singing its braises

by Lisa


Last night, some magic occurred. I placed some wedges of cabbage in a pan, sprinkled over it carrots and onions, and poured some olive oil and broth over it and let it braise.

It only took reading two paragraphs of Molly Stevens* to be convinced to plan to braise the very next meal I would make.

We all know that braised food tastes amazing. But the science behind it we rarely think about. But Stevens' description of the cycle of flavor evaporating, condensing, and stewing again helped explain how this method of cooking transforms a dish, giving it the depth of flavor unique to braising.

I knew I needed to make her cabbage recipe - so rustic and delightful, one of those dishes that you know tastes a million times better than it looks.

I had gotten home early from work yesterday, so David and I walked to the store, like Parisians - only, we were carrying a backpack - and gathered the ingredients for this homely meal. (Note to self: Walking to the store and knowing you have to carry everything back on foot is built-in protection against Buying Everything In Sight.)

Although this dish on its own would probably satisfy me (I could probably eat the whole thing myself), I knew that Kenny would want some meat, so we got some pork chops as well.

And since the braise takes two hours, I had some time on my hands and decided to make chocolate cornstarch pudding for dessert (another post for another time). You should too. Rustic plus trashy-classic is always a success. I suppose it's comforting.

Truly, the art of uncomplicated cooking is so restorative.

(Aside: I also hope to make this caramel pudding soon. Thanks, Stephie!)


The World's Best Braised Cabbage
adapted from Molly Stevens' All About Braising

2 lb head of green cabbage (it's not that big looking, but try to not go over in weight), cut into wedges (keep the core to hold the wedges together)
1 large yellow onion, sliced thick (this part was the best - they get so caramelly - so I would maybe even throw in two)
1 carrot, sliced into coins
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil (use your best)
1/2 cup chicken broth, or water (I increased this from the original recipe)
coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper
crushed red pepper flakes

Preheat oven to 325. Lay cabbage wedges in a 9x13 glass baking dish (or a gratin pan if you have one). Try to make it fit in one layer. Scatter onion and carrot over cabbage, then drizzle olive oil and broth, and sprinkle with salt, pepper, and red pepper. Cover tightly with foil and bake for 2 hours, turning the cabbage over once at the halfway point, adding more broth if dry. Before serving, remove foil and raise oven to 400, allow to brown slightly, about 15 minutes.


*Her book is perfectly titled All About Braising. Now I just want to use that phrase, all the time. "I'm 'all about braising!' What?! I am!"

the stories will come

by Lisa

Today I bring you another post. Two posts in week! Even two posts in year is almost like setting a record now!

(That's how productive I am.)

The stories will come, I tell myself. For now, I must just post, post, post.

Today's dish is one of Kathy's favorite. It's a homey, Vietnamese tofu with tomato dish that I imagine every family will make differently. Considering I'm not Vietnamese, I'm sure mine is like none other. Huzzah!

"Vietnamese" Tofu and Tomato

1 package fried, cubed tofu (I think it's 16 oz? I threw away the package. It cost me about $2.)
3 tomatoes*, cut into wedges
1 large onion (or 2 small), sliced (in the direction of stem-to-root)
3-4 cloves garlic, smashed and peeled, but not minced (for the lazy)
6-8 oz (1 small can) tomato sauce**
1-2 cups water, depending on how much tomato sauce you use (see note below)
1-3 T fish sauce, to taste, also depending on how much water you use...
freshly ground black pepper
sliced green onions, for garnish

Heat wok or dutch oven (something higher-walled than a skillet is ideal), add a round of vegetable oil, saute onions for a few minutes. Add garlic, and stir for 30 seconds before adding the rest of the ingredients. You can do the fish sauce and black pepper last, so you can season according to how much water you used, and how sweet/salty the tomatoes/sauce are. Bring to a boil, then reduce to medium and let simmer, covered, for about 10 minutes (depending on how hungry you are). The tofu will absorb some of the juices, and the sauce should be very watery in consistency, but not in flavor. Adjust fish sauce and pepper to taste. Garnish with green onions if you want to be professional, and serve over hot Jasmine rice.


*I used fresh, Roma tomatoes. This is a good fall/winter dish, because it can hide the dullness of winter tomatoes. I think I've done this once with canned tomatoes, and if you do, you can cut out the sauce, and maybe add some ketchup instead? See ** below.

**Although there are some alternatives to using tomato sauce, I think it works the best. You don't quite need 8 oz, but that is the size of the can so sometimes I just dump the whole thing in, then add enough water to dilute so it doesn't taste like you're eating spaghetti with rice. In a pinch you can use a bit of ketchup or tomato paste.

And if that wasn't enough to entice you to visit, please admire the new pillow I got for our guest bed. It is calling your name!

sparing a moment

by Lisa


Reading this blog inspired me to post more regularly.*

That's what I said the last time, and while there's no promise that I really mean it this time, I can always try. Was it Luther who said that all of life is repentance? Turning around, getting up again and going?

Well, here goes.

I've been really grateful that lately I've been exploring more Asian food. I think that cooking for the kids has made me focus more on comfort foods, things that go well with rice. I realize that I really don't know anything about cooking Chinese food, so when I do make something good (even just a stir-fried broccoli) I'm ridiculously proud of myself. So, today I bring you dim sum style spare ribs. So unphotogenic. But so delicious!

Super easy to make, too. If you don't have a steamer (bamboo or metal), you can always buy the steamer racks (less than $1) you put at the bottom of a wok or dutch oven or big pot. And if you are a cheap student who doesn't even have that, you can - under such dire circumstances - prop up your dish with some chopsticks, or a corelle bowl or ramekin turned upside down. There are ways to get around this. Don't let anything stop you from steaming these delicious ribs.

Cantonese Style Spare-ribs
from Steamy Kitchen

1.5 lbs** pork spare ribs, cut into 1-1 1/2 inch pieces
2 T black bean sauce (or ground bean paste)
1 T Chinese rice wine (or dry sherry or vermouth) 
2-3 slices ginger, grated (microplane is the best!)
2 cloves garlic, minced (or grated, while you're at it)
1 t each, sesame and regular vegetable oil
1 t sugar

1 t salt

freshly ground black pepper

2 t cornstarch

Mix all ingredients besides the ribs together in the bottom of a medium sized mixing bowl. Add the ribs and coat with the marinade. Let sit at room temperature for 30 minutes. (Or an hour if you want to squeeze in an episode of Psych, like I did.) Fill up your steamer with plenty of water and bring to a boil. Transfer the ribs to a 9" glass pie pan (or something similar) and place in steamer. Bring temperature down to medium or medium high, so that it's getting good steam but isn't overdone. Let steam for 20-30 minutes, until ribs are no longer pink. (Or an hour if you want to squeeze in another hour of Psych, like I did.) Remove from steamer and serve with a piping hot, fluffly Jasmine rice - the kind you want to lay your head down in like a pillow.

 

In closing randomness, something to make my mother-in-law proud:

baby's breath in a gravy boat!

* I told David I thought we should try to blog EVERY night, and post together. But I'm not sure we can follow-through with that, so we'll try blogging together - but in our separate places - and if we can commit, we'll go for it! I guess you guys can encourage us with your comments. :)

**Or 4+ lbs, like I had, and eyeball the math for multiplying all the rest of the ingredients proportionately. You know I always cook for 20.

currying favor

by Lisa


I heartily encourage you to get yourself a head of cabbage and make this simple dish for dinner tonight. I don't quite remember how I found this recipe, but when I did, it was love at first sight.


Five-Minute Indian-style Cabbage
from herbavoracious

• 1/2 head green cabbage, cored and sliced thin
• 1 tablespoon vegetable oil or ghee (clarified butter), or mustard oil, or more to taste
• 1 tablespoon black mustard seeds
• 1/2 teaspoon cumin powder
• 1/2 teaspoon turmeric powder
• 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• 1 teaspoon salt
• optional garnish: cilantro, lemon juice
  

1. Heat a large skillet or wok over a medium-high flame. Add the oil, wait 10 seconds, and immediately add the mustard seeds.
2. As soon as they start to pop, add the rest of the spices and any optional ingredients and stir-fry for 10 more seconds. Move quickly here so you infuse the flavor in the oil but don't burn them.
3. Add the cabbage and salt, and stir-fry until crisp-tender or tender, your preference. Taste and adjust seasoning.
4. Garnish with cilantro and/or lemon juice. (As much as I love this on other curries, I don't find it necessary for this dish.)

setting the record

by Lisa

As I write this post, the leftover shakshuka is still warm in the dutch oven. I think I'm setting the record for posting.

After David forced me to download all - yes, all 8 GB - of my photos off my camera last night, I've committed to post more immediately on the happenings in the Ro household.

Plus I told Felise I would give her the recipe.

After getting back from camping yesterday, I knew I was too tired to make anything elaborate, but I still wanted to have something special this morning for Felise. I then remembered that I had feta and parsley, which meant that I could easily make shakshuka, whose other ingredients are pretty much staples. Shakshuka pretty much defines Lisa-food: eggs, spicy, hot, saucy, cheese.

Well, David's home now so I'm off to throw in one last egg. Here's to posting more regularly!

Shakshuka (Eggs Poached in Spicy Tomato Sauce)
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen

Serves 4 to 6

1/4 cup olive oil

2-3 jalapeños, finely chopped (I leave in the seeds)

1 small yellow onion, chopped

5 cloves garlic, crushed then sliced

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 tablespoon paprika (I used chile pepper instead, about 1/2-1 teaspoon)

1 28-ounce can whole peeled tomatoes, undrained

Kosher salt, to taste

6 eggs

1/2 cup feta cheese, crumbled

1 tablespoon chopped flat-leaf parsley
 (I use more)
Warm pitas, for serving (you can eat this with any bread, or rice/grain, or just on its own, like we did today)

Heat oil in a 12-inch skillet over medium-high heat. Add chiles and onions and cook, stirring occasionally, until soft and golden brown, about 6 minutes. (I add the onions first, and chop the chiles while those are cooking.) Add garlic, cumin, and paprika/chile, and cook, stirring frequently, until garlic is soft, about 2 more minutes.

Put tomatoes and their liquid into a medium bowl and crush with your hands. Add crushed tomatoes and their liquid to skillet along with 1/2 cup water, reduce heat to medium, and simmer, stirring occasionally, until thickened slightly, about 15 minutes. Season sauce with salt.
Crack eggs over sauce so that eggs are evenly distributed across sauce’s surface. Cover skillet and cook until yolks are just set, about 4 minutes. Using a spoon, baste the whites of the eggs with tomato mixture, being careful not to disturb the yolk. Sprinkle shakshuka with feta and parsley and serve with pitas, for dipping.

Note: I usually make 2 eggs per person. You can always re-heat the leftover sauce and add more eggs for your next meal, or when others join you at the table.

simply delicious

by Lisa

Our new neighbor and friend, Jenn, is a dancer. From her, I've learned that if you give a hungry dancer a cupcake, she will eat it. And maybe want another.

Or three more.

After tasting Simply Dessert's* Red Velvet Cake, we decided to give a go at our own. I compared recipes and landed on the NY Times'. They call for three ounces of red food coloring - which, at $2.99/oz., I decided to skimp on. I bought one ounce and added two ounces of water to make up the volume.

We made a three-layer cake (our digital scale came in handy in making it even), but if you have the capacity, I think four layers would be amazing.

In my opinion, reducing the food coloring made no difference, and so other than that, I thought the recipe was fantastic.


*I've decided that "Simply Desserts" is simply a misnomer for this shop. While they do offer a cookie or a muffin for those who wish, their cases are primarily filled with huge delicious cakes. Try the Banana Amaretto and the Chocolate-White Chocolate.

Red Velvet Cake
adapted from the NY Times

1 tablespoon unsalted butter
3½ cups cake flour
½ cup unsweetened cocoa (not Dutch process)
1½ teaspoons salt
2 cups canola oil
2¼ cups granulated sugar
3 large eggs
6 tablespoons (3 ounces) red food coloring
1½ teaspoons vanilla
1¼ cup buttermilk
2 teaspoons baking soda
2½ teaspoons white vinegar

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place teaspoon of butter in each of 3 round 9-inch layer cake pans and place pans in oven for a few minutes until butter melts. Remove pans from oven, brush interior bottom and sides of each with butter and line bottoms with parchment.
2. Whisk cake flour, cocoa and salt in a bowl.
3. Place oil and sugar in bowl of an electric mixer and beat at medium speed until well-blended. Beat in eggs one at a time. With machine on low, very slowly add red food coloring. (Take care: it may splash.) Add vanilla. Add flour mixture alternately with buttermilk in two batches. Scrape down bowl and beat just long enough to combine.
4. Place baking soda in a small dish, stir in vinegar and add to batter with machine running. Beat for 10 seconds.
5. Divide batter among pans, place in oven and bake until a cake tester comes out clean, 40 to 45 minutes. Let cool in pans 20 minutes. Then remove from pans, flip layers over and peel off parchment. Cool completely before frosting.

a foodie's worse nightmare

by Lisa

In the only Korean drama I've watched in its entirety, My Name is Kim Sam Soon, the protagonist says that she can't bake sweet things with a broken heart. Likewise for me, it's been hard to enjoy cooking after all these transitions. Moving to a new city where we didn't know anyone has made rare the opportunities to cook for big groups of people whom we love.

It's a foodie's worse nightmare when you can't even eat food and enjoy it. That's how it was when we first moved to Seattle. (Of all places to not enjoy food!)

Praise God that I'm getting over that one.

And so now I have a plethora of pictures and recipes for you, in the posts to follow.

Breaking the silence

by Lisa

I know what you're thinking. I go dormant for more than 8 months and when I crop up again, it's for a chowder recipe? That's what Holly had been thinking, too. Until she took a bite.

You have to admit, though: this is an improvement to my breaking the silence for McDonald's, no?

But still, as I sit here having my fourth bowl, looking at how pretty it is, I realize how selfish it would be for me to keep it to myself.

Look at it - all the color! flavor! textures! wine to go with! Who says you can't have soup all year round? (Besides, in any case, Chicago clearly doesn't even care that it's mid-April already; it can't seem to sustain weather above 45 degrees for more than one day in a row.)

It was a nice addition (of both flavor and color) to stir in an arugula pesto I had whipped up the previous day. (I'm sitting now pondering whether to change that to "rocket pesto," for that would still be accurate to say, and more fun.) You probably already know that I have an affinity for pestos made from things other than basil (or else you probably aren't reading much of my writing), so it was surprising to me that I had never done this before. (Why, oh, why not?) The bright, peppery taste was perfect on a simple pasta, wonderful on a baguette, and great for putting in pretty much anything else (as we found out later). And, as with the heretofore favorite parsley pesto, it didn't oxidize and turn brown as quickly as would basil. A win on all accounts.

Not that the chowder needed any help. With red bell peppers, all kinds of colorful vegetables, hot smoked sausage, a dash additional of hot sauce, and freshly ground black pepper, it was a winner. (Which isn't to say that the Riesling was by any means superfluous.) I couldn't have been more pleased.

I had thought that with all those ingredients, the chopping would feel interminable. It shouldn't have surprised me, though, that with a few girlfriends standing around the counter chatting, the time flew by, and I had rather wished there had been more to chop.

So, to the store! And more importantly, to the phone! to call up your favorite friends to join you upon your return.

Corn Chowder
adapted from Gourmet, July 2005

4 hot smoked sausages
1 to 1.5 sweet onions
2 large carrots
1 celery rib
1 red bell pepper
2 yellow-fleshed potatoes, such as Yukon Gold
5 cups chicken broth (I use water and bouillon, for more control)
2 cans corn, drained
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
dash of Italian seasoning, or fresh thyme sprigs if you have them.
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Essentially, everything you can think of that could be diced, should be. I start with frying up the sausages in a touch of olive oil, then draining them on paper towels. To the same pan add a little more oil if it looks dry, and then add the chopped onion and let them sweat a bit. I take this time to chop the remaining ingredients and add them as I'm ready: carrots, celery, bell pepper. Then I add the stock (or water and bouillon - and here I find it wise to add less water than you think, just enough to cover) and the potatoes. Also add your fresh or dried herbs. Bring it to a boil, then let it simmer, covered, for 10-15 minutes until the potatoes are just tender. Stir in the corn and cream, and let simmer, uncovered, for a few more minutes. Throw in the sausage, a dash of hot sauce, salt and pepper.

Serve with a crusty bread and a crisp white wine. (We loved it with Polka dot. Medium- or "comfortable"-sweet.)

Also good with arugula pesto stirred in (recipe to follow).

Arugula Pesto

I used, as a starting point, Molly's pesto recipe which I'm obsessed with.

2 Tbsp. almonds
1 packed cup arugula leaves
4-6 Tbsp. olive oil
1 tsp. fresh lemon juice
2-3 small garlic cloves, pressed
kosher sea salt, and freshly ground black pepper.

Pulse almonds until fine like sand. Add arugula, lemon juice, salt, pepper, garlic and process while streaming olive oil. Taste, adjust seasonings. Serve with pasta, crusty bread, corn chowder, or pretty much anything.

Scenes from East Asia

by Stephanie

Nothing particularly picturesque going on yet today, but THANKSGIVING is here. Today I am giving thanks for laughter and love and life, things that have not escaped me even though I have fled the country for the year.

near the public square--birds hanging out at their little sanctuary, the sun doing its thing in the midst of a pollution-choked sky

Shanghai, take a bao

by Stephanie

I'm just going to put this out there--I am a terrible blogger. I have serious problems posting regularly and often, two things that make a good blogger. And I don't love taking pictures of food (I'd rather eat it while it's hot and tell you about it later). I'm trying, I really am. But I do absolutely love the writing that goes into these as well as the promise of eating the results of said experiments. I think those are what keep me going on this thing. (Slight nudge to Lisa who has been a little MIA for the past 50 years)

That said, Shanghai happened. By happened I mean we thought it would be fun to take a weekend jaunt to Shanghai, a glamorous city beyond comprehension for us country bumpkins. I was humbled by the sheer volume of the city--18 million residents and far more modernity than I imagined. The city is an interesting example of the East and West trying to blend (and the West somewhat winning in dominance). That fact was more than slightly okay with me because I have really been missing my western food. Yes, I'm admitting it. I put myself in charge of food on the trip and found some really exciting places that warmed my heart and will hopefully fulfill the quota for a while.

One thing I have been missing dearly (and this will come as no surprise to anyone) is not just good coffee but also cafe culture. Berkeley is so in step with this, and so it has been greatly jarring to my system to not be able to step outside my door and get a foamy latte at Strada before embarking on my school day. I found this French bakery that somehow made its way to Shanghai--and for an hour or so I was able to re-immerse myself in the art of cafe-ing.

The last capp I'll have for a while

me, Jena, Ellen being cutesy and adorable for the camera

We also visited Ellen's research site, which is this adorable enclave of twisting alleys, cafes, and other commercial things that come with gentrification. Another East meets West example.

That was very well and fun. We topped off the night with a ridiculous dinner at the rotating restaurant at the top of the Radisson: smoked salmon pasta, aloo gobi, and garlic naan never tasted so good.

credit: Jena

But there was a Shanghainese specialty that still eluded us: one of the chief reasons I went was for the xiao long bao, which some have described as "seductive". Is food sexy? These must maintain a precarious balance that far too many establishments have not been able to reach. The skin must be of the right thickness, only melting in your mouth and NOT the steamer basket. The meat cannot too overpowering in taste, for the highlight must be the soup inside, which should be piping HOT, delicately scented . And it should all slide down your throat like a beautiful dream. After a bad experience with the little soup dumplings/buns/jury's still out on how to categorize these, I was ready for the real thing.


Friends, they were delightful. More than that. I built them up so much in my mind because I knew they had incredible potential--there are people out there who scour the globe for the best xiao long bao--and they didn't disappoint. Shanghai did not disappoint.

Blackberries break on through

by Stephanie

So I’ve now been in this country for close to two months now. 54 days to be exact. It’s so hard to really explain to you over the internet what it feels like to not live in the US, to not be constantly surrounded by the comforts I think are home. I’ve never done anything like this before, so I really have nothing to compare it to. Even my update newsletter, which is supposed to be this grand sweeping exegesis detailing succinctly exactly what I’ve been doing for the month of September, is pretty shoddy because it’s just so hard to describe the sights, the sounds, the smells. Oh the smells. They run the gamut from freshly fried “donuts” right outside our apartment in the morning to garbage...lots and lots of garbage. Everywhere, everywhere. Okay, not everywhere (as evidenced by the photo above), but do not be deceived; there is a lot.

But what comes most to mind right now is something I received right before I left home way back in late August. You see, I’m kind of picky about the types of fruit I will eat (and up until now, most berries have been on the no list), and so when I discovered last summer that I actually enjoy the gentle sweet/sour flavor of the blackberry, I felt victorious and freed from my former habits. Modesto blackberries are awesome. And these berries taught me a few lessons before I left home this past August.

One thing I’ve noticed about blackberries is that inevitably a few of them will bruise and smoosh in your bag/bowl/fridge. These are the softer, riper ones. They are also, as I have found, dramatically sweeter than the firmer ones, and infinitely more wonderful in my opinion. To be frank, my life is a little bit of a mess right now. Somehow, the harrowing questions of What I will do with myself next year? and How I will go about doing that? eclipse the beauty of the moment, this year in Asia. There also exist the strange little things that creep around in the burrows of my heart that whisper, What if you’re not ready for that? or Seriously? (That one is more prevalent than I would like.) Add to that the utter confusion that generally accompanies one’s entry into a foreign land completely different than one’s own, and I can say that my life, right now, feels like it’s taken a small beating. I know I’m better for it, though. (Process of growing up, I see you! Don’t even try to hide.)

Another element of growing up is learning how to be fully responsible for the stuff you have to do. Sounds easy, but obviously since the vast majority of people are still incapable of doing this, I have wiggle room. The night before I left, I was in a frantic rush trying to pack all the things I should have tucked away about a week before (procrastination a giant barrier to the aforementioned element of growing up). My mom knew what a difficult time I was having trying to wrangle a year’s worth of belongings into a mere two suitcases. So when she showed up in my doorway with a bowl full of consolatory end-of-summer blackberries, I started to cry. Not the heaving sobs type, but the pathetic tiny sniffles that mean only one thing: I am not going to see my mommy for a year, and I will miss her.

Joy comes unexpectedly

by Stephanie

Whether you're actively looking for them or not, life's little surprises will get you--oh, they will. Some are good and some are wrinkle-your-nose not-so-good, but the joys produced by the first kind tend to override the disappointments of the others. Good thing too--I have wallowed more than my fair share in my various clouds of melancholia. But when joy, wonder, unexpected blessings shine their way into my life, I can do nothing but gaze skyward and whisper, "Thank you thank you thank you thank you" (who says that prayers have to be complicated?)

This past weekend the family took a little trip to the Monterey Bay region. The ocean (and other related scenery) were gorgeous as always, although the food is always the star of the show. A new (to me) spot was La Bicyclette, a place where the salad/soup are family-style but you have your own entree--I had the most luscious carrot soup of my life as well as this fabulous pot of chocolate mousse (they claim it's for 2, but I'll claim that it could be for 8 and I ate at least 6.5 persons' worth...) The interior was so cute and cottage-y, and did I mention the chocolate mousse was unbelievable? Okay. I love Carmel. And I love La Bicyclette so much I didn't mind too much that we didn't go to my favorite restaurant probably in the whole world, Casanova, this time around.

Things I've attempted: choux pastry (it never rises like I want it to! Why?!), these infamous cookies which I saw featured on this blog, quite probably the biggest food blog influence in my life. Lisa's too. (We like to pretend we are on a first name basis with the author and her husband...of course we're weird!) The cookies were amazing. I will now let all my cookie dough rest at least 24 hours before baking. However, that does allow a lot more time for the dough to be eaten and not baked...

Some less-than-great surprises: a little car mishap in Berkeley that is resulting in a very large price tag, Sylvester my cactus dying, but most salient right now is this. (Before you start to narrow your eyes in disgust that I even mention the S-word of coffee on this hallowed ground, please know that not all of us grew up in places with an abundance of cafe culture. Starbucks introduced me to espresso when I was just a silly junior high kid with no concept of coffee. It also enabled me to see that there is much better out there.) But back onto the topic. I did not care a ton about 600 Starbucks stores closing, but then I took a closer look at the list and was promptly saddened. First, there is the Standiford & Tully store closing, which miffed me a little because it is spacious and happy and orange and the closest place to home. But then...the Berkeley Shattuck & Cedar store, nicknamed "the faraway Starbucks" by yours truly, the site of so many memories...I am sad to see it go. It was a place of retreat for me, where lots of hangout with friends and Jesus and even studying happened. It was also the place where Lisa found out she would be a hot 50 year old woman...dearest faraway Starbucks. I suppose this is one of those times when I just need to buck up and realize that Berkeley is not obligated to stay the same, in fact can't stay the same...but I can look back on all the very wonderful times and take joy in all of them.


update: In addition to a dead cactus, my mother and I also managed today to kill our fish. We were cleaning his water and he managed to jump out of the bowl and into the sink. I had to turn the disposal on him. Hoping there is joy somewhere to be found here...

If we dare say so ourselves

by Lisa

Really, I don't have much I want to say today except that Sarah and I made a potato salad this weekend which we quickly declared was The Best Potato Salad We've Ever Had.

Okay, maybe I have a few pictures, too. We had some burgers,


did some cartwheels (more like, As Many As We Could Possibly Do Before Feeling Ill),


tossed around a frisbee,


and laid around like kittens.


But really, the most important thing we did, honestly, was make and eat that potato salad. Okay, fine. Maybe that was second to hanging out with each other. And eating burgers. And doing cartwheels and playing frisbee. And sleeping like kittens. But still. It was darn good.

It was so good I'm tempted to go buy more potatoes right now. Even though it's July 7th. And we're not having a picnic for dinner tonight.


The Best Potato Salad We've Ever Had
adapted by Lisa and Sarah, from The Silver Palate

My favorite foods to make are those which don't depend on exact measurement, but rather require intuition and experimentation. So, as usual, please don't stick to what I've written here. Taste along the way (how could you not?) and adjust to your preference. You're bright. (You certainly will be after making and eating this baby.)

8 red potatoes, washed, peels left on
3 hard boiled eggs*, chopped

1/2 cup mayonnaise
2-4 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 stalks celery, chopped
1/2-1/4 red onion, diced small
1 or 2 stalks green onion, chopped thin
handful of chopped Italian parsley

splash of white wine vinegar
splash or two of olive oil
salt and lots of fresh ground pepper

Boil potatoes whole in salted water until tender but still firm. Boil eggs as instructed below. In a bowl, stir together diced vegetables with mayonnaise and the rest of the ingredients, except last three ingredients. Roughly chop eggs when they are done. When potatoes are done, slice them roughly and sprinkle still-hot potatoes with vinegar, olive oil, salt and pepper. Mix into mayonnaise mixture.

Eat. Enjoy. Rinse. Repeat.


*Tried and true method: Add cold water to pot with eggs, bring to boil, covered. With pot still covered, turn off heat and set timer for 5-7 minutes (depending on how cooked you like them). Drain, and run cold water over them until to stop cooking and cool eggs. Also, older eggs (i.e., purchased a week ago or so) peel more easily, so plan ahead if you can.

There is no theme to this post

by Stephanie


It seems that I haven't posted in over 2 months. Thanks, Lisa, for picking up my pathetic slack. Hmm, let's see, the excuses for the absence: I graduated from college (note the ceremonial leis), moved back home, am currently working on raising support to go overseas next year...not good enough reasons. (I actually misplaced my USB cable, which prevents photo uploading to computer. And you think, Steph--how lame do you get?) What have I been doing, food-wise and etc-wise, exactly? No easy answer, so here are some highlights that were chosen because I have accompanying photographic evidence.

First, a little surprise outing for some Very Special Little Sisters to Lovejoy's Tea Room in San Francisco, lovingly planned by Teresa and me. They thought we were kidding when we told them to bring blindfolds. Dressing up for little feminine jaunts like this is just one of the many things I'll miss about being in a sorority. The people, of course, I'll miss most (here: Natalie, on the left...my beautiful, beautiful little sis and Steph, my honorary little because we are the same person, waiting outside the place, which induced many giggles from passers-by.)


I'm in Modesto (my hometown) for the summer. It is an ever-growing town (or city?) with over 200,000 residents and continuing. But its roots reside in agriculture, and this is never more prominent than in the summer, when fruit stands are at their best as their proud displays burst with splashes of color--plums, peaches, nectarines, apricots, pluots. And cherries. OH the cherries. I've been chomping through bags and bags of them since I returned home in late May. My favorite is called Fidel's, and every time I go the lady who works there smiles warmly at me and playfully chastises me if I take only one bag because inevitably I will be back the same day for more.


Here's something I've actually done: individual chocolate souffles with a 9.7 oz Scharffen Berger home baking bar (70% bittersweet, of course, acquired from the delicious Scharffen Berger factory tour) for my friends Heather and Kristen from Oklahoma who visited for a couple weeks back in June. They were a little dense. I had a hard time deciding when to take them out of the oven because my ramekins are different sizes and how high are they supposed to rise anyway and I wanted them to be perfect...but we managed though, and everything tasted a little sweeter with some homemade whipped cream.


Does anyone know why my pictures are turning out all blurry? Is it the lighting, the fact that I can't hold my arm steady when I take a picture, or that my camera is 4 years old and I've more or less thrown it around rather roughly for those 4 years and it wants to quit?

A win-win situation

by Lisa

Navigating life in a period of transition comes with its challenges. In just a few weeks I'm packing my bags (more like, my bag) for the Windy City, leaving (at least physically) many dear friends from college (the most growing period of my life) as well as the part of the country in which I've spent most of my life.

When it first sunk in that I was leaving, I wondered about how I should invest in relationships. Did I need to taper off times with old friends, or just the opposite? And I also faced decisions about new acquaintances. Do I ask somebody to lunch and just as soon as they let me into their life wave goodbye? (They'll probably just as soon be thinking, "I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello..." Or maybe only Annie would think that.)

I had the same dilemma two days ago, when I re-found the seed packets some good friends had given me for Christmas. I don't know why I had put off planting them (or making a sourdough starter or writing that thank you card or anything else on The List, for that matter). Ah, procrastination. I guess it took Realizing There Isn't Much Time Left to just go ahead and try planting them. Pretty soon after, this thought flew into my head: "I'm going to be so upset if they actually grow (because I'll kick myself for not having planted them earlier)." Then I (just as) quickly realized the stupidity of that thought - of course I wouldn't be upset! It is almost a truth universally acknowledged that much sadness can be swept away by parsley pesto or a bowl of fresh arugula with goat cheese and vinaigrette.


It was a win-win situation. If I had herbs before I left, I would be joyful. And if I didn't - well, it didn't matter that I hadn't tried earlier!

I labeled the pots with question marks at the end. Who knew if they would contain parsley, chives, or arugula? So I labeled them "parsley?", "chives?", and "arugula?".


Today after getting up from a little nap, I checked the plants to see if they needed water. I couldn't believe my eyes - was I still dreaming? - when I saw tiny little shoots in the arugula pot! It hadn't even been two full day since I had planted them!


So I'm hopeful. Like the arugula, some new friendships of the past few months I'd mentally labeled "friendship?" have similarly started to sprout up. And instead of having regret that we didn't start this earlier, I'm grateful for what they are now.

And so I'm going to water them and care for them for the next 55 days and see what happens.

Surprisingly delicious

by Lisa

Being a food blogger comes with its challenges. (Sometimes it's so much easier to write haiku that doesn't make any sense.) I mean, I feel like I always have to have some sort of theme, where I creatively and analogically tie it into the recipe, or something brilliant like that. And also I almost always feel like it's not okay to cheat on recipes, like calling for spaghetti sauce from the jar or using canned garbanzo beans. And even though I disclosed all in my last post, it's not without at least a little diffidence that I bring today's recipe, which doesn't even pretend to be gourmet.

I was actually quite caught off-guard when I found this recipe online which inspired today's. I wasn't looking for a recipe for instant chai. Even in the past I have had this discussion in my head: Should I make an instant chai? No, it wouldn't be fresh. But it'd be so easy. No, it's not as good as the real thing. But it's so easy. No, no, no. Yes, yes, yes. (Or something like that.)

[For those as neurotic as I and who may want to know how I "accidentally" found myself at this site with this chai recipe which threatened so my mental stability: I was actually looking up recipes for aloo gobi to try to figure out why the one I ordered had been so soupy - maybe it was something regional. One site suggested that there's a wetter version of potato cauliflower curry called aloo phulkopir dalna, but when I googled that, it didn't really seem to explain my soupy curry. But somehow I found the link to the instant chai, and it caught my eye.]

[For the not-so-neurotic, I proceed here:] Long story short, I decided, what the heck? why not try this instant chai? As lovely as it is to be able to boil chai at home with milk and with whole cardamom pods, cloves, cinnamon sticks, etc., when you're at work with only the water "cooler," a good instant chai sounds a lot more attractive and reasonable than walking down the street to the dreaded Starbucks for a too-expensive,-too-sweet,-not-creamy-enough chai latte.

The recipe looked reasonable enough. I used it as a guideline, not really following the proportions, and it was surprisingly delicious. I think I've had three cups every day since.

I'm planning on making more and mailing some to a certain friend in Minnesota once she gives me her new address. (I can even throw in some instant coffee powder, too, if you'd like it dirty. Even more if you want it... um, nevermind. Eww for gross guy at Starbucks. Yay for Molly!])

The stuff is great 'cause you can have it hot or cold, although with the weather here the last few days, it's kind of hard to tell which way you'd want it. It's still good anyway; just be careful when you get to the bottom of your mug/glass, lest you end up with a mouth full of ground spices which have sneakily settled to the bottom.

So, here's to a lukewarm glass of chai! Cheers!

Instant chai tea
inspired by Sandi on RecipeZaar

The original recipe called for instant tea (have you ever seen it in the stores? I haven't); I didn't follow that. In any case, I still liked being able to keep my tea brewing separate from the powder, so my recipe basically makes the creamer/sugar/spices part for the chai. The recipe is really rough, and I really encourage you to modify it according to your liking. I couldn't have it any other way for you.

It's a bit awkward with some ingredients you may not have just lying around the house (like vanilla sugar; odd that I had some), but I did some quick and dirty calculations, and I think that even if you spent the money on it, it might work out to cheaper than instant chai from the store. (It's definitely tastier.)

I'm putting my original proportions, but I'd recommend doubling it; it goes fast. (I did two batches one right after the other.)

1/2 cup dry whole milk powder
1/2 cup non-dairy powdered coffee creamer
1/2 cup vanilla sugar (which Sandi says you can make by putting vanilla extract into the sugar, allowing to dry, and then breaking into clumps; you can also replace this with 1/2 cup regular sugar, plus 1/2 cup French vanilla flavored powdered coffee creamer - in addition to the plain powdered coffee creamer above)
1 heaping teaspoon ground ginger
2 heaping teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 level teaspoon each, ground cloves and cardomom
*adjust spices to your liking, and also consider adding: white pepper, allspice, nutmeg, cayenne
tea bags (black, orange pekoe, darjeeling, etc.)

Pulse ingredients for a few seconds in food processor to blend ingredients.

To serve: Brew black tea in hot water. (Use less water if you're going to ice it.) Any tea (even Lipton) will do; my dad always sends me home with different teas from the Indian market which are in nice bags. (I am not tea snobby enough to say you must brew loose leaf.) Stir in 2-3 heaping teaspoonfuls of your newly blended chai. Enjoy!

Store dry mixture in airtight container.


[P.S. If you were looking for the theme in this post, sorry. I don't think it really got anywhere. I think I was trying to go for something like, how 'bout we give me a break? or Here's a cup of chai to make us all happy!]

a poem

by Lisa

over vanilla milkshakes and smooshed "double" cheeseburgers
after minigolf
around 12 midnight

listening to camila
sitting in the parking lot

under the streetlamps

annie says,
"lis, i love how you can be such a food snob and yet still enjoy
mcdonalds."

Not with a bang but a whimper

by Lisa

Transitions, change, saying goodbye. There's no way to express the emotion with cohesion and clarity.

In a few months, I'll be leaving for Chicago. And I have friends moving on, as well, to other things, and places: China, Guatemala, marriage. I'm not quite sure what it looks like to say goodbye, because what is going and what/who is staying has become so confuddled, diffused like an electron cloud. Because I can say that I'm leaving Berkeley, but I'm also taking parts of it with me. And of course, whenever I return to it in future visits, it won't be the same.

Berkeley, you have been good to me. Rough, too. The city, the classes, the people, the bus lines, the restaurants (oh, the restaurants), the noise, the strangers. I think I will miss you.

I started to make a mental list of things I should do before I leave Berkeley, like Eat At Cheeseboard For A Week Straight So That I Get Too Sick Of It To Miss It, things like that. Or, dine downstairs at Chez Panisse, eat at À Côté, appreciate Berkeley Bowl. All those concrete things are good, they're easy to measure, and to check off a list. But how do you make sure you've spent enough time with your closest friends, and made sure they know that you've appreciated their friendship? That you don't know what you would have done if they hadn't been there to see you through your hardest moments, when there couldn't have been enough Kleenex boxes around, or minutes to sit together in the silence before you both had to get back to the paper that was due the next day? That through the sacrifices of their time, love, and lives, they've challenged you to be the best you could be, that they weren't afraid to tell you that you needed to change - to prune a part of yourself - for the better? That you're going to miss the way they imitate and mock you; or the way they complete your sentences, and you, theirs?

Portland stole my heart

by Stephanie


It is such a beautiful place. 2 weeks later, I'm still in awe. (Let's not focus on the fact that it's taken me 2 weeks to post.) It's so green! So laid back! So many Subarus! (By the way, the last point does not really excite me at all. It was just an observation.) Anyway, enough with the parentheses, I'm sure you want the dirt on Portland.

The thing is, there is no dirt. Well, none that I saw. Locals were so nice to my roommate and me when we looked lost; the coffee was bordering on Blue Bottle status, and Powell's is a 4 story bookstore that takes up an entire city block. Why did I leave you Portland, why.

My World Cup Coffee cafe au lait...delightful.

Flowers at the Portland Farmer's Market, located at Portland State University on Saturdays. There was a hyper-abundance of tulips and poppies, which made me oh so happy. The roommate and I made a lunch out of chive pesto, a demi-baguette, Bosc pears, and a huge cookie for dessert.

Next up was Reed College, where I hung around in hopes of running into Donald Miller. (Mark my words; next time we meet for sure.)

There is this gorgeous lake behind the campus that provides the perfect backdrop for quiet contemplation and the like. I had a really hard time capturing with my camera how lovely the atmosphere is here. My soul felt quiet and at rest.



You can wikipedia Renn Fayre if you're curious...just another crazy differentiating feature that separates Reed from pretty much every other college campus in the world.

"Hi, our name is adorable Portland doggie chocolates! Take us home with you!"

This is the last picture I took before my camera battery pooped out on me. I consider Saint Cupcake amazing because I actually loved the cupcake frosting. I really don't like frosting, so this was huge.

Oh Portland, thank you for a lovely time. I will be back; a gem of a city like you is too good to ignore for long.