Diet alteration

Pan-fried falafel with pepper and tahini sauce alongside baked sweet potatoes.

Give up all dairy except mayonnaise? You mean I won’t have sugar or half-n-half in my morning coffee? These were parts of a commitment, which also included abstaining from refined sugar, chicken, beef and pork. You might ask, “Why give up these foods?”

It’s Day 11 of the “Daniel fast,” a 20-day voluntary time of prayer and sacrifice for gatherers at Vineyard Christian Fellowship of Greater Boston. The fast is a period for people to give up something of their choice (food, television, etc.)  in hopes they grow closer to God and as a way to pray for Bostonians. Daniel, an Israelite taken into captivity in Babylon, struck a deal with a guard and ate only fruits and vegetables for 10 days (instead of partaking in rich food from the king’s table) to honor his kosher dietary practices central to his understanding as a man of God. At the end of the 10 days, Daniel and his friends were in better shape than those who ate the king’s food.

I’m not going as far as Daniel’s dietary restrictions, but the fast has brought some insights worth sharing. I broke parts of the commitment, which will be discussed later.

1. Garbanzo beans rule. If it wasn’t for garbanzos, I’d be in dire straits. I’ve used them in chana masala and falafel and dipped broccoli in hummus (made from pureed garbanzos and other ingredients) from Trader Joe’s. I made a riff on ”chana masala,” a stewy tomato soup with garbanzos, onion, garlic, and spices from a recipe from Molly Wizenberg’s husband, Brandon, found in her book, “A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from My Kitchen Table.” Garbanzos provide a healthy fiber dose (14 grams per 1/4-cup serving) and 8 grams protein per serving.

2. I could be a pseudo vegetarian. The reason I throw “pseudo” in there is because I can’t see myself giving up fish, or bacon. But I don’t miss chicken or beef. Eating this way isn’t too straining and I already tended toward eating fruits, veggies and whole grains.

Tuna, garlic, and oil linguine (perhaps with a little spaghetti mixed in), an adaptation from a Saveur magazine recipe.

3. Rice milk passes as a milk substitute for cereal and oatmeal. With time, any sugar or syrup from the cereal sweetens the milk. I’ve also put rice milk into coffee instead of half-n-half, which leads to the next insight.

4. Coffee tastes alright without sugar and half-n-half. This is surprising, but maybe I’m one of those that likes tasting the coffee beans’ flavor without sugar or half-n-half as masking agents.

5. I had greater energy and a “cleaner” feeling after the first three days of the fast. Since then it’s been harder to tell. I had trouble sleeping three of four nights.

6. I am thankful for bread, cereal, oats and pasta.

Now to the part about breaking some of the commitment. I think there was cheese in packaged lobster ravioli and after dinner, I eat these dark chocolate mint creams, which have sugar. Oops, I also had s’mores one night (sugar in those marshmallows).

On the positive side, I adapted a recipe for honey cake from Gourmet magazine to fit this current diet. I replaced brown sugar with Lyle’s Golden Syrup and dolloped a few spoonfuls of pureed pumpkin instead of two eggs. The moist, slightly crumbly cake tasted and smelled like gingerbread, combining a fragrant mix of cinnamon, honey, maple syrup, pumpkin, and caramelly Lyle’s syrup. 

This cake, an adaptation of a recipe for honey cake found in Gourmet magazine, has prunes and dried apricots. It was baked in a square pan instead of a loaf pan.

Incidentally, the other day I opened Gourmet’s November issue, it’s final one, and see a recipe for vegan chocolate cheesecake, using silken tofu to replace eggs and soy cream cheese (this exists?). It still has sugar, but calls for Earth Balance vegan buttery spread for the graham cracker crust.

To be honest, eating this way hasn’t been too difficult. It just requires substitutions and causes me to cook and think in different ways. The only strain occured last night when ordering at a restaurant. The selections were limited, but I made do with crab cakes, spinach and French fries. Yes, I actually ordered French fries (not sweet potato fries), which I never do. They were thick, potatoey and satisfying.

Plan changes, pancakes satisfy

As God planned, option “B” revealed a prize: best pancakes, so far, in Boston and surrounding areas. Of three places I’ve tried pancakes since moving to Massachusetts in May, The Arlington Restaurant & Diner takes first place. I joined my friend Carl for breakfast Saturday. I had apple cinnamon pancakes, two darker brown disks about 12 inches in diameter with tender, slightly firm diced apples dispersed among the batter, which includes buttermilk, and a healthy cinnamon trail. The pancakes were soft, yet held their shape even with syrup. 

A tangy trace hit my mouth, just how I like it. The apples also retained their texture and were a refreshing contrast to the overly-sweet syrupy slices sometimes served atop or alongisde pancakes. Each element – apples, cinnamon, and the batter, shone naturally. Previous pancake experiences yielded descriptors, “thick and pasty” and “chewy.”

Pancakes at Arlington Diner avoid these adjectives. And to think, it wasn’t our original choice.  Carl and I planned to meet at another place (whose name will not be revealed) at 7 Saturday morning. I arrived first and the only light that shone into the restaurant came from a streetlight. Not a soul stirred inside. Someone (I assume a worker) arrived 15 minutes later, but we decided to get in the car and try someplace else.

Goes to show that pleasant surprises can await a change of plans.

The Arlington Restaurant & Diner

134 Massachusetts Ave.

Arlington, MA 02474

Monday through Saturday – 6:30 a.m. to 8:30 p.m.

Sunday – 6:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m.

Phone: (781) 646-9266

Fax: (781) 646-6285

www.arlington-diner.com

New like

It’s difficult to fathom what I am about to say: I like pecan pie. At least the pecan pie with chocolate chips and bourbon I made last month from a recipe in Molly Wizenberg’s book ,”A Homemade Life: Stories and Recipes from My Kitchen Table.” The recipe originally came from Molly’s Aunt Mia.

Pecan pie used to be my least favorite pie. The thought of liking it never occured to me, until I tried a bite of this pie. But this is an example of a larger question. Why do I suddenly like pecan pie and pate (which resembles liverwurst, that spreadable or sliceable sausage made from a combination of pork liver mixed with other types of pork and meat, which I disliked)? Are there biological, social, reasons for the changing tastes?

With curiosity intact, I called Boston University and spoke with Laura Thompson, a registered dietician at the school’s nutrition and fitness center. In an e-mail, she said that social environments play a key role in our food preferences as children. To that, she added that texture can affect preferences. Pecan pie wasn’t a dessert at our house and I can’t remember where I tried it.  Maybe I didn’t give it a shot. Sorry pecan pie for the neglect. “Braunschweiger” (a type of liverwurst that is usually smoked – we called it liverwurst) from Oscar Mayer,  comes in a log like bulk sausage and was repulsive. I didn’t go for the salted, pureed meat mixture with a texture that rivals softened cream cheese. I longd for the French bread pizza three spots to the left at the lunch table. I took a bite of liverwurst six months ago. It was too salty and rich. But pate, which resembles liverwurst in taste and texture is a different story. I like the stuff. It’s creamy and satisfying on toasted bread. Trader Joe’s sells one that tastes similar to the liverwurst with bits of mushrooms in it that I spread on baguette slices. I had a sweeter version, a chicken liver mousse, purchased at South End Formaggio, a noted cheese shop.

Perhaps my aversion to liverwurst was influenced by wanting other foods at the lunch table. Perhaps too many turkey sandwiches left me wanting a change, for which pate has filled the role. As for pecan pie, I have no explanation. My only guess is that I came across a version with the right proportion of sweetness, nuts and gooey texture.

So I’ll have a piece of pecan pie. Just please don’t set an apple pie next to it.

Simple shines at Starlight

Good Monday morning, though late morning in Massachusetts. I’m on another quest. First it was finding a tasty, pleasing way to prepare turnip greens, cooked or raw (this has stalled for now). Now, it’s finding restaurants that meet four standards (inexpensive, simple food with gourmet flair, healthful, and enough food to comfortably fill your tummy. These criteria came to mind this morning, but perhaps they have lurked in the bowels of the subconscoius for some time. 

Trina’s Starlite Diner in Cambridge, Mass., fulfilled one of the four standards (tasty simple food with gourmet flair). They opened the week prior to my first visit and serve food linked to barbecues and summer (hot dogs, hamburgers, chili fries) with a nod to comfort cooking (fried chicken and waffles, meat loaf (the blue plate special on my visit) and macaroni and cheese topped with Ritz crackers).  Gourmet flair comes from: baked haddock with sweet potato and green onion hash and sauteed spinach ($15); pan-seared sirloin with dirty gravy and onion rings ($19), the most expensive menu item; and a green apple, Brie and arugula pressed sandwich with horseradish dipping sauce ($8). I am warmly greeted at the door and sit at the bar, where Josh, an amiable bartender recommends the sweet corn bread ($3). I’m glad he did.  Crispy crumbles top the moist, buttery, 1/2-inch-thick wedge, which has the right amount of sweetness and is served with honey butter. I then enjoy the dog of the day, a hot dog halved lengthwise, though not all the way through, served in a toasted bread bun with macaroni and cheese sauce and baked beans on the side. Great smoky, sweet flavor on the beans, though one bean is firm. I could go for another dog, but hold back. The bill comes to $12.44 with a beer and I leave $15. Hunger isn’t fully satisfied, but I am pleased with the choices. The prices (for hot dogs, fries, beer ) are comparable with a Major League Baseball stadium. Could be a lesson here: If you’re not willing to spend very much, eat a little something before going out. That way, two appetizers (a hot dog and cornbread) will be enough to satisfy.

Trina’s Starlite Lounge

3 Beacon St.

Somerville, Mass.

(617) 576-0006

trinasstarlitelounge.com

 

Note:

If you find yourself in Back Bay station and in the mood for Mexican food, heat to the burrito and taco cart. I had a vegetable burrito with chunks of steamed broccoli and carrots, black beans, pico de gallo and rice for a respectable $4.75. Watch out for the smoky hot sauce. It has a kick. A group of brothers serves the food from 11 a.m. to 6:30 p.m. Mondays through Fridays.

Two-headed ’snake’ strikes

Allow me to speak figuratively. The ’snake’ refers to sickness and, this week, I’m feeling two types: one a sore throat and the other, oh, is nasty – buyer’s remorse. It centers around a helpless chicken. A chicken that left me $17.30 lighter in the wallet. I came down with a scratchy throat on Tuesday, and, allowing the sickness to decide a meal, had a hankering for chicken noodle soup, like my mom makes. So, I set out for a place that is growing to be one of my favorites in Boston’s South End (I won’t give the name because I don’t want to give the wrong impression that they overcharge for chickens. The shop supplies poultry, meats, produce from farmers who practice sustainable, humane methods of raising animals and tending the land). For that reason alone, I like the shop. But along with that comes more expensive prices compared to supermarkets. One grocer had whole chickens going for $1.59 per pound. I paid around $4.50 per pound for my chicken. So I’m left with a chicken that will go into a pot, with water, two bay leaves and later, pieces of carrot, onion and celery, for tonight’s chicken noodle soup with good ol’ Jiffy corn muffins. A man at the store suggested I roast the chicken, but my throat is in the mood for soup. Tyler Florence’s blog has a recipe for bone-in, skin-on chicken breasts roasted with lemon and herbs with smashed broccoli and garlic.

Thus, Thursday afternoon and into the evening, the thought, “I spent too much on myself,” haunted me. Well, giving some soup to roommates could soothe the guilt.  But buyer’s remorse has hit before. I paid $10.50 for a quart of vanilla ice cream in August at one ice cream retailer. So what do I see Thursday in a supermarket ad? One company sells their ice cream (in 48- to 56-ounce containers) for $1.99. I called another ice cream retailer in town and a quart there sells for $9.50. I guess that is what you pay for premium ice cream, premium chicken, premium anything.

It comes down to cost and conscious. Do you sleep better at night knowing you paid a little more but have a chicken in the refrigrator that was allowed to run free, or paid less, but have a chicken cooped-up alongisde other chickens in a pen similar to travelers on a crammed Boston subway train?

While I like buying produce procured from local farms and fair-trade coffee, I’ll take spending less. Spending more causes guilt. But it’s ironic since most of the money I spend revolves around food (excluding bills). And, perhaps this is self-centric because the buyer’s remorse only affects me whereas how I spend money says a lot about what I support, a topic for another discussion. For this instance, it’s a process of learning to make budget-conscious choices. It took ice cream and chicken to reveal that I am a slave, somewhat to money, which is not a good thing.

Buyer’s remorse is like a nagging sore throat that strikes on occasion. To answer both sicknesses, there’s the key step: praying to God for healing. Then comes a little help from a chicken, pot of water, carrots, onions, celery.

Trying turnip greens

 

I’m searching for the tastiest way to prepare turnip greens. I didn’t know that pulling those roots about a week and a half ago from the community garden plot would turn into an experiment. But it has. I’ve tried them raw and steamed, neither to satisfaction. In the raw state, it feels like grainy paper on the tongue. They were bitter and tasted like pepper and mustard. Steamed, the leaves turned a deep green and the stalks remained crunchy. The flavor here was less appealing than the raw greens. They were more bitter and peppery. A dose of maple syrup would have done good. As it was, I used olive oil, balsamic vinegar, Kosher salt, ground black pepper, and added dried cranberries and walnuts.

I haven’t blanched them or added the greens to cream yet. Perhaps blanching would rid the greens of some bitterness. There’s only one way to find out.  I’ll keep you posted.

Have any of you found a way to make turnip greens taste good? Please tell. Thank you.

Oh, please help me find a way to make these things taste good. I tried boiling them with half a leek in some lightly salted water for about 22 minutes. Boiling removed all bitterness, along with pepper and mustard flavors. The result was dismal. These greens had no flavor. Last night I tried mixing some powdered Parmesan into them, but it didn’t help. They needed salt and some sprucing up. I can see why you would want to saute the greens in some bacon fat or boil them with a ham hock. But is there another way besides pork fat to make these stubborn greens taste good?

Well, there’s progress on the turnip greens front. As a side dish to leftover black bean, salsa and goat cheese pizza, I plucked some turnip greens from the garden and lightly dressed them (raw) with olive oil, lime juice and…maple syrup. Kosher salt and ground black pepper went in, too. But the maple syrup’s sweetness played the key contrast to the green’s pepper taste. The combination of maple and lime is intriguing – a bright hint of acidity to go with smooth, comforting sweetness. The combination might be especially appealing with sweet potatoes. I’m still searching for a cooking method and ingredients that will make greens taste good. For now, thank you maple syrup.

A tasty discovery

 

 How could I dress up pasta in a new way? In search of a different direction than tomato, olive oil or even pesto, inspiration, whether I knew it or not, subconsciously seeped into my brain from two, possibly three sources. From the book, “A Homemade Life” by Molly Wizenberg (author of the blog Orangette), which I recommend for anyone who appreciates good writing and likes food, to a pasta with creamed leeks and BACON recipe I printed months ago. When I grab the carton of half-n-half for my morning coffee, I’m reminded of that creamed leek pasta recipe. Inspiration might have come from time in America’s Test Kitchen as an intern. So the two ingredients that came to the forefront are bacon and half-n-half. Now, half-n-half (besides baking or for sweets) and bacon are two ingredients I hardly ever cook with. I’m more a fan of vinaigrette dressings and pasta sauces with tomato or olive oil as the main ingredient. I worry about the salt content and fat of bacon and the fat in cream. But after tasting the whole wheat spaghetti  I made with bacon, leeks, navy beans and half-n-half, a splurge every now and then is quite alright.

Perhaps cooking with bacon fat is the key to unsurpassed flavor. This dish brought salty crisp bacon together with creamy, mild leeks in a sauce that coated the pasta without running onto the plate. There wasn’t really a sauce left. It made the leeks stick together. I don’t think I added any salt to the dish. I’ll give the recipe below with rough estimates of ingredient amounts but the idea is: Cook pasta in boiling, salted water until tender and drain, reserving about two, 8-ounce ladles of cooking liquid. Cook bacon until crisp, saute leeks in some of bacon fat, add cooked navy beans (which are more filler than anything), reserved pasta cooking liquid and half-n-half. The sauce was runny with half-n-half, so I sprinkled about 2 tablespoons over leeks and heated it through until it thickened. If you use heavy cream (which I recommend) you might not have to add the flour. Add pasta to ingredients in skillet and combine. Crumble bacon and scatter it on top and serve. Please try this. Chances are you won’t be disappointed.

Whole Wheat Pasta with Bacon, Leeks, Navy Beans

Serves 3 moderate eaters

6 ounces whole wheat spaghetti

Kosher salt

1 tablespoon canola oil

2 slices bacon

3/4 large leek or 1 medium leek, halved lengthwise, washed clean of all dirt, sliced into 1/4-inch half moons

3/4 to 1 cup cooked navy beans

1/4 cup heavy cream

Ground black pepper to taste

  Fill a medium pot three-quarters full with water and bring to boil. While that’s going, pour canola oil into large, non-stick skillet, add bacon and cook over medium heat until crisp. Drain bacon on paper towels and cool. Pour off all but 1 tablespoon bacon fat and add leeks. Cook leeks over medium-high to medium heat until they soften and start to brown with a caramel color.

Once water for pasta comes to a boil,  add about two teaspoons kosher salt and spaghetti and cook until tender. Reserve two, 8-ounce ladles of cooking liquid. Drain rest of pasta and reserve.

Once leeks cook, add in beans, reserved pasta cooking liquid and cream. Combine ingredients, bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Reduce cream enough to where you can run your finger along the back of a wooden coated with the sauce and sauce doesn’t drip or run across the line. Taste for salt (you may not need to add any) and add black pepper to taste. Add pasta to skillet and combine to coat spaghetti strands. Crumble bacon over top and serve.

Attack on joy

Today I’m veering from talk about food or a restaurant. It’s been a difficult week, mentally, and I feel the need to release a tad bit. Please bear with me. Last Friday marked the end of the internship at America’s Test Kitchen and with no job, yet, the days become more of a blank canvas. Thus with nowhere to be in the mornings, my mind is left open to guilt, worry, thinking about what I said. I won’t go into finite details here, but it’s a struggle. The challenge is filling the day in productive ways. The lazy side wants to relax and welcome the job into my hands. I’ll be honest. I don’t want to look for a job. The motivation and enthusiasm aren’t there. Oh, that Jesus would change my outlook, to delight in the task. He wants to teach me something through it. I can worry about it, but it only harms my relationship with God and Jesus, goes against God’s Word and harms my body. Nothing good comes from worry.  Please pray for me.

I turned in an application at a bakery and have an interview for a line cook position today. The interview is a step. There is joy in each step, if I only relax and look for it.

No ordinary breakfast

Did I mention I love breakfast? Well, after enjoying a bowl of oatmeal Monday morning, I’m moving closer to staking the first meal of the day as my favorite. It’s the only meal I lose sleep over. My mind churns not of pancakes or waffles, but of granola, cereal and yogurt. Yes, what might seem like humble, boring ingredients can be beautifully weaved to bring a boost. All you need is some fruit, cereal, milk, yogurt and some imagination to turn breakfast into an enjoyable part of the day. I’ll give you two of my two breakfast favorites to spark ideas.

 Quaker granola, (at left)with apple halves spread with Harry & David’s creamy banana peanut  spread, is my current favorite.  The granola has a coconut taste with a crunch, so long as you don’t allow the clusters to wade in the milk. The textural medley here is worth mentioning. I’ll count the ways: Chew from the raisins, crunch from the whole-grain-rolled wheat and oat clusters and creamyness from the spread, crispness and refreshing from the apple. Then there’s the flavors. Sweet comes from the granola, raisins, apple and peanut spread. Granola wears a coconut cologne and the floral fresh taste of the apple merges with the thicker peanut butter.

Another treat is Kashi Go Lean Crunch, which covers sliced bananas, plain yogurt, honey and blueberries. The amber-colored cereal, with wheat, brown rice, barley, oats, rye and buckwheat among other things,  gives a crunch to what otherwise be a soft situation. In one bowl, there’s a party going on. Sweet, creamy, crunchy, squsihy and rolly sensations are all there. Sweetness comes primarily from the honey and cereal. The cereal has evaporated cane juice crystals, brown rice syrup and honey. Yogurt contributes creaminess and the blueberries provide a tang. Tuesday’s banana has a potato-like, starchy flavor. The likeable element about the cereal-yogurt-frut combination is the honey’s lingering sweetness. For the granola, it would be the coconut-flavored grainy clusters that fuse some of that flavor and sweetness over time.

 

How could I derive such joy from cereal, yogurt, granola and oatmeal? Well, these are the foods I eat throughout the week. Pancakes and eggs are great, but I’m not eating a steady diet of them. It’s important to have a relationship with the foods you eat most days. Each day I reach for that bowl, so it might as well be something enjoyable, something to look forward to. I am pleased to say that I that relationship has blossomed with cereal, fruit, yogurt, oatmeal.  See a previous post on this site about oatmeal. You can get creative with the yogurt by trying different fruits in place of blueberries (blackberries, perhaps). I would keep the banana in the lineup.

I gain as much, if not more satisfaction from a bowl of Go Lean crunch, fruit, yogurt and honey as I do from a plate of pancakes. Please pass the coffee.

Better the next time around

As the internship at America’s Test Kitchen moves on, I’ve been more and more involved with pies, which is a joy. I seem to be enjoying baking more than cooking. The payoff waits until after dinner, the last taste before going to bed. Dessert is something to look forward to. What a sweet pull to have. And this week I had my share of sugary assignments: pecan pie, a bittersweet chocolate cake that was a component of a larger cake, and a sour cherry pie, which I had help on with the lattice top. I learned that rolling out pie dough satisfactorily can take successive tries (I’ll get to this in a bit),  to thoroughly read through the ingredient amounts and steps, that I can tolerate pecan pie and that butter, shortening and, yes, vodka, is the way to go for a pie crust.

Pie dough is finicky. If it’s too warm, it will stick to the rolling pin like goop and form a homogenous mass that tears into pieces when transferring into a pie plate. This happened with both the pecan and sour cherry pie doughs on the first attempt. I patched both doughs back together like pieces from a puzzle. I baked two pecan pies (one using that dough and another with a dough made after I threw one dough out after putting way too much water in). This is what I mean by reading through a recipe. The recipe calls for one egg white mixed with about 2 tablespoons water to equal a quarter cup. I added a quarter cup of water to the egg white, so the measurement exceeded the requirement. The dough sat in a shallow pool of murky water in the mixing bowl. Yuk! I had better results with the next dough. The dough was firm, yet flexible enough to roll, stayed together for the most part during rolling and transferring to the pie plate, and allowed for crimping the edges. All in all, it required less hands-on work, which is key for a tender dough. From what I’ve read, working a dough too much results in a tough dough.

The cherry pie dough was moist and sticky, and when I tried transferring the dough into the pie plate, it fell in glops. A test cook felt the dough and told me to make another batch. So with flour and the remaining dry ingredients, butter, vegetable shortening and vodka, I went to work. Again, I didn’t follow directions. The recipe instructs you to pulse the flour in two additions – once at the beginning and again after the butter and shortening go in. Well, I added all the flour in the beginning. Some butter and shortening stuck where the bottom and sides of the food processor bowl meet. I dumped the mixture into a bowl, sprinkled and folded the vodka into the dough with a rubber spatula, trying not to disturb the mixture too much. I repeated the process with water. After some time chilling, the dough was ready to roll and, like the last pecan pie dough, cooperated. Half-inch white shortening pieces looked like white stones in a beige floor or countertop, only this being dough. I eased the dough onto the rolling pin, and let it fall into the pie plate like a tablecloth. It chilled in the freezer, then received the cherry filling, a lattice top, a brush with egg white and a sprinkle of granulated sugar.

For taste, the cherry filling was still to tart – I prefer a sweeter filling.. The crust was excellent – salty, crumbly and still crunchy from the sugar grains spinkled on top. As for pecan pie, I had a tiny sample of the filling and it wasn’t too sweet. Pecan pie usually equals an overly sweet filing with too much nuts. But I could tolerate this bite. And I could sure tolerate, even anticipate, the next pie baking assignment.