the chills

a new year, an emerging winter with those telltale harsh blue skies and cruel winds. a year whose number is hard to imagine - 2012 - a clean symmetry to the numeral, a mystery to its contents. just shy of two weeks into this year, and the one we left behind already feels sealed. isn't it strange how our brains allow us to imagine time acting that way? january is a month that follows the last, but it doesn't feel as such - it's not just another chapter, but a new book completely. even the december whirlwind, so socially (and gastronomically) consuming, looks like a vague shadow now, even as our christmas tree still stands, green and proud, in the living room.

a very old ornament that belonged to my great grandmother, Nana Kane

one of the first meals of the year was prepared by dear Ryan: a massive pot of chili that fed us, like some modern miracle, for days and days and days. Ryan is a super good cook, but it didn't always used to be that way. but even back in his early 20's, when a sixer of pbr and a cheese hoagie counted as dinner, chili was one of those things that he somehow just intuitively knew how to make. how charming is it when men have a few solid, no-fail, feed-the-masses dishes in their repertoire? my dad's included pancakes, BLTs, and scrambled eggs. i still love eating eggs for dinner.

anyway, chili is one of those special foods that has a million interpretations, variations, an openness to each cook's trademark. chili is more a concept than an actual dish, one that can change with the seasons or the contents of the pantry. and, best of all, it never turns out quite the same but (barring scorched vegetables or horrendously ill proportioned seasoning), always turns out delicious.

a wide array of seeds and spices, plus beer and chocolate (!) are Ryan's secret flavor weapons in chili

on the day this batch of chili was made, january 2nd, we let it sit for hours on the stove. we even left the house to run errands, the giant simmering mass doing its thing over a low flame (leaving the house with even the smallest flame going makes me nervous, but i manage). when we came back, the spicy stew-y, tomato-y smells had occupied every room. hints of cinnamon in the bedroom, smoked paprika molecules haloing the TV. the rich fragrance of all the ingredients melding seemed to warm the house by a few degrees, and made the process of recovery from the new years extravaganza just a bit easier. and as the weak sun began to set, the chili was finally deemed ready, and we ate bowls of it on the couch, wrapped up in blankets. it was good to feel safe and fed, taking a moment of stillness before rocket launching into this year that lies ahead.

Ryan's Avocado Crema
(super good on chili, spread on a sandwich, or scooped onto a cracker)
~makes about 3/4 cup~
~takes 5 minutes~

ingredients:
1 ripe avocado
1/2 cup of sour cream
juice squeezed from half a fresh lime
dash of frank's (or other hot sauce) to taste
salt & pepper to taste
a few sprigs of fresh cilantro, chopped up

-in a medium sized bowl, mash the avocado with a fork.

- scrape the avo mash into a food processor fitted with a metal blade. add all the other ingredients and pulse to combine. you might need to scrape the bowl down once to make sure everything is mixed in.

- you can also skip the food processor and just mix everything up by hand. this a pretty unscientific process, but yields creamy, tangy, beautiful green crema that is the perfect foil for the deep flavors of the chili.

love,
emily

bistro feasto

sometimes it's fun to pretend you're making dinner in the french countryside: standing over a steaming stovetop, a jaunty apron around your waist, stirring and whisking, humming a little tune, pausing once in awhile to slow dance with someone you love. it really completes the fantasy to be cooking actual french food. creamy vegetable soups, crunchy endive salads, and homey cassoulets are nice, but the frenchie choices for vegetarians, and vegans especially, can be limited. and maybe a little boring.

one of my favorite bistro-inspired dishes, though, is lentils with (vegan) sausages and spinach. there is something about this dish that i will never get bored with. i've made it over and over, and unlike most of my favorite weeknight dishes, i never seem to throw in variations. it is nearly perfect as it is, and just makes you feel wonderful when you eat it. perhaps this is the best definition of french bistro fare: simple but elegant, a sense of refinement but nothing stuffy. after a hard day of work, lauren and i made this along with a lovely composed salad (butter lettuce, feta, pears, cashews and a drizzle of balsamic), and a special beer, brewed with hops grown in philadelphia!

so even while the dingy sidewalks are slick with chilly rain and fallen leaves, you can fluff a tablecloth over your kitchen table, light a few candles, pour a glass of beaujolais nouveau, and and whisper to yourself, "eh, c'est la vie," before taking a bite of this delicious bistro dish.

Lentils w/ Vegan Sausage & Spinach
~makes 4-6 servings~
~takes 30 minutes~

ingredients:
2 tsp oil (olive oil w/ some body is perfect), butter, or margarine
1/2 a large white onion, diced
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
1/2 pound of brussel sprouts, cleaned and quartered (optional)
1 medium carrot, peeled and chopped
1 stalk of celery, chopped
1 cup of regular brown or fancier de puy lentils, rinsed
2 cups of water or vegetable broth
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1 bay leaf
1 large bunch of spinach or 3 cups of baby spinach
2 vegan sausages, sliced into rounds (if they're homemade, you get a gold star!)

- over a medium flame, heat 1 teaspoon of the oil (or melt the margarine) in a medium pot, throw in the onion and garlic in and sautee til softened, about 5 minutes.

- add the brussels, carrots and celery and sprinkle with salt and pepper. sautee until tender. if the vegetables stick to the bottom of the pot, add a splash of broth (red wine is even better!).

- add the lentils, and stir around with the vegetable mixture for a minute. then add the 2 cups of water/broth, turn the heat to high, and bring to a boil.

- once boiling, lower the heat to medium-low and add the thyme and bay leaf. let this simmer briskly until the lentils are cooked all the way through, about 20 minutes.

- in a separate pan, heat the other teaspoon of oil. fry the sausages until browned.

- once the lentils are done, and the sausages are fried up, add the sausages to the pot. stir the spinach in (you can do this in a few batches if your pot is smaller), until it wilts, which only will take thirty seconds or so.

- stir everything together. taste for salt, pepper, or a bit of spice, if you like. serve piping hot.

- eat with gusto and remember to regret nothing.

love,
emily

solo dinner//what to do with leftover spaghetts

you may notice that sissy lauren has been awfully quiet during the past 2 weeks. her silence is solely due to the fact that she's been in seattle (with side trips to portland and maybe olympia) for the past 10 days. basically just livin' it up in vegan paradise, and i'm sure there will be a full report during the next week of the veritable rainbow of treats that she consumed while westerly. she comes back tonight, which i am so ready for! it's great to borrow from her closet at will and everything, but i've really missed her.

i on the other hand, have been holding it down in philly, slowly cooking and eating my way through the thoroughly decimated contents of our fridge and cupboards. we still haven't done a big grocery store shop, so what produce there is is about half a day away from rottens-ville, and all of the jars of staples are about 1/5 full. it's a a shoddy state of affairs.

but i won't let a solo dinner be a thing to mourn. i admit, i did consider skipping the kitchen and trying a south philly tofu hoagie (there are so many places to get them around here!). but i have been eating many - too many - sandwiches lately, plus i don't really feel like leaving the house.

so with well-honed scavenger skills, i rolled up invisible sleeves and commenced the dig through the fridge. with an excellent queen album as my soundtrack (so triumphant! and did you know that shit when triple platinum?!) i put together a humble, but totally delicious, solo dinner.

green salad with nectarine, carrots & scallions with a sweet mustard dressing


leftover pasta with tomatoes & basil in garlic and olive oil

one of my favorite things to do with leftover pasta is to simmer a ludicrous amount of garlic in olive oil over very low heat, and then toss the noodles in this oil (still over the low flame), and let it cook for a few minutes. then throw in salt & pepper, tomatoes (cherry, if possible) and fresh basil and toss til it all heats through. it literally takes 8 minutes, but has a deep flavor that insinuates a slower process. like i said before, this is a humble method, but sometimes you don't need - or want to - be fancy or complex when cooking for yourself.

so while a glass of slightly dry red wine would've complimented the plate nicely, i opted for a very cold, and very unpretentious bottle of budweiser instead. it was a nice little dinner, but alright, i'll admit it: i will be happier tomorrow when i'm once again cooking for 2.

love,
emily