I apologize for the tardiness of my post; ran into some technical glitches last night, not the least of which involved me falling asleep in an extended attempt to get W to, then waking up in the middle of the night with my contacts fused to my eyeballs and my Mom asleep on the couch waiting for me to come back out to finish my post. I did not have the gumption at 2 am to figure out how to get my photos from my banged-up laptop onto my Dad’s computer, the only one that seems to be picking up a signal, and sporadically at that.
I’ll keep this short in an attempt to get it up while I have a connection, and at in reasonable time, considering we are on the absolute west coast Canada. It was an enormous relief to land on the island, and walk out of the Playskool-sized air terminal onto a dewy green lawn surrounded by trees overflowing with pink blossoms. We drove to Tofino snacking on toasted almonds and that lemony parsley hummus (which just keeps getting better and better) scooped up with chewy, grainy, seedy bread we picked up as soon as we got off the plane.
But the final stretch was a little too bumpy and up-and-down, especially when driving with my European Dad, and with age seems to come an increased sensitivity to carsickness, and so by the time I arrived and the ground stopped spinning I had lost my appetite for SoBo, which is generally first on my Tofino to-do list. Instead, when we went into town for some fresh fish to cook up for dinner, we got lured into Big Daddy’s Fish Fry, which was empty and waiting for its Friday night rush. A little disappointing to be honest, particularly considering the $36 price tag; the coconut shrimp were tasty but greasy, the fish smaller than usual, and the fries had the texture of wet paper towel. For dessert, we made an attempt at strawberry shortcake with chunks of raisin scone and fresh berries; I’d like to say they were the earliest fruit of a local farm, but really they were beautiful, watery and tasteless strawberries from California. Ah well. We’re in Tofino, which trumps everything else. The food can only get better from here.
In retrospect, today’s post would have been ideal for Earth Day. Almost like I planned it: transformation of leftovers, salvation of produce before it wound up in the compost, nothing packaged, minimal dish/energy use, vegan even.
So today I’m blasting around the house trying to get ready to leave for Tofino tomorrow morning (and I’m bringing you with me! Yes, I remember my promise of a daily post this month), which included going through the fridge to use up whatever I know Mike will just let die. (It’s just W and I going, Mike’s going to be Home Alone.) In the crisper, two big bunches of parsley. The curly stuff, which I’m not as fond of as the Italian stuff. They likely cost around 70 cents each, but dammit I’m not going to let them go into the compost untouched. So as I’ve been known to do, I choreographed lunch and dinner around a bunch of wilting herbs, rather than something more substantial.
But it’s at these times I tend to try things I might not otherwise. I cooked a handful each of barley and lentils (they cook at the same time – 40 minutes – so you can just boil them together in a pot, drain them and voila), dressed them with olive oil and balsamic and a pinch of sugar and tore in one of the bunches. Then I went to epicurious.com and typed in “PARSLEY” in an attempt to jolt my imagination.
Of course lots came up, one being brilliant green mashed potatoes made with parsley oil. Now this, oh best beloved, is something I would never seek to make under normal circumstances. But I thought I could easily blitz the parsley with some oil and it would at least keep until I got home and figured out what to use it for. Vinaigrette, hummus, roast chicken-anything, really.
So you whirl about equal parts herbs and oil (the recipe called for chives too, which are just poking through the ground) in a food processor, then pour it through a sieve, pressing on the solids and then discarding them. It did make a lovely shamrock-coloured oil (which W poured milk into as I photographed the sludge), but I couldn’t bring myself to toss the bulk of the oily parsley mulch. And so I turned it into hummus.
WOW. With a particularly juicy lemon, it’s an incredibly fresh tasting hummus, and a great way to get your greens. You could of course process the parsley first with a whack of oil and then strain it off to draw out some of the green stuff and get yourself some herby oil; otherwise just blend it right in.
Tomorrow I’ll be getting on the plane with a carry-on full of dip, which as everyone knows, is not liquid nor gel. (Romesco and this stuff. I’m sure we’ll be able to locate some pitas in Nanaimo.)
Speaking of parsley, so much for the head-start on my home-grown stuff (for those of you on the bloomin’ west coast who don’t believe it was blizzarding here last night) – there was twice as much piled up this morning.
At dinnertime W requested a picnic. On our bed. So we walked through the kitchen piling things on a cookie sheet to carry upstairs: the lentil-barley-parsley stuff, lemony parsley hummus, a couple whole wheat pitas, a few bananas, a whole wheat bagel, and a bag of pistachios. And we ate our picnic inside, since there was so much snow outside. I may have to change our sheets before I go to bed.
See you in Tofino!
Lemony Parsley Hummus
1 small bunch of parsley (curly or Italian), chopped (leave the stems out)
1/4 cup olive oil
1 19 oz. (540 mL) can chick peas, drained
juice of 1 lemon
1 garlic clove (or 1 head roasted garlic)
2-3 tsp. sesame oil
pinch salt
In the bowl of a food processor, pulse the parsley and olive oil until you get a rough sludge. Add the rest of the ingredients and process until as smooth as you like it; taste and adjust ingredients to suit your taste. (Even better the next day.) Makes about 2 1/2 cups.
I am LOVING how the Ericas spurred a blitz of comments on the subject of coffee – that is, what you like to have with it in terms of experiences – besides chocolate, cookies and scones (not that there’s anything wrong with that) – making me want to eat komish and yoyos with my grandma and sit in silence by the water and drive to the cabin in the cold pre-dawn. It’s lovely to read about those little things that make people happy, what is considered bliss, and how food plays a role in those moments.
Tonight was not nearly as inspiring. Awhile ago, I made pork won tons to stash in the freezer to drop into simmering chicken stock for instant won ton soup. (Or wor won ton with some bok choy, carrots, shrimp, noodles, scraps of leftover chicken or pork, etc.) And tonight I called them into service.
Mike loves Ichiban noodles. He doesn’t eat them often, but I did come home early once and bust him and W sharing a bowl, and I haven’t quite forgiven him for introducing them. I never make the stuff. But tonight, it was blizzarding outside, there was a minor flood down at the space where Mike’s band practices (the jam pad, if you will) underneath the Crossroads Market, so he was down there hauling out gear and I had a meeting to go to and couldn’t find any of my notes, and so I just heated a pot of water, threw in some frozen won tons, when they rose to the surface I threw in the noodles, the packet of spicy chicken powder and a couple mini bok choy, separated at the base. It’ll do. W just got the noodles and won tons.
Wontons are easy. Buy some wonton wrappers, thaw them, and a pound of ground pork. Add to the pork any or all of the following: a tablespoon or so of soy sauce, a few chopped green onions, a spoonful of grated ginger, a clove or two of crushed garlic, a drizzle of sesame oil. Put a small spoonful of the mixture on the middle of a wonton, dip your finger into some water and run it along two (connected) sides, then fold it over like a triangle and press to seal it, pressing out any air bubbles so that it doesn’t become a flotation device in the pot of soup. Now you could leave it like a triangle, or bring the two flappy ends together and attach with another dab of water. Freeze them on a cookie sheet (so that they don’t stick together) and then transfer to a freezer bag, and you can throw them frozen right into your pot of soup to cook. (They’re done when they rise to the surface – it should only take a few minutes.)
Spoke at a retired teacher’s convention today, and demoed, among other things, a high-reward-for-minimal-effort romesco dip. Twice. Plus made a few batches to sample out. As always, I ended up with too much. As food goes, it’s a good thing to have too much of.
Romesco is made from roasted red peppers, toasted almonds, garlic, olive oil and toasted bread. (Yes, toast – you tear it up and blend it in, and it adds body and bulk to the dip without adding much in the way of fat and calories. I mean yes bread has calories, but it’s better than adding a cup of sour cream or mayo.)
It’s fantastic, intensely flavoured stuff, and makes a great substitute for mayo on sandwiches (especially roast chicken, salami or roasted/grilled veg sandwiches) or dip for shrimp with their tails. Perhaps its best feature is its ability to improve with age – a little like Leonardo DiCaprio – so you can do up a batch to dip into for a week or so, or make well in advance of a party. On one of my favourite nights a bunch of us sat outside in lawn chairs until almost dawn, relighting candles as they burned down, sipping bubbly moscato and beer and scooping up great garlicky gobs of romesco with pitas, which we had grilled until char-marked and crisp, then broken into pieces. We all had garlic burps for two days.
Tonight we ate it far more unceremoniously in front of the news with leftover baguette, which having been sliced early this afternoon had gotten a little leathery, so I brushed the pieces with oil and toasted them in the oven to revive them a little and make them easier on the teeth. Also: asparagus spears straight from the fridge and thawed tail-on shrimp from the freezer.
W asked for a raisin bran muffin and Cheerios. He got them.
Romesco Dip
All the amounts here are approximate – it’s a dip, so feel free to wing it.
1/4 cup sliced or slivered almonds, or half almonds and half pine nuts
1 garlic clove, peeled
2 thick slices French bread, toasted (or 3 if you’re using a baguette)
2 red peppers, roasted
1-2 Tbsp. red wine, sherry or balsamic vinegar
1 tsp. paprika
salt to taste
2-6 Tbsp. olive or canola oil
Toast almonds and garlic in a small saucepan over medium heat for about 3 minutes, until the almonds are pale golden and fragrant. Transfer to a food processor. Tear the bread into chunks into the food processor. Pulse until the bread and nuts turn to crumbs.
Add the red peppers, vinegar, paprika and salt and whiz until well blended. With the motor running, slowly drizzle in the olive oil and process until the mixture has the consistency of thick mayonnaise, scraping down the sides of the bowl.
Serve with pitas, slices of crusty baguette, cooked tail-on shrimp, naan or veggies.
Makes about 1 cup.
Per tablespoon: 42 calories, 3 g total fat (0.4 g saturated fat, 2 g monounsaturated fat, 0.5 g polyunsaturated fat), 1 g protein, 3.4 g carbohydrate, 0 mg cholesterol, 0.6 g fiber. 61% calories from fat
My sister dropped off sick kids this morning and left them to languish on my couch all day while W tried (mostly unsuccessfully) to rouse them and I tried (mostly unsuccessfully) to get stuff done. I had bought some skinless chicken thighs and drums to test a “faux fried chicken” recipe, but instead decreed that they should spend the day in the CrockPot becoming butter chicken.
So I threw it all in, the drumsticks partially frozen, even, without bothering to brown anything first. (Which isn’t necessary, but does boost flavour.) At 5 I stuck a pot of brown rice on to boil, and stirred a bit of plain yogurt and a bit of cream into the finished chicken. After cooking all day the meat self destructed upon being stirred; I just plucked the bones out. You could start with skinless, boneless chicken, but any meat cooked on the bone has far more flavour.
Better Butter Chicken (in the CrockPot)
It’s easier to find chicken pieces with skin; I just pull it off at home.
4 each: skinless, boneless chicken thighs and drumsticks
1 onion, halved and thinly sliced
1 Tbsp. grated ginger
4 garlic cloves, crushed
1 Tbsp. chili powder
2 tsp. curry paste or powder
pinch cinnamon
1 28 oz. (796 mL) can diced tomatoes, undrained
2 Tbsp. tomato paste (optional)
1-2 tsp. garam masala (optional)
1 cup plain yogurt
1/2 cup(ish) half & half or whipping cream
salt and pepper
steamed brown basmati rice, for serving with
Throw everything but the yogurt, cream, salt and pepper into the CrockPot, cover and cook on low for 6-8 hours. Uncover, stir in the yogurt and cream, season to taste with salt and pepper, and serve hot over rice. Serves 6.
