August. Vegas. Underworld. Awesome.

Vegas again. I'm not complaining. This year, it's all about mini-breaks, man.
This was the concert of the year. The Hard Rock Hotel was full of electronic ambient beats music fans and 800 of us had plenty of room to dance up front at the Joint. Karl Hyde flung himself onstage appropriately dressed in a purple sequined jacket and didn't stop sparkling and blinking for one second. Fan.Fricking.Tastic.

Tofu Scramble

I know. It's doesn't sound great. But let me be the one to tell you that tofu scramble, done properly, is probably right up there with Civet de Seitan. I used Post Punk Kitchen's recipe and cut it in half to make breakfast for one (the spousal unit missed all the fun!) and then saved some for lunch later. I left out the carrots and mushrooms but added spinach instead. I over did it on the cumin and the result was a rather smoky tofu scramble for breaky. Good, but cuminy. For lunch though, I added Vegenaise and put the lot on whole grain bread with avocado slices and baby spinach. Holy crap. It was so yummy that this has become my favorite sandwich on the planet.

Washington D.C.

Flew across the country for a little animal rights conference and had the best time! D.C. is a great little urban metro with fun food, books, wine, taxis, subways and weather.
Case in point:A free "Go Vegetarian Starter Kit." On the street. For public consumption. Um, that's when I knew I had left the desert.
The ladies and I visited Teaism and had delicious tea! And right across the street we dined at Sette Osteria and I forgot to take a picture of my pasta because I was too busy eating it. The wine may have had something to do with it too. Asylum was a great pub that served local beers and *gasp!!* vegan hot wings!!!!!! O. my. god. They were yummy.
I walked down to the National Gallery and visited with some old friends: Leonardo, Manet, Vermeer, Giotto. It's nice to know someone's taking care of them.
A good trip, indeed. Now it's onto Vegas. More later. xox

Sometimes you just need some flowers.

Gladiolus. The sword lily. I actually had these beauties in my garden this spring. Enjoy.

So, this is what happens when you feed a feral cat.

5:30 this morning (yes, 5:30) I hauled myself out of bed for my run and was met by Il Magnifico, (so named for Lorenzo d'Medici - for I feel he has star quality.) I've taken a liking to this skinny black feral cat. The other cats don't like him. He's more of a lone wolf. I respect that. And he meows at me. I can't help it! I give him kibble and I pet him. I'm this close to bundling him off to the vet for a full check up.


Sure, he's tiny and adorable. No doubt he's feigning love for me. I know he's just a fair weather friend but what if he really needs the kibble I give him?
It's only kibble, it's not love. Yet.

The prosecco days of summer.

It's hot.

I was buying vitamins in the cool of the grocery aisle and was cruelly waylaid by pink prosecco. Cloudy, frosty air wafted out of the refrigerated shelving and insisted I take away this cool bottle of bubbly, for a reasonable price.

It was far too much fun for one person.

Circuses are for peons

If the phrase "captive breeding program" doesn't strike fear and loathing into your heart then you have problems I can't help you with.

It was 109 degrees in the desert this weekend and as the elephants lumbered out of their hot tin can train cars and onto center stage, shoved and prodded by circus freaks with bull hooks, I thought to myself, "At least I can go home and swim after." And while I look particularly cheerful, the evening was marred by the usual fat peon families attending the cheapo circus congratulating themselves on their parenting skills while silently begrudging the time away from the tv. For the record: Yes, I have a job. No, the animals aren't loved at the circus. Yes, we are here to spoil your fun and make you THINK about your actions. No, I don't want to take away your stuff. No, the animals aren't happier at the circus than they would be on some African plain, eating leaves and making babies. No, my shoes aren't leather. Yes, we protesters are a "downer" but so's the circus. No, not all circuses are bad, just the ones that use animals.

PS: can my glasses get ANY bigger?

Berry Harvest Inspires.

It's getting hot in the desert. The berries are shrinking. They ripen too early and while they are delicious, this was the sum of my harvest today. *le sigh*

Not one to be discouraged, I scampered to the fridge and pulled out the carton of organic strawbs, determined to bake something yummy. Ta da!

Rustic strawberry tart.

I veganized this from an Epicurious recipe.

Crust:

1 1/2 cups unbleached white flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

6 tablespoons soy margarine (I use Earth Balance)
1/2 cup granulated sugar

2 "eggs" worth of egg replacer

2 tablespoons vanilla soy milk

Filling:

1 pint of strawberries, hulled, cut in half

Handful of any other berries you like. I used up some frozen blueberries.

1 teaspoon grated lemon peel

1 teaspoon grated orange peel

Pinch of sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Lightly grease a tart pan of your choice.

Mix the berries with the lemon peel, orange peel and sugar. Set aside.

Mix together flour, baking powder and salt in a bowl. In another bowl beat the margarine and the sugar. Add the egg replacer and the milk. Add the dry mixture to the wet and stir by hand until just moistened. Do not overmix. Spread the mixture into the bottom of the pan. Tumble the berry mixture onto the dough and arrange nicely and press down a bit.

Bake for 25-30 min.

It's cakey, but nice! I imagine it will be good for breakfast tomorrow.

Milano.

The Sartorialist posted this back in May and I can't stop looking at it. Yellow linen trousers!!! Sheer bliss! She walks in Milan, probably on her way to work as the head of some design firm, too chic to carry a bag. She arrives late: Milan is too beautiful to waste. After all, it's cool enough for a scarf and warm enough for sandals. You'd go for a stroll too.
Sure, I've never embraced yellow. But now I am on the hunt for this shade. I should like it in a top.
As soon as possible.

Bread, you are so cruel.

Once again, I've taken up the challenge of making yeast bread and true to form I've been unsuccessful.

I tried to make this:

High Calcium Bread shown above baked by Liz using Tracey's recipe. Looks yummy, right? All oaty and molassasy...

What I got was this:

Two sad little loaves that didn't rise enough. They're really heavy and I'm sure if I threw one at someone, it would hurt. Even the sesame sprinkles couldn't save them. I toasted up a slice this morning pretending it would be yummy and while it was edible, it was not very fun.

I am the walrus.

Well, we had a little allergic reaction Monday night.

Seems that little Kate got into it with a wasp or some such angry creature in the backyard. She puffed up like a walrus! The poor little tyke. At one point, driving to the pharmacy for Benadryl, her head looked like a softball. All's well now, after a sleepless night and her droopy face has gone back to normal.

It's love!

Alright, I'll say it: I love tomatoes. I especially love homegrown, pesticide-free, fish-free, warmed by the sun and sprayed with nothing but *questionable* city water tomatoes. This one I grew in my backyard and it brought me an immeasurable amount of joy. I picked it two weeks ago and ate it for lunch on a lovely panino with basil leaves and buffala mozzarella. Sure, the plant is a little slow to catch up; the rest of the fruits are still green, but I hope to eat more of these lovelies before the desert sun reaches its "destroy all living things" season.

Bring me back a vegetable!

Right. So, this came up one day with huge leaves like those on honeydews and then quite suddenly sprouted these gorgeous bright pink flowers that just keep on coming! There must be 15 of them on the stalk now.
I don't remember planting anything this fabulous and I can only surmise it's the black skinned watermelon that may have volunteered itself this year. Hurrah!
"Oh, Edmund: then this is it. Have you got clean underwear, and don't eat foreign food and watch out for strange men and discover me a country and bring me back a vegetable and… oh, everything." Queenie. Blackadder II

Cabbage Roll!!!!!!!!

I've been scolded by a number of you for my prolonged absence.
A-polo-gies. There is no excuse. But I've been busy cooking...
Let's start with an ode to the Schmenge Brothers' Cabbage Rolls. Mine are Vegetarian, obviously. Delish farmer's market cabbage all rolled up tight and plated. I can't stand how cute these babies are!A little ground soy, rice, tomato sauce, peas, herbs, love and dedication and soon you have yumminess in your own home.
For me, this is seventies food, family food, mom food. Thanks for that, mom.

Not a harvest, perse.

Two years ago I wantonly planted purple heirloom asparagus seeds in rebelliously unamended, nay disregarded soil. I've been dealing with blowzy, ferny greenery ever since that I periodically cut back to avoid it overtaking my garden. Today I harvested two spears (these two, to be precise) and ate them over pasta. Just me. None for husband. One can stretch asparagus only so far. Should have amended that soil.

Bah! I'm a rebel and look where it's gotten me.

If it's shiny, I'll take it.

Went to the farmer's market yesterday. I was in an adventurous mood and recklessly purchased vegetables that I thought were adorable without regard for how I was going to cook them. Case in point:

A-DOR-able baby eggplant and tiny campari tomatoes. I just keep looking at them. I have no idea how to make eggplant.

Let's review the list of goodies I came home with, shall we?

• galangang (Nice Thai lady assured me this was for soup...I believe her.)
• kafir lime leaves (I bought them because I've never seen them before.)
• bok choy (Well, who can resist seven pale little bulbs all crammed into a ziploc baggie? I am a victim of value added marketing.)
• blood oranges (Farmer made me taste one. I got 20 for three bucks. You'd do it too.)
• a cabbage (Picked the night before!!!)
• twice garlic (Here is where I got flimflammed. As I tossed some into my bag, I heard my mother's voice in my head, "that's old garlic, look at the gaps between the cloves and how loose the skin is...don't buy them!" Well, I bought them only to find some new, local garlic at the next stall that was so obviously better quality. Twice garlic.)
• onions (they smelled awesome!)
• campari tomatoes (oh my god.)
• baby eggplant (oh. my. god!!! Could you just die????)
• curly purple lettuce (no reason to buy this at all.)
• ginger (love it)
• shallots (loves these)
• chives (great on a boca burger)
• basil (I am an organized culinary goddess and plan to chop and freeze this for later.)

and I'm spent.

The French

Last night I put together some white kidney beans in a little olive oil, sautéd them until they got kind of crispy on the outside. Then I added a little olive oil, shallots, kale and took a picture.

When it all looked good enough to eat, I put the mixture into mini one-serving soufflé dishes, sprinkled each with some bread crumbs and baked the little suckers until they became crispy, golden delights. I would show you a picture but I was so consumed with avarice that I quickly plated a lovely spinach, jicama, avocado salad with citrus dressing and dinner was served. We ate and ate. And then I remembered why the camera was sitting out.
Hélas, mes amis, je n'ai rien.

Which brings me to the French: I'm reading, The United States of Arugula by David Kamp and while I'm not thrilled with the author's style, I do appreciate the history of food. I love this part from p 31: French chef, Antonin Carême (1784-1883), in his book L'art de la cuisine française au dix-neuvième siècle, "popularized such terms as béchamel, velouté, and soufflé ensuring that ... like ballet (another art formed in seventeenth century France), cuisine would continue to speak in French."
Huh. So it does.
Bonne nuit.

...ahem

If people don't tell me about my misspelled words, how am I ever going to learn? It's about sharing, man, sharing. Seriously.

I have accepted Seitan as my personal saviour.

I've been thoroughly enjoying some online reading of late: Hezbollah Tofu and Vegan Appetite have offered up some great culinary challenges. While my food styling and photography are not up to par, turns out I can cook with seitan! Who knew? After going to three different stores this morning (thanks for nothing, Phoenix), I finally found packaged seitan at Whole Foods (but of course) and began to whip up some Civet de Seitan by Vegan Appetite.

Below is my marinating baggie full of leeks, onion, garlic, red wine and carrots. Looked nasty but I trusted in seitan. My little blue dishes contain flour, grated dark chocolate and the bouquet-garni.

I especially enjoyed the chocolate prep. It's true, this meal does cure pms.

My civet turned out amazing with a side of frites. It wasn't as shiny nor as happy looking as Vegan Appetite's version and my plating skills leave something to be desired but I have hope. Or maybe it's Obama....anyhoo.

Damn, this was yummy.

Kitchen Strategery

I am a kitchen goddess. I guess I knew it all along but I become discouraged when I try to make Indian food I always get a rather tasty pot of yellow mush. But not tonight, children! I made Italian.

Patatine e Carciofi Arrosto. A gorgeous way of saying roasted 'taters and artichokes. I added cauliflower and while its' presentation is a bit bland, all grays and beiges, it tasted frickin' amazing! Roasted all three veg with thyme, rosemary, s & p and three cloves of unpeeled garlic. Chopped up the roasted garlic when the veg were done and thew it on into the mix. The recipe did not say to do that. I am SUCH a rebel. Mixed into the whole thing a handful of grated lemon zest, a healthy clump of parsley some more chopped garlic and I am a genius. My mouth is still on fire from the garlic and my dogs won't come near me, but I am sated. Anyway, it beats a pot of yellow mush.

2009

So here we are 18 days in and while I hate to be a cliche I think my new year's resolution (which to be fair, I formed at Thanksgiving) is holding up. I'm actually going for a daily run. More like a walk/run. Feels great. Gets me out of the office under fire of envious glares from people who don't exercise. Bah! Heart health, man, heart health.
I'm also packing fabulous lunches for myself. My latest joy is Masala Tandoori Naan from Trader Joes. This soft yummy flatbread is now comfort food.
I said I was running, not cutting carbs.