Creative Sanctuary

Cuisine

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

 

 

 

Skimping on Dessert

By Allison

When I entertain, I almost always favor savory over sweet. I’d rather linger over a few small bites before dinner than serve a rich dessert after dinner.

This week, my selection of amuse-bouches required some foresight, but the elements came together easily. I served small portions of quinoa and farro salad with pickled fennel, a white tuna mousse with basil on small crackers, and roasted almonds.

Here’s my strategy for pulling together a harmonious appetizer tray:

The day before your dinner party
*Take stock of your materials. Do you have a sizeable serving tray or platter? Do you have verrines (small glasses), little jars, or shot glasses to serve soup or salad? No worries if you need to mix and match—it adds character and charm. Pull out bread plates, if you have them, and try to get your hands on some square cocktail napkins.

*Make a grain salad or soup. They will both taste even better the day of your gathering. I served this delightful and easily adaptable salad.

*Make a recipe of roasted almonds. I share my recipe at the end of this post. If you don’t have time to roast your own nuts, grab some at the grocery store.

The day of your dinner party
*Lay out your tray and accoutrements.

The hour before your dinner party
*Taste and freshen your soup or salad. Does it need a splash of oil or vinegar? Maybe some salt and pepper? Spoon into serving dishes and garnish with fresh herbs.

*Spread any dips on crackers or thinly sliced baguette. I served this mousse.

*Take a moment to prepare your tray. Resist the temptation of overcharging it with food and decoration. The goal is to whet your guests’ appetites, not stuff them before dinner.

When your guests arrive
*Begin your evening with the aperitif of your choice—sparkling wine, sparkling water, fruit juice, and bourbon are good choices.

*Enjoy conversation and pretty snacks with your guests before the main course.  Slip away when you need to put the finishing touches on dinner.

For dessert
*If you served a generous tray of appetizers, don’t feel obligated to prepare a substantial dessert. This week, I finished my dinner party with small madeleine cakes that I had in the freezer.

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Recreating Melbourne

By Allison

Oh, how I’d love to slip away to Melbourne for a weekend!  Alas!  Quick visits to Australia are out of reach for most of us in the Northern Hemisphere.  But all is not lost.  My memories and pictures bring me back to the mosaic floors of Melbourne’s elegant covered passages and its iconic street art.  And in my Kentucky kitchen, I revisit a stunning meal shared with my good friends Stephanie and Jeremy.

Each and every dish at Rumi Restaurant was exquisite—creamy labne, cheese-filled pastry “cigars”, meatballs in tomato and saffron sauce.  But one dish stood out, and I’ve been recreating it for months.  Each time it evokes early Australian autumn, merriment, and friendship.  This salad is made with a Middle Eastern grain called freekeh.  Chewy and slightly nutty, freekeh is a substantial grain.  Serve it as a vegetarian main or in verrines as a savory-sweet starter.  The juicy grapes beautifully juxtapose the tart feta.  The pomegranate molasses lends a slight, deep sweetness.  The parsley adds a vegetative touch that unifies the salad.

Freekeh, Grape, and Feta salad comes together fairly easily and has the power to awaken memories.  Bon appétit!

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My Madeleines de Proust

By Allison

“…I brought to my lips a spoonful of tea in which I had softened a piece of madeleine.  But at the exact moment when the mouthful mixed with cake crumbs touched my palate, I shivered, attentive to this extraordinary thing that was taking place in me.  A delicious pleasure had invaded me, isolated, no notion of its cause.  It had instantly made me indifferent to the vicissitudes of life, made its disasters harmless, its brevity illusory, in the same way that love operates, filling me with a precious essence:  or more accurately this essence wasn’t in me, it was me.”  –Marcel Proust, Du côté de chez Swann

Shell-shaped madeleine cakes were a part of my life before I ever knew about Marcel Proust and the memory-inducing power of his petites madeleines.  When I was a student in Paris, a bakery close to my school sold five madeleines for five francs—a deal!  At lunchtime, I’d often make my way down the rue Notre-Dame-des-Champs to pick up one of the tidy white bags holding five portable cakes.  Sometimes they were still warm.  Madeleines were my ideal student snack—simple, toothsome, and shareable.  A chocolate éclair or strawberry tartelette would have been more impressive, but the dainty butter cakes comforted me.  I imprinted my own madeleine experience well before encountering Proust.

Later, I would discover that Proust, too, found comfort in madeleines.  In the first volume of his 3,000 page novel Remembrance of Things Past, tasting a madeleine dipped in tea unleashes the narrator’s memory of taking tea and cake with Aunt Léonie.  In French culture, a madeleine de Proust refers to a heart-warming, evocative culinary experience that joins past and present.  Madeleine cakes are one of my madeleines de Proust.  They bring me back to the sweet, exhilarating sadness of being so far from home.  Other sweets unleash my involuntary memory, allowing me a delicious, temporary dance between past and present:  Grandma Rose Mary’s orange cookies, Grandma Mary Ellen’s sticky rolls, and the frosted graham crackers Mom served me as a toddler.  The frosting was always homemade, and she always served them on a rectangular, strawberry-patterned tray that is still in her kitchen.

What foods bring your past into the present?  Tell me about your madeleines de Proust in the comment section.

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Impromptu Porch Party

By Allison

The beginning of August was gloriously cool and breezy—not Iowa State Fair weather by any stretch of the imagination.  Mom’s cozy front porch is underused, so one day I welcomed her home from work with a mini porch party.  It was a snap to organize this tiny gathering:

–I mixed up a pitcher of Aperol Spritz—a refreshing and slightly bitter Italian apéritif we drank during our trip to Florence a few years back.  Happy memories of relaxed, buoyant terrace restaurants!

–I picked up some nibbles at the local grocery—pitted olives, bocconcini (bite-sized mozzarella) marinated in olive oil, parsley, and red pepper flakes, roasted and salted pistachios.

–I pulled out Mom’s most colorful glassware, which are works of art in themselves.

Our porch party required a little thought but not much action.  It came together quickly and allowed us to have a relaxed, lighthearted moment together, enjoying the flowers and the late summer light.

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Le bon thé de Sahar

By Allison

Cardamom TeaMy friend Sahar is a cardamom tea connoisseur.  Milky and minty with a bold cardamom profile, her morning sips are robust and comforting.

On a recent visit to her home in Sydney, I studied her technique through my bleary morning fog. Her cardamom teabags are an easy reach from the electric kettle.  As the water comes to a boil, she places one or two teabags in her favorite mug.  She pulls fresh mint and milk from the refrigerator.  She places a small container of cardamom pods on the counter.

When the water reaches a rolling boil, Sahar pours it into her mug, leaving room for milk.  She brews a strong cardamom tea, sometimes boosting the flavor by dropping a cardamom pod in the mug.  She pinches three or four mint leaves from a branch and slips them into the mug.  The tea steeps for several minutes. Before drinking, she adds a splash of milk.

I was thrilled by her cardamom tea ritual, and she sent me home with cardamom teabags and loose tea.  Sahar shared Wagh Bakri, Ahmad, and Premier’s Cardamom Tea.  I have enjoyed preparing all of these teas à la Sahar.  When I make “her” cardamom tea, my mind drifts back to her warm welcome and gentle spirit.

I have made a small adjustment to Sahar’s morning cardamom tea, adding about ½ teaspoon honey to each serving.  Sometimes I zap the milk in the microwave for 15 seconds before adding it to the tea.  I have also used her method to prepare Masala Chai, a symphony of black tea ginger, cinnamon, cardamom, black and white pepper, clove, and nutmeg.  I find the fresh mint to be a lovely addition.  This fall, I plan to work up a caffeine-free Sahar tea with this Chai Rooibos Caffeine-Free Infusion.

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Chamomile/Camomile

By Allison

chamomile herbal teaI am sorry to say that Peter was not very well during the evening.  His mother put him to bed, and made some camomile tea; and she gave a dose of it to Peter! —The Tale of Peter Rabbit, Beatrix Potter

With her strong connection to the natural world, Beatrix Potter knew that chamomile was just the thing to ease her mischievous protagonist.  Preparing and sipping herbal infusions is soothing and healing.  But we needn’t wait for upset to benefit from them!

In the last few years, I have liberalized my consumption of chamomile and other tisanes.  I admit to getting a little bored with plain water.  I crave variety.  I always keep a few herbal teas on hand, and chamomile is one of my “fun” hydration options.  I find chamomile to have herbaceous, subtly floral notes.  Warm, it calms me.  At room temperature, the drink tastes more botanical.  Chilled chamomile tea is refreshing and cooling.

Studies on the health benefits of chamomile are intriguing. Yet even without reading up on the medicinal uses of this dainty flower, we can choose to use it in healing ways. As we prepare tisanes, we connect with the plant and the people who grew and harvested it.  Drinking a chamomile infusion is hydrating, and that in itself is therapeutic. Peter’s mother instinctively knew that chamomile would help her little rabbit.  We, too, can trust ourselves to reach for the tin of chamomile when we need to rebalance, rehydrate, or rejuvenate.

 

Inspirations

Miss Potter, a charming biographical film about Beatrix Potter

Blog post on chamomile and other tisanes, by tea expert Bruce Richardson

 

 

Maximizing Summer

By Allison

My little patio garden is bursting.  Each year, I tinker with this square space off my kitchen.  I’ve learned that it’s too sunny for impatiens and that begonias thrive in the morning sun.  Potted herbs always take off, and so each summer I find myself swirling ribbons of basil into gazpacho, stirring mint into lemonade, and topping my green salads with chives.

Yet as much as I cook, I can’t possibly use all the herbs tumbling over the terra cotta pots!  The basil is blended into pesto, frozen in ice cube trays, and then transferred to freezer bags, to be popped out later in the year.  Last summer, I finally started drying sage, mint, thyme, and rosemary.  Why did I not think to do this before?

After snipping the herbs, I bring them inside and give them a good rinse.  I remove and discard all the yellowed or bruised leaves and thoroughly dry the rest. I lay them out on a big plate, and the drying process begins.  In the days that follow, I flip them, shift them, and watch their slow transformation.  As I go about my day, I may sense a hint of mint in the air; sometimes I’ll notice the sage leaves begin to curl.  I honor the humble beauty of a patio garden by preparing herbs for colder seasons.  I waste less of summer’s goodness.  And perhaps most unexpectedly, the weeks of herb drying become a meditative experience for me—one that requires focus, attentiveness, and care.

Each herb dries in its own time. As they are ready, I gently nestle them into the glass jars I’ve set aside and labeled.  Months later, I will reach for them to season a pot of lentils or bundle them into a bouquet garni.  These moments will bring me back to the summer fullness of my lively little patio and to the slow beauty of watching herbs dry.

Cloisonné

By Allison

I eyed the vintage chopsticks for months…  two sets lovingly displayed in narrow, silken boxes.  I figured the local antique shop wouldn’t sell them right away, so I hemmed and hawed.  They definitely weren’t ivory—maybe resin?  The floral cloisonné was dainty and delicate.  I liked the weight of them in my hands. I slid them back in their case.

One day, much to my delight, a friend bought them for me.  More than once, she had seen me gravitate to them.

I come home and waste no time in putting them to use—a Buddha bowl is called for—what can I rummage up in the kitchen?  Kale-soba noodles-apple-sesame seeds-Korean red pepper paste-scallions-soy sauce-garlic.  With NPR in the background, I set to preparing the dish that will baptize my “new” chopsticks—a concoction of flavorful noodles and vegetables.  My dinner is easy on the eyes and happy in the tummy—spicy, sweet, and green.

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