Sour Grass

 

 

When I was a kid, I used to forage in the wild. Okay, it was usually my backyard, but it was still an adventure.

 

Generally, I ate known food. You know – plums, chestnuts, pears. Those things were familiar. And they never tasted so good as they did back in the day.

 

But sometimes, when I was feeling particularly daring, I would try other things. I had a lovely spell where I dined on my next door neighbor’s roses. And they were darling. I would have continued eating those roses, but the neighbor caught me and had a bona fide hissy fit. She told my parents and made sure I got in beau-coup trouble. Bummer.

 

That wasn’t as odd as another forage find: sour grass. I don’t know what possessed me (or my sisters), but I decided to try it. It was sour, in the very best way. And it was fresh, and even tasted green. Because our yard was basically a big weed field, it was also plentiful.

 

Now, if you’re thinking “Sour grass? What the?”, I understand. As kids, we didn’t know how to identify anything horticulturally. I never knew that what we were munching on was probably some form of clover or shamrock. To us, it was just a weed. A sour weed. That didn’t make us sick. We liked it, so we kept eating it.

 

I don’t remember when the foraging stopped, but it did. I guess it was some time around the 3rd grade, when my family moved away from Spencer Street. No more plum trees, no more chestnut or pear trees, either. Sour grass may have been in our new weed field, but the thrill was gone. Or maybe I was just growing up. Either way, that part of my adventurous self was gone.

 

My adult culinary adventures tend toward restaurant experiences now. I don’t remember the last time I ate something out in the wild. But when I passed by a front yard the other day, a front yard that wasn’t much more than a weed field, I spotted a patch of sour grass. And I slowed down to look at it. And to remember. I’m not gonna lie: I was mighty tempted to reach down and pull up a handful, for old time’s sake. But I didn’t. I took a photo, then I moved on down the sidewalk.

 

Remembering will have to do.

Fava Perfetto!

 

 

 

Fava Perfetto is so good, I can’t even tell you. I often serve it as an appetizer, with grissini (skinny, hard bread sticks). I’ve also served it on crostini (toasted bread slices). But what really gets me jazzed is my latest discovery: for breakfast. Seriously. I toast a sourdough english muffin, butter that slightly, then slather on the Fava Perfetto. It is one of the best things I’ve ever eaten for breakfast. And y’all, I eat breakfast. While it isn’t a dish one can just whip up in a jiffy, it is worth the time and effort.

 

Anyhoo, I’m trying to eat Favas as often as possible right now, since they’re in their all-too-brief season. And please don’t be deterred by the high price of Favas at the grocery store (or at farmers’ markets). Just do like me, and go find yourself a good ethnic market. At my local grocery store, Favas cost $3.99 per pound. Ouch! At the ethnic market? 89¢. I kid you not. My goal is to make a giant batch of Fava Perfetto and freeze it in small portions so that I’ll be able to eat it all summer. So far, I’ve not been successful. That seems to be because each time I make a big bowl of the delicious concoction, we eat it all in a couple of days. Oh, Fava Bean! How do I love thee!

 

Back to the task at hand… Here’s what you’ll need:

 

 

Fava Beans, Olive Oil, Lemon Juice, Garlic, Parmesan Cheese, Fresh Basil, Salt & Pepper (the last 3 ingredients are not pictured)

 

 

Remove the Favas from their pods, and discard the pods. This takes a while, so be sure to set aside some time.

 

 

Boil some water in a saucepan. You only need enough to cover the Favas. Once the water reaches a boil, add the de-podded Favas. Cook for 5 minutes. Then drain, rinse in cold water and set aside to cool. (At this point, you may refrigerate the Favas. Just be sure to use the beans in the next day or two.)

 

 

Once cooled, shell the Favas (and discard the shells). I wish I could tell you a secret to make this easy, but the truth is, you just pinch the skin and pop out the beautiful, green Fava. Again, this is time-consuming. But it’s also meditative and calming. I’m all for calm, yo.

 

 

Once shelled, place the cooked Favas in the bowl of a food processor. Add all remaining ingredients and process until smooth and creamy. Taste for seasoning and adjust as you deem necessary. (Salt? Pepper? Lemon? Whatever! If you think it needs more, add it.)

 

 

That’s it! You’ve now got a bowl of summer goodness before you. I recommend sharing. But if you just can’t help but hoard the stuff, by all means, go ahead. You’ve earned it. And don’t forget to try a little Fava Perfetto at breakfast. Let me know what you think.

 

 

Here’s the printable…

 

Fava Perfetto!
Author: 
Recipe type: Appetizer
Cuisine: Italian
 

Fava Perfetto is so good, I can’t even tell you. I often serve it as an appetizer, with grissini (skinny, hard bread sticks). I’ve also served it on crostini (toasted bread slices). But what really gets me jazzed is my latest discovery: for breakfast. Seriously. I toast a sourdough english muffin, butter that slightly, then slather on the Fava Perfetto. It is one of the best things I’ve ever eaten for breakfast. And y’all, I eat breakfast. While it isn’t a dish one can just whip up in a jiffy, it is worth the time and effort.
Ingredients
  • 2.5 lbs. Fava Beans – in Pods (Yields approximately 3 c. Fava Beans)
  • 4 T. Olive Oil
  • 3 T. Fresh Lemon Juice
  • 1 clove Garlic, peeled
  • 3 T. Grated Parmesan Cheese
  • ¼ t. Salt (or to taste)
  • ¼ t. Ground Pepper (or to taste)
  • 5 Large Basil Leaves

Instructions
  1. Remove the Favas from their pods. Discard pods.
  2. Boil some water in a saucepan. You only need enough to cover the Favas. Once the water reaches a boil, add the de-podded Favas. Cook for 5 minutes. Then drain, rinse in cold water and set aside to cool.
  3. Once cooled, shell the Favas. Discard shells.
  4. Once shelled, place the cooked Favas in the bowl of a food processor. Add all remaining ingredients and process until smooth and creamy. Taste for seasoning and adjust as you deem necessary.
  5. Place in a bowl and serve with grissini or crostini. Alternatively, use as a breakfast bread spread.

 

 

 

Breaking the Fast

 

 

For the entire month of January, Mister and I were on restriction. We didn’t eat meat (we did eat fish) and we didn’t drink alcohol. None. Zero point zero percent.

 

Our plan had been to break the fast on Superbowl Sunday. We knew we’d have a feast that day – pork ribs, chicken wings, sausage-stuffed mushrooms – and beer. But when a friend called and invited us to dinner the night before, we decided to bend. And so we broke the fast a day early. And I couldn’t be happier.

 

I’m a light-weight when it comes to drinking. I’m not a light weight, mind you, but for some reason my body just gets super-smiley after only a drink or two. I like that about me. Anyhoo, I expected to be double-susceptible to the effects of alcohol after a month away from the stuff. But you know what happened? I didn’t get drunk. Not even a little bit. Go figure.

 

I did get sleepy though. I mean, it was as if I’d gotten some old-person condition in one month. I could barely keep my eyes open, yo!

 

But I persevered, and had another glass of wine. And then on Superbowl Sunday, I had my share of beer. And I loved each and every drop.

 

And then I immediately fell asleep.

Prime Factorization of Food

 

 

Remember grade school math? Remember “Prime Factorization?” For those who’ve forgotten, prime factorization is the process of taking a number – such as 12 – and breaking it down into its lowest prime factors. For example, the number 12 is achieved by multiplying 2 x 6. 2 is a prime number already, but the number 6 is achieved by multiplying 2 x 3 (both of which are prime numbers). Therefore, the prime factorization of 12 is 2 x 2 x 3.

 

But this ain’t about math, y’all. It’s about food. In particular, it’s about my palate and how I only just now noticed its longing for a prime factorization of food. I was eating a sourdough english muffin for breakfast yesterday. I smeared one half with Earth Balance spread, as I typically do when eating toast. (Earth Balance is a vegan butter substitute. It’s low in cholesterol and, in general, not bad for me.) But I only had enough Earth Balance for half my toasted muffin. As I didn’t want to eat the other half dry, I grabbed some good, old-fashioned butter. It didn’t smear as easily as the fake stuff, but the toasted muffin’s heat soon melted it into a lovely stream.

 

I ate the Earth Balance-laden muffin-half first. It didn’t surprise. It was exactly what I’m used to. And I enjoyed it.

 

Then I ate the buttered half. Oh my. It was pure. It was chaste. It was a near-holy revelation and I relished each and every morsel.

 

As I enjoyed that buttered toast, I thought about why my taste buds were hallelujah-ing in praise. And it occurred to me that perhaps my enjoyment of food is subject to some sort of prime factorization. Could it be that the foods I enjoy most can be broken down into simple primes? Steamed broccoli with butter, lemon juice, salt and pepper? Love it. Fresh tomato slices, stacked with gooey burrata cheese and chopped basil, drizzled with good olive oil and balsamico? Yes! Roasted wild salmon, with nothing but olive oil, salt and pepper? In a heartbeat.

 

What I’m getting at here is this: my favorite foods can be explained with very few words, all of which are understandable. I don’t deny enjoying the occasional dip made with a cheese-like product, but more often than not, I respond most favorably to foods whose ingredients are basic.

 

Prime factorization of food. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize it. Now that I’ve seen the flavorful light, I won’t be forgetting it. I may choose to eat less (for my health and fitness), but I won’t be deprived. Because ya’ll, I’ll be eating better.

 

The future tastes so  bright, I gotta wear shades.

Where the Recipes Be At?

 

 

If you’ve noticed a shortage of recipes in these posts, you’re not alone. Truth is, I’ve not been experimenting with cooking as of late. I’ve been focused elsewhere, like on where the heck I’m gonna live!

 

I miss cooking, though. It’s more than sustenance for the body. It’s also sustenance for the psyche, for the soul, for the artist within. Messing around with recipes is like messing around with paints. I don’t always know what I’ll get out of it, but I sure do enjoy it.

 

I don’t expect to find extra time for recipes any time soon, so please forgive me if that’s something you’re into. But don’t give up on me entirely, either. Cooking is part of who I am. And I can’t go without it for too long, or that part of my personality will wither. And y’all, I’m just no danged good at withering.

Meal of the Year

 

 

On Christmas Eve, we gathered with friends and had the meal of the year. There was antipasto, shrimp cocktail, 2 types of stuffed shells, swordfish piccata, stuffed pheasant, braciole, green beans, braised brussels sprouts, salad, shrimp & pasta salad, garlic bread, apple pie, pistachio gelato, mascarpone cheesecake, biscotti, wine, grog and various other beverages. Here it is, 2 days later, and I’m still stuffed. Everyone kept saying it was their favorite meal of the year, and I won’t lie – it was pretty danged awesome.

 

 

At the end of the night, Mister and I realized we’d both had a great time. In fact, we’d had too great a time, and neither of us could drive. So we played it safe and called a taxi. When we finally woke on Christmas morning, we drove over and picked up our car. Soberly.

 

Believe it or not, that’s a highly successful Christmas! We had a fantastic time and we lived to tell about it!

 

Hope your celebrations were safe, merry, jolly and memorable. Really, what more could we ask for?

Turkey Belly

 

 

I am still feeling the bloat from Thursday’s blessings. And I’m wondering – exactly how long does turkey belly last?

 

In the meantime, I’ll be avoiding gluttonous sit-downs for quite a while, lest I end up being the new model for an iconic American restaurant’s mascot.

Southern Living’s Cranberry Jezebel Sauce

 

 

 

Okay. I realize this recipe might have come in handy a few days ago. But the way I figure it, you’ve got some leftover turkey and other fixings in your fridge. And you’re probably out of cranberries. So now is the perfect time to experiment with a recipe in preparation for next year. And after you try this – and like it – you may even want to serve it with your holiday ham. If those reasons aren’t ringing any bells for you, the printed version of this recipe, in Southern Living magazine, included this: “This fabulous sauce doubles as an appetizer when poured over cream cheese and served with assorted crackers.” I’ve yet to try that one, but just might get to it. Soon.

 

Here’s what you’ll need…

 

 

Granulated Sugar, Dark Brown Sugar, Fresh (or Frozen) Cranberries, Pineapple Preserves, Prepared Horseradish, Dijon Mustard and Water (not pictured)

 

 

Place water and both sugars in a saucepan. Cook over medium-high heat and bring to a boil.

 

 

Add cranberries.

 

 

Return mixture to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer – stirring often – for 10 minutes. Cranberry skins should be popped and the mixture should thicken. Remove from heat.

 

 

Stir in preserves, horseradish and mustard. I also add a pinch of salt at this point.

 

 

Let sauce cool, then cover and refrigerate until ready to serve.

 

 

This is my fave way to eat cranberries. You can add a little more horseradish if you want extra kick, or add a little less. Your call. Either way, the end result is pretty and dee-lish! Yum!

 

Here’s the printable…

 

Southern Living’s Cranberry Jezebel Sauce
Author: 
Recipe type: Relish, Side
Prep time: 
Cook time: 
Total time: 

Serves: 3 cups
 

Delicious Cranberry Relish – suitable for turkey or ham – with a sassy kick!
Ingredients
  • 1 c. Water
  • ½ c. Granulated Sugar
  • ½ c. Dark Brown Sugar
  • 12 oz. Bag Fresh (or Frozen) Cranberries
  • ½ c. Pineapple Preserves (I use Apricot-Pineapple)
  • 3 T. Prepared Horseradish
  • 1 T. Dijon Mustard

Instructions
  1. Place water and both sugars in a saucepan. Cook over medium-high heat and bring to a boil.
  2. Add cranberries.
  3. Return mixture to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer – stirring often – for 10 minutes. Cranberry skins should be popped and the mixture should thicken. Remove from heat.
  4. Stir in preserves, horseradish and mustard. I also add a pinch of salt at this point.
  5. Let sauce cool, then cover and refrigerate until ready to serve.

Notes
-Feel free to up the horseradish, but be careful! It packs a punch! -Southern Living Magazine suggests using this relish as an appetizer: pour over cream cheese and serve with assorted crackers.

Recovery

 

I’m recovering from an awesome weekend getaway.

 

There was food. There was booze. There was dancing. There was romancing.

 

I’m tired, yo. But I’ll be back tomorrow. With bells on.

Vegetarian Dinner

 

 

Mister and I have been eating well lately. A little too well, actually. And so we have to rein it in. No more pork belly. No more short ribs. No more multi-course dinners. For a while.

 

In an effort to not cook so much meat, I made this awesome vegetarian dinner the other night. It was easy, to boot. I just toasted some butter-smeared brioche buns in a skillet, then topped the bottom halves with asparagus in a lemon-butter sauce. Then I plopped a fried egg on top of the asparagus, grated some parmesan cheese over the egg, drizzled some good olive oil over the whole she-bang, then placed the brioche bun top on the side. I added a little balsamic crema for color and that was it. And y’all, it was super good. In fact, I’m gonna add this one to the rotation.

 

Don’t get me wrong – we’re not giving up our status as card-carrying carnivores. We just want to eat a little less meat is all. And with vegetarian food this good, we don’t mind one bit.