March 26, 2012
I love quiche. I adore it.
What else (besides perhaps mac & cheese) is as simultaneously sophisticated and homey as quiche? What else is as equally well-suited for entertaining as it is for leftover lunches and tired weeknight dinners, and as un-fussy as to be equally tasty eaten room-temperature as it is warm?
What’s not to love?
Quiche is quaint; irresistible (just look at its fat wedge shape!); customizable (leaving you freedom to play with whatever combination of vegetables, herbs and cheese sounds good to you — or whatever you have in the fridge); hearty (and still easily vegetarian, if you want it to be); and finally, er… elaborate. And excessively rich.
Hmm. There’s something not to love.
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June 25, 2011
Soul-searching is a funny thing. It is simultaneously thrilling and terrifying, exhausting and exhilarating: somehow managing to feel like flying and free-falling at the same time. It’s hard work. And yet, for as much energy as it must require to fuel a process with such fascinatingly contradictory results, I’ve not found that it builds up much of an appetite — at least not for food, anyway. An appetite for change; for knowledge; for new places, blue skies and greener pastures; yes. An appetite for lunch — not so much.
Lucky for you, I stopped soul-searching just long enough to come to a very important realization: something was missing in my life. Something very important, and (fittingly) green. Something I suspect you too may be missing, going about your life day in and day out without ever noticing its absence.
I mean vegetables, of course. But not just any old vegetables. I am talking about vegetables FOR BREAKFAST.
(I hope none of you is wondering right now whether vegetable cream-cheese counts.)
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December 7, 2010
That’s what I wanted for lunch today.
Perhaps it’s because I’ve been sick and my diet for the last four days has consisted primarily of oatmeal, yogurt, and more oatmeal. Perhaps it’s because I just discovered that a friend of mine who is addicted to fast-food burgers (seriously, the guy keeps McDonald’s in business) also happens to read my blog, and it got me wondering what he’d actually want to eat here, anyway. Or maybe I’ve just been thinking about my brother, a self-professed carnivore, a lot lately.
It could be that a post about lamb from this new blog I recently discovered quietly lodged itself in my subconscious, and decided today was the day to speak up…. Or weirdly enough, it may even have something to do with the fact that I’m reading (and loving) this book about witches and vampires in which the characters talk a lot about blood: the chemical make-up of it, the temperature of it, the color and texture of it, even the sound of it (yes, apparently some blood does make a sound)… and of course, the taste of it.
(I know, I told you it was weird.)
Maybe I was just hungry.
For whatever reason, I quickly realized the quiet, economical, sensible little lunch I had planned for today (primarily consisting of greens and an egg — big shocker, I know) was not going to cut it. I needed meat. Red meat. Stat.
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June 29, 2010
Lately I’ve been on a mission to buy and eat primarily whatever is in season at the markets. I thought it would be a fun way to try new things, expand my food vocabulary. But as it turns out, eating in season has proven to be not as challenging nor as adventurous as I’d originally anticipated. And I like a challenge.
I needed to raise the stakes.
I decided that I would start buying unfamiliar, possibly even unidentifiable things: things I don’t know how to cook or — even better — things I suspected I may not really like. I figured if I bought it and brought it home, my sense of responsibility for it (combined with my strong desire to avoid waste at all costs) would result in culinary ingenuity. After all, necessity is the mother of invention, right?
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June 10, 2010
This past weekend was lovely.
It was lively and relaxing, full of trips uptown to see old friends, trips downtown to see new friends, and trips to the farmer’s market, and perfectly balanced out with some quality time in my kitchen and quiet time on my couch. It was wonderful — except that it was beastly hot, and the thought of turning on the oven to make this olive oil cake I was hoping to bake Saturday afternoon for my friend’s birthday party was totally out of the question.
More to the point, it was time for lunch, and I was hungry.
I desperately wanted tabbouleh, but even the thought of boiling water to cook up some grains was enough to make me wilt. I needed something cold, something crisp and refreshing, and I needed it STAT.
Then, out of the blue, I remembered this carrot salad with harissa, feta and mint that I had salivated over stumbled upon earlier in the week while perusing one of my favorite blogs. It promised to be everything I wanted: crisp and refreshing; light yet satisfying; minty and herbal; sweet and salty. All of that, plus a little kick of citrus? I was sold. Once I got this recipe into my head, wild horses couldn’t stop me from making it.
And if wild horses couldn’t, then I certainly wasn’t going to let the fact that I didn’t have any mint on hand get in the way. Or any harissa. Hmm. Or caraway seeds.
Okay, so it looked like I was going to be winging it.
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