Chard and Chantrelles

I did a very Berkeley thing today. I let a passage from Pollan's, The Omnivore's Dilemma put the idea for dinner in my head. Or rather it was a combination of Pollan and the funhouse of fungi at Monterey Market.



The chard is lightly sautéed in oil with salt, black pepper, and mustard seeds. The mushrooms (a mixture of chantrelle and oyster) are seared per Francis Lam's instructions with thinly sliced shallots. Next time I think I'll add a bit of garlic to the mushroom to round out their flavors a bit. In general though, exciting times with fungi.

Quinoa and Economics...

...protein as privilege. From the NYT.

Self-care and the Fast

Self-care is one of those funny words that suddenly enters your vocabulary when you move to Berkeley and start living at a seminary and hanging out with seminarians. People don't talk like this in Memphis!

I have a lot of trouble with self-care, something that has become painfully clear in the recent past. I sincerely say that many of my greatest sins are against myself -- denial of my own value, cruelty, and neglect. (Which is not to deny my sins against others.) Even as I'm writing this, I'm fighting off the notion that I'm giving into selfishness -- that I should be focusing on helping other people and not just on me. But the idea of self-care is prominent among seminarians because it really isn't possible to care for others unless you're first taking care of yourself.

Natalia Antonovna has a beautiful reflection on caring for one's self by means of a pomegranate. Mindfulness, time, and sensual pleasure as aspect of simply appreciating existence. One of my Lenten goals is to start forming good habits of self-care. Food is part of that. Beyond the health benefits of eating well, I do associate food with caring. I love to cook, but I really love to cook for people I care about. So putting effort into the food I fix for myself is a deeply embodied symbol of self-care.

Lenten Practice

Great and Holy Lent, as I've been reminded multiple times in the past couple of weeks, is a time for repentance and transformation. Casually and sadly though, Lent seems largely to be thought of as a time of fasting and giving up -- a purely negative connotation.

In my mind, neither fasting nor repentance should have a solely negative connotation. Repentance involves knowledge and confession of former sins. But biblically, the act of repentance tends to be the command, "Go, and sin no more." One is to move past one's sin and reconstruct one's self. There is transformation and rebuilding in the light of past failings. Likewise, fasting shouldn't be understood simply as giving up certain foods or habits. Fasting is a positive reordering of habits; one that takes place at the very primal level of eating.

I have several goals for the Lenten Fast this year. Most basically to keep it to the best of my ability. Beyond that I hope to practice mindfulness and deliberation in what I eat. Both out of concern for self-care and to better understand the interconnection and impact of my habits of consumption on the environment and the global economy.

Yia-yia Approved

We can debate whether yia-yias or babushki are more awesome all day. All I have to say is that I have the coolest Grandmother and the awesome-est Nouna ever! And these commercials are just darned entertaining.

French Pressed Almond Milk

Temporary veganism (Great and Holy Lent) begins today/tomorrow, and I decided to kick it off by making my first batch of nut milk in Kate, my shiny new food processor.

After reviewing my notes from last week's foodie date and reading various guides to making nut milks I settled on the following ratios and procedure:

1 cup of whole blanched almonds
4 cups of water
1 TBSP honey

I soaked the almonds in cold water for several hours then pulverized them in the food processor. Then I added water that had just come off boil in batches (to accommodate the size of Kate), blended the mixture for 2-3 minutes, and strained the resulting liquid in my french press. In between batches I returned the almond meal to the food processor. I sweetened the milk at the end by adding a TBSP of honey and shaking the lidded jar vigorously. The remaining pulp has been saved in the fridge and will probably end up mixed in with steel cut oats for breakfast.

The french press use had a couple of rationals behind it. One, I don't yet have any cheesecloth in my arsenal and didn't feel like dropping the money on it at the grocery while waiting for my Amazon order to arrive. Second, after reading the descriptions of making almond milk, it seemed to function on a very similar principle to coffee preparation. You want to extract oils and some fine solids from a pulverized seed type thing. A french press is a great tool for coffee -- why not almond milk.

I found that the french press did very nicely; although, a quick google search turned up one story of a shattered press. I used very slow and even pressure on the plunger and didn't try to force it down too quickly. The press seems no worse for the wear, and I have a happy little quart jar of homemade almond milk.

ETA: Made another batch the other night using cheesecloth to strain the milk from the almond pulp. I managed to extract about 3/4 cup more of milk from the mixture.

Two Takes on White Bean and Kale Soup

I was driving across the Bay Bridge with the awesome L.B. riding shotgun and chatting about cooking styles and the upcoming Lenten fast. She mentioned a soup that she had made recently: white bean and kale. Puree a leek as the base, cook white beans, add in chopped kale, and a small ton of black pepper.

The next I realized that the bunch of kale in the fridge was a bit far gone for the making of crispy kale. Sadness ensued...soup was the answer to sadness. And thus began take one.

A smallish leek - about half a pound once trimmed - chopped.
2/3 cup dry white beans, soaked.
bunch of kale, chopped into strips.
carrots, chopped - about 3/4 a cup.
veggie broth
salt

I simmered the carrot along with the leek in vegetable broth until tender. Pureed the two together with a hand mixer. Added the beans, simmered until they were cooked through and added the chopped kale near the end. The spices were pretty simple. Some salt at the beginning, but the soup turned out rich and lovely, if simple from the leek, so I left it be.

About a week ago I realized that I had another bunch of kale turning limp and lonely in the fridge, so I decided on a second round -- this time shooting for a more aggressive flavor.

1 yellow onion, chopped.
5-6 cloves garlic, chopped.
1/2 cup dry white beans, soaked.
1/2 cup carrots, chopped.
1 bunch kale, chopped.
veggie broth
vegetable oil
salt, black pepper, and paprika

Sweat the onions and garlic together in soup pot with vegetable oil and salt. When they're tender, add about a tsp of black pepper and a tsp of paprika. Allow the spices to toast a bit. Add the beans and adequate veggie broth (I think I used a TBSP of Better than Bouillon and 4 cups of water.) Bring to a boil, reduce and simmer until the beans are cooked through. Puree with a hand mixer. Add kale and carrots, and a bit of water if needed. Cook until carrots are tender. Taste and adjust seasonings.

In terms of the texture of the soup, I preferred the first with the beans left whole to balance the kale. The flavoring of the second one, with the strength of the garlic and onion would better withstand the introduction of a meat to the party.

The Prodigal Child

Yesterday was the Sunday of the Prodigal Son on the Orthodox Calendar. It was also the first day I read the epistle at a Sunday Liturgy.

I have been, properly speaking, Orthodox for just under a month now. I was received into the Church in January after a very, very long period of exile from my native tradition and life as a refugee in the Orthodox world. There's been a lot of study (and an M.A.) and soul-searching along the way. But I'm home. I'm home as an adult. Committed by choice. And embraced in a way I've never truly felt before.

Even if over half of the yia-yias persist in thinking that I'm Romanian.