blood orange salad

I have often heard that food is tied to memory. The New York Times article reflecting on this connection muses, "In many ways, a great dish is like a great memoir: in both, the salty, the bitter, the sweet and the tart must be in perfect balance to succeed." For many of us, the taste, smell, and sight of a meal can recall a memory, transporting us through time and space to a connected experience that nestled itself in our consciousness. So often, food spurs the affect of safety; this is why we are drawn to what we call "comfort foods."

I think the "comfort" that comes from enjoying these foods does not come exclusively from the pleasure we experience by tasting fat, sugar, or salt, but also because we have a sense of connectedness to something. We are reminded, through visceral experience, of a time when we were content.

I am lucky to have many of these memories. I remember making flour tortillas with my Abuelita early in the morning while the rest of the family was asleep, her skilled hands transforming soft dough into pillowy tortillas. I love my Gramma's decadent mac and cheese, and our wonderfully elaborate and beautiful Christmas dinners in Boston. I used to request my mom's savory chicken simmering in tomato sauce with olives and carrots. The first time I really experimented with cooking, I doctored Hunt's plain tomato sauce with liberal amounts of black pepper poured over spaghetti- my brother used to request "my special spaghetti sauce".

In college, I refined my cooking skills. I hosted my first dinner party, and prepared Margherita paninis for my roommates and our dates before a sorority formal dance. I lovingly rubbed garlic on the hot toasted bread, tearing bits of floral basil to melt between fresh mozzarella and razor-thin slices of tomato.That meal wasn't just the result of an equation of studied recipes, fresh ingredients, and food chemistry. To prepare that meal, I gave a part of myself. Somehow, with the love I put into my cooking, the result is usually much greater than the sum of the parts. This love is where the meaning comes from; this is where the memories are.

Last week, I bought some blood oranges on a whim. I am not a fruit bat like my roommates, but I knew I wanted to make something special with this orange. I settled on making a blood orange salad, drawing inspiration from this recipe from Joy the Baker. This is a simple salad, but I hesitated when I began to prepare the orange. I wanted to recreate the gorgeous orange pinwheels from Joy the Baker, but was afraid to peel the orange with a knife. I was afraid I didn't have the skill to separate the peel without piercing the flesh of the orange.

As I held my paring knife against the orange peel, I remembered watching my Papa peel fruit. Hands steady, Papa worked his way around an apple or orange, taking away the bitter peels so we could enjoy the sweet fruit. I had never attempted this technique, but I imitated my Papa: start at the top, and move slowly around, separating the peel in a smooth, circular motion. Peeling that orange took me back to a place thousands of miles away, and many years ago, when my Papa would carefully take away the bitter, and keep the sweet. He still does, even if he isn't close enough to peel my oranges for me anymore.

Blood Orange Salad

1 blood orange
Handful of toasted walnuts
Sprinkle of feta cheese
Spring greens or spinach
Fruity olive oil
Fresh-cracked black pepper
Salt

Peel the orange over a bowl to catch any orange juice. Carefully slice into pinwheels. Whisk orange juice (squeeze a pinwheel into the bowl if you didn't spill any juice) with a fruity olive oil, salt, and pepper. Toss with feta, nuts, and greens.

pro tip: taste the rainbow

Have you ever heard that you taste first with your eyes? No matter what I cook, I always take care to focus on the aesthetic element. When you cook with a lot of vegetables, one advantage is that you have a diverse palate to draw from when cooking. Use a variety of colorful ingredients when cooking a stir fry, roasting vegetables, and like I made this weekend, cooking vegetable lasagna. A colorful dish has health benefits, and can make cooking more fun.

These vegetables went into my vegetable lasagna. I am admittedly a little irrationally carb-phobic (a product of growing up in an Atkins world), so for this lasagna, I used two layers of pasta, and one layer of Swiss chard. I also substituted smashed tofu for half of the ricotta. For the tofucotta, incorporate smashed tofu with half of the ricotta, and fresh cracked black pepper and salt. No one will notice the tofu, and it adds extra protein. To ratchet up the protein even more, I added TVP to the tomato sauce. Finally, I only put mozzarella on the top layer of lasagna, so it is front and center. Before you know it, you will be experiencing the Double Rainbow effect. 

Bubbly lasagna

introducing... magnificent millet!

For the last year, quinoa and kale have been the cool kids on the block- in my kitchen and on my favorite food blogs. For dinner last night I wanted to flip the script... so, here is the debut of lemon-scented millet and broccoli rabe! Millet is a source of magnesium, manganese, iron, and protein (Livestrong), and broccoli rabe is a lovely leafy green vegetable that sounds and looks pretty fancy. The flavor of broccoli rabe is like a melange of kale, broccoli, and asparagus. I like to think of broccoli rabe as the socialite Alva Vanderbilt of leafy greens- it's a little snobby, but it will surprise you by partying with humble grains like millet, or, you know, establishing the first suffrage settlement house (dark greens are amazing!). Don't get me started on the CZ Guest of leafy greens- arugula.

I cooked the millet in my rice cooker... it has been a miracle appliance for me (thanks, Amber). When I cook quinoa and wheat berries the rice cooker, I never burn it and it never overflows. Like my GPS 'Eglantine', the rice cooker knows best. The millet turned out perfectly fluffy,with a texture that I like better than rice.


So, remember this sauce? I drizzled it over the vegetables and millet, also used it as salad dressing the next day.

Pan-Seared Vegetables on Lemon-Scented Millet with Tahini Sauce

.5 c millet
1.5 c water
1 head of cauliflower broken into small florets
1 c chopped mushrooms
.5 bunch of broccoli rabe (about 5 stalks, trimmed like asparagus)
.5 sliced red onion
.5 sliced yellow bell pepper
1 crushed clove garlic
drizzle of olive oil
.5 a lemon
pinch of red pepper flake
salt

Tahini Sauce

Start the millet and water in a rice cooker or pot. Nestle a clove of crushed garlic in the millet and water. When finished, remove the clove, and fluff the millet with some grated lemon zest and salt. While this is cooking, get ready to sear the mushrooms.

Pause! This is important. :) Cook the mushrooms first. Starting with a drizzle of olive oil, give them plenty of room to brown in the pan. When they smell all mushroom-y (3-4 min on medium high heat), flip them, and let the other side brown. When both sides are brown, put them in the serving dish (or in my case, tupperware). Sprinkle them with salt, and let them chill. (I think mushrooms are magical little golden nuggets of flavor, but they are a little high maintenance if you want to make the most of them. It's worth it!)


Next, sear the rest of the vegetables with salt, red pepper flake, and a squeeze of lemon, and arrange over the fluffed  millet. Drizzle generously with tahini sauce, and commence feeling RICHER. I ate this meal while watching the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills Reunion, and I felt almost as sophisticated as my beloved Lisa Vanderpump.