My parents are both Jewish and both from New York.  That means that, on a lot of Sundays, we ate Chinese food.  There were different places we went, some in Seattle proper, some on the little island suburb where I grew up.  No matter which restaurant we went to, several things remained constant.

First it was the tea.  My parents would let us drink tea with as much sugar as we wanted in it.  I think it was the late 70′s/early 80′s version of an iPad.  Something to distract us three kids so that they could attempt to have a conversation.  We would pour and pour and pour that sugar until it was a thick slurry at the bottom of the little tea cups, and then we would spoon it up like soup.  And then there was soup – wonton soup to be exact.  Those little perfect parcels in burn-your-tongue hot broth, just waiting for my teeth to burst them open.  I was always disappointed by the small ratio of wontons to broth.  I could have eaten 50 of them.  My parents always ordered “bean curd” which only they enjoyed since we three thought it was disgusting.  If only my ten-year old self had known how much I would grow to love tofu!  And finally, pork fried rice.  (Yes, Jews eating pork.  We were far from the only ones.)

Here is where I admit that I had never, until last night, made fried rice.  Here is also where I admit that the word “fried” scares me.  You will not find much fried stuff here.  I don’t make donuts and I can count on one hand the number of times I have deep fried.  I am scared of the technique, the mess, and the amount of fat in the food that is fried.  That last reason is why I never order fried rice in a Chinese restaurant, truthfully why I don’t often eat in Chinese restaurants.  (This is a gross generalization but I find Chinese food, in Seattle anyway, to be much greasier than other Asian food.)

Here is why I went for it.  I’ve been making this tempeh for my Spanish cooking classes.  It goes in the paella.  It is so good that, after the class is over and I am washing countless dishes, my fingers keep sneaking into the almost empty pot, hoping that some previously uncovered piece of tempeh will appear.  Doing this search reminded me of the pork fried rice of my childhood and how I would clumsily attempt to get as much of that pink-hued pork with my chopsticks.  I also realized that I sometimes have cold rice in the refrigerator and making something new with it is much more interesting than sprinkling it with water and microwaving it.  And finally, when you make something yourself, you can control how much oil goes into it.

I made this version with a bunch of scallions, a much-more-than-what-you-might-think amount of ginger, cold rice (every recipe you look at will tell you it has to be cold), my magical tempeh, frozen peas, a bit of sesame oil, and a fried egg on top.  The fried rice I remember had bits of scrambled-then-cut eggs throughout the rice, but I have finally realized that, since I go a little swoony every time a dish is described as being topped with a poached/fried/soft-boiled egg, it’s time to do more topping with eggs.

Want to know a little more about tempeh?  Check out this post.
One Year Ago:  Pane con Formaggio (Cheese Bread), Banana-Date Tea Cake
Two Years Ago:  Cinnamon Chocolate Ribbon Cake (I really like this post), Tabasco and Asparagus Quinoa
Three Years Ago:  Orange Cinnamon Biscotti, Southwestern Sweet Potato Gratin

Ginger Fried Rice with Roasted Tempeh
Dana Treat Original
Serves 3-4

I know some people like to grate their ginger on a microplane rasp, but I think it works best here to just chop it really fine.  Don’t skip the steaming step for the tempeh, it can taste bitter if it is not steamed first.

For the tempeh:
1 8-ounce package of tempeh (any flavor)
2 tbsp. soy sauce
1 tsp. sesame oil
2 tbsp. olive oil
1 tsp. smoked paprika

For the rice:
3 tbsp. canola or peanut oil, divided
1 bunch of scallions, white and green parts, thinly sliced
¼ cup fresh ginger, peeled and minced
Kosher or sea salt
About 4 cups cold rice
2 tsp. sesame oil
½ cup frozen peas, unthawed
3-4 eggs

Make the tempeh:
Preheat the oven to 375ºF.  Cut the tempeh into ½-inch dice.  Place in a steamer and steam for 10 minutes.  Meanwhile, whisk the soy sauce, the oils, and the paprika together in a small baking dish.  Pour the steamed tempeh into the same pan and place in the oven.  Roast, stirring occasionally, until the tempeh has absorbed all the marinade and it is starting to get browned in spots, about 25 minutes.  Set aside.  (The tempeh can be made up to 1 day ahead.  Allow to cool, then store in the refrigerator.)

Make the rice:
Place a large shallow pan over medium heat.  Drizzle in 2 tablespoons of the canola or peanut oil, then add the scallions, ginger, and a large pinch of salt.  Sauté until softened and starting to brown, about 4 minutes.  Add the rice, breaking up any clumps with your hands.  Cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes.  Drizzle in the sesame oil, give the rice a good stir, then add the peas and the tempeh (you may not want to add all the tempeh).  Cook for another 5 minutes while you make the eggs.

Place a large non-stick pan over medium heat.  Drizzle in the last tablespoon of the oil.  Crack the eggs one at a time into the pan and cook until the whites are set but the yolks are still soft, about 4 minutes.

Serve the rice in bowls and top each with a fried egg.

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.

Last weekend, the boys and I went to the West Seattle farmer’s market.  It is one of the three markets that stay open all year.  Although it is a bit of a hike from our house, I like this market because it is food only, some of the very best vendors are there, it doesn’t feel crowded, they often have music and little seats set up for children, and it’s in the middle of a thriving business district.  The weather last week was glorious and it almost felt like spring was just around the corner.  A trip to the market made me realize that winter is definitely still here.

I find the farmers’ market inspiring, even in February.  After making that amazing Sweet Winter Slaw five times in two weeks, I had seen a lot of Savoy cabbage – but not like this one.  How could I not buy this beauty?  And with delicata squash in the basket right next to it, a dish began to form in my mind.  Green curry, lots of shallots, rice noodles, sweet squash, cabbage cooked down to wilted.  Sounds good, no?

It was good.  Lovely really.  Warming, hearty, healthy.  I think those three words are magic in the wintertime.  If you can find or create a dish that warms your toes, fills your belly, and doesn’t weigh you down, life is pretty good.

Allow me to try to convince you to make your own curry paste.  Yes, I know that you can buy a nice little jar of it that lasts almost indefinitely in your refrigerator.  I have two of those jars myself, one green and one red.  The problem is that the consistency is similar to cement, so it can be a little difficult to incorporate into a dish.  It also has essentially two flavors.  Hot and salty.  There is no nuance there.  Just spicy and savory.  Nothing wrong with that if you are having a curry crisis.  But homemade is quick to make, has much more subtle flavor, a much looser consistency, and will also keep for a while in your fridge.  (I would say a  month.  You can freeze it for up to six.)  The ingredients are all natural – lemongrass, jalapeño peppers, cilantro, shallot, garlic.  If you love these ingredients, please give the curry a try.

One Year Ago:  Spicy Sweet and Savory Cauliflower
Two Years Ago:  Pesto Parmesan Cornbread
Three Years Ago:  Red Curry with Winter Vegetables and Cashews (recipe for red curry in this one!  coincidence!)

Green Curry Noodles with Cabbage and Squash
Dana Treat Original
Serves 4

While you should never rinse your Italian style noodles, rice noodles do need a good rinse.  This step will keep them from sticking together.  Both Savory and Napa cabbage would work here.  I wouldn’t use green as it will take to long to soften and purple will turn your whole dish a crazy color.  Finally, if you do decide to use a commercial curry paste, I would start with one tablespoon and add more later to your taste.

10 ounces extra firm tofu, blotted dry and cut into 1-inch pieces
4 tbsp. soy sauce, divided (I like tamari)
8 ounces rice noodles, linguine width
Canola, peanut, or coconut oil
6 ounces shallots, peeled and thinly sliced
Kosher or sea salt
½ medium delicata squash, seeded, and cut into 1-inch chunks
1 carrot, peeled and cut into thin rounds
2-3 tbsp. homemade Green Curry Paste (recipe follows)
½ head Savoy cabbage, cored and thinly sliced
1 14-ounce can coconut milk (can be “lite”)
1 cup vegetable broth
½ cup chopped cilantro, plus a few whole leaves for garnish

Place the tofu in a large ziploc bag.  Sprinkle in two tablespoons of the soy sauce and give the bag a vigorous shake.  Allow the tofu to marinate while you prepare the noodles.

Bring a large pot of water to a boil.  Turn off the heat and add the rice noodles to the pot.  Allow to sit for ten minutes, stirring occasionally, then taste.  The noodles should be al dente.  Allow them to sit for another few minutes if they are too firm, then drain.  Immediately rinse very well with cold water.  Run your hands through the noodles to make sure the water reaches the ones on the bottom.  Allow to drain well.  Set aside.

Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat.  Drizzle in just enough oil to coat the bottom of the pan.  Carefully add the tofu to the pan, making sure that all the pieces are touching the bottom of the pan.  Allow to cook for about 3 minutes on one side then, using tongs, turn all the pieces over.  They may stick a little and that is ok.  If you have the patience, you can brown all sides of the tofu, but I usually stop at two.  Scrape the tofu to a plate and sprinkle with salt.  Set aside.

Return the skillet to the heat.  Drizzle in a bit more oil and then add the shallots and sauté, tossing occasionally, until the shallots are soft and starting to brown in places, about 6 minutes.  Add the squash and the carrot, then spoon in the curry paste.  If you are nervous about the heat, just use two tablespoons to start.  Give everything a good stir.  Add the cabbage and toss until the cabbage starts to wilt, about another 5 minutes.  Pour in the coconut milk and the broth and the other 2 tablespoons of soy sauce.  Toss to coat well, reduce the heat to medium-low and cover.  Cook for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Remove the lid and taste the broth.  You might want to add more curry paste or more soy sauce.  Once it is to your liking, add the tofu and chopped cilantro and cook for another 5 minutes.  Check the squash and carrot to make sure they are tender and also adjust the liquid amount to your taste.  If you prefer a saucier dish, add more stock.  If you want it drier, allow the mixture to cook without the lid to allow some of the liquid to evaporate.

To serve, place a bundle of noodles in the bottom of a shallow bowl and ladle on the vegetables and tofu in their sauce.  Garnish with cilantro leaves.

Green Curry Paste
Adapted from Real Vegetarian Thai
Makes about 1½ cups

1 tbsp. whole coriander seeds
1 tsp. whole cumin seeds
½ tsp. freshly ground black or white pepper
3 stalks lemongrass
4 fresh green jalapeño chilies, seeded for a milder heat, roughly chopped
¼ cup coarsely chopped fresh cilantro leaves and tender stems
2 medium shallots, chopped
3 cloves garlic, chopped
2 tbsp. chopped or grated fresh ginger
Zest of 1 lime
1 tsp. kosher or sea salt

In a small skillet over medium heat, dry-fry the coriander and cumin seeds until they turn a shade or two darker, shaking the pan and stirring often, about 3 minutes.  Turn out onto a plate to cool.  Grind the spices in a coffee grinder or with a mortar and pestle.  Set aside.

To prepare the lemongrass, trim away and discard any root section below the bulb base, and cut away the top portion, leaving a stalk about 6 inches long, including the base.  Pull off the out layer and then thinly slice the rest.

Combine the lemongrass, chopped chilies, cilantro, shallots, garlic, ginger, lime zest, salt, and spices in a mini food processor or a blender.  Pulse to combine to a smooth paste, scraping down the sides of the bowl as necessary.  You might need to add just a couple tablespoons of water to keep the blades moving.  Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to one month.

Short and sweet today.  You may recall that I promised lots of food this week.   There is lots of food waiting to be talked about but no time to talk about it in.  Next week!

Do you have a thing that, no matter how much you make, it all gets eaten?  Up until last spring, I had that experience with only two things.  Popcorn and guacamole.  Then, in one of my cooking classes, I made these snap peas and was astounded to watch every last one of them get eaten.  Dinner parties – gone.  Last month’s yoga retreat – gone.  They are addictive, salty, nutty, crunchy.  They are also quick, healthy, and vegan.

I always de-string my snap peas and I have been surprised to hear that other people don’t do so.  I find if I don’t do that, this charming vegetable becomes less charming.  The fibrous string is hard for me to choke down so if you haven’t done this step, give it a try.  They don’t always come off.  In my experience, the fresher the pea, the more readily the string comes off but I don’t know if there is any scientific basis in that.  Using my fingers, I just “snap” one end and pull it towards the middle along the top of the pea and then “snap” the other end and pull it toward the middle along the bottom.

One Year Ago:  Dried Cranberry and Ginger Canoli
Two Years Ago:  Apple Torte
Three Years Ago:  Vegetarian Caesar Salad

Sesame Snap Peas
Dana Treat Original
Serves 4

Don’t let the simplicity of this recipe fool you into thinking these are nothing special.  They are special.  They can be made even more so by the addition of a bit of minced garlic and ginger, added about a minute before the snap peas, but they are equally delicious without.  I had some gomasio, a Japanese condiment made from white and black sesame seeds and salt, on hand and used that to garnish but plain old sesame seeds are good too.

1 tbsp. canola oil
10 ounces sugar snap peas, strings removed
1 tsp. kosher salt
2 tsp. toasted sesame oil
2 tbsp. soy sauce
Sesame seeds (for garnish)

Place a medium sauté pan over medium-high heat.  Drizzle in the canola oil and swirl around the pan.  Add the snap peas and salt and cook, tossing occasionally, for 3 minutes, or until starting to brown in places.  Drizzle in the sesame oil, give the peas a toss, then pour in the soy sauce.  Cook for one more minute, just until the sauce starts to get syrupy, then pour out onto a serving plate.  Garnish with sesame seeds.

Sometimes when I am at my cooking maximum, I somehow find the energy to add one more thing.  I’m tapped, I’m tired, I’m starting to make stupid mistakes, and then I see something that sparks me – makes me perk up.  I somehow find time to squeeze in this one more thing even though that bit of time could be of more value in other ways.  And sometimes there is pay off, even though it may not seem that way at first.

What am I talking about?  Well, this has been quite a week for me and it’s not over yet.  I taught classes Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and today I will be spending the entire day in the kitchen prepping lunch for tomorrow’s yoga retreat on Bainbridge Island.  Everything has to be done today because I take a 7:55am ferry over there tomorrow.  Normally, I spend a couple of days prepping but because of all the teaching, everything will be compressed into one day.  Did I mention that my husband has been out of town?  Yes, that too.  I’m getting through by literally taking one day at a time.  I can’t even think about the next project until I finish the current one.  Nothing that can’t be used that very day gets made or done.  Stay Focused Dana has been my mantra.

So yesterday, precisely 40 minutes before I had to leave to pick up my children, precisely 2 hours before my students started knocking on my door, with precisely 57 different dishes in the sink or scattered around the counter, I decided to make Spice Crispies.  The recipe caught my eye as I was making my favorite Chex Mix and suddenly, I was overtaken with the urge to create yet more dirty dishes and food.

Fast as lightning, I preheated the oven, gathered ingredients, poured, sautéed, stirred, scraped, baked, washed, wiped, and as I was cursing myself because now I was even more behind than I had been before, a most amazing smell started wafting from my oven.  I pulled the tray out, whisked it off to the dining room for a quick photo in the fading light, and took a taste.  Weird.  Interesting.  Not sure.  Waste of time?  Maybe.  And then off to finish out my evening, the Spice Crispies all but forgotten.

After the class and after the clean-up was over, I remembered that I had stashed the tray in our study and a miraculous thing happened while they cooled completely and set up.  These little clusters of cereal and spice had become something totally addictive and truly tasty.  Even the raisins, which had become hard little nuggets, kind of like what happens to them in oatmeal raisin cookies, had their own unique appeal.  I have a feeling that I am going to get a lot of questions about this little snack mix this weekend – it is intriguing.  I wish I had the time to come up with beautiful metaphors describing the unusual yet delicious flavors in this snack, but I have a task list a mile long for today.  Just trust me when I say that I really should be doing 100 other things rather than writing this post and yet, here I am doing just that.  Have a great weekend.

One Year Ago:  Roasted Tomato Salad with Croutons, Meyer Lemon Risotto Cakes
Two Years Ago:  Chickpea, Chard, and Couscous Soup, Soba Noodles with Crispy Tofu and Vegetables
Three Years Ago:  Orange Pound Cake

Spice Crispies
Adapted from Food & Wine
Makes about 4 cups

If you want to keep the raisins from getting totally crunchy, I imagine you could add them half way through the baking time. 

2 cups Rice Krispies or other puffed rice cereal (2 ounces)
¼ cup salted roasted cashews
¼ cup salted roasted peanuts
¼ cup wide coconut flakes
¼ cup raisins
3 tbsp. peanut oil
1 tsp. yellow mustard seeds (DT:  I used brown)
½ tsp. fennel seeds
½ tsp. cumin seeds
¼ tsp. crushed red pepper
4 large fresh bay leaves (DT:  I used dried)
3 tbsp. light corn syrup
Juice of half a lemon
½ tsp. kosher salt

Preheat the oven to 325ºF and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.  In a large bowl, toss the rice cereal with the cashews, peanuts, coconut flakes, and raisins.

In a small saucepan, heat the oil until shimmering.  Add the mustard seeds and cook over moderately high heat until they begin to pop, about 1 minute.  Add the fennel and cumin seeds, crushed red pepper, and bay leaves and toast, stirring, until fragrant, about 1 minutes.  Add the corn syrup, lemon juice, and salt and bring to a boil.  Drizzle the hot syrup over the cereal over the cereal and nuts and toss with a spoon until evenly coated.

Spread the mixture on the baking sheet and bake for 25 minutes, stirring once or twice, until the nuts are golden.  Let cool; discard the bay leaves.

(Can be stored in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 4 days.)

At the ages of seven and almost five, my children often say funny things.  Long ago a friend recommended that I write down their cute little sayings, insisting that I wouldn’t remember.  It was one of those ideas that made perfect sense at the time and yet is something that I just never did.  And, although I thought I could rely on my very good memory, I don’t remember all the cute little things they have said over the years.  The only ones I remember are those I wrote down on this blog, captured either with my phone or the flip camera, or the ones I told so many times that they are burned into my memory.

Last night, Graham said, “I have a good idea. If people want to eat your yummy food, we could open a window in our house, just like Taco Time!”

And now for some clarification.  First of all, Taco Time is not Taco Bell.  It is a locally owned fast food-ish place where the emphasis is on fresh.  I haven’t eaten at Taco Bell since my early 20′s but I don’t mind Taco Time.  Second of all, I’m not a drive-thru kind of person but last summer our beloved babysitter took them through there and on to the park where they had a picnic.  They are still talking about it six months later.  Third of all, when Graham was the praises of my food, he was not talking about this Two Potato Vindaloo.  He was talking about a taco (sense a theme?) that I made him with black beans, cheese, homemade salsa and guacamole.

So no, we are not quite at the point where I feed my children Two Potato Vindaloo although I think that Graham, my hearty and relatively adventurous eater, would probably have liked it.  I have, oh, about one ton of leftovers in the refrigerator so maybe we will give it a try tonight.  I know that Spencer would not touch it.  But I bet, if I opened a take-out window in my house (a friend on Facebook called it the Dana Treat Drive Thru), I would sell out of this dish.

This recipe comes from the beloved Plenty cookbook.  I swear this book has magic powers.  I feel like each time I open it, there are delicious things in there that I have never seen, never noticed.  This recipe, starring both red potatoes and sweet potatoes, I always notice and the only reason I haven’t made it until now is that I don’t always have fresh curry leaves on hand.  You could, of course, leave them out, but I dearly love curry leaves and just the scent of them as they hit the pan reminds of me the year we lived in London and all the amazing Indian food I ate there.

I made a few changes, streamlined the cooking time.  Ground spices instead of toasting whole ones and then grinding them.  Canned tomatoes instead of fresh (have you seen “fresh” tomatoes in Seattle these days?  Yuck.)  I have the British version of the book so I always tweak the recipes a bit with the measurements and all.  Having made so many delicious things from this book, I have learned to trust Mr. Ottolenghi’s taste.  I hesitated at the amount of vinegar in this dish but the acidity cut through the any heaviness that curries can sometimes have and also helped boost the flavor of the spices.  I’m telling you, that man is a genius.  The only other thing I can add is that, unless you are vegan, definitely add a dollop of plain yogurt to your bowl.  More acidity and some creaminess are most welcome in this curry.

One Year Ago:  Gingerbread with Maple Cream Cheese Frosting
Two Years Ago:  Black Bean Chilaquile
Three Years Ago:  Milk Chocolate Frosted Layer Cake

Two Potato Vindaloo
Adapted from Plenty
Serves 6-8

Unless you live near an Indian grocery, fresh curry leaves can be hard to find.  If you do use them, they are totally edible.  I like the way they taste but you can also pick them out like bay leaves.  I know some people substitute bay leaves for curry leaves (I haven’t tried it – the flavors are not the same), but if you do I would only use four of them and be sure to pick them out before serving.  Don’t worry if you don’t have fenugreek seeds – just leave them out.

½ tsp. ground cardamom
1 tsp. ground cumin
1 tsp. ground coriander
½ tsp. ground tumeric
1 tsp. paprika
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 tbsp. vegetable oil (I used coconut oil)
6 large shallots, peeled and finely chopped
½ tsp. mustard seeds
½ tsp. fenugreek seeds
Kosher salt
12 large or 24 small curry leaves
2 tbsp. finely chopped fresh ginger
1 fresh red chile, seeded and finely chopped
1 14-ouce can diced tomatoes
3 tbsp. apple cider vinegar
2 cups water
1 tbsp. sugar
1 pound red potatoes, cut into 1-inch chunks
1 large red bell pepper, cut into 1-inch chunks
1 large sweet potato, cut into 1-inch chunks
Mint and/or cilantro to garnish

In a small bowl, combine all the spices except the mustard seeds and fenugreek seeds.  Set aside.

Place a large heavy based pot over medium heat.  Add the vegetable oil along with the shallots, mustard seeds, fenugreek seeds, and a large pinch of salt.  Sauté for about 8 minutes, or until the shallots brown.  (You might want to have a lid handy in case the mustard seeds start to pop.)  Stir in the spice mix, curry leaves, ginger, and chile, and cook for a further 3 minutes.  Add the tomatoes (with their juice), vinegar, water, sugar, and another pinch of salt.  Bring to a boil, then leave to simmer, covered for 10 minutes.

Add the potatoes and red peppers and simmer for another 20 minutes.  For the last stage, add the sweet potatoes.  Make sure all the vegetables are just immersed in the sauce (add more water if needed) and continue cooking, covered, for about 20 more minutes, or until the potatoes are tender.

Remove the lid and leave to bubble away for about 10 minutes to reduce and thicken the sauce.  Serve hot with plain rice and garnished with herbs.  Serve yogurt for garnishing at the table.

Randy and I used to get Thai food almost every Friday night for dinner.  Or at least every Friday night that wasn’t a date night.  It was our wind-down from a long week, a break from cooking for me, and something we both enjoyed.  Seattle has great Thai food and there are five or six places nearby that we like.  After a few years of this tradition, I started to feel like the food tasted great but I could just see how unhealthy it was.  The oil slick in the bottom of the noodles dish, the coating on my tongue from the curry.  Tasty but not healthy.  And so, we opted for other food on Friday nights, namely my cooking.

Earlier this week, Graham had surgery for a hernia.  It sounds bad but the truth is that children recover surprisingly quickly from this type of surgery.  He has had one other operation, an umbilical hernia repair.  This was an operation to repair his belly button which was sticking out more than normal – really a cosmetic procedure.  So now, at the grand old age of seven, he has had the same number of surgeries as his 41-year old mother.  (I’ve had 2 c-sections.)

Because the doctors and nurses were so blasé about the surgery and how quickly it would be over and how well he would do, I planned to make dinner.  But of course they did not start on time and the operation took an hour instead of a half, and they kept him in recovery longer because he was having pain.  (The recovery room nurse asked him how he was feeling and he said, “I would feel better if my penis didn’t hurt so much.”)  I got to go back in the OR with him to hold his hand while they put him under with strawberry scented gas and watching his little eyes flutter closed broke my heart.  It became clear, on the eventual drive home, that take-out was our dinner option.  It had been so long since our last Thai dinner that I thought it sounded good.  And it was good.  But after a few bites, I remembered why we stopped our regular practice.  I carefully picked my noodles out of the slick and decided that this was a once in a while treat.

I love those flavors and I love that food, but I don’t love the grease or the stomach ache I often get after eating it.  I have an ever rotating line up of Asian noodle dishes that I love and I’m happy to add this Heidi Swanson recipe to the roster.  Normally I use rice noodles but I appreciated a bit more heft from the wheat based udon noodles in this dish and the sauce was drinkable.  Seriously.  I tweaked a bit.  I added cilantro to the cooked sauce, I sautéed the shallots to almost burnt for the garnish because I don’t like members of the onion family to be raw.  I added a bit less liquid and then second-guessed myself.  All the things you do with a good recipe to make it more to your taste.  Delicious.

 One Year Ago:  Hearty Beans and Rice and Butternut Squash and Cashew Curry
Two Years Ago:  EggNog Pound Cake with Crystal Rum Glaze and Chickpea, Lentil, and Vegetable Stew
Three Years Ago:  Penne with Greek-Style Vegetable Marinade

Big Curry Noodle Pot
Adapted from Super Natural Cooking
Serves 3-4

2 tbsp. coconut oil or vegetable oil, divided
2 medium shallots, sliced into thin rings
Kosher salt
8 ounces dried Asian style wide noodles, such as udon
1 onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 tsp. Thai red curry paste
12 ounces extra-firm tofu, cut into thumb-sized slices
1 14-ounce can coconut milk
1½ cups water
2 tsp. ground tumeric
2 tbsp. shoyu sauce, or other soy sauce
1 tbsp. light brown sugar
Juice of 1 lime
¼ cup peanuts, chopped
½ cup cilantro leaves, chopped, divided

Place a large saucepan over medium-high heat.  Add 1 tablespoon of the coconut or vegetable oil, then add the shallots.  Allow to cook undisturbed until golden brown on the underside, about 3 minutes.  Flip over and cook for another 1-2 minutes, until very brown.  Tip out onto a paper towel lined plate and season with salt.  Set aside.

Return saucepan to the burner and reduce heat to medium.  Add the other tablespoon of oil and then add the onions.  Cook for five minutes, then add the garlic and red curry paste.  Mash the paste around in the pan to distribute it evenly.  Cook until nice and fragrant, just a minute or two.  Add the tofu and gently stir until coated with the curry paste.  Stir in the coconut milk, water, tumeric, soy sauce, and sugar, bring to a simmer, and simmer gently until the sauce gets nice and thick, about 20 minutes.  Stir in half the cilantro leaves and the lime juice.

Meanwhile, cook the noodles in plenty of salted water according to the package directions.  When they are just shy of done, use tongs to transfer them directly to the saucepan with the curry sauce.  Stir in the lime juice.  To serve, heap big piles of noodles into individual bowls and top with a generous ladle of the sauce.  Top with peanuts, shallots and the remaining cilantro.

How do you feel about cilantro?  If you think about it, it’s a fascinating herb.  You will find it in many culture’s food that is quite different from one another.  Indian, Mexican, and Southeast Asian cooking, for example.  Being a huge fan of Indian, Mexican, and Southeast Asian food, I can’t imagine my life without cilantro.  It is probably the herb I use most in my cooking, with the possible exception of thyme, and that is because I have thyme growing at the bottom of the stairs to my house.

I understand that some people don’t like cilantro.  And by not liking it, I mean they have a true aversion to it.  I had a doctor in one of my Thai cooking classes and she said that is indeed true that some people carry a gene that makes cilantro taste like soap.  So if you carry that gene, my apologies and seeing as this recipe has an entire bunch of cilantro in it, this dish is not for you.  Sorry.

This is a favorite dish from Jack Bishop’s A Year in a Vegetarian Kitchen.  It is one of those recipes that takes next to no time and yet produces a seriously tasty result.  You start an onion sautéing on the stove, whir together some tomatillos, jalapeños, oregano, and a lot of cilantro in a blender, mix it all together with some hominy, and let it cook for about 15 minutes.  While it cooks, you thinly slice some romaine lettuce, radishes, quarter some cherry tomatoes, and cube some avocado.  Ladle the hominy mixture in a bowl, top it with the fresh stuff, and dinner is served.  Randy and I like heat so I seeded one of the jalapeños and left the seeds and membranes in the other one.  It was perfect for us but if you are unsure – go ahead and seed both of them.

Finally, just to answer some questions about hominy.  Hominy is a type of corn but it is much starchier and larger than the corn kernels that we know and love.  Its texture and size is necessary here – regular corn would make this a rather anemic stew.  I found mine in canned vegetable aisle near the corn.  White or yellow works.

One Year Ago:  Brown Rice Bowl with Soy Sauce Marinated Tofu and a Fried Egg
Three Years Ago:  Potato Fennel Gratin

Posole Verde
Adapted from A Year in a Vegetarian Kitchen
Serves 4

My only word of warning is that the cilantro mixture, which is vibrantly green in the blender, will turn a mossy shade of green as it cooks.  Do not be alarmed, the vegetable mixture on top is nice and colorful.

1 bunch coarsely chopped cilantro stems and leaves (about 2½ cups)
¼ cup fresh oregano leaves
6 ounces tomatillos, husked, washed, and halved
2 medium jalapeños, stemmed and seeded
2½ cups water
Canola oil
1 large onion, chopped
4 medium garlic cloves, minced
2 15-ounce cans white or yellow hominy, rinsed and drained
Sea salt

Garnishes
1 medium head romaine lettuce, thinly sliced crosswise
Handful cherry tomatoes, quartered
4 medium radishes, thinly sliced
1 small avocado, diced
Flour or corn tortillas, warmed

Place the cilantro, oregano, tomatillos, chiles, and 1 cup of the water in a blender and purée, scraping down the sides of the jar as necessary, until smooth, about 1 minute.

Place a sauté pan over medium heat.  Drizzle in just enough canola oil to coat the bottom then add the onion along with a large pinch of salt.  Cook until golden, about 6 minutes.  Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, another minute or so.  Add the cilantro mixture, hominy, remaining 1½ cups water, and bring to a boil.  Reduce the heat and simmer to blend the flavors, about 15 minutes.  Adjust the seasoning, adding salt to taste.

Ladle the posole into bowls and serve immediately, passing the lettuce, tomatoes, radishes, avocado, and tortillas at the table.

So, how was it?  Thanksgiving, I mean.  And if you are in a country other than the U.S., how was your Thursday?  Our feast was lovely.  We had a much smaller group than in years past – just our core group and both Randy and I decided that we like smaller better.  (With no offense to those out there who have joined us in years past.)  Aside from the turkey, the food at Thanksgiving doesn’t stress me out.  The dishes are all fairly simple and when you do a lot of dinner parties, as we do, you get good at making lots of food for lots of people.  It is the all-the-food-coming-out-of-the-oven and every-sitting-down-at-once part that is stressful.  But when you only have one table full of people, as opposed to the two we had last year, it all comes together quite nicely.

If I was a turkey eater, I would most likely still be posting some kind of turkey soup or, who know, turkey lasagne during this weekend after Thanksgiving.  Can I say a word about turkey?  If I were ever to go back to eating meat, turkey is probably the last thing that I would add in to my diet.  I would eat a hamburger before I would eat turkey – I’d probably eat a geoduck before I ate turkey.  The guys in our group smoke cigars after the big meal, a tradition that goes way back, and I prefer the lingering smell of stale cigar smoke in my house to the smell of turkey.  So, suffice it to say, this is not turkey soup.  It actually has nothing to do with Thanksgiving and, if you read a lot of food blogs and have been inundated with Thanksgiving posts, you are probably glad to know that.

This is a simple weeknight curry.  I have been craving curry lately and I thought about doing an Indian feast using my Rasa books, but just a stroll through the table of contents made my eyes flutter in exhaustion.  The recipes in my books are not difficult but decisions and pairings had to be made and some days, that is too much to ask of me.  So I went a simpler route.

Weeknight curry can cure a lot of dinner ills in this world.  It is easy, it is adaptable, it is inexpensive, and it can feed many.  It is also satisfying and tasty and filling and doesn’t need much else beyond rice to make a full meal.  I have made this recipe many times and while I still buy the main ingredients (potatoes, sweet potatoes, cabbage), I now tailor it more to what I have in the house and the amount and type of spice that I am accustomed to.  I never make it the same way twice and I encourage you to add and subtract based on what you have already and what you like.

One Year Ago:  Burnt Sugar Bundt Cake
Three Years Ago:  Breton Apple Pie

Potato and Vegetable Curry
Adapted from Simple Vegetarian Pleasures
Serves 4

Olive oil
1 onion, diced
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 1-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and minced
2 tsp. curry powder
1 tsp. cumin
1 tsp. coriander
1 cinnamon stick
Pinch of cayenne
1 15-0unce can diced tomatoes, drained
4 medium red-skinned potatoes, cut into ½-inch pieces
1 large sweet potato, cut into ½-inch pieces
½ a head green cabbage, cored, cut in half lengthwise, and thinly sliced
1 15-ounce can “lite” coconut milk
1 cup frozen peas
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Cilantro leaves, for garnish (optional)

Place a large skillet over medium heat.  Drizzle in just enough olive oil to coat the bottom of the pan, then add the onions and a large pinch of salt.  Cook, stirring often, for 5 minutes.  Add the garlic and ginger and cook for another two minutes.  Add the spices and cook for another minute, stirring constantly.

Stir in the tomatoes, followed by the potatoes, sweet potatoes, and cabbage.  Allow to cook for several minutes, then pour in the coconut milk.  Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat so the curry simmers, then cover the pan.  Cook about 20 minutes, or until the vegetables are tender.  Stir in the peas and cook for another few minutes, or until the peas are hot throughout.  Remove the cinnamnon stick and serve with basmati rice.

If you have been reading here for any time at all, then you know I have two children.  Boys.  First grade and pre-K.  If you have been reading for a bit of time, you might know that those two boys are vegetarian.  Like me.  I’m sure they will eat meat at some point but for now, I am the cook in the family and I only cook vegetarian.  And to keep things uncomplicated and black and white, the boys are veg.

What you may not know is that my boys, the ones who are, ahem, vegetarians, don’t really eat vegetables.  Not for lack of trying.  We offer, they decline.  They like carrots and will eat an alarming amount of celery if it has peanut butter and raisins on it, but that is pretty much it.  And actually, I really should say that Graham (older) will eat broccoli and peas but Spencer (younger, pickier) will not.  We went to a friends’ house recently and they served the boys peas and Spencer put one in his mouth at a time and washed it down with a gulp of milk.  Just like he was taking a pill.

Do I worry about this lack of vegetable eating?  No.  I remember my pediatrician saying that ideally a child eats both fruits and vegetables but as long as they eat one or the other, there is no need to worry.  Considering that my boys eat fruit at all three meals and sometimes for a snack, and considering that I prefer not to worry if worrying is not necessary, I don’t worry.  I also don’t believe in hiding vegetables to try and trick my kids into eating them.  If I put a vegetable in something, like this mac and cheese, I tell them it’s there.

So last night, I made squash hummus.  My timing was good – Graham’s school is starting a new program where each grade works with a certain vegetable and the rest of the school has an assignment to actually eat that vegetable.  This week it is squash.   He was actually assigned to eat squash.  He was telling me this as I was literally taking it of the oven and he looked at me with that sweet almost 7 year-old wonder of, “My mom is magic!”

Normally, I would have to say I’m a hummus purist.  Hummus is chickpeas, tahini, lemon juice, a small clove of garlic, salt, pepper, olive oil, and maybe a sprinkle of cumin.  That is how I make it, that is how I like it.  Calling something that does not have chickpeas or tahini in it “hummus” bothers me.  But adding something, a vegetable I happen to love, to hummus can still be called hummus, according to the Dana Treat rules.

So how was it?  Good.  Sweeter and more yellow than my regular hummus.  Thicker too.  Most importantly, my kids loved it.  I called it squash hummus – there was no trickery going on here.  Spencer requested that I keep his squash separate and when I told him that was impossible, he just dug in anyway.  I was helped by the fact that I made flatbreads to go with it which fascinated the boys.  They scooped, ate, and scooped again.  The other boy in my family – that would be my husband – was equally smitten with both the flatbreads and the hummus, the latter of which he started eating with a spoon when the bread ran out.

Two notes.  The hummus recipe calls for a 2/3 pound butternut squash.  I know we live in squash country and they grow nice and big in our climate, but I have never seen anything close to a squash that small.  In many grocery stores, they sell pre-cut and seeded chunks of squash which is what I bought.  It doesn’t matter what type it is.  And if you suffer from yeast/dough fear, this flatbread is a great place to start.  It is foolproof and if you roll it into shapes that are other than circles, it will look extra cool.

Squash Hummus
Adapted from Fresh from the Garden
Makes about 3 cups

All food should be done to your taste but I think this is especially true of things like hummus and salad dressing.  Start with this recipe and then add more olive oil (or more water) if you want a looser consistency and be sure to add more salt if it needs it.  I added a bit more lemon juice to mine too.

1 small squash (about 2/3 pound)
1 15-ounce can chickpeas, rinsed and drained
1 small garlic clove, minced
2 tbsp. tahini paste
Juice of 1 lemon
2 tbsp. olive oil
2 tbsp. water
Sea salt and coarsely ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 375ºF.  Cut the squash in half and scrape out the seeds.  Drizzle the cut surfaces with olive oil, then wrap it in foil.  Bake for about an hour – until a knife easily pierces the flesh.  Set aside to cool enough to handle.

Scrape out the squash flesh into the bowl of a food processor fitted with the steel blade.  Add the chickpeas, garlic, tahini, lemon juice, a large pinch of salt and a few grinds of pepper.  Pulse to combine.  With the machine on, pour the olive oil and then the water through the feed tube.  Stop and scrape down the sides, then continue to process until you have a nice smooth consistency.  Adjust the seasoning to your taste.

Rosemary Flatbread
Makes 6 medium-sized breads

I make bread often and it is rare, unless I am making the no-knead version, to have the dough actually double in size in a short period of time.  Don’t worry about it, just continue with the recipe.

1½ cups all-purpose flour
½ tsp. dried yeast
2 tbsp. fresh rosemary, finely chopped, plus extra for topping
1 tbsp. olive oil plus extra for brushing
Sea salt

Place the flour in a medium bowl and add the yeast.  Add 2/3 cup tepid water, the rosemary, olive oil, and a pinch of salt, and start mixing it all together to form a rather sloppy dough.  If your mix is too dry, add a bit more water.  If the mix is too wet, add a little more flour.

Once you have a ball of dough, take it out of the bowl and knead on a floured surface for 5 minutes, until it is elastic and slightly tacky.  Leave the dough to rest in a warm place under a damp kitchen towel for 1 hour; until it has about doubled in size.

Preheat the oven to 400ºF.  Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

Break off about 1/6th of the dough and, using your hands, roll it into a ball.  Place on a floured surface and roll out to a thickness of about 1/8th of an inch.  Repeat until you have used all the dough.  Transfer to the prepared sheets and brush each flatbread with olive oil.  Sprinkle with a little salt and more rosemary.

Place the sheets in the oven for 12 to 15 minutes, until the surface of the breads starts to bubble and turn golden brown.  Don’t cook them too long or they will turn into cardboard.  Serve immediately.