groove food

thanking the fish we eat

if i thank the fish i eat,

my spirit, as well as my body,

will be nourished.

(charles & bettie chu, 1989)

there are benefits to being a morning person. for one thing, the sky turns a special intensity of blue reserved only for us early risers. then there are the quiet things you happen on when no one else is looking. sometimes these things change you forever. even as a groggy, sleep-deprived undergraduate, something within would jolt me awake no later than 7 a.m.. for as long as i can remember, i took walks in the morning. it was a way to pass time until the rest of the human world rose and joined me. on one walk across my college campus, i noticed the small figure of a man several yards ahead, caressing the katsura tree i had admired mostly for its remarkable name. as i drew closer, i heard his voice. he was confiding in the tree.

because he spoke in chinese, i had no idea what was being uttered. but the companionship between the man and the tree was unmistakable, even in the invisible halo i crossed into. when he noticed me, he grabbed my hand and looked at me with eyes full of water and light. they were jolly. "we are friends!" he said. to this day, i don't know if he was referring to me or the tree.

but we did become friends, this old man and i. i learned his name was charles chu, a poetic name  i enjoyed even more than katsura. he was professor emeritus at the college, founder of its chinese program, and also a renowned chinese brushwork artist. we continued to stumble upon each other on morning walks, and in my senior year i wrote a poem for him about daffodils we had gazed at together. my gesture inspired a flood of letters and paintings exchanged after i graduated and moved back to california. charles passed away on october 30, 2008.

one of his letters was enclosed in a notecard with a painting of a lone fisherman (another morning person?). its inscription was the work of charles and his wife, bettie. i repeat it here, as i did above, because it is lovely each time: if i thank the fish that i eat, my spirit, as well as my body, will be nourished.

gratitude is a feeling, yes. i would go so far as to say it is a sensation i value above all others. in charles i learned gratitude is an action. he expressed gratitude through loving, patient care. or maybe he dynamically cared for something and this cultivated gratitude. i will never know, but i'm certain he meant to keep me wondering.

happy thanksgiving.

care for each other.

 

improv squash soup

dear reader, i have missed you. you’ve been so patient as this little cyber nook abruptly went grooveless. i had to disappear, marinate, consume matunuk bivalves in quantity. i come to you replenished yet hungry, knives sharpened and hair pulled back. but most of all, i come to redeem myself. i hope you agree that soup is the most acceptable mea culpa for falling off the face of the earth and i trust you’ve been unable to resist a curvaceous butternut or quirky kabocha required for the full realization of my apology. if you’ve wondered how to best honor the alluringly sweet, orange flesh of fall, might i suggest a little pantry playfulness, a favorite soup pot, a handful of friends, and enough oversize spoons for your crowd.

improv squash soup

(serves 6)

aromatics (select 2 – 3 different aromatics. you will need a total of 3 cups)

yellow or sweet onion, medium diced

leeks, sliced in ¼-inch half moons

shallots, finely diced

celery, medium diced

carrots, peeled and medium diced

garlic, minced (use up to 2 teaspoons)


essentials

3 tablespoons olive oil

8 cups winter squash, peeled and cut into 1 – 2 inch chunks (from about 4 pounds butternut squash, kabocha squash, acorn squash, delicata squash, red kuri, pumpkin or a combination)

4 - 6 cups chicken or vegetable stock (start with 4 cups. ad additional stock at the end for a thinner consistency)

kosher salt and freshly ground pepper

flavor boosts (select 1 – 3 of the following)

2 cups apple or pear, peeled, cored and cut into 1 – 2 inch chunks

1 cup apple or pear cider

1 tablespoon curry powder, ground coriander, or garam masala

1 tablespoon fresh ginger, minced

1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves, sage, or rosemary

¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg, cloves, or cinnamon

finishing touches (select 1 - 3 from the following)

½ cup – 1 cup half & half, heavy cream, or coconut milk

vanilla bean seeds from one pod of vanilla

1 tablespoon honey

1 tablespoon maple syrup

2 teaspoons orange or tangerine zest

chopped fresh herbs, crumbled bacon, crème fraiche, homemade croutons, or toasted nuts for garnish

place a large pot or dutch oven on the stove over medium-high heat. add the olive oil. once the oil is shimmering, add your selection of aromatics. turn the heat down to medium. cook, stirring frequently, until the aromatics have softened, about 7-10 minutes. if using curry powder, herbs, ginger, or spices, add them to the aromatics and cook for an additional 1 - 3 minutes. season with salt and pepper.

add your selection of squash and any apples or pears if you are using them. add any apple or pear cider if you are using. pour in enough chicken or vegetable stock to just barely cover the squash. bring to a boil and then reduce to a gentle simmer. cook for 30-40 minutes, until the squash is quite tender. add any of the "finishing touches" (with the exception of garnishes) to the pot.

using a stand blender (or an immersion blender), puree the soup in batches. for extra silky soup, press the soup through a fine mesh sieve. return the pureed soup to the pot and place back over low heat to re-warm. if the soup is too thin, bring it back to a boil and cook until it thickens to your taste. if the soup is too thick, thin it with additional stock, cider, or cream/coconut milk.

serve the soup warm with any garnishes you enjoy. it will keep in the fridge for up to five days.

notes

* you are not limited to the add-ins mentioned in this recipe. there are countless other delicious additions--try parsnips, turnips, celery root, sunchokes, or savoy cabbage. you could also experiment with adding a bit of pear brandy or sherry.

* some popular combinations:

- butternut squash, leeks, pear, pear cider, vanilla bean, 1/2 & 1/2 (a riff on a recipe by molly        wizenberg)

-any squash, onions, apples, apple cider, curry powder

-any combination of squash, carrot, ginger, coconut milk

seeing squash

cooking is a good method for providing dinner. it also forces us to pay close attention when we otherwise wouldn't. the act of cooking can be a form of spiritual counsel, if you will. i often look at all of the shapes and experiences of life through a window. without even knowing it, the window gets sullied by quiet dust storms of reaction and fear. then there are the repeated smudges of my fingers--i have looked out this window before. i tell myself it's all the same out there. life becomes a picture visible only through my pane of glass, which is to say, visible only in haze.

i tell you all this to set the stage for a particular armful of squash. motionless and robust, they sat on the kitchen table for a few weeks as an adornment for fall. i paid them no mind.  i'd like to say one day the sun shone through the house and haloed them, flaring my heart up into the recognition of beauty. but the truth is, i was exceptionally restless, and i sat in front of those squash and begged them to inspire me. then i carried them over to the butcher block and began making soup.

sometimes my window gets blasted open by the unexpected arrival of the exquisite--a sunrise that saturates an entire city fingertip pink. sometimes there is necessary labor, a willingness to pick up the rag, work at the layers and ease rust out of the crank until i can pry the window open and see. sometimes there is chopping to be done. and squash to be begged and soup to be tasted. sometimes i have to agree to let the contents of my life work their ordinary magic.

notes

* to those that have expressed missing the daily posts, thanks for the patience as i've replenished. and being good reason to start typing again.

* in the spirit of this post, improv squash soup tomorrow.

homemade horchata

take a sip of this and try not to smile. what is so happiness-inducing about horchata? this agua fresca both comforts without being warm or dotted with marshmallows, and refreshes without bubbles or citrus. the anomaly is compounded when you try to put your finger on its flavors. there is cinnamon and vanilla, yes, but there is something else. it tastes like steamy, warm summer sunshine that goes down the gullet cold.  i didn't realize this other flavor was rice until i started investigating horchata recipes, convinced it might taste just as good in a tall glass on my patio as it does in a styrofoam cup at rico's taco shop. i found a winner. this simple drink can be made for any time, but is especially good alongside spicy foods. cool, milky, nuanced with cinnamon, it is the best answer to salsa picante since cerveza.

homemade horchata

(6 servings)

5 cups water

1 1/2 cups uncooked long grain rice

2 cinnamon sticks

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 cup whole milk or rice milk

1/3  - 1/2 cup sugar or honey, according to your taste for sweetness

place the rice, cinnamon sticks, and 2 cups of water in a blender. start on low speed and begin to break up the rice and cinnamon. increase the speed until the contents are well macerated. pour in the remaining water, milk, vanilla, and sugar or honey and blend briefly to combine. pour the entire contents in a pitcher and place in the fridge to steep overnight.

when ready to serve, pour the horchata through a fine sieve to remove the rice and cinnamon. taste and correct according to your preference, with more sugar, ground cinnamon or vanilla. serve chilled, over ice.

notes

* make sure to give your horchata a stir before serving as a lot of the cinnamon and starch settles at the bottom

* if you have access to mexican cinnamon and vanilla, this is the place to use them

* i have not yet tried this in popsicle form but it sounds promising

staying cool strategy

summer has been a bit of a scatterbrain this year. now that it is november the sunshine season finally realized it missed san diego on its bikini-bearing circuit. summer, unwilling to let go of its own mistake, slumped itself upon us thursday in what was reported as the hottest november day in america's finest city in 138 years. summer likes to make up for lost time. as with most of the good, the bad, and the ugly situations in life, i took this as direct orders to eat ice cream.

dear reader, if this finds you armouring yourself with your warmest hoodie, eking out one last morning moment in front of a space heater before facing what november weather is really all about, i am sorry to taunt you with this ice cream and bikini mischief. but writing is a truth-telling process. it is hot here. and i like it.

for one thing, there is the way the heat opens up a grove of eucalyptus trees, forcing me inhale so fully, i become one of them. then, a pervasive, steady sunlight on a white stuccoed bungalow, toasts the red tiles of the roof. a shock of bougainvillea interjects the scene, nodding its fuchsia neck up and down in slow motion, not with a breeze, but with the earth. i am reminded of why spanish architecture is the sexiest. just when it lures you into its arched entry like a plunging neckline, turns up the heat by tucking a hibiscus behind its ear, you feel the floor beneath you, shadowy and cool. every type of hot needs an appropriate cooling down strategy.

it just so happens mine is rose flavored ice cream. if it works on tehran's stifling humidity, it is good enough for me. when it comes to mitigating heat by way of the tongue, i turn to the world's experts. mexico has aguas frescas, blended beverages in flavors like watermelon or horchata, which is made with rice and cinnamon. i'll share a recipe for a homemade version tomorrow. chili peppers were originally cultivated in the americas, so it is fitting that mexico is the birthplace of getting even hotter in order to cool down. a paleta vero, essentially a lollipop coated in an array of hot chili powders, is potent example of this. cubans have the mojito. my version is ginger syrup with muddled mint and serranos, covered in sparkling water. this a good course of action for when the day calls for a mojito but you don't want to spend most of it slumped on the table for an extended siesta.

wherever this finds you, i hope your hot has a decent cooling down strategy, or your cold provides interesting and edible options for getting warm. i'll leave you with this song that, no matter what the weather, will trigger your smile reflex:

notes

* mashti malone's ice creams are made in hollywood, california. i purchase mine at north park produce in poway, california. access mashti here.

 

butterscotch pecan cookies

you are not reserved to pie this month. pumpkins, for instance, can be consumed as pancakes, muffins, and lattes. if a heavy slice of pecan pie with a week's intake of sugar sounds unappealing, i am happy to report you can have it in five-bite, relatively guilt-free cookie form. meet the butterscotch cookie. thin, lacy-edged, textured with pecans, scented of warm sugar, it is a recipe that has traveled through time. orginally served at an old soda fountain called schrafft's in manhattan, the recipe disappeared for several years until james beard and judith jones tracked it down. it is simple, though sophisticated, and complexly flavored for so few ingredients. if months had cookies like states had birds and slogans, these would be november's.

butterscotch pecan cookies

(makes about 30 cookies)

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

14 tablespoons (1 3/4 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 1/4 cups dark brown sugar (i prefer to use organic, which is even darker than conventional varieties)

1 egg, at room temperature

2 tablespoons nonfat dry milk

1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract

1 cup finely chopped pecans

preheat the oven to 375. line two cookie sheets with parchment paper or a silpat baking mat. alternatively, you can grease your cookie sheets.

whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt in a medium bowl.

in the bowl of a stand mixer (or, alternatively, in a bowl using a handheld mixer), cream together the butter and the brown sugar on medium speed for approximately 4 minutes, until lightened in color and fluffy. add the egg and beat to combine, followed by the nonfat dry milk and the vanilla, mixing until just combined.

add the flour mixture in two additions, mixing on low until just combined. using a spoon, fold in the pecans. form cookies into rounded, heaping tablespoonfuls (you will be able to fit about 9 per sheet, unless your cookie sheets are massive). using damp fingers, gently press down each round into 2 - 3 inch discs. bake for 8-10 minutes, until lightly browned. let cool on the cookie sheet for a minute or two before removing the cookies to a rack to cool. repeat until you have a pile of golden butterscotch cookies.

notes

* i originally found this recipe by way of molly wizenberg, who found it in the tenth muse by judith jones, who got it from james beard after he called the former owner of schrafft's when the parlor had closed.

* nonfat dry milk can be found in the baking aisle in most cases.

waiting for butterscotch cookies?

ten bites: francisco arechiga

"24 Hours in the Lair of Insanity." A title burned into my memory. It was a piece written for my high school newspaper, chronicling Cisco's attempt at spending 24 hours confined to our local Denny's. Both a brazen exposé (simultaneous celebration) of Mozzarella Sticks and dramatic portrayal of the cast of characters that staffed the Denny's on Encinitas Boulevard, it captivated me as much then as it does today. Whenever I need a jolt of life's vibrant, tastable, strange beauty, I dig through old issues of "The Mustang" (the aforementioned periodical) and read Cisco's work. Or, I'll spend some time with his photographs: goosebump-inducing, expansive environments, or quietly stunning renditions his fiancee, Pan. Better yet, I will climb to the top of a hill and drink air with him.

Flavor?

"Dirt" like its been dragged through the sieve of the earth. Right now I am munching on fistfuls of rinsed kale. I like tastes that don't register on the descriptive palette for food, I think of flavors like angular, jagged, porous and oxidized.

Food Destination?

K.L. 24 jam. Street food in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. 24 jam, means 24 hour. I love wading out into the humidity; lush fragrant chaos spilling over the cityscape. It's got this really cool tropico-future vibe. I love the people, Malaysians are so cosmopolitan, so cool, their posture 100% slack. The food is bright and spicy and not too complicated. They've got some serious cuisine out there; but I just like the plastic stools and plastic bags of soy milk. Reminds me of being a kid before the burden of self-awareness.

Beverage of choice?

Sparkling water. This is my most cherished consumable. I love it more than any food. It's like a crisp cool crystalline fire.

Food memory?

There used to be this Thai stall in one of the late-hour food courts in Berkeley, the guy claimed they had a "1 - 20" spicy scale. Being no stranger to spice and that being clearly ridiculous, I asked for 17. After a moment sizing me up, the guy said, "you get 8!" After several visits, building up report, I finally said, "come on give me 13," to which he just handed me a toothpick and said "eat this." My sinuses instantaneously erupted, body debilitated into a cold sweat, tongue searing helplessly like ceviche. That man had a pretty good sense of humor.

Most intriguing item of produce?

Radishes…rubies of the earth.

Cookbook?

Reading groovefood is as ambitious as I get. About 8 years ago I suppose I got philosophical about this idea of "intuitive" mixing etc. but that wore off. Now I primarily eat yogurt, sugar-free protein bars and Wasa crackers.

Guilty pleasure?

Sashimi. After 15 years of vegetarianism, I am never 100% comfortable eating meat; but sometimes when a certain tension of dolefulness and masculinity arises, I might slip into a sushi restaurant and eat some really buttery flesh. Chewing through sinews makes me think about the neolithic; its a specific kind of pleasure.

Food scene in a film?

Just got a visual flood from Tampopo. I wasn't able to identify a "scene" amidst the montage of gorging and sensuality, although I think the "sashimi" reminded of Japan and the carnal. 

Strangest thing you've ever eaten?

Fire Ant pâté. Actually not the strangest, but just sounds the fanciest. It was rather pleasant. My fiancee, (very Buddhist) jokingly threatened not to marry me if I ate it. It was strange too, because I particularly like ants. It was almost like eating a totem. As they were crunching around in my mouth, I thought of this passage from the intro to "Thousand Plateaus" were the authors describes the holographic experience of the text as passages and concepts migrating between different sections like the movements of ants.

Dessert?

Not really. Even fruit seems too "syrupy" for me these days. Touché to Ryan Shrock on figs….oh my.

Notes

* The photo of Cisco was taken on a cell phone at a food stall in Kunming. He confesses that he is taking a bite of dog meat and it is a scar on his hopefully compassionate soul.

* The image that follows is Cisco's self-portrait, offered in humor. He reports: "True to my lack of interest in food, I never was able to resolve my mouth in drawings; always a huge fan of the Freudian unconscious."

a salad formula

as many of us awake like zombies from halloween sugar comas, i thought i'd turn your mind as quickly as possible to something other than those lingering reeses peanut butter cups in the plastic jack-o-lantern by the door. i thought i would give you something fresh and lively that gives reason to dish the good & plenty a good ole "talk to the hand." i thought i would inspire you with a simple formula for making intriguing salads, then provide you the recipe for one that rescued me from eating chocolate pudding covered in oreos and gummy worms last night.

if you are leery of experimenting in the kitchen, start with salad. there is a relatively small margin of error, so long as you nail a few basic things: use the freshest ingredients you have available, learn to taste your dressings for balance, don't overdress a salad, and sprinkle a little sea salt before serving--it transforms everything. once you have the essentials covered, play. i like simple salads, but i also can't resist one with multiple flavors and textures. while i'd like to say creating such salads is an artform, i believe it comes down to a simple formula. i am no mathematician, so bear with me as i show how this formula works with a classic caesar salad:

1 - 2 parts creamy (egg yolk, parmesan)

1 - 2 parts crunchy (croutons)

1 - 2 parts sweet (romaine)

1 - 2 parts tart, tangy, or spicy (dijon mustard)

1 - 2 parts bitter or acidic (lemon juice)

i think i have this formula encoded in my subconscious. i'll develop a salad while strolling the aisles of the farmers market, only to assemble it later and discover all the flavor and texture bases are covered. i wanted something colorful for a halloween spread, and loaded with the bounty of fall. here is how it played out:

1 - 2 parts creamy (ricotta salata, avocado)

1 - 2 parts crunchy (roasted pistachios)

1 - 2 parts sweet (persimmon)

1 - 2 parts tart, tangy, or spicy (pomegranate)

1 - 2 parts bitter or acidic (orange juice, vinegar)

here is the resulting salad, perched atop my grandfather's copy of hemingway's a moveable feast, a book laden with colors, textures, mystery, flavor, and life:

avocado, persimmon, and pomegranate salad

serves 6

1 tablespoon finely minced shallot

1 tablespoon pomegranate vinegar (or apple cider vinegar)

1 tablespoon pomegranate molasses (or honey)

1 teaspoon orange zest

2 tablespoons orange juice

1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil

6 - 8 ounces mixed salad greens

1 avocado, peeled, pitted and cut into 1/2 inch slivers

1 cup pomegranate arils

2 persimmons, sliced into 1/4 inch half moons

3/4 cup roasted, salted, shelled pistachios

1/2 cup torn mint leaves

4 ounces ricotta salata, shaved with a vegetable peeler

sea salt + black pepper

place the shallot in a medium bowl and cover with the pomegranate molasses, vinegar, orange juice, and orange zest. leave it on the counter for 15 minutes to macerate. slowly drizzle in the olive oil, while whisking. taste for balance, adjust the oil and vinegar if needed, and season with salt and pepper.

pull out your favorite salad bowl. fill it with the greens, then layers of avocado, persimmon, pomegranate, pistachios, and mint leaves. shave half of the ricotta salata over the top. dress the salad with half of the dressing, then toss to combine. add the remaining ricotta salata. use more dressing if necessary. sprinkle with sea salt and freshly ground pepper. serve immediately.

notes

* if you don't want to go to the trouble of making such a multi-ingredient salad dressing, a simple lemon juice and good quality olive oil would suffice beautifully for this salad.

* pomegranate molasses is a syrupy reduction of pomegranate juice that is a staple of middle eastern cooking. it is available at most specialty or gourmet groceries, or you can try making your own with alton brown's recipe.

we hope you had a wonderful halloween. sugar hangovers be damned. happy turkey month.