oven, or similar pot, over medium heat.  Pour in just enough oil to coat the bottom of the pan and then add the mustard seeds.  Once they start to pop, immediately add the onion along with a large pinch of salt and stir well to coat.  Cook until nice and brown, then add the garlic and ginger.  Sprinkle in the ground spices and cook, stirring frequently, until nice and fragrant, about 3 minutes.

Add the tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, and chickpeas.  Stir and cook for 4 minutes to soften the tomatoes, adding a little bit of water if things are sticking.  Pour in the coconut milk and season with salt and pepper.  Bring the curry to a light boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cover the pot.  Cook until the vegetables are just tender, adding more water if the mixture seems too dry, about 20 minutes.  (At this point the curry can sit for several hours.)

Add the peas and cilantro just a few minutes before serving.

Do you have a best friend?  If so, what does that mean to you?  Is it someone who has seen you through a rough patch?  The friend you have known the longest?  A person you talk to each and every day?  What makes your best friend best?

I was always the person with a few close friends, not lots and lots of acquaintances.  I preferred it that way.  I would rather spend an evening with someone I really know than the first-date feeling of a casual acquaintance.  But somehow, I have found myself with many amazing friends – real true friends.  All of whom I really know, all of whom I would love to spend an evening with.  They come from different parts of my life – high school, camp, college, previous jobs, PEPS groups, preschool co-op, kids’ friends, etc.  It is a big circle.  But, if pressed, I do have to say that there is one “best” in there.

Lauren and I don’t talk everyday and I don’t see her nearly as often as I would like, but we have a strong and special bond.  We have been friends for 15 years.  She is a talented, creative, beautiful, smart, funny woman.  She is a straight-shooter and also very compassionate.  She is extremely loyal and supportive.  Just about everything you would want from a best friend.  I have been lucky enough to share many meals with her and her amazing husband John over the years.  Because I have an incredible memory for food (but not for, say, where I left my keys), I remember so many of the dishes we have made for one another.  She made this soup for me a long time ago and I have been meaning to make it ever since.

When I tasted this soup, it was a revelation.  How could something that took next to no effort and with so few ingredients taste so complex and delicious?  I asked her for the recipe, she made a copy for me, and then it sat in my soup notebook for oh, about ten years.  No exaggeration.  I would notice it from time to time and think to myself, “I’ve really got to make that soup”, but it never seemed to fit into a menu I was planning.  Now that I have made it, I will be planning menus around it.

I tweaked this recipe a bit.  The original calls for 2 tablespoon of soy sauce giving low-sodium as an option.  I use tamari in my cooking and WOW! did it make the soup salty.  And brown.  Fortunately, as the beans cooked, I had to keep adding more and more water so by the time I puréed it, the savory balance was just right.  I will suggest you use one tablespoon and add more to the finished soup if it needs it.  If you don’t want to garnish with peanuts, roasted sliced almonds would be nice.  You will want a bit of crunch in there.

One Year Ago: Blueberry Sour Cream Torte
Two Years Ago: Individual Coconut Blueberry Pound Cakes

Spicy Chickpea Soup with Cilantro and Peanuts
Adapted from Self
Serves 4-6

The cooking time for this soup will depend on how fresh your dried beans are.  Start with 8 cups of stock or water, you might need to add more if the soup gets too thick.

1½ cups dried chickpeas
1 tbsp. olive oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 large onion, finely diced
8 cups vegetable stock, or water
1 tbsp. hot sauce (I used Tabasco)
1 tbsp. Tamari or other soy sauce
¼ cup chopped roasted peanuts
¼ cup chopped fresh cilantro

Soak dried chickpeas in water to cover overnight.

Drain the chickpeas and rinse well.  Heat the oil in a large soup pot over medium heat.  Add the onion and sauté until starting to soften, about 4 minutes.  Add garlic and cook for another 2 minutes.  Add chickpeas, vegetable stock, hot pepper sauce, and soy sauce.  Cover loosely and simmer until chickpeas are tender, anywhere from 1-3 hours.  Purée soup either using an immersion blender or a conventional blender (be careful when blending hot liquids).  Sprinkle each portion with chopped peanuts and cilantro.

Beans and rice.  What does that mean to you?  Meager food?  Hangover meal?  Food you cook when you have no money?  Side dish only?

I myself love beans and rice and have no problem making a meal out of it.  And not because it’s cheap.  Of course, it can’t be just white rice and canned re-fried beans, although if you put enough salsa and guacamole on a dish like that, I would not complain.  Black beans have a special place in my heart because they starred in one of the first “real” meals I ever cooked.  (Cue the story music…)

The year after I graduated college, I moved back to Seattle and lived at home.  I got a crappy job – one that I certainly did not need my brand new shiny degree for, and tried to plug back into the Seattle scene after four years away.  The advantages to living at home were many, not the least of which is that I got to eat my mom’s cooking.  She has always been a good cook, but during the time I was away at college, she also converted to vegetarianism.  It opened so many doors for her creativity and her food got really good.  My mom is territorial in her kitchen, so I was not helping her prepare any meals, but I think I learned by osmosis.  And I certainly learned to deeply appreciate the act of sitting around the table as a family and eating good, healthy, homemade food.

Just as I found an apartment and was preparing to move out, my parents took a trip to Europe.  My brother Michael, who is eight years younger than me, was still in high school and they asked that I stay with him and make sure he didn’t starve.  At the same time, my college friend Darcie was visiting and another couple from college was coming through town as well.  I realized that we all needed to eat and it was time to get in the kitchen.  So I did what my mom always did.  I got out her notebooks and cookbooks and spread them out on the table.  I chose three dishes that sounded good to me and I wrote up my shopping list based on the ingredients needed.  I shopped for the groceries and made the food, all the while being mildly surprised at how natural it all felt.  I lived in Paris for a semester during college and cooked for myself, but it was just me and I made the same four things over and over.  This time there was more responsibility and it came easily.  More importantly, everyone loved the food.  I realized that I could cook.

That little boost of confidence is what got me on the path to loving food and loving cooking.  I remember one of those first three dishes well and it starred black beans that had been simmered low and slow on the stove.  Up until that point, I had not known that beans could taste that good or could be something I craved.  The rest of the dish was a little odd so it did not stay in my repertoire, but I’ve been making similar beans ever since.

I make a fair amount of Mexican food because both Randy and I love it.  (In fact I am teaching Vegetarian Mexican Food class in March.  Find out more here.)  Whatever I make as a main, I always make beans because they are truly my favorite part of the meal.  I have eaten my share of either boring or excessively greasy restaurant rice, so I enjoy making it more to my taste at home.  Last week, I didn’t have the energy to take on burritos or enchiladas but really needed some beans and rice, so I made the rice heartier.  It was my intention to roast two poblano peppers, chop them up, and use them in the rice, but mine had gone south.  I wanted some kind of spicy bite so I opted for canned chiles instead.  If you happen to have poblanos in your refrigerator (doesn’t everyone?), I think they would be awesome here.

Oh, and by the way, don’t forget to tell me what your favorite holiday gift was.  You can win some awesome Vosges chocolate.  Check it out here.

One Year Ago: Peanut Butter (or Caramel) Candy Mini-Brownie Cups
Two Years Ago: Penne with Greek Style Vegetable Marinade

Hearty Beans and Rice
Dana Treat Original
Serves 4-6

Epazote is a delicious herb and can easily be found in the Penzey’s web site, but it is not necessary here.  For the beans, you control their consistency.  I like mine a little soupy but you can make yours drier by not adding as much water.

For the rice
2 tbsp. unsalted butter
1 medium red onion, diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp. dried oregano
1 tsp. dried epazote (optional)
1½ tsp. ground cumin
1 7-ounce can diced chile peppers, drained
1 cup frozen corn
1 cup long grain rice
2 cups water
1 cup grated Cheddar cheese
¼ cup “lite” sour cream
¼ cup cilantro, chopped
Kosher salt

For the beans
Vegetable or canola oil
1 red onion, diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 small red bell pepper, diced
2 tsp. cumin
2 cans black beans, drained

Serve with guacamole and salsa.

Prepare the rice
Preheat oven to 350ºF. Lightly oil an 8×8 glass or ceramic baking dish.

In a large saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat.  Add the onion and a large pinch of salt, and sauté for 5 minutes, until soft but not brown.  Add the garlic cloves, oregano, epazote, and cumin and cook for 3 minutes, stirring often.  Add the chiles and corn, and rice and give it a good stir to coat the grains with the fat and the vegetables.  Pour in the water and bring to a boil.  Turn the heat down to low, cover, and cook undisturbed for 20 minutes.  Remove the cover, fluff the rice with a fork, then cover for another 5 minutes.

Remove the cover and carefully stir in the cheese, sour cream, and cilantro, trying not to mush the rice too much.  Taste for salt, adding more if necessary.  Scrape the rice mixture into the prepared pan, cover with foil, and bake on the middle rack of the oven for 20 minutes.

Prepare the beans
Heat a medium saucepan over medium heat.  Drizzle in just enough oil to coat the bottom of the pan and then add the onions and red bell pepper plus a large pinch of salt.  Sauté for 5 minutes, until soft but not brown, then add the garlic and the cumin.  Cook for 3 minutes, stirring often.  Add the beans and about ½ a cup of water and turn the heat to medium-low.  Cook, stirring occasionally and adding more water as necessary, until the beans are hot and a bit soupy, about 20 minutes.  Season to taste.

Here is something you probably hear over and over.  Food bloggers are a friendly and fun group.  I live in a city where there are so many good ones and I have had the good fortune to meet some wonderful people locally just through keeping a blog.

Also, just in the last year, I have had lunch with Stacey in New York, Erin in Boston, Allison in San Francisco, and Ele and Hilary in London.  (Is it crazy ridiculous that I have traveled that much this year?  This is not usually my life.)  These are all women who, previous to our lunches, I had never met in person, just through their writing.  In every single case, I was delighted with the women I met and look forward to a chance to see each and every one of them again.

When I mentioned to Ele and Hilary that I was coming to London for one day, they immediately responded that we should go to Ottolenghi for lunch.  The restaurant is named after the owner who is originally from Israel.  He has turned his amazing food and aesthetic into a thriving business with four locations and a weekly column in the Guardian.  He himself is not a vegetarian but his column and his most recent cookbook is.

Periodically I have mentioned my imaginary Dana Treat restaurant.  You know, the one that is only open from 10-3pm?  The one where there I get to make whatever I want, change it up daily, where everyone loves my food and pays me well for it, and very nice magic fairies appear out of nowhere to do all the clean-up?  That restaurant.  Well, I would love my place to be a little like Ottolenghi.

Imagine.  Clean white space.  Big communal table and lots of little ones.  Huge bowls of the daily sides and salads that the servers come and take from throughout lunch.  Gorgeous and rustic sweets arranged just so – the kind you wish you had time to make yourself.  I could learn a lot from Ottolenghi – we all could.

Fortunately, there is that cookbook!  Actually there are two.  I bought the brand new one, Plenty, while in San Fransisco and then Ele and Hilary bought me the first one at the end of our lunch (so sweet!).  Please don’t ever quote me on this (and Randy! avert your eyes!) but I kind of feel like I could throw away all my other cookbooks and just cook out of these two books for the rest of my life.  They are that good.  Plenty is a wonder to behold.  The look of the book, quality of the paper, and the photographs are enough to justify the price, but then the recipes!  Swoon.  All vegetarian and all sound amazingly delicious.  The first book, Ottolenghi The Cookbook, features some meat and fish recipes but with plenty for the vegetarians and also has breads and sweets.  I’ve started with this book.

I have only been home for nine days, and already I have made three things from it.  All amazing.  This dish isn’t going to win any beauty contests but it was so incredibly tasty.  Thin pasta, rice, caramelized onions, and lentils make for a very brown dish so I would highly recommend making the (very tasty) tomato sauce to top it.  I don’t always like sweet flavors in my savory dishes, but the touch of cinnamon was most welcome here.

One Year Ago: Coconut Bars
Two Years Ago: White Beans with Roasted Tomatoes (still a fave, and yes, I made the same cake this year)

Kosheri
Adapted from Ottolenghi, The Cookbook
Serves 4-6

Being an English cookbook, all his measurements are in grams and milliliters.  In addition to changing that, I also played a bit with the proportions a bit.  I have found the Kitchen Pro app on my iPhone incredibly helpful.  There are lots of components here but the onions and the sauce can be done days ahead of time.

1 cup lentils
1 heaping cup basmati rice
2 oz. angel hair pasta, broken in to 2-inch pieces
1 2/3 cups vegetable stock or water
½ tsp. grated nutmeg
1½ tsp. ground cinnamon
1½ tsp. salt
½ tsp. black pepper
4 tbsp. olive oil

Spicy Tomato Sauce
4 tbsp. olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 red hot chiles, seeded and finely diced (I used a jalapeño)
2 14-oz. cans diced tomatoes
1½ cups water
4 tbsp. cider vinegar
2 tsp. salt
2 tsp. ground cumin
¼ cup cilantro leaves, roughly chopped

Start with the sauce.  Heat the olive oil in a saucepan, add the garlic and the chiles and fry for 2 minutes.  Add the tomatoes, water, vinegar, salt, and cumin.  Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for 20 minutes, until slightly thickened.  Remove the sauce from the heat, stir in the cilantro and then taste.  See if you want more salt, pepper, or cilantro.  Keep hot or leave to cool; both ways will work with the hot kosheri.

To make the kosheri, place the lentils in a large saucepan and then cover with cold water.  Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for about 20 minutes.  The lentils should be tender but far from mushy.  Drain in a colander and set aside.

In a large skillet with a tight-fitting lid, melt the butter over medium heat.  Add the raw pasta, stir, and continue frying and stirring until the pasta turns golden brown.  Add the rice and mix well until it is coated in the butter.  Now add the stock or water, nutmeg, cinnamon, salt and pepper.  Bring to a boil, cover, and then reduce the heat to a minimum and simmer for 12 minutes.  Turn off the heat, remove the lid, cover the pan with a clean kitchen towel, and put the lid back on.  Leave like that for about 5 minutes; this helps make the rice light and fluffy.

Heat the olive oil in a large frying pan, add the onions and sauté over medium heat for about 20 minutes, until dark brown.  Transfer to paper towels to drain.

To serve, lightly break up the rice with a fork and then add the lentils and the onions.  Taste for seasoning and adjust accordingly.  Serve hot with the tomato sauce.

Most people who cook have some kind of short list.  Those go-to recipes that require very little thought, contain ingredients you either have on hand or that can be easily procured from any grocery store, and that taste delicious.  Those are precious recipes indeed and I need a few more in my arsenal.

For now, this Jamie Oliver dish is at the top of my short list which, if I haven’t made it clear, is very short.  No matter – I love this recipe.  I always have onions and garlic plus many cans of chickpeas, almost always have celery, and I have rosemary growing in my yard.  Give me half an hour and I will give you something healthy, appealing to most people, satisfying, and very tasty.  It is also a very forgiving dish so you can either eat it right away or allow it to sit for a bit with the flavor only improving.

The method is simple.  The onions and garlic get sautéed together in a bit of olive oil along with the rosemary, which immediately makes your kitchen smell wonderful.  The chickpeas are next in the pot along with the broth and after those have cooked for a bit, half of the chickpeas are scooped out and reserved while the goodness in the pot gets a quick purée with an immersion blender.  After everything is reunited in the pot, in goes the pasta.  As soon it is tender, you are ready for dinner.  Add some fresh herbs on top (which I always seem to have some remnant of in my crisper drawer) and you have a rich and creamy tasting (but very healthy) meal.

I change this up a bit from the original recipe by adding some red pepper flakes for a bit of heat, and I also add more pasta and broth.  I always seem to need even more broth as the cooking process happens and you can add even more than that if you want the dish to be more saucy.  I don’t think it is possible to screw up this dish, so do what you like.  You will see my changes in the recipe below.  If you don’t have an immersion blender, you can use a food processor instead – just be careful with the hot stuff!

What is on your short list?

One Year Ago: Chilled Avocado Soup
Two Years Ago: Ina Garten’s Outrageous Brownies

Pasta e Ceci (Pasta with Chickpeas)
Adapted from Jamie’s Italy
Serves 4

1 small onion, peeled and finely chopped
1 stick of celery, trimmed and finely chopped
1 clove of garlic, peeled and minced
½ tsp. red pepper flakes
Olive oil
1 sprig of rosemary, leaves picked and finely chopped
2 14-oz. cans of chickpeas, rinsed and drained
3 cups vegetable stock
5 ounces ditalini or other small pasta (such as orzo)
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Small handful of fresh basil or parsley leaves, picked and torn

Place a large skillet over medium heat and then pour in just enough olive oil to coat the bottom.  Add the onion and celery and sauté just until tender, about 6 minutes.  Add the garlic, rosemary, and red pepper flakes.  Sauté for 2 minutes, then add the chickpeas and the stock.  Bring to a boil, then lower heat to simmer and allow to cook just until the chickpeas are heated through, about 5 minutes.  Using a slotted spoon, remove half of the chickpeas and set them aside.

Purée the soup in the pan with a handheld immersion blender.  Add the reserved whole chickpeas and the pasta, season the soup with salt and pepper, and simmer gently until the chickpeas are very tender and the pasta is cooked, about 10  minutes.  Add more liquid as necessary.

Season to taste with salt and pepper and sprinkle with torn basil or parsley.

Two recipes that I want to share with you are waiting in the wings.  One is a beautiful potato salad that is definitely going on my favorite list.  The other is a birthday cake – a big fat chocolate birthday cake, perfect for feeding a crowd.

But those will have to wait.  I need to talk about chickpeas.

And before that, a word about the Seattle dining scene.  It was really not until recently, within the last ten years or so, that we even really had a dining scene.  You could always get incredible Thai food, Vietnamese food, and sushi in Seattle.  And fresh fish too.  But other than that, pickings were a little meager.  Slowly but surely, things are changing and some terrific new restaurants have opened recently.

One of our favorites is Cantinetta, a truly sweet spot found about 2 miles from our house.  Sometimes a restaurant just gets it right on all fronts.  Cantinetta opened right smack in the middle of a great neighborhood, but not in the bustling business corridor, more in the area where people live.  It is homey and welcoming inside.  The service is excellent.  The menu changes just often enough to make it interesting, but not so often that you mourn your favorite dish leaving before you could taste it again.  That menu is comprised of four different categories and you can spend the evening there tasting bits from each section.  The pasta is made on site and is some of the best I have ever had.  There are always plenty of vegetarian options and they are starred so I don’t even have to ask.

Soon after it opened, Randy and I ate dinner there with friends.  Then we went by ourselves.  Then we went with more friends.  We recommended it to everyone.  We had my 39th birthday dinner there and introduced it to my parents and brothers, all of whom loved it and have been back.  My youngest brother gave us a gift certificate to Cantinetta for Hanumass last year and it was probably the best gift he has ever given me.  It is a place whose food I crave and there are precious few restaurants in Seattle I can say that about.

(Sorry, I just had to share.  Almost all looking at the camera.)

My sister-in-law was in town last Friday and Randy and I thought Cantinetta would be the perfect spot for dinner.  We actually had not been in some time and I was excited about seeing a brand new menu.  Suffice it to say that absolutely everything we ate was delicious.  From the homemade bread that arrives on your table (featuring corn meal and olives) to the utterly creamy tagliatelle that I had for my main course.  We loved every bite.  In fact, we ordered so much and ate so much that none of us had room for dessert.

My favorite thing I ate that night, in a sea of good things, was the most simple.  Chickpeas, olive oil, Pecorino Romano, lemon.  The beautiful little dish came to the table and I was shocked to see green chickpeas.  Green means fresh.  Where did they get fresh chickpeas?  And can I have some??  I couldn’t really get a straight answer but after a moment I stopped asking and just started eating.  Sometimes, when every single ingredient is perfect and perfectly balanced, the simplest dish is the best.  That was absolutely the case with these little guys.

So, what’s a chickpea lover to do?  Try and re-create.  Since there was no way (that I know of) for me to get fresh chickpeas, I did the next best thing which is to cook up a bunch of dried beans.  I knew the somewhat mushy texture and tinny taste of canned beans wouldn’t work here, so I soaked and cooked up some dried chickpeas.  (I have nothing against canned beans when they are going into a stew like this one or this one.)  Because the restaurant dish featured tiny pebbles of the Pecorino – not flakes – I ground up a chunk of that amazing cheese in my mini-food processor rather than grating it.  Out of the refrigerator came a lemon and out of the pantry I pulled my best olive oil, sea salt, and pepper mill.  And away we went.  At the end of it all, I was somewhat surprised to find that what I had created was an awful lot like what I tasted at the restaurant.  Deceptively simple, incredibly delicious.

I served some to a friend who was over for dinner and she loved them.  I gave some to Randy and he thought they tasted just the same as Cantinetta’s.  I’m not sure about that exactly, but they are pretty darn close.  Please don’t roll your eyes and scoff – so simple Dana! – take just a bit of time, the best of ingredients, and decide for yourself.

One Year Ago:  Quinoa with Grilled Zucchini, Chickpeas, and Cumin

Chickpeas with Lemon and Pecorino Romano
Inspired by Cantinetta
Makes 2 cups

Definitely serve this dish at room temperature so the flavors can bloom and the chickpeas aren’t chalky.

2 cups chickpeas
1½ tbsp. olive oil
Juice of 1 lemon
¾ tsp. kosher salt
Lots of coarsely ground black pepper
¼ cup ground Pecorino Romano

For the chickpeas, you might as well make a large batch and use them throughout the week.  They are great in all manner of stews and soups, in salads, and you will probably want to make another batch of this recipe.  Let dried chickpeas soak overnight in cold water that covers them by at least 2 inches.  The next day, drain the water and rinse the chickpeas.  Put them back in the pot, cover them again cold water and place on the stove.  Bring to a boil, reduce the heat slightly, and allow to cook until chickpeas are tender, about 1 hour.

Mix together all ingredients for dish in a bowl.  Add more salt and pepper to taste.