I can’t believe it’s mid-May already. Spring weather has been weird and chilly, but still much to do for the garden, both inside and out. My summer tomatoes, peppers, and basil are huddled under the skylight in my attic, tall and too leggy, waiting for a break in the weather (we had yet another frost just yesterday).
But spring crops are doing a-okay, and my yard is coming alive in blooms, including my lovely lilac tree (above). Spring veggies have been plentiful — crisp and sweet.
The cookbook lover in me has been more than thrilled at the selections coming out of publishing lately. Truly unique and useful tomes by cooking pros that will stand the test of time — books that I’ll actually cook from with dependable recipes that don’t need tweaks to correct flavor imbalances or, worse, outright repairs.
Notably, Jerusalem: A Cookbook by Yotam Ottolenghi, and Roots by Diane Morgan. Both are a gardener and vegetable lover’s dream.
But the book that has totally captured my cooking heart is Deborah Madison’s Vegetable Literacy. I’ve cooked extensively from this book, and it rarely makes it back to the bookshelf, finding a long-term space on my kitchen counter. Part vegetable reference, part cookbook, I enjoy flipping through it randomly, reading up on artichokes or kale while planning weekend meals. (For a thorough review of the book, see my other blog, leafandgrain.com.)
Ms. Madison is a well-known, highly respected authority on vegetarian cooking and, as it turns out, she’s no slouch in the garden. As we universally turn a critical eye on the disaster that has become our over-processed food system, we need more books like Vegetable Literacy to help guide us back to food. Real food.
I admit it: I stalked skeptically around the concept of this soup for several weeks before finally taking a deep breath and diving in.
Peanut butter? In soup?
Skeptical.
I love nut butters as much as the next girl, but, honestly. Peanut butter … and tomatoes. My culinary senses were reeling.
At last, the days are lengthening, and I no longer feel the need to curl up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and clutching the TV remote, at the young hour of 7pm. The bears have it right: winter is for hibernating.
And the approach of spring finds me backing away from the stove, as well. Long, languorously stewed dishes fade in favor of snappy meals. If it’s more than a half hour from pan to table, it’s probably not going to be made.
Eggs often take center stage in my meals. It was last summer when I first cracked an egg over a quesadilla and ever since, it’s been a staple, fit for any meal of the day.
Like clockwork, every March brings the craving for bread. And not just any ole bread, but soda bread: a hearty peasant loaf perfected in all its simple goodness by the Irish. Soda bread is the bread lover’s miracle loaf. Minimal kneading, no proofing (no yeast) and a mere hour later — two, if you can bear to allow the loaf to properly cool, which I never can — a fresh, hearty slice of savory goodness, topped with cultured butter, is yours for the taking.
I’m not a trendy-trend kind of girl, which you’ve probably noticed if you’ve followed this blog at all — I’m always horribly out of foodie fashion.
Bacon in desserts? No, thank you. Oreo stuffed in a chocolate chip cookie stuffed in a brownie stuffed in cheesecake? Yeah, never understood the appeal of that one. Sous vide? ‘Evs.
And when I am accidentally trendy, it’s me jumping on the bandwagon with flags waving … just as the trend is winding down {wah-wah-waahh}.
That’s the way it was with sriracha. I was late to the party, but now I’m all <woot!> about it.
I’ve had to restrain myself from posting too many sriracha-starring recipes, but if I have to let one slip out, I’m happy that it’s these sweet potato hash browns.
When doing my all-too-infrequent freezer clean-out last month, I came across a bag of little chocolate nuggets that made me pause, searching my memory for what the heck these could be.
I took one out of the bag and inspected it more closely — black with dark chocolate, coated heavily in bright sugar crystals, they were adorable, button-sized, and unblemished by freezer frost.
Finally, in that weird, mysterious way the mind works to retrieve long forgotten info — the round-about word association game … starts with … sounds like … followed by the sudden burst of memory — I remembered: starry starry night cookies, delectable little freezer-friendly chocolate-chocolate, almond flour cookies.
I had no idea how long they had been in there, as they had worked their way to the back wall of the freezer, but it was worth a shot, baking them up to see what happened.
This has been a lentil kind of winter so far. I’m completely in love with the little bright red lentil — it goes in everything: pasta salads, green salads, soups (and even raw as sprouts — they’re delicious!).
So, when an accident in the kitchen occurred — tomato sauce spilled into a dish of lentils — an “ah HA!” moment occurred (kind of a “you got your chocolate in my peanut butter” situation).
A quick trip to the store, and the potential became reality. A little smoked paprika — which I just adore with lentils — makes for a rich, scrumptious pasta sauce that’s particularly warming on sub-freezing January nights.
Karen xo
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2013, I’ve resolved, will be the year of simple cooking. Adventure cooking can be playful and enjoyable, and I’ve learned more from bold experimentation than I ever thought possible (and found some completely addictive cuisines and recipes in the process), but I want to slow things down, return to my roots — as in, the roots in my garden.
Not that yogurt and bread grow in my garden, of course. Today’s recipe is a different kind of simple — proof that bread doesn’t does have to take all day to be dinner-worthy. Simple, yogurt-based, non-yeasted rolls, made with a hearty helping of whole grain spelt.
This recipe falls under one of those forehead-slapping “duh” categories. As in, why-didn’t-I-think-of-this-myself. Duh.
I was channel surfing one dark and stormy, late summer night, when I landed on a PBS station with Jacques Pépin frying eggs. He’s one cool dude, that Jacques. I love that he’s still cooking, his crooked, arthritic hands maneuvering bowls and pans swiftly around the kitchen, fluidly, and with a skill that I’m far from mastering. (His birthday’s tomorrow, by the way: he’ll be 77.)
Anyway, he was frying eggs. But not just any egg — hard boiled eggs. He was frying hard boiled eggs. Deviled eggs, actually, stuffed with simply seasoned egg yolks. He plated the eggs, and then drizzled them with a vinaigrette. Beautiful.
I grabbed my laptop and hit the Googs.
Hello, and welcome to SoupAddict, my little corner of the foodie world on the Interwebs. I'm Karen, and it's true, I'm addicted to soup. The seasons guide my cooking and eating, and when I'm not behind the stove — or the keyboard: I'm a writer by trade — you can find me in my vegetable garden. 
