Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Y'know, tinned fish has its place.

Since (mostly) giving up meat last autumn, I've been experimenting with protein sources -- seafood, seeds, legumes. I've always loved smoked oysters, but I haven't really had any desire to eat sardines since that one time at Sunriver when I was a kid. Turns out, though, that they're full of good stuff, including calcium in their tiny crunchable bones.

So I made a simple sauce of canned fine-dice tomatoes, fresh garlic, fennel seeds, oregano, and red pepper flakes, cooked it down for about thirty minutes, stirred in a tin of lightly smoked sardine, and tossed it with brown rice pasta, white beans, fresh steamed asparagus, and parsley. 

Delish. Can't wait to try it with oysters.

Something New

Confession: I've never bought Brussels sprouts fresh. Or frozen, come to think of it. In fact, these tough, knobby little cabbage buds were the very last veggie on the "DO NOT LIKE" side of my list until three or four years ago, when my aunt brought a braised batch to Christmas dinner and I fell like the S&P 500. Since then I've been on the lookout, but Broulims' specimens have never been very appealing... until now.

So I roasted a bunch. Aubrey offered me some of her gyoza in exchange for some of my sprouts, and the combination was scrumptious.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

All mankind is of one author, and is one volume. When one man dies, one chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated. God employs several translators; some pieces are translated by age, some by sickness, some by war, some by justice -- but God's hand is in every translation, and his hand shall bind up all our scattered leaves again for that library where every book shall lie open to one another.

John Donne
Meditation XVII

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Perchance to dream...

Phyllo dough. Browned butter. Roasted butternut squash. Red onion. Maple. Sage. Jarlsberg. Smoked fontina. Spinach. Fine-ground almonds. A drizzle of bechamel. White pepper. Nutmeg. 

Hot, flaky, layer-y goodness. Like my dad says, "I love anything hot in a pocket. ...Except Hot Pockets."

These would not be Hot Pockets.