What Do You Do With Frisee & Other Blizzard Stories

As you probably know if you live on the East Coast, Boston got slammed with weather last week. We got 14 inches of snow and subzero temperatures and everyone got a snow day. Which is cool and all, but cabin fever is a real thing. So is my caffeine addiction. So I went out... to Starbucks, to Back Bay Yoga, and to Border Cafe for frozen strawberry margaritas with Z and B. Because when Boston is a frozen tundra, it makes sense to drink frozen tequila. Right? Right.

On Saturday, it warmed up so we decided to go about our usual Saturday business.

What Saturday business really means is produce shopping at Haymarket. But Haymarket was closed because of the weather, so we detoured to Russo's in Watertown. Russo's is wonderful. It has every kind of produce you might want. Did I need three kinds of lettuce? Nope. Did I buy three kinds of lettuce? Yep.

Somehow we got out of there without buying a Buddha's Hand. Thank goodness. Because what the hell would I have done with a Buddha's Hand?

What I bought: lettuce, zucchini, avocado, pears, pineapple, escarole, frisee, baby shiitakes, and a $10 wedge of Manchego cheese (Because it's all about balance, guys). Impulse buying, defined.

But it turns out that the frisee, the shiitakes, and the cheese play nice together. They make a quick, warm salad. So I don't feel so bad about my shopping. And having lunch at home (because it is SO cold out there) is looking pretty good.

Frisee Salad with Warm Shiitakes and Manchego

3 teaspoons olive oil
1/4 teaspoon white wine vinegar
1 cup frisee, diced, at room temperature
1 cup baby shiitakes, cleaned
Manchego cheese, sliced thinly
Salt and pepper to taste

Heat 1 teaspoon olive oil in a pan over medium heat. Saute the shiitakes about 2-3 minutes or until just tender. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Combine white wine vinegar and the remaining 2 teaspoons olive oil and toss the frisee with the dressing. Top the frisee with the shiitakes and the Manchego. Serves one.

My Favorite Four Letter Word: Goal

At New Year's, I always ask my friends if they're setting resolutions. Some say yes, some say no. Some decide that the year is going to be all about one thing. And then they ask me in return. I say no.

I set goals. I am all about goals.

I used to set super specific goals. I would set goals for a month, for six months, for a year out. I've looked back at what I wrote in 2012. It's not an embarrassing "Dear Diary" situation. But there is a pattern.

I was setting goals to fix or remediate existing situations. They were still goals and that's great because they gave me something to reach for and they gave me measurable ways to get there.

But where were they going to get me? I'm not really sure. And were they going to get me somewhere that I wanted to be? I don't really think so.

I've been thinking, writing, and talking about goals a lot recently. I feel like I'm tweaking my goals a bit everyday. If you've ever been to a ballet or yoga class, the instructor will come around and make adjustments to your form. More often than not, I really like it. I like alignment and I like extending a pose more deeply. That's what my thought process is like these days. A little tweak, a little adjustment, a little extension.

And what I am tweaking and adjusting? My idea of my best life possible and my goals, but only as they pertain to that idea. What I want and need to do today, tomorrow, next week, next month matters a lot more and makes a lot more sense when I know where I want to get to.

And once you've figured out what your best life looks like? Folks, there is no backing down from that. It won't look like anyone else's best life and it makes today's decisions real easy.

But I guess the tricky part of all this goal stuff is that, if you're constantly working towards a goal or a vision, then you feel like you're striving. And if you feel like you're striving, you may miss out. You may miss out on the present. I'm definitely guilty of this. Definitely.

And there is so much beauty in the present. Last Saturday, JJ and I walked all over the place. We bought strawberries and potatoes at Haymarket and jeans on Newbury Street.

We shared a bagel at Pavement (and it was a very tasty bagel) and, when we wanted a treat, we went to the Cookie Monstah truck, parked at the Public Library. We turned around and JJ recognized the people behind us in line. She had met them during her honeymoon in Thailand. That's what I call serendipity.

We walked down Boylston with our ice cream and then I saw these giant letters leaning against the Public Garden fence. J-O-Y. Just hanging out. So casual. And I don't know who Joy belonged to or why Joy was there, but no one seemed to notice it. I couldn't believe it. We had stumbled upon it, but everyone else was walking straight past it.

There is no goal or plan that can get you to Joy.

So I plan on walking that very fine line. I will keep on setting goals and refining my idea of what a good life is. And when joy pops up in front of me? Well, I hope that I will always stop and tug on my friend's sleeve and point it out and smile about it. And then take silly photos.

Baby, I Was Born to Run

I've been running. Going for long runs in the cold of the early morning. Running to the gym. Running to the grocery store. And running at work, when I literally don't have 30 seconds to waste. Because time is so precious and there is just so little of it, because I have two legs, because walking seems like a cop-out. So I run.

Mentally, I'm running. I'm running from one thing to the next. One person, place, event, and idea to the next.

It's not a marathon. It's not a sprint. It's a marathon at a sprint pace. Every day.

So what happens when I stop?

I make tea. I read. I watch silly things like The Mindy Project and I make silly things like an ugly Christmas sweater.

I fall asleep. I sit down on my couch at the end of the day and, regardless of what time it is and whether I'm still fully dressed, I fall asleep. I also fall asleep on my friends' couches. I hope it's endearing because it happens often.

I get really fussy about the fact that there's no food in the fridge. I go buy so many groceries that my neighbor looks at my loot and says, "Two Whole Foods bags! You must have taken out a mortgage!" And then I make a spicy Thai green curry.

I think about January. And 2013. About the exceptional promise of a new year. And all that we can do to make January an exceptional beginning.

And, of course, I go out for long runs in the cold of the early morning. 

There Could Be Nothing Better

There is something about shopping to cook... planning to cook... cooking. There is something about having wonderful food in the fridge and having the time, ability, and opportunity to feed yourself and others. I can't think of anything else in the world that makes me feel as nourished... in all literal and figurative senses.

I wandered through the grocery store, talking on the phone with D, running a mental inventory of my fridge, tossing food in my shopping basket. Chicken breasts, stuffed grape leaves, a gorgeous eggplant.

I came home, cut a thick wedge of focaccia, and heated up a bowl of homemade butternut squash soup. I watched many (too many?) episodes of Gossip Girl; I read my horoscope; I picked out a recipe for no-knead bread; I tied on an apron.

Gossip Girl is still playing. It's dark and cold outside, but so warm in here. I'm wrapped up in the softest hoodie and striped wool socks. My tummy is full of good food. And there is a glass Pyrex full of grilled chicken and eggplant for tomorrow.

Days like this are good for the soul.

Chicken Souvlaki 

Two boneless skinless chicken breasts
1/8 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/2 teaspoon Za'atar spice
1/4 teaspoon Aleppo pepper
1 clove garlic, chopped finely

Cut the chicken breasts into slices about 4 - 5 inches long by 1 1/2 - 2 inches wide. Rub the chicken breasts with the spices, garlic, and olive oil and let them marinate for 45 minutes. Lightly oil a grill pan and heat it up over medium-high heat. Grill the chicken on both sides, approximately 3 minutes per side, until the chicken is cooked through.

I served my Chicken Souvlaki with hummus, stuffed grape leaves, focaccia bread, and grilled eggplant.

Challenge Accepted

15 guests RSVP'ed. I bought 30 ears of corn. 35 hot dogs. 32 sweet potatoes. 6 pounds of apples.

I like a challenge.

Making blueberry & cream popsicles, then shucking the 30 ears of corn at 1am on my kitchen floor while watching The Bachelorette.

I like a challenge.

Making apple pie for the first time ever and teaching myself how to make a pie lattice on the Fourth of July.

I like a challenge.

Hope your Fourth was very happy and full of the things you like best.
Recipes coming soon.

Foodie

I'm running through the South End, not really knowing where I am or where I'm going. South of Tremont, my mental map breaks down. I think about turning around, but then I weave together gourmet food shops and restaurants to take me home... South End Formaggio on Shawmut to The Butcher Shop at the corner of Waltham and Tremont to where Icarus used to be located on Appleton. I know where I am when I see food that I know.

I'm walking home and hauling heavy grocery bags, including a gallon of milk, pounds of butternut squash, and a whole chicken. I always underestimate how much my groceries will weigh. But I don't mind (too much). I have a plan for the chicken.

I'm going to East Boston, night after night, because E swears she's found the best Indian (she was right) and then she swears she's found the best Italian (she actually scrunches up her fingers and kisses them to express her total love of Rino's). So I keep on going.

Because, really, it's all about the food.

My Cross-Town Move

1 -- Dunkin Donuts iced coffee
104 -- minutes spent moving
50 -- feet I drove the U-Haul
9 -- feet of clearance needed for the U-Haul
10 -- feet of clearance on Storrow Drive
2 -- Starbucks iced lattes
9 -- boxes unpacked
3 -- times I listened to "Boogie Shoes" by KC and the Sunshine Band
16 -- episodes of Melrose Place watched during the unpacking
4 -- champagne flutes found that I didn't remember I owned
48 -- hours and counting of decorating
3 -- bags of groceries
1 -- piece of furniture left to be assembled

Where Are You From and Where Are You Going

Near Cafe Nation, E and I stop and laugh at the sign in the corner grocery store window.

What are Irish groceries, anyway? E guesses soda bread. I guess Irish butter. Then I remember that Brighton Center used to have a strong Irish community. So the sign makes sense.

And my next question is -- where did the Irish go?

E tells me that East Boston used to be Italian. She estimates it's now 60% Hispanic. And the last vestiges of the Italian community are Santarpio's and Rino's.

Where did the Italians go?

And the North End? Sure, it's still Italian. But the percentage is falling fast.

I wonder how long Southie will still be Irish. According to Stuff Magazine's Hot 100 list (July 26-August 8, 2011 edition), the Seaport District is the "Hot Summer Hangout." And, deeper into Southie, Local 149 recently opened. It tries very hard to call itself "a neighborhood joint." But there's whipped goat cheese and caramelized onion marmalade on the menu. So, I'm not really sure how "neighborhood" it is. But maybe it fits in with the neighborhood-to-be... Southie a few years from now.

And, once again, Boston is hopeful that Downtown Crossing is making a comeback.

The reinvention of neighborhoods is fascinating to me.

There are neighborhoods that have retained their historic names, but really have little social fabric. The West End can't really be called a neighborhood, can it? The neighborhood that was there was demolished in the 1950's. It's now a sea of concrete: MGH buildings, high-rise apartment buildings, and low, stocky bunkers.

Then there are neighborhoods whose name you'd never know. Like the teeny, tiny Bay Village. It's precious and so quiet. It looks just like Beacon Hill and was built by the same artisans. The demographics are unbelievably diverse. And no one knows where it is. (Hint: it's tucked between Park Plaza and Tremont Street.)

I love the palpable identity of streets, neighborhoods, and cross-sections and how that identity shapes what we do and how we live. Activity in the Financial District follows the rhythm of the workday closely.... busy at 6pm, empty at 8. As you take the Red Line out towards Davis Square, you'll see more and more plaid -- The hipsters have moved in. Expect lines for brunch on Beacon Hill's Charles Street. and in the South End. When the weather is nice, there's people-watching on Newbury Street and sun-bathing on the Greenway. If you're taking the Green Line on a game night, at least one tourist will ask you whether to get off at Kenmore or Fenway. Don't make the mistake of shopping at Whole Foods on Cambridge Street at noon -- that's when all of the MGH doctors go to lunch. And, if you're into cannoli, you have to pick a side: Modern Pastry or Mike's.

This is Boston.

I've lived all over the country and all over this city. My friends are spread out in every direction, on every line of the T.

And what I'm looking for is a neighborhood to ground me.

Panna Cotta Two Ways

Did you know that I like dessert?

Wednesday night, I made a small blueberry clafouti for one.  The heat wave was beginning and I chose to bake. My logic? Flawed. The clafouti? Good.

Thursday night, E, L, and I shared three desserts at Sibling Rivalry: a chocolate tart, blueberry bread pudding, and angel food cake with strawberry compote.

And Saturday? I texted M: “I want to make a small dessert but I don’t know what.”

A minute later, I had the answer: panna cotta. M always comes through.

I adapted David Lebovitz’s Perfect Panna Cotta recipe. Panna cotta is meant to be easy, and it is.

But there’s a trick. Oh yes. There’s a trick to the five minute five ingredient recipe.

The mixture of cream and sugar must be warm. It must. You must take it off the stovetop, stir in the vanilla, and pour it over the gelatin immediately. Otherwise, there won’t be enough heat to melt the gelatin. And when the gelatin doesn’t melt, you’ll have to ditch the whole batch and go out in the 100-degree weather to buy more cream. And you don’t want to do that. No, you do not. You want to get it right the first time.

But, if you do wind up at the grocery store, you better find some really fantastic, ripe summer fruit. I picked out plums and $9 worth of cherries.

Oh. I should tell you. There’s a really hard part to the recipe. Waiting for the pannacotta to firm up in the fridge. It’s so hard. I’m not a patient person. Especially when dessert is almost ready.

I love dessert. 

I think you're more patient than I am. Maybe you could teach me to be patient.

Because the panna cotta is worth the wait. So here it is, two ways.

Summertime Panna Cotta with Sliced Cherries

(Adapted from David Lebovitz's Perfect Panna Cotta Recipe)

1 cup heavy cream

1 1/2 tablespoon sugar

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 teaspoon powdered gelatin

1 1/2 tablespoon cold water

1 cup de-stemmed, pitted, and sliced cherries

Sprinkle the gelatin over the cold water in a bowl. Be sure to sprinkle it evenly to avoid any clumps. Let it sit for five minutes. 

While the gelatin is dissolving, heat the heavy cream and the sugar in a saucepan over medium heat until the sugar is dissolved (1-2 minutes). Remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla. 

Pour the warm cream mixture over the gelatin and stir until the gelatin is dissolved. 

Divide the cherries between two small custard bowls. Divide the panna cotta and pour it over the cherries. Refrigerate for two to three hours until the panna cotta is firm to the touch and is jiggly. 

Serves two. 

Panna Cotta Topped with Sliced Plums and Dark Chocolate Glaze

(Adapted from David Lebovitz's Perfect Panna Cotta Recipe)

Additional ingredients needed:

1 ripe plum

3 ounces dark chocolate

4 teaspoons heavy cream

Prepare the panna cotta as described above, omitting the cherries. Refrigerate the panna cotta for two to three hours until it is firm to the touch. 

Slice the plum thinly and arrange 1/2 over each bowl of panna cotta. 

Melt the dark chocolate in a small saucepan over medium heat, stirring to prevent it from burning. Remove from the heat and stir in the heavy cream. 

Drizzle the chocolate glaze over each bowl. Serves two. 

Heat Wave Part II

100 -- degrees today in Boston.

34 -- minutes of tennis. Then E and I gave up. 

14 -- ounces of coconut water. 

4 -- inches of hair my stylist cut off. And now I have side-swept bangs too.

2 -- trips to the grocery store. When my first batch of panna cotta didn't turn out, I had to buy more cream. 

9 -- dollars spent on juicy black cherries. I probably should have looked at the price. 

A Blueberry Indulgence

Confession: I’m an enabler. Yes, you should eat that piece of cake. Champagne is always a good idea. Play hooky... you need a vacation! I will totally bake you cupcakes for your birthday. And those stilettos? Oh, you should definitely buy them.  Definitely.

I love others’ happiness and pleasures – small and large. And the thing about summer is that there are so many joys to share: warm evenings and cold cocktails, sweating in the stands at Fenway as the sun sets, tennis games. Brunch outside, juicy cherries for a snack, and lobster for lunch. 

And blueberries. I’m so happy it’s blueberry season.

When the grocery store had a 2 for 1 deal on pints of blueberries, I felt like the grocery store was enabling my blueberry obsession. Thanks, grocery store. I mean it. Thanks for having my back.

It may be the summer of the egg. But guess what? It’s the week of the blueberry. I’m starting with crunchy, sweet coconut-almond granola over warm blueberry compote.

And then it’s going to get a little wild. Grey Goose, meet blueberries. Blueberries, meet Goose. You two will get along terrifically.

Coconut-Almond Granola over Blueberry-Cinnamon Compote

Coconut-Almond Granola

2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats

3 tablespoons honey

5 tablespoons canola oil

2/3 tablespoon vanilla extract

2/3 cup sliced almonds

2/3 cup tightly packed coconut flakes (I use unsweetened)

1/3 cup walnut pieces

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees.

Combine the oats, almonds, and walnuts in a bowl.

Melt the honey, canola oil, and vanilla extract together in saucepan over medium heat and stir until well combined (1-2 minutes). Pour over the oatmeal mixture and stir well so that the oats are evenly coated.

Spread the oatmeal mixture evenly on a baking sheet and place on the top rack of the oven. Stir the mixture at least every 10 minutes. I’m going to be blunt: it’s best if you watch it like a hawk. Burnt granola happens easily (and does not taste good). Bake the oats for a total of 30 minutes, or until the mixture is golden-brown and still slightly moist.

Let the granola cool on the baking sheet for about 10 minutes, then use a spatula to scoop up the granola and store it in an airtight container. Stir in the coconut flakes. The granola will continue to crisp up. Makes approximately 3 ½ cups of granola.

Blueberry-Cinnamon Compote

1 cup blueberries

¼ teaspoon – ½ teaspoon cinnamon, depending on your taste

½ teaspoon brown sugar

Wash the blueberries in a colander and drain well. Lay them out on several folded paper towels and pat gently to dry with another paper towel. 

Put the blueberries in a saucepan over medium-low heat. Stir gently and, when the blueberries began to soften, very gently mash them with the back of a spoon. Cook until the blueberries have a consistency like a very thick jam, about 5-7 minutes.

Stir in the cinnamon and the brown sugar.

To assemble:

Layer the blueberry compote in a parfait glass (or a martini glass, in my case….) and top with a ½ cup of granola and another 2 tablespoons of blueberries. Serves one person. Definitely, definitely eat it warm. 

A Walk, a Snack, Dinner, and a Movie

I find A on a bench in front of City Hall. Right away, I ask if we can check out the fruit and vegetable stands at Haymarket.

The prices are always good. But it’s about 4:30, near the end of the day, so the prices are dropping even more. The vendors are yelling and the shoppers are shoving. I keep turning to A – “It’s one dollar! One dollar! Do you know how much it is at Shaw’s? Three dollars!”

I buy three bags of baby carrots for $1, a pint of blueberries for $1, and a pint of cherry tomatoes for – you guessed it – $1. I sling the heavy plastic bag over my shoulder and we walk towards the North End.

We’ve had this day planned for weeks: an afternoon walk through the North End followed by dinner.

We head up busy Hanover Street and we use a smaller side street – I don’t remember the name – to move away from the crowds. The line outside Mike's Pastry is already epic.

Our walk is circuitous: a few stops in little boutiques, a few minutes in the Old North Church. I get hungry and I realize I’ve got snacks. I rip open a 33 cent bag of carrots and, eating carrots, we lope around the perimeter of Copp’s Hill Burying Ground and move towards the water.

  

Do you ever forget that Boston is on the water? I don’t mean the Charles. Or the Mystic. I mean the sea. The expanse of blue water reminds me that we’re not so far from the ocean.

But it’s hot along the water, with little shade, so we cut back across the North End. At times, we’re on Commercial Street; at others, we’re on Prince, Salem, Hanover, in alleys and tiny streets. I can’t tell you our route. Because I can't possibly remember it. 

It’s time for dinner. We split a spinach salad, gnocchi with tomato sauce, and saltimbocca di pollo at Antico Forno. 

We forgo dessert because we’ve got other plans. Mike’s. Of course. The line is still long and we decide to make things more complicated: We give ourselves a deadline. There’s a 8:15 showing of Bad Teacher at the Lowes near the Common. We’ve got to get two chocolate-chip cannoli and be on the T by 8.

We do it. We get inside, we push our way to the counter, and A, like a good New Yorker, flags down a woman behind the counter. 

With the cannoli and my plastic bag of produce (the corners of the plastic blueberry box are now cutting through the bag and stabbing me), we hustle across the Greenway to the T, stand impatiently on the Green Line until the train pulls into the Boylston stop, and then sprint across Tremont to the movie theater.

We don’t relax until we’re sitting in the movie theater and I’ve opened the box of cannoli.

In the Grocery Store

Last night, I'm in my tiny neighborhood grocery store and I'm working my way through my list (apricots, apples, eggs, butter....). I go up and down every aisle (multiple times) and I can't find the spices. I really can't.

I'm really good at missing things that are right in front of me, so I go up one aisle, wheel my cart around, and down the next. Over and over. I pay special attention to the baking aisle and the ethnic foods aisle and I even check out the gluten-free section. Nope. All I find is salt. And meat tenderizer.

I give up and go to the cash register. I've unloaded maybe half of my groceries when I think to ask the cashier. He says, oh sure, the spices are in Aisle 1. Another cashier is nice enough to go get me a bottle of cumin.

He brings me -- I swear to God -- a bottle about the size of a quart of milk. He's found the cheapest cumin, which is considerate, but I am not bulk buying cumin. That is not an option. I will never, ever use the whole thing.

We powerwalk to Aisle 1 and he shows me the full display of spices, stacked above the frozen chicken (I maintain that this is a strange place to store spices). I pick out a small bottle and then I realize, oh, I never found the baking yeast either. We go to the baking aisle and we're both pacing up and down and going in circles. And we can't find the baking yeast.

So we head back to the cash register, where my ever-patient cashier is still waiting, and he swears the yeast is in the baking aisle. It's not. It's really, really not.

Five minutes later, after management is consulted, the baking yeast is located. In the dairy aisle.