Ceviche and Artichoke Heart Salad

Remember when I said I was fresh out of ideas of what to do this week? Well, duh. Spring vegetables are hitting all of the produce stands and there are plump artichokes, gigantic fennel, crisp and green asparagus and a host of other tasty tidbits just waiting for me to put my knife to them.

And so I did.

I bought some fennel with fronds, which I ultimately tossed anyway. Man, those fronds are GOOD with ground lamb in boiled dumplings, Mongolian-style. Too bad I didn't have any ground lamb or else I would have rolled some dough and made some dumplings. Oh well, next time. It was my poor planning, really.

I also grabbed a few artichokes that looked pretty good.

Anyway, there were a couple of recipes I wanted to test out. I wanted to make a semi-labor-intensive meal, and with artichokes, I knew prepping the items would have been half of the hard work. So, to balance it out (because you know it's ALL about balance), I put together a simple ceviche of scallops, grapefruit, avocado (in season and oh-so-buttery), parsley and lemon juice. I didn't want to use limes right now because I've recently been hit with dry, juiceless specimens from Whole Foods, and it just gets me upset. So, I tossed the ceviche with some salt, pepper, lemon juice and a tiny bit of sugar. So simple, yet so very tasty. Nijiya Market had some plump scallops that was perfect to slice thinly and marinade for one person.

My secondi consisted of a simple recipe I found from Alice Waters' repertoire, which listed thinly shaved fennel, artichoke hearts, parmesan and parsley with lots of lemon juice, extra virgin olive oil and white truffle oil (which I still have in my cupboard, I swear that tiny bottle will last for a millenium). I trimmed the artichokes, peeling off the outer leaves and snapping off the sharp tips with a pair of kitchen shears. Then I rubbed each artichoke with a lemon half to prevent them from browning prior to cooking. Amazing--all of the uses of lemon and vinegar!

I sharpened my Wusthof with a new whetstone from Soko Hardware Store, and went to town THINLY slicing the fennel. Then I plated the fennel as a base layer, squeezed lemon juice and ground some pepper and salt, and drizzled extra virgin olive oil over it. When the artichokes were done, I carefully lifted them out of the pot with a pair of tongs and slowly pulled apart the leaves, careful to keep the heart intact and saving the leaves for a light snack tomorrow with some melted, clarified butter.

I sliced the artichoke hearts thin as well after spooning out the hairy chokes, and set them as a second layer atop the fennel. Then, some more lemon juice, salt and pepper and the olive oil. Lastly, I sprinkled some shredded parmesan and about a quarter cup of parsley, and sprayed a couple of pumps of fine balsamic vinegar with the rest of the olive oil and white truffle oil over the dish.

Needless to say, it tasted like Spring.

Gypsy Life

When meeting new people, I am inevitably asked the same things over and over again:

"Where did you grow up?"
"What nationality are you?"
"Where's your hometown?"

Simple questions, right? Well, not really. In my case, it's like reiterating A Tale of Two Cities, only more boring. So, I usually provide the abridged version: "around."

If the person I'm speaking to seems like s/he wants to hear more, I usually launch into it. If not, I hijack the conversation and steer it towards something more interesting like underarm odor or ask them about food (because everyone has an opinion about food. if they don't, then it's time for me to exit off stage left).

I know I've tackled this topic before, and even have probably come to some steady conclusions as to what to do in my current predicament-I'm stuck in one place, a slave to the devalued dollar I earn. Yet...I ask MYSELF these questions over and over again:

"Will I really ever be happy in one place?"
"Will I ever find someone who understands? Who would want to live this type of lifestyle if I choose to go the route of wanderer?"
"Can I ever feel satiated in one place?"

Ahh, the difficult answers that require more than one sentence.

Simple Pickle Meal (Japanese-style)

I am fresh out of ideas for the menu this week.

However, I'm enjoying a lovely Asian-themed dinner tonight of sweet and sour pickled leeks, braised young bamboo with shitake mushrooms, spicy pickled okra, pickled daikon radish with shaved bonito flakes and steamed organic brown rice with an Asian ragu (comprised of soybeans, braised tofu, fresh corn, carrots and pork).

I'm taking a lot of pleasure in taking tiny bites off of the umeboshi plum.

Poached Asian Pears (Chinese-style)

OK, is it sad I just had to look up the spelling for "expectorant"?

Anyhow, I was having a conversation with my mother on the topic of Chinese medicine today over brunch, and since she is infinitely more knowledgeable of medicinal qualities in various foods, AND I was making all of the other diners extremely uncomfortable with my wet hacking cough, I asked her about some Chinese remedies.

Here's a short list I compiled off of the top of my head from our conversation:

Daikon radish - brings phlegm up and out
Jellyfish - disintegrates mucus, or rather, thins it out
Asian pears - aides in reducing cough
Rock sugar - soothes the throat
Loquats - helps with reducing cough, and soothes throat irritations (there's an herbal cough syrup that's been around for years called "pi pa gao", it looks like black tar, but actually tastes like a minty molasses, I used to try to trick my mother to feed me the stuff even when I wasn't sick--operative word here being "try")

So, I'm poaching an Asian pear tonight with some rock sugar for dessert. Apparently, that should help with the cough and is a natural expectorant, but I am slowly coming to the conclusion that I may need to see a doctor to get rid of the infection. I certainly don't want this to develop into walking pneumonia or bronchitis.

Fortunate

I got this fortune in my cookie today.

Most Important Sense

The flu I have is driving me insane. Beyond the congestion, hoarse and man-ish voice, and gobs of snot/phlegm/viscous fluids coming out of my orifices, I'm left without any taste.

Everything these past couple of days have tasted mildly salty, a little sweet, nothing ever bitter, and nothing really all that spicy or sour. I don't think I can keep living like this. One of my few pleasures in life is to be able to distinguish whether something is fresh or contains too much spice or is underseasoned.

Needless to say, I can not detect umami either. Shit.

Take away my sense of sight, I can deal with it. Beauty is still determinable via the other senses, and in relation to humans, perhaps it would be even better that I NOT rely on sight as it usually deters me from really truly knowing people whom I'd otherwise just write off.

Take away my ability to hear, and I can still FEEL music through percussion and rhythm. Vibrato channeled through the body can be an incredible experience. Nuances would be lost, yes. Melodies would not be detected, but I'd live a decent life, nonetheless.

Without touch or feeling would be pretty upsetting, but there would be the other sense again to remind me that there is life beyond feeling burned, a soft cashmere sweater, petting a long-haired cat or holding a lover's hand. It would OK.

However, taste is something I just can not live without. To have to put food into my body for nourishment only would be like a slow and tortuous death sentence. Fresh live uni, slow braised pot roast, 2005 chianti, perfectly steamed xiao long baos with scalding hot soup in each perfect little dumpling and fresh ginger with black vinegar...I CAN'T CONTINUE THIS LIST RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I'M GETTING DEPRESSED.

I hope I get my taste back soon.

On Days Like These

Oh boy, I'm sick as a dog today. I felt the small tickle of a sore throat this past weekend, which turned into a hacking cough yesterday, and now the transformation is complete to the nasty flu.

Fever, upper respiratory infection and everything that the good flu can bring, I have it. I took the day off from work, decided to sleep in a little, and when the Episcopalian church bells on Gough Street rang Noon, I laid there and contemplated my day. As I peeled myself out of bed an hour later, after drifting in and out of restless sleep that only having slept 10 hours prior can do to someone sick, I made some coffee, took a shower and decided to take a stroll.

Planning a menu for the week when I am not feeling well is never fun. First, nothing sounds appetizing. After checking through my cookbooks and reading through some food blogs, I wasn't enthused at all about cooking. Second, I can barely taste anything. So, that eliminates a lot of milder tasting, simpler dishes I like to do when I'm feeling weak.

My mind wandered to all of the times my parents told me what I should be eating when I was sick. Dad told me raw garlic helps cut the germs, Ma told me stock made from pork and chicken bones was always good to boost the immune system. There are tons of other Chinese herbs, roots and spices that I could have used, but that would have meant hauling my ass down to Chinatown and in my weakened state, proved to be a rather undesirable option. I wouldn't have wanted to go into a hacking fit on the downtown bus or try to speak Mandarin with a stuffy nose and raspy, gutteral voice. And with the way some of the older shopkeepers are, I'm sure there would have been more than one who, at the sound of my voice, succinctly kicked to me out of their establishment for fear of the plague or SARS or Ebola. Who knows. Propriety, in Chinese culture, kind of goes out the door when it comes to ill health.

First, I went to Swan's Oyster Depot for some brothy clam chowder, which was good. I probably shouldn't have ordered half a dozen raw oysters, but dammit, I wanted some, even if I felt like a walking biohazard. I got more than one inquisitive look from the guys behind the counter, but I thought to myself, "Screw it, I feel miserable and I'm taking myself out for some decent chow."

I've been thinking a lot of vegetarianism again lately. After a couple of years of eating a vegan/macrobiotic diet, and even a longer time of being a seafood-friendly herbivore, I've been wanting to feel the clean energy and vibrancy that only a fruit, vegetable and whole grain diet can provide. I also visited my friend Katie this weekend, whose entire family, including a four-year old daughter, are ovo-vegetarians.

Mind you, I don't think I can ever live without meat again, but I do think I need to stop cooking it at home for myself so frequently. From all of the tales my mother told me of her childhood and how special it was to kill a chicken for a birthday or how Gong-Gong would buy a slaughtered pig and the cook and Po-Po would make the most incredible food, and it was SPECIAL. There was a connection to the food, the land and much appreciation for it, which is completely lost in our present circumstances.

After a while, the raw garlic sounded good. The astringency would probably help with congestion in the throat and help with the soreness as well. I wanted something strong tasting, too. I remembered Pierre's recipe for baba ghanouj where there was raw garlic blended into the eggplant puree. Yes. Then, along with the Middle Eastern/Mediterranean theme, I thought of making tabouleh with curly-leafed parsley, high in vitamins K, C and A. Bulgar wheat (I always want to say vulgar and one of these days, I'm going to make a dumb mistake, just wait), a whole grain is easy to digest and easy to make as well.

It turned out pretty well, and although I still feel like someone is pinching my nose 24/7 and there's a phlegm factory in my lungs, I'm feeling quite happy with my dinner.

New Beans

I bought these scrumptious looking heirloom beans today at the Tamales by the Bay event at Fort Mason. My friend Adrian and I walked down there from my house and got lost on the way over, and discovered an incredible community garden, one of the biggest I've seen in San Francisco.

Like a little girl, I wanted to sneak inside the high wooden fence and look at the perennials, pick the vegetables and herbs that people in the neighborhood planted. Everything looked so alive and vibrant in the bright spring sunshine.

One word about Adrian. He's been an incredibly good friend since I've gotten to know him last year. In fact, his opinions are starting to carry more weight with me whether the subject is about food, relationships or whatever else. I really hope he and his girlfriend work out their long-distance relationship because I know he is trying really hard to make it all work. I feel bad sometimes because I know he gets really upset about the situation. I guess as a friend, all I can do is just lend an ear.

Anyway, we found the tamales event and there were all of these different types of sweet and savory tamales. Some were good and others, not so much. However, I dropped some dough for a very well prepared mole sauce and then these beautiful beans. I think I'll make them with some pork shoulder into a type of gourmet chili or even do a vegetarian chili with porcini or crimini mushrooms.

The sun was shining, and the wind blew to the east as we hiked back up the hill to our respective neighborhoods. This was a very well-spent Sunday, indeed.

YES!!!

Finally, I did the impossible. I cooked a multi-step boil/fry/braise Chinese sweet and sour spareribs dish, and it came out very, very, VERY good. The presentation was beautiful; glossy and the sauce was the right sticky consistency. I stir-fried some gai lan with Sichuan peppercorns, chili peppers and salt as an accompaniment and then steamed some brown, unhulled, short-grained rice.

For the longest time, I felt like I had a mental block with medium-difficult Chinese cooking. Ever since that fateful night where I invited this guy over for a simple cold slivered chicken noodle dish with sesame sauce, and the noodles turned out chewy, sticking together and the sauce was a muddled mess. I placed too much focus on entertaining my guest instead of paying attention to what I was doing in the kitchen. It shook me that I could do so horribly for someone else. It was almost inedible. i felt very much like a stage actor who forgets one of the most important lines of the play in front of a sold out audience. Yeah, it was that embarrassing.

Tonight, I turned the tide for myself. With that one dish, I gained a multitude of confidence back. Now I'm ready to serve others again, and know that I can do it well.

Bangladesh

My trip to visit my best friend in Dhaka and also to see people's exotic pets hanging out in the backyard.

London Calling

Oh, the good times in Ol' Blighty!

A Paris

On my way to Notre Dame. Paris is beautiful, cosmopolitan, chic, tasteful and moderne.

What's the Big Deal?

I've traveled a lot in my life. One of the most startling things that ever happened to me was when I visited Hong Kong once in my twenties and, as a whimsical joke, went to one of those old men sitting behind a make-shift, cardboard "desk" who read fortunes all day long for less than HK$5. As I sat there, completely cynical and full of youthful mockery, he began to tell me crazy stories of my family, things I had no knowledge of (until now), things only I experienced as a child, my personality, my passions. As each story unfolded, the wider my mouth dropped and the faster my heart beat.

"Your father, he gave this to you." (the old man waved his hand around the air, nonchalantly)
"No," I protested, smirk on my face. "I paid for this myself. I work and make money and..."
"No, you don't understand. You father, his life, the way he lived it, became yours. He...traveled much? He gave you many passports, and made you opportunities?" asked the old Cantonese fortune teller. (we lived like nomads, moving almost every 2-4 years when I was a child)
"Uh, yes, I guess," was all I could manage to say. I started thinking.
"You will not lead a life in tradition. You will see many things. You have already seen many things. Many good, some very bad. You have been in bad water with friends. You have been in bad air, ready to die," (I almost drowned in San Diego while trying to prevent my friend from drowning, and I almost died in a plane crash in China)
"Wait, how did you..."
"You will go many places. Many more. Most of them will not be easy, but you will find life happiness. You will be happy, and reincarnated to the next level," he concluded.

I hang on to this sentiment each and every day.

This Week

I've been eating out way too much recently. I miss sitting at home and enjoying the slow and languorous process of prepping, cooking and eating. So in anticipation of a quiet week of being at home in the evenings and starting my long-awaited project (*round of applause* / *pat myself vigorously on back*), I am going to pre-plan a week's worth of food.

Sweet potatoes and yams are delicious right now so I'm going to make a Moroccan specialty of roasted, cinnamon-infused sweet potatoes with raisins and serve it with a rabbit stew. This will be my first time with rabbit so I'm pretty excited to work with it. I liken it to guinea hen or some other small poultry so, hopefully, the cooking times will be comparable. Merlot? Rhone blend?

Another night will be dedicated to an Indian dish of green peas with mint with coconut and cilantro. I will pair it with a bibb lettuce salad, most likely an oeufs mayonnaise-type from the Julia Child pantheon of salads. I think the lightness of the salad will play off well with the more intense coconut and cilantro flavors. And of course, there will be a crusty french bread to soak up the dressing and extra sauce. This is the closest thing I will attempt with "fusion". I think a big chardonnay or even a dry riesling would fare well.

Lastly, I think I should attempt another Sichuan-themed dinner. Sweet and sour braised pork spareribs with a side of stir-fried water spinach with whole crushed garlic. Organic, unhulled, brown rice. Dessert: premium unfiltered sake.

Anyone want to come over for dinner this week? Otherwise, there will be LOTS of leftovers.