Creative Sanctuary

Comfort Foods

Mix and Match Summer Supper

By Allison

mix and match summer supperThe delight in this spontaneous dinner is in its mix and match nature:  a 15-minute meal built on little floral plates, purchased in flea markets and antique shops; an assembly of vegetables, herbs and cheese that I had on hand.  No fiddling, no stirring, no oven!  It was the happiest, most delicious meal I ate all week.

The key to an easy dinner is to keep a few basics on hand:  fresh herbs and seasonal produce are essential.  A block of feta also comes in handy.

Here’s a strategy to have dinner ready in 15 minutes:

Fresh Herbs
Snip a few herbs.  I used sage, sweet basil, and purple basil.  Chives, mint, and thyme would also be lovely.

Feta Bites
Cut feta into ½ inch cubes.  Anticipate about four cubes per person.  Wrap each cube in a strip of prosciutto or Serrano ham.  Garnish with small sage leaves and drizzle with extra virgin olive oil.  Finish with a few grinds of fresh, black pepper.  Set aside.

Tomato Salad
Slice one fresh, medium-sized tomato for each person—a bread knife works well here.  Drizzle with extra virgin olive oil and sprinkle with fleur de sel.  Garnish with basil leaves. Set aside

While you let these two dishes rest, set the table.

Green Salad
Wash and dry lettuce leaves.  I had spring mix on hand, but romaine, red leaf, or green leaf would all work just as well.  Arrange on the plate and top with sliced vegetables.  I opted for radishes and sweet peppers.  I added a few sunflower seeds for crunch.  I drizzled a little vinaigrette just before serving.  If you don’t have any vinaigrette ready, you can use extra virgin olive oil and a little fleur de sel.

This is the easiest of dinners, but it’s feasible only if you have a stocked kitchen kitchen:  vegetables, herbs, and cheese. Bon appétit!

 

Inspirations

Maximizing summer herbs

Extended apéritif

Happy Office Lunches all Week

Ginger Water

By Allison

I can easily drink tea all day long, but I like to have some caffeine-free sipping options on hand as well—sparkling water, a chamomile infusion, or ginger water.  Ginger water is new in my kitchen.  I make it by the liter and drink it at room temperature—plain or with a squeeze of lemon juice.  A splash of sparkling water is nice.  For a little sweetness, you could stir in a tablespoon or two of honey before the water cools.

So why ginger water?  It is tasty yet gentle, and I find it to be simultaneously soothing and revitalizing.  I rehydrate with a glass first thing in the morning, and I often have another in the afternoon.  Drinking ginger water helps me to feel healthy, but if it weren’t delicious, I wouldn’t drink it.  It’s my no-sugar ginger lemonade.

 

Inspirations

The Chopra Institute lays out the benefits of ginger here.

If you’re craving something sweeter, I recommend Chocolate and Zucchini’s recipe for ginger lemonade.

 

Ginger Water

Created by on May 5, 2018

More than a recipe, this is a method.  Use a little less or a little more ginger, more or less water.  You could also boil the water and ginger on the stove top for a stronger ginger flavor.  I leave the pitcher of ginger water on the counter during the day and put it in...

Ingredients

  • 3 inch piece of ginger
  • 1 L filtered water

Instructions

  1. Peel ginger with the back of a spoon
  2. Slice ginger and place in large bowl
  3. Bring water to a boil, and pour over ginger
  4. Steep until water has cooled to room temperature, about 45 minutes
  5. Strain through a sieve and pour into pitcher
  6. Drink at room temperature or chilled. Ginger flavor is more pronounced when water is at room temperature.

Mrs. Kiersey’s Brown Bread

By Allison

Irish Brown BreadI am several generations removed from Ireland, so I access my “Irishness” in oblique ways.  Little bits come down through language—a sweet prayer to my guardian angel taught to me by my grandmother or my mother’s admonishment to stop screaming like a banshee.  A few objects evoke Ireland for me—the delicate Belleek dish at my bedside, adorned in roses, shamrocks, and Irish heather.  An understated Waterford bud vase that I pull out in the spring.

I believe that food also has the potential to connect me to my almost unreachable, virtually unknowable heritage.  But how?  My family’s “Irish” recipes have been liberally adapted to suit American tastes.  In flipping through Irish cookbooks, I am delighted by the names of traditional dishes:  Dublin Coddle, Barmbrack, Wicklow Pancake.

Yet I gravitate toward something more basic:  Irish Brown Bread.  My family doesn’t bake brown bread, so I have no family recipes to reference.  A few years ago, I fell into an internet hole of brown bread recipes.  Overwhelmed and confused, I abandoned my brown bread quest.  But then I thought to pester my Irish friend and colleague.  He is a real Irishman with a real Irish mum, and I suspected that she would have a tried and true brown bread recipe.  My persistence paid off.  When I finally got my hands on the recipe, I knew I had found “my” brown bread.

Over the last few months, I have been playing with this Irish recipe in my Kentucky kitchen.  Mrs. Kiersey’s recipe for brown bread is quick and straightforward.  Coarsely ground whole wheat flour is key, as it gives the desired texture and density to the loaf.  Buttermilk gives it a nice bite.  Baking soda does a lot of heavy lifting, so make sure yours is fresh!  The resulting loaf is crusty and hearty.  Serve it with salted butter or hard cheese.  Enjoy at breakfast or for an afternoon snack with a bold, black tea.

Baking Irish Brown Bread has created a subtle, yet moving pathway between my foremothers and me.  Were they Irish?  Yes!  Did they bake brown bread?  They may have.  I acknowledge that my new penchant for Irish Brown Bread is a tenuous connection to women whose names and stories I do not know.  Nonetheless, the gesture of bread making allows me to imagine the invisible women of my distant, yet meaningful history.

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Sharing Soup, Sharing Stories

By Allison

When it came to throwing a party, my Grandma Rose Mary was a pro.  While I was lost in a mass of aunts, uncles, and cousins, she was making the party happen.  Her presence was strong yet subtle.  Her gatherings taught me to value my extended family.

As a child and then a young adult, I got to know Grandma in more intimate settings.  We shared dozens of lunches over the course of many years.  During these meals, I learned about her.  She and I had attended the same elementary school, and so I loved her stories about the nuns, about early morning music lessons, and about the time she won a radio at field day. As I got older, she told me about her travels to India, Afghanistan, and other places I will probably never see.

Sometimes we dined at the Younkers Tea Room, and sometimes we shared soup in her kitchen.  I still see myself in that farm kitchen, seated on a bench against the wall…  asking lots of questions, drawing her out, and seeing the stories flow into one another.  Once, when I was learning to cook, she passed on a few of her favorite soup recipes.  I love her soups and I love that her handwriting is mixed in my messy recipe files.

Grandma Rose Mary’s Ground Beef Soup with Rosie Stars is a winter standard in my home.  Over the years, I have adapted it to my tastes.  Although it comes together quickly, it has smooth, rich flavors.  Tomato juice and Italian parsley lend it brightness.  Shredded cabbage makes it mellow.  Ground beef and pasta give it heft.  I make this soup on Sunday and eat it throughout the week, thinning it with water as needed.

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Savory Valentine Biscuits

By Allison

savory valentine biscuitHeart-shaped cookies abound!  In the spirit of the season, I developed a savory cut out cracker recipe for a Valentine aperitif.  Since I forego frosting and sprinkles, this treat is relatively low maintenance.

My heart biscuits contain a few ingredients, two of which stand out:  Parmesan cheese and Piment d’Espelette.  Piment d’Espelette is a sweet, flavorful red pepper grown in a Basque village called Espelette.  I bought mine in France, but it’s available dried and ground in specialty markets and online.  I use it anywhere I’d use black pepper—in vinaigrettes, on roasted vegetables, and sprinkled on soup.  It’s a little deeper and sweeter than black pepper.  And it’s so pretty.  The subtle, red pepper flakes make my rustic crackers worthy of Valentine’s Day.

If you don’t have Piment d’Espelette in your spice drawer, I suggest using ground pink peppercorns.  They lend a deep pink-purple hue to the crackers and taste just as delicious.

What should you sip with your heart biscuits?  Something bubbly: Champagne, Prosecco, a white beer, or sparkling water with a twist of lime.  Happy Valentine’s Day!

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Luxurious Boredom

By Allison

Citrus Tea Cup and SaucerTea and citrus got me through my week with influenza.  When I got sick, I immediately cut myself off from the world and settled in for a week of quiet recuperation.  I didn’t have much of an appetite during my bout with the flu, but fluids perked me up.  Warm lemon water with honey soothed my throat, sparkling water quenched my thirst, and hot tea gave me warmth and comfort.

Being sick and alone is boring.  I hadn’t experienced boredom in years, and so it was odd to get reacquainted with this sensation that I knew so well as a child.  I binge-watched The Crown—a welcome distraction.  But my mind was too cloudy to read, my voice too shaky to call friends.  I spent most of the week wrapped in blankets and scarves, sipping tea.

I’ve long understood that silence is productive, and I now see that boredom is too.  Expansive, quiet minutes slid into hours and days.  I stumbled upon empty corners of my mind that didn’t house thought.  My internal chatter slowed, my anxious mind relaxed, and for a time, I stopped thinking.  Spacious boredom replaced my drive to achieve.

The flu drained me, yet my week of isolation revived me.  Tea and water were life-giving and clearing, and so too was boredom’s hollow loneliness.

Hygge for One

By Allison

Although there is much to be done in the coming days, I am taking a hygge day—choral Christmas music, ginger spice candle, fuzzy clothes, baking,and tea…

I realize that community is central to the Danish practice of hygge—coziness, togetherness, sharing, and reciprocity…  board games, comfort food, and mulled wine…

Seeing that my near future holds an abundance of family time, I am content to build a solo hygge experience right now.  Let’s hope that this cozy “me time” helps me to refrain from snapping at my family next week.  (Who are we kidding?  I will be short with them!)

Later today, I will prepare a savory pork roast.  I will roast vegetables.  I will sip lush red wine.  I will listen to podcasts, and I will write in my journal.  Maybe I will Netflix and chill.

But for now, I am indulging in freshly baked cookies:  David Lebovitz’s Buckwheat Chocolate Chip Cookies.  They’re earthy, sweet and robust.  I pair them with an appropriately cold-weather tea—Nilgiri Frost Oolong.  This rare tea—from India—develops its intense fruitiness during chilly winter months.  Its assertiveness stands up to the chocolate, buckwheat and walnut.  This cookie-tea pair is quintessential winter fare.

My solitary hygge day is not lonely—I deliver Buckwheat Chocolate Chip Cookies to a baker friend, I chat with my stylist about her holiday plans, and I text a sleepy friend in Europe.  My hygge mindset weaves a web of meaningful togetherness that will gently carry me into the chaos of the coming weeks.

 

Inspirations

The New York Times on Hygge

The New Yorker on Hygge

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Rooibos Season

By Allison

My former student and friend Maggie Heine of Louisville, Kentucky kindly agreed to contribute to Creative Sanctuary this month.   Her thoughtful piece celebrates autumn, rooibos, and wanderlust.  Thank you, sweet Maggie!

If you ever find yourself in southernmost South Africa, pay attention to its strange, shrubby fields. You may happen to see an odd little plant with needle-like leaves, covered with tiny golden flowers. Aspalathus linearis. You won’t find this bush, somewhat unremarkable at first glance, growing anywhere else in the world—farmers ranging from China to the U.S. have tried to harvest it in their home countries and failed. That’s because of the wonderfully strange ecology of South Africa’s Cape region: our planet is composed of six floristic kingdoms, or geographic areas with relatively similar plant species. If you’re reading this, chances are that you’re in the gigantic Holarctic kingdom, which comprises the vast majority of North America, Europe, and Asia. The Cape kingdom, on the other hand, is miniscule, containing only the very southernmost tip of the African continent. Despite its small size, it’s extraordinarily rich, and the majority of plants that call this kingdom home can only be found in that dot on the tip of South Africa.

The entire area is beautiful beyond comprehension, nearly extraterrestrial with its mountains that jut up against the sea, its preponderance of baboons and ostriches, its wide blue skies that become enveloped in clouds in an instant. Now that fall has finally arrived, I find myself thinking about that remote speck and all of its ecological strangeness regularly. I’ve been to South Africa twice, once in the southern hemisphere’s winter, and once in its early spring. During these trips, about six weeks in total, I was rarely without a cup of tea clasped between my hands. This brings us back to Aspalathus linearis, or as it’s commonly known, rooibos. When its leaves are plucked, dried, and steeped, they create an infusion that’s smooth, nutty, and the slightest bit sweet. It’s sold en masse in South Africa like we sell our Lipton green tea—clearly, it’s nothing fancy,  but it’s my constant companion when the weather turns chilly. I love the drink for its flavor, but it’s also more than that. For me, rooibos is the feeling of bundling up at daybreak to search for zebras and lions from an open-sided Jeep; it’s looking out over the expanse of the ocean from 4,000 feet up a mountainside; it’s falling asleep to the sound of rain on an old tin roof. It’s South Africa, in all its botanically bizarre wonder.

Shape

By Allison

Without darkness, nothing comes to birth.
As with light, nothing flowers.
-May Sarton

Early morning stillness…  the Earth rests.  I flutter in and out of a last dream.  What time is it? Still dark.
I roll on my side.  Push myself up.  Feet dangle over the carpet.  Gentle movements.  Deep breath.  My feet touch the floor.  Warm socks, cozy wrap.

Time to shuffle downstairs.  What shall I drink?

Cool water in the kettle.  Tea tins in the cupboard.

Black tea?  Yes.

How about a Ceylon?  Smooth, elegant.  Just right.

The water trembles.  Shy light filters through the blinds.  A couple of teaspoons of dry leaves slipped into the teapot. The water begins to bubble…  Just a little longer.

Ritual gives shape to our days.  I await the first sip, and the events of today take root in my mind’s eye.  As the day unfolds, they will push through the surface.  Now, though, I focus on the breath running through me.

Lunch Strategy

By Allison

I am more productive and less grumpy when I take the time to orchestrate not sad desk lunches.  Last week I slipped and found myself scrambling in the early afternoons.  I ended up eating unmemorable and somewhat unhealthy food.

This week, I promised myself to do a little better, hence this Indian-inspired meal.  I make no claims to authenticity, but this combo and a few other add-ins will make this week’s lunches livelier and more nourishing.

 

 

Lunch components

Store bought naan bread

Red grapes

Red lentil stew topped with cilantro leaves—I used Mark Bittman’s recipe for Masoor Dal

Brown rice—cooked in the pressure cooker and sprinkled with green onions for color and health

Squares of dark chocolate

Not pictured:  a saag paneer (spinach and cheese dish) microwave meal that will be worked in later in the week

I messed up my kitchen a little bit cooking the rice and the stew.  But clean-up was quick and there will be no morning panic this week!  Also, as much as I enjoy doing everything from scratch, it’s jut not possible when I am busy at work.  I am bring realistic about time and priorities.  This week’s desk lunches will be more balanced and so will I.

 

Inspirations

Not Sad Desk Lunches from Food52

Shisho Delicious’ envy-worthy bento box meals