so easy to slip

It's been a while since I've done this - since I've started crafting a blog post before the day I posted it. I started this as a way to escape my job, the worst job I've ever had, and Tuesdays were always the worst. (Tuesdays are often still the worst. I've never had much luck with Tuesdays.)

I started this as a way to chronicle being good to myself. It has since shifted purposes, a way for me to catalog the food I make and the people I make it with and for. Sometimes these are the same.



The thing is, it's hard. It's hard to be good to yourself, and so easy to slip. It's so easy for me to distance myself from what's happening, either by narrating in my head (writing without paper or a keyboard) or by putting the camera to my face (capturing in a different way). It's hard, sometimes, to just be. (A second after that photo, Johanna admonished me: can't you put the camera down, you jerk? Yes. Yes.)

It's about balance, just like everything else is. Andy - born exactly one week before me - and I have had many conversations about what it means to be a Libra, and it always comes back to balance. Keeping the scales in check.

--

I'm ridiculously lucky, you see. I have a fairly well-paying job, a tiny-but-cozy apartment, and some of the best people to call my friends. (Sometimes my brain counters all of this with anxiety attacks. It's been doing that a lot this past week.) These people gathered in that apartment for the fourth annual Friendsgiving, a tradition that Daniel, Johanna and I have carried with us from Greensboro.

Friendsgiving has always been a small(-ish) affair. Back in 2007, when we had the first one, there were only six of us. I don't remember the next one very well, though I'm sure we had one - I wasn't yet comfortable in DC, not entirely, and my photography had fallen by the wayside. It serves as a reminder of why I do this: I'm terrified of forgetting.

Anyway, this year there were five of us, two cooks (guess which two), two bottles of wine, a vegan pot pie, identity crisis potatoes, asparagus and peppers, and an apple pie. Everything was consumed. Seriously. The only leftovers we had were the vegetables we couldn't fit into the pot pie, and those were turned into a delicious stir-fry.



After the pie, the second pie, the boys went to retrieve a card game from down the street and while they did that, Johanna and I revisited our first Friendsgiving. Namely, we took a picture of ourselves on my couch, just like we did three years ago on her couch in Greensboro. Have I mentioned how lucky I am? I am so unbelievably lucky, for these people. I'm not trying to brag, it's just that sometimes I need to remind myself. It's been one of those weeks.

Anyway. I'm trying to focus on the good, and not the anxiety threatening to tip the scales.

Vegan Béchamel

Recipe - I'm pretty sure the only adapting we did was to use rice milk instead of oat milk. Oh, and we also left out the nutmeg.

And here's the recipe for the pot pie. If you need a reminder on how to make the crust vegan, check out the other recent pies. Otherwise, replace the Mornay sauce with the above béchamel, and you should be set!

new again

It's a funny thing, this blogging experiment. It's writing, for sure, but it's not really the kind of writing I've always wanted to do. I've never wanted to be a food writer, and honestly, I still don't want to be a food writer. My heart is with fiction.

I'm not giving this up, not quite yet, but I don't feel as compelled to write here every week. Especially not in summer, when most of the meals I eat don't require recipes.

But some of them do have recipes, even if they are simple ones, and this is what I bring you today. For the summer, Jo is working on some city farms, and so there was loads of fresh basil that needed to be used up. You may be able to guess where this is going.



There was something pleasant about chopping while Daniel pulled basil leaves, a kitchen camaraderie that has built up over time.—See, the problem I am facing with this blog is how to make all this new again - I have written many times about cooking with Daniel, about how food brings us all together, about how joyful it is to share a meal with friends.

Everything is changing this summer, though, and it's hard to write about it. It's a hard summer in many ways. Not even the kitchen, not even baking, can help. Like a snake, I am growing out of my old skin. It's a painful process sometimes.

Anyway, this is barely a recipe, but because we used the best ingredients, it was so delicious. I went back for seconds, which isn't something that usually happens.



The Best Pesto
adapted from Orangette

2 c. fresh basil
2 tbsp pine nuts, heaping (we probably used closer to 2 1/2 tbsp)
4 cloves garlic, peeled
1/2 c. olive oil
1/2 c. grated Parmesan

Here's how simple this is: you can chop the garlic if you like, and you should really use the good Parmesan and grate it yourself. But really, it's mostly important to make sure the basil and Parmesan are tightly packed cups. Then dump all the ingredients into a food processor (or blender, as we used here) and blend. I believe we used the "puree" setting. And voila, you've got pesto! Serve with pasta.

a stable foundation

Dear readers, it is time for me to admit what may have been obvious for some time: I am severely uninspired right now.

I'm not sure if it's that I've been doing this blog thing for over a year now, or that with the onset of summer I don't particularly want to turn my oven on, or maybe even the fact that this Thursday marks two years since I moved to DC. It's funny to think that two years have passed since I came here with only a duffel bag, relying on the generosity of friends. So much has changed since then.



Cooking is certainly one of those things, but luckily for me, my friends haven't really changed. The ways we interact with each other, sure; our relationships have not been static and continue to grow and change. It's just that underneath that we have a stable foundation. I know that I will be friends with these people for the rest of my life.

So when Daniel called me on a Friday night and said only, "Pot pie," I knew what to do. Well, okay, I knew what to do once we decided whose apartment to cook at (his, since he had all the veggies). It took us a while to actually get started, which meant we ate dinner around nine, but that sort of epitomizes summer, for me.



Here is another thing that hasn't changed in these two years in DC: I still get nervous when baking something new. Right up until we started eating, I was fretting that maybe the crust would be awful, or too buttery (I mean, there are two sticks of butter in that thing, which is kind of a lot), or just plain bad. It was not. It was pretty delicious, if I may say so myself. We even had it the next day for lunch.

Rustic Veggie Pot pie
adapted from Ruhlman's Ratio and a couple recipes from Joy of Cooking

for the dough
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 sticks butter
1/4 ice water (approx.)
pinch of salt

for the filling
(all of these should be about the same size)
1 medium-sized potato
carrots
broccoli
1 bag frozen peas
onion
garlic

for the sauce
2 tbsp butter
2 tbsp a-p flour
1 cup milk
1 cup grated cheese (we used cheddar)

Preheat the oven to 325°F.

To make the dough, mix in the butter with the flour in a medium-sized mixing bowl, rubbing it in with your fingers. If you carefully read directions, you would have cold butter cut into small pieces. If you are like me, however, you will make small pieces with your fingers while mixing it in. And the butter will not be as cold as you realize it should be. Even if you are like me, this pie dough will turn out fine. Trust me. You should have pea-sized balls of butter, much like making scones. Slowly add the ice water, just a bit at a time, working the dough just until it comes together. Add the salt and work just a little bit more. Separate the dough into two equal pieces and refrigerate.

Because we're making a potpie, you'll need to blind bake your crust. Take one of the dough balls out of the refrigerator and roll it out. Place the dough in your pie tin, then line with aluminum foil and something to weighted - we used another, smaller pie tin, but you could use pie weights (which are made for this) or dried beans. Bake the crust for about 20 minutes. If you time it right, the other parts of the equation should be ready to go as well.

We did a quick saute of the vegetables, throwing them in based on how long they need to cook. So, in this order: potatoes, broccoli, carrots, peas, onion, garlic. You'll need a pretty big pot (or wok, which is what we used) to contain all of these, or I suppose you could use a couple different ones. Whatever works for you!

For the Mornay sauce, you'll start by making a roux, which just means you will melt the butter in a saucepan, then add in the flour. Stir the roux until it has blended together - this shouldn't take too long. Remove from heat and add in the milk, slowly. Once you add the milk, bring the pan back to a simmer, stirring constantly to prevent lumps from forming. Turn the heat down and slowly add the cheese in, while still stirring. When the cheese has melted, remove from heat.

Roll out the second ball of dough; this will be the top crust. Pour the vegetables into the bottom crust first, then the cheese sauce, and finally top with the crust. Carefully trim the edges of the top crust and make some slits for steam to escape.

Bake for about 30 minutes. Let cool, and enjoy!

The Nectar of the Gods

Danielle is out of town today, and she's asked me to fill in for her. I plan to revolutionize this blog with my single post! Observe, as I capitalize the title of my post! Cower, as I...

Okay, all I can really think to revolutionize is the capitalization of titles thing. I guess Danielle's blog is already pretty rad.

I want to talk to you about a special passion of mine. I learned a very important lesson at a very young age, one that I still hold as sacred truth today: There is just no substitute for pure maple syrup. If you are still putting some kind of syrup on your pancakes/waffles/french toast/whatever that is not pure maple syrup, you are making a major breakfast error. This is not just an opinion. Pure maple syrup is less processed than most other syrups. It's less processed than most other sweeteners, even. It's also more delicious. Okay, that last part may just be an opinion.

While there is no substitute for pure maple syrup, pure maple syrup can be a fantastic substitute for all sorts of other sweeteners. It brings a unique flavor all its own to anything you might otherwise flavor with sugar, honey, or agave nectar. Try it in your tea. Use it in your granola recipe. Put it on Danielle's french fries recipe from last week! Admittedly, my passion for maple syrup might run a little higher than yours.

Here's a favorite of mine, enhanced by the subtle deliciousness of maple syrup:

Peanut Maple Dipping Sauce (Or stir fry sauce)

This is ridiculously easy. We're really just going to take all the ingredients and mix them until the result is spectacular. Taste as you go. Quantities are approximated, and individual tastes should be catered to in terms of the sweetness, spiciness, and garlickyness. All of these are real words.

Mix the following in a bowl:

4 heaping tbsp of peanut butter (Preferably fresh ground, chunky, and unsweetened. You can get this in plastic tubs at most health food stores.)

2 tbsp pure maple syrup (The word pure is very important. If it doesn't say pure, it's probably not as delicious.)

2 tbsp hot sauce (I use Sriracha, but anything similar should be fine. If you've got a favorite, give it a shot.)

2 tbsp soy sauce (I don't really need to add a note here, but I have for every other ingredient, and I didn't want soy sauce to feel left out. Oh, I've got one! You can read about how soy sauce adds umami to a dish on Alex's bog here!)

2 cloves of garlic (I always just mix fresh garlic right into the sauce. You could cook it some, but that would make it both less delicious and less good for you. Garlic is really a miracle food.)

Now there's really just one more step. Add vegetable stock if you have it, or a little water if you don't, until the consistency is a little thinner. You could add a little sesame oil or something similar, but I usually don't. You want the end result to look something like this:

Now you've got a variety of options! You can dip things in it; I recommend dumplings, kebabs, or anything that typically comes on a stick. You could also make a stir fry with it, which is what I did. I was pretty happy with how this batch turned out, though I probably would have gone spicier. My friends will tell you that this is unsurprising. Some might even express their opinion that I cannot taste the things I make because I make them way too spicy. They are wrong about that.

If you try my dipping sauce and think of any fantastic ways to improve it, please let me know! Recipes should always be viewed as a work in progress.