Relish

It has been a beautiful week here in the piney woods of East Texas. Warm, but not hot, sunny, but not uncomfortably so, and we have enjoyed the outdoors as much as we can. Today we had a picnic in the downtown area where Bryan works. It was refreshing and relaxing, and the little one found many bugs to admire, the favorite, of course, was the rolly polly (or as he says: “Polly polly”).

I have found a long-lost love with relishes and condiments. All of this thanks to two gentlemen: Bobby Flay and his Mesa Grill Cookbook, and Tom Colicchio and his new cookbook, ‘Witchcraft. I am in love with these books and often I look through their pages, drooling over the photographs and getting inspiration from their creativity.

Both, Flay and Colicchio make extensive use of relishes and sauces, and I absolutely love this. Each book has a condiments section that is mouth-watering. I have marked several of these condiments and strangely enough most of the ones I have picked ask for large quantities of onions. So, yesterday, I came home with 8 pounds of onions. I really need to find a better way to store vegetables (certainly not in a large and beautiful ceramic salad bowl). Any suggestions?



One of the condiments that immediately caught my attention was the Raisin-Pinenut Relish. Colicchio spreads it on a vegetarian sandwich made of grilled eggplant and fresh mozzarella, among other things.

As it happens with most things I crave, I wanted to make this relish with the urgency of a person who had not eaten in days (although I doubt said person would bother cooking, but you get my point). The only problem was that I did not have all of the ingredients. I did not have white wine vinegar, I had only golden raisins and a mini-pack of dark ones, and I had already planned to use the red peppers for a Muhammara, which I will share with you soon.

The relish was served on pan-fried beef, which was stacked on top of a bed of Israeli couscous simply coated in clarified butter and a few grape tomato halves. I attempted to cook the beef like my dad always does: simply sprinkled with salt, pepper, and a pinch of dried oregano. The cut of the beef must be very thin (usually labeled “para Milanesa”), and must be cooked in a hot skillet very quickly.

The oregano is a strong player here, because the relish has oregano as well. Colicchio asks for Sicilian oregano, which I didn’t have, of course, but I did have my Aunt Ëngjëllushe’s oregano. She lives in Radhima, a village 20 minutes away from Vlora, and every year she gathers oregano and other herbs, dries them, and my mother, knowing how much I love herbs from home, always saves some for me to bring back to the states.

I store my herbs next to the coffee, so every morning when I open the cabinet, coffee mixed with oregano and cardamom wafts out of the doors, tickling my nose, throwing me back a few years, to my aunt’s house in Radhima. I have heard that coffee must not be kept in the same cupboard as herbs, but I choose to do so, because for those few seconds, I know home once again.



Raisin-Pinenut Relish*

Ingredients:

¼ cup of pinenuts
3 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil
½ cup of yellow onion
1 finely chopped clove of garlic
½ cup of mix of golden and dark raisins
¼ cup white vinegar
¼ cup sherry cooking wine
½ cup roasted red peppers, roughly chopped (I used jarred ones)
½ jalapeno, finely chopped
4 fillets anchovies, finely chopped (I used ones from a can preserved in olive oil)
1 teaspoon of sugar
1 cup of water
1 teaspoon of dried oregano


-In a heavy skillet lightly roast the pinenuts. Make sure they don’t burn. Set them aside.
-In a skillet, heat the oil and add the onions, garlic, and half of the oregano. Cook on medium high until the onions become transculent.
-Add the vinegar and the sherry. Lower heat to medium, add a couple of pinches of salt, and cook until the vinegar and sherry have reduced to half.
-Add the peppers, jalapeno, anchovies, pinenuts, sugar, and water.
-Stir well, cover and let simmer on medium heat for about 10-15 minutes, until the liquid has evaporated.
-Stir in the oregano. Let cool.

The relish can be stored in the refrigerator in an airtight container for up to one week. You can serve it on meats, tofu, and spread it over sandwiches.

Ju bëftë mire!
-E.

*Adapted from Colicchio's recipe in 'Wichcraft.

How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count the Truffles

It is my older sister's birthday today! Gëzuar Ditëlindjen, Jola! Happy Birthday! Love you.

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Last night at dusk I spotted the first few fireflies I have seen in a while. Two or three, or maybe it was a lonely, speedy one who tricked me into believing there were more than one. Who knows?

I called Bryan and Jack, who were wrestling and throwing each other on the big bed, making a mess, no doubt.

“Bryan, Jack, come see the fireflies.”
“What?” Bryan replies, voice breaking from a wee toddler jumping on him.
“Fireflies…come see.”

I hear rushed steps and Bryan walks into the kitchen really concerned. He thought I had said that there was some fire. Jack had though the same, so he rushes in the room, green light saber in hand, ready to get the fire. He is always thinking that he is about to save somebody or perform an amazing feat. Where does that come from?

Anyway, I had chocolate on my mind. Chocolate occupies my thoughts often and I am able to satiate the craving by eating a dark chocolate square (or three ;)). Jack also loves dark chocolate and it happens often that the two of us take an afternoon chocolate break. We sit at his little Nemo table and munch. It is a good time.



For the past two years I have made chocolate treats for Valentine’s Day. If you don’t know, for the past two years I have also been in grad school, so truffle-making should have been out of the question. It wasn’t.

What started it all was this little idea I had after watching Amadeus, where, in a particular scene, the villain offers another woman character some treats called Nipples of Venus. I mulled over them, I deliberated, and I decided to forget about my ten page paper that was soon to be due, and instead I made Nipples of Venus, well, my version of them.

I spent all evening and into the night, making ganache, piping, dipping, etc. The next day I had so many Nipples of Venus that I had to take them with me at school. It just so happened that that semester I was taking a course called Dangerous Texts (taught by my friend Camilla’s husband), where some of the texts that we read were subversive to say the least. I think we were on Fanny Hill when said Nipples were brought to class.

I did not anticipate all the jokes, but it was all good fun.

The next year I made truffles. No piping and dipping, just plain truffles with a few added flavors. They were divine, if I may say so myself. Perhaps just as good as the Nipples of Venus (recipe coming soon). They were not met with the chuckles and laughter of their predecessors, but with “mmm… and...ahhhh –s!”

So here they are, beautiful, rich, and satisfying. Eat them alone in your back yard or neighborhood park and keep your eye out for fireflies. They will make the moment even more magical.

Orange and Hazelnut Dark Chocolate Truffles

Ingredients:
-2 cups of good 60% cocoa, baking chocolate chips
-1/3 cup heavy whipping cream
-6 tablespoons unsalted butter, sliced thinly
-1/2 cup confectioner’s sugar
-zest of 1 medium orange

Coating ingredients:

-1/3 cup natural cocoa powder (not Dutch process)
-3/4 cup, petite chopped roasted hazelnuts

-Pour cream in a medium saucepan and slowly bring to simmer.
-Add sugar and butter and stir until sugar is dissolved and butter is melted.
-Add the orange zest.
-Add chocolate chips and melt on medium low heat, stirring constantly to prevent burning. Melt until you have a smooth and shiny sauce (ganache).
-Pour the ganache in a bowl and chill in refrigerator at least 2 hours.

-Pour the cocoa powder and hazelnuts on separate shallow plates.
-When fully chilled, roll the ganache into 1 inch balls (scoop with a teaspoon), and roll the balls into the cocoa powder first and fully coat, and then roll them in the hazelnut plate, gently pressing the balls onto the hazelnut pieces.
-You need to work fast to prevent melting.
-Keep the truffles chilled.

Makes about 30 truffles.

Enjoy!
-E.

Food Flubs and Good Friends

I have had a streak of bad luck in the kitchen. Three times in a row! It started with the failed attempt to make Asian-inspired ravioli. The wonton wraps whispered my name and giggled as I walked down the grocery aisle. Maybe it was just my overly-active imagination, but I did end up buying them.

When I was a little girl, I always believed that inanimate objects spoke to each other. So, when my mom would make me a new summer dress, like my favorite, the one with fluttery sleeves and red polka dots on white background, I would always imagine the conversations it had with the other clothes crowded in the small armoire in my parents’ bedroom.

“Hi dresses!” Polka dots would say.

The old dresses would be a bit jealous, because I loved the new one so much. They would pretend the new dress wasn’t even there. And so on. I daydreamed of the conversations that happened between my toys, books, and even food on my plate:

“Hello, pilaf!” the Çomlek* would say as it kissed the white grains, enveloping them in delicious juices and aromas.

Before you close your browser, shaking your head, rolling your eyes, exasperated at the ridiculousness of my claims, I here state that I no longer believe that foodstuffs and objects converse (unless they are wonton wrappers wishing to be turned into soft pockets filled with ginger, scallions, garlic, cilantro, among other things). Ok, ok, I’m done. Don’t leave just yet.

So back to my initial point (goodness, I digress). It started with my experiment of handmade ravioli. The flavors were delicious and the aroma to die for, but after the ravioli had cooked until al dente, it looked like loose skin shriveling around the filling, limping about in the water, completely non-appetizing. I had failed to seal all the air out of the pockets – a mistake I will never again make – and I had failed to fill the wrappers enough.

The second failure came in the form of a mushroom tart, which tasted wonderful, but my technique left much to be desired. I will keep working on this one – trust me, it will be a winner.


The third failure was an attempt at a vegan desert: silken tofu, fresh mangoes, homemade curried vegan crust, ginger, and mint. It worked on paper. It really was not good, and it was discouraging.



This brings me to the food of today’s post: Sour Chickpea Curry. Thursday was an Indian-themed day. Our friends Chrissy and Nathan, Ericka, who was my Post-colonial literature professor – how ironic, and Caitlin, were coming over for a viewing of Slumdog Millionaire, and an abundance of Indian food. Ericka makes some delicious samosas, which were brought along with some vegetable patties and a variety of chutneys. Chrissy made some rice, Caitlin brought the beer, and I made the Sour Chickpea Curry along with aforementioned failure - mango ginger pie.

It was all oh so good (minus the mango pie). And we were so happy to settle around the screen and begin watching the movie. It was heartbreaking, tender, beautiful, and gritty, all at once. I felt guilty at the abundance I am blessed with, and as a member of the Western audience, I felt guilty for assuming that the movie was going to be just entertainment, I, the audience being merely a voyeur, getting my fix for exotic escape. It portrays a harsh reality, one that is still present in most parts of the developing world. I hated the neatly-bow-tied ending. I felt that it did not do any justice to the reality it was trying to portray, but I am no film critic.



Slumdog made me think about the curry we had just eaten and how easy and cheap it was to make: chop this, sauté that, stir in this and that, and let simmer. Simple, delectable, and beautiful. It reminded me of some of my parents’ go-to dishes (they are called gjellë in Albania – more on these in the future), simply made, because of necessity and because, good cooking is often unfussy.

The evening left me content and thankful for my comforts, but most importantly for friends and family. People make our life beautiful; their presence makes the meal gratifying, and their affection and love are the salt that gives everything else flavor, even when we fail.

Sour Chickpea Curry**

Ingredients:

-One 15-oz can of chickpeas, drained and rinsed
-About 2 ½ teaspoons of salt (taste the curry when it is done to make sure it is salty enough)
-1 large onion, finely chopped
-1 fresh jalapeño, finely chopped
-2 tablespoons, peeled and very finely grated fresh ginger ( microplane comes in handy here)
-5 tablespoons of lemon juice (preferably fresh)
-5 tablespoons of olive oil
-1 tablespoon ground coriander
-1 tablespoon ground cumin
-1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
-1 15-ounce can of petite diced tomatoes
-2 teaspoons of garam masala
-1/4 teaspoon of cayenne pepper
-1/2 teaspoon of sugar
-1 cup of water
-3 tablespoons of chopped cilantro

-In a large covered bowl, mix two tablespoons of onions, ½ teaspoon of salt, the jalapeño, ginger, and lemon juice. Mix and let stand.
-Heat the oil in a large, heavy skillet or pan. Add the onions, coriander, cumin, turmeric, and stir fry for about 8-10 minutes.
-Add the tomatoes. Cook on medium heat for another 5 minutes.
-Add the chickpeas, the remaining 2 teaspoons of salt, garam masala, cayenne pepper, sugar, and water. Stir and mix well. Bring to a simmer, cover the pan, lower heat, and cook gently for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.
-Remove pan from heat, and add the chickpeas along with the cilantro to the bowl with the onion and lemon juice mixture. Stir well, cover and let stand for 30 minutes before eating.
-Serve with rice and a fresh green salad.

*A thick, tomato-based sauce (recipe coming soon).
**Adapted from a Mathur Jaffrey recipe.

Honeymoon Carrots

The new look for The Split Pea is my husband's work. He is a computer witch doctor. It is very strange how I fail at every attempt to fix any computer problems, whereas Bryan need only look at the machine in question, and it will bow down to his will, immediately stopping the tantrum with which it taunted me. Thank you, honey. I love it!

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When we got married seven years ago, I didn't know how to cook. Let me rephrase that: I knew how to eat and I knew what I liked, but I didn't know how to use spices, how to complement flavors, what other ways of cooking there were, aside from my parents' standbys, which truth be told, I did not know how to cook either. So, after our quick wedding, we jumped on Bryan's VW Jetta and set off for a 19 hour drive to Naples, Florida. It was a fun road trip.

Naples was as beautiful as ever, and the condo where we stayed was amazing. The most impressive aspect of this place was the kitchen. Beautiful, spacious, with big windows, large island, smooth white counter-tops, and a corner with a desk and shelves. I adored that kitchen! So much so, that I decided to cook for Bryan. I believe we went into an Albertson's to buy groceries: chicken breasts, oregano, parsley, carrots, potatoes, red lettuce, bread, garlic, and dill weed (among other things).

While I played house, Bryan sat by the pool reading one of his Sci-Fi brain candy books, occasionally peeking through the windows, or poking his head in the kitchen to see if the meal was ready. I did take my time. Really. It took about three hours to make a simple meal of pan fried chicken breasts, mashed potatoes, carrot salad, and green salad.

I would be lying if I told you that the cooking time was the only thing wrong with my meal. This is embarrassing. I don't know what came over me, but in a moment of over-zealous house-wivery, I decided to season everything, well, almost everything with dill weed. Yes. I know.

So, we had pan-fried dill chicken, green salad with green onions, dill mashed potatoes, and a carrot and dill salad.

Bryan is amazing. Usually he will not complain about the food I cook. He certainly did not complain about the time it took for dinner, or the flavor of the food. We did laugh though, after a particularly clever comment that he made, which had to do with the ridiculous amounts of dill we were consuming.


Despite the wait and the dill-ness, one of the best dishes of that meal was the carrot and dill salad that my parents make frequently when carrots are in abundance. My sister Jola makes a delicious version of this as well. Here is my humble take on our family classic.

Every time I make it, there is always a hidden smile when we take the first bite of the carrots. It may be just the pleasing taste, but I suspect it is the memory of our first home-cooked meal together.



Honeymoon Carrot Salad

Ingredients:

1 lb of carrots (I usually buy the pre-sliced carrot chips), sliced into ¼ inch slices
2 tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil
¾ teaspoon of salt
2 teaspoons of dried dill weed
3 garlic cloves, crushed or chopped very fine
Juice and zest of one lemon (a microplane comes handy here)

-In a large pan bring water to a boil and season with salt (about 1-2 teaspoons)
-Add the carrot chips and boil on medium high for 5-6 minutes until tender crisp. Make sure they do not get too soft and mushy.
-Strain the carrots and rinse with cold water.
-In a large bowl mix the carrots with the rest of the ingredients. Make sure they are mixed thoroughly.
-Cover the bowl and place in the refrigerator for at least one hour, stirring occasionally.
-The more the salad rests, the tastier it will be.

Ju bëftë mirë!
-E.

A Good Meal Is Just a Phone Call Away

I love the produce aisles in the spring and summer. Right now they are filled with vine-ripe tomatoes, mangoes, cantaloupes, pears. I feel like buying everything and cooking a gigantic meal, and inviting everyone to have a bite, and laugh, drink, talk. This was my inspiration behind the idea of having a block party. We live at the end of the street, and most of the houses around ours have little kids whom Jack has easily befriended (it's amazing how kids do it). We have come to know some of our neighbors, and it happens that every afternoon around 5:30 a few of us come out in our front yards and let the little monkeys run, ride bikes, throw dirt, dig for worms, you get the picture. Jack always has to have a bath after play.


It was during one of the past couple of afternoons that Heather, one of my neighbors, and I decided to organize a block party. I am excited and I am already making lists of possible things to make. It will be glorious. [in case you haven't noticed, 'glorious' is one of my favorite words] Stay tuned. I will report every detail.
Inspired by the possibilities, I headed for the grocery store to see what they had. The zucchini, summer squash, and eggplant were on sale. I knew what to make immediately. The problem was that the recipe was in my father's head and there is a 7 hour difference with Albania. I could not call him at 1AM Albania time to ask how my father, the chef makes his finger-licking summer vegetable bake. So I waited until the next morning. The conversation went like this:

Me: "Alo!"
Dad: "O Pipo [my nickname], si je?" ("how are you")
...more personal exchanges...
Me: "Dad, can you tell me how you made the vegetable bake we had this past summer when I was there?"
Dad: "Which one?"
Me: "The one with the eggplant and zucchini and tomato sauce?"
Dad: "I don't know? Just mix the eggplant and the veggies with fresh tomato and garlic and bake."
Me: "Hmmm, that's not much help."
Dad: "Well, you should have watched me."

Indeed, I should have. He is a great cook. I did manage to figure it out though (I think), and I made my very own vegetable bake. It is delicious and light and so summery. The only downside is that we decided to have a picnic - the weather was perfect - and eating roasted vegetables and goat cheese salad in the park, on a too small blanket, is not very comfortable. But the food was good, the park was beautiful, and our little one loved it - not the veggies, the monkey bars.


Roasted Summer Vegetables and Beef*

Ingredients:

3 fresh tomatoes
6 garlic cloves, crushed or finely chopped
1 1/2 tablespoon of olive oil
1/2 lb stewing beef, cut into 1/2 inch cubes (I buy the pre-cut package)
2 teaspoons of salt
1 teaspoon sugar
1 eggplant, cut into 1 inch cubes
1 zucchini, cut into 1/4 inch rounds
1 summer squash, cut into 1/4 inch rounds
1 potato, cut into 1/2 inch cubes

-Preheat oven to 400 F. Spray with non-stick spray a large, oven-safe baking dish.
-Boil a pot of water. Quickly put the tomatoes in for a few seconds and fish them out.
-The skin of the tomatoes should come off easily. After peeling, grate the tomatoes making sure to keep all the juices and seeds.
-Mix in the crushed garlic, half of the salt, and all of the sugar.
-In a skillet, heat the oil and add the beef to brown. Add the tomato mixture and cook for about 1 minute, scraping off the brown bits from the bottom of the pan.
-In a large bowl mix all the vegetables along with the tomato sauce and beef.
-Pour everything into the baking dish; sprinkle with the remaining salt and a bit of black pepper, and cook covered with aluminum foil for 30 minutes.
-Take the foil off, and cook for another 15-20 minutes uncovered, until the vegetables get golden tips.
-Test with a fork for doneness.

I served this with good crusty bread to soak up the yummy juices and a simple goat cheese salad.

*For a vegetarian version, you can also omit the beef.

Ju Bëftë Mirë!
-E.

Endings

I always find it hard when something comes to an end. I can handle the pain, emotional and otherwise, but what I find hard when things resume, is the void that they leave behind. Something which occupied my mind for so long is no longer there. Today is one of those days; I graduated with an MA in English and walked the stage that packed us - graduates and audience - like chickpeas in a can. My husband, Bryan was there, and so was Jack my little boy, and my in-laws, Jeana and Juan-Carlos (don't worry, they all will have an official introduction soon). Others very dear to me were not in attendance; my parents and sisters live in Albania and Canada. I did not feel anything out of the ordinary, no fireworks, no overwhelming emotion, but what made me know what was really happening, what pulled me out of the coffeeless, numb stupor, was seeing my super husband armed with a backpack of diapers, portable DVD player, camera, etc., Jack on his shoulders, taking pictures of me walking. For a few seconds I sobbed inside. It was a good thing.

I no longer have deadlines (I do, but for the moment I have made them invisible) looming, no mammoth-sized thesis to write (I still have to make the final changes for binding), and no more reading books for classes (I have a long book list to go through by the end of the summer). It has been an intense 2 years, difficult, beautiful; Bryan and I have read together, debated in class together (him taunting the feminist in me mostly), shared ideas, beautiful ideas, shared many difficult times. Now that it has all come to an end, as I walked across that stage I knew that I would miss it and I was thankful that it was over.

So to celebrate the end of a time and the beginning of another, which will hopefully still be filled with beautiful words, images, friends, and food, I baked. I baked my friend Sunny's yam muffins, but with a few additions. Her version, which she wrote on a note card that is now covered in oil stains, dried batter, and coffee spots, is just as delicious, but I felt adventurous and departed the recipe (as I often do). I do hope you try them. And I do hope that they comfort your morning just as they filled my evening and my house with a lingering sweet hush. It's going to be a good night.

Spiced Sweet Potato Muffins

Ingredients:
1/2 cup of sweet potatoes, cooked* and roughly mashed (approximately 1/2 sweet potato)
3/4 cup of sugar
3/4 cup of canola oil
2 eggs, beaten
1 1/2 cup of self-rising flour
1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon (I really like Saigon cinnamon)
1/4 teaspoon of nutmeg
1/2 cup of yellow raisins (sultanas)
1/2 of chopped walnuts

-Preheat oven at 350 F.
-Either spray a muffin pan (12 cup) with baking spray, or line the cups with muffin paper.
-In a large mixing bowl, combine the sweet potatoes, sugar, oil, and eggs.
-In a different mixing bowl, mix the flour with the cinnamon and nutmeg.
-Add flour mixture to the egg mixture and blend until moistened. Be careful to not over mix the batter.
-Fold in the raisins and nuts.
-Spoon into the muffin cups.
-Bake 15-20 minutes**

Makes 12 muffins.

*To cook the sweet potato, peel it and cut it in 1 1/2 inch cubes, and put it in a pan of boiling water. The cubes should be soft and ready to mash in 5 minutes. You can check for doneness with the tip of a knife.
**Baking time will depend on the oven. Mine can get quite hot, so I usually place the muffin tin on top of a cookie sheet in order to prevent burning.

-E.

How I Got Redeemed

I am not a fan of cereal. Part of the reason is that the breakfasts served to me growing up consisted of fried eggs, or bread and butter with fig jam, or eggs and sausage, or a type of french toast, except my mom made a salty version, and others. Cereal did not exist in Albania in the 1980s.

When my parents came to visit us in Nacogdoches back in 2006 when Jack was almost 5 months old, my mother was shocked that I did not serve Bryan a home cooked breakfast, and that I let him fend for himself, searching the messy pantry for a box of still good cereal. Bryan tried to explain in his best Albanian that he, in fact, prefers cereal to eggs and sausage, which was something my mother found hard to believe. She did give up eventually, but it took a few weeks. What converted her to speedy breakfasts was oatmeal.

It was a particularly gloomy and cold January day. Bryan was getting ready for work while my parents and I were lingering at the breakfast table. Bryan opened the pantry and stood in front of it looking. My mom, vigilant as ever, stood up and asked:

“Cfarë do, flori?” (“What are you looking for, golden one”)

Bryan pulled out four packets of instant fruit flavored oatmeal and waved them in front of her. Mom turned around to look at me. She was confused. First, her son-in-law likes cereal, next he starts to eat some mystery mush that comes in small packages? I laughed:

“Është tërshërë.” (“It’s oatmeal.”)
“Tërshërë??? Uaaaaa...ne ja japim tërshërën kuajve, ti ja jep burrit?” (“Oatmeal??? We give oatmeal to horses, you give it to your husband?)

We all laughed hysterically. My mom is very funny and clever, but she was also being truthful. In Albania, oatmeal is used to feed the animals. Of course, things are changing and its nutritious qualities are being realized, but for my mother’s generation, oatmeal for breakfast was unthinkable.

I did get her to try some of the mush though, and she did like it. In fact, there were mornings when she and my father would ask for oatmeal for breakfast and I was happy to oblige. I only regret that I had not yet discovered granola when they were here. I think they would have loved it. I love it, and I am not a cereal person, remember? This granola is filled with nuts and seeds, it crunches, it is mildly sweet, and the spices give it a delicious flavor and smell. I especially love the way the house smells after I have made granola, and making it is a fun activity for Jack and mommy. He loves to pour the oatmeal, the nuts, and the seeds in the big bowl. He likes to swirl the oil and maple syrup with a whisk. The only thing he doesn’t love, is the granola itself, not because it is not good, but because he is the pickiest eater I have ever known, aside from myself. But we are working on that.

So here it is, the granola that made me fall in love with breakfast again. Mom would be proud.

Nutty, Seedy Granola

Dry Ingredients:
6 cups old-fashioned rolled oats (not instant)

1 1/3 cup chopped mix of almonds and pecans*

1/3 cup raw sunflower seeds

1 cup raw pumpkin seeds

1/3 cup of a mix of flax seeds and sesame seeds (raw)

1 tablespoon ground cinnamon (I especially like Saigon cinnamon, but the normal one will work fine)

2 teaspoons ground ginger

1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom (optional)

1/2 teaspoon salt

Wet ingredients:
4 tablespoons canola oil

1 cup pure maple syrup (Grade A Dark Amber), or you can do a mix of maple syrup and honey (orange flower honey is my favorite).

1 ½ cup dried fruits – any of the following would work well here if you like fruit in your granola: cranberries, cherries, apricots, dates, figs, and/or raisins.

-Preheat oven at 325.
-Line two large baking sheets (with sides) with parchment paper.
-In a large mixing bowl mix dry ingredients (minus the fruit), and in a separate bowl the wet ingredients.
-Add wet ingredients to dry ones and mix thoroughly.
-Layer the mixture in the baking sheets and bake for about 30-40 minutes, remembering to stir every 10 minutes in order to insure uniform color and crunchiness (my oven is pretty hot and the granola was done in 25 minutes – keep an eye on it and keep smelling it). Once the granola has cooled, add the optional fruit. This granola is especially good with plain soy milk in the morning or any other time of day when you need a healthy snack.

*I buy whole raw almonds and raw pecan halves. You can run them in a food chopper, or put them in separate Ziploc bags and crush them with a meat tenderizer tool or any other hard object. I have been known to use an empty Perrier bottle to roll over the nuts in order to crush them.

Lazy Summers and Fresh Tomatoes

The smell of fresh tomatoes always reminds me of my summers in the valley of Dukat where my grandparents lived. My grandfather grew beautiful tomatoes each summer, and it was a good thing, because each summer my family would take long trips to Vlora, one of the major coastal Albanian cities. Both my parents were from villages surrounding Vlora, which signified numerous visits in Dukat, meals shared with a great number of people, staying up late, attempting to ride my grandfather’s sheep, climbing fig trees, and other fun adventures. My grandfather, Bab Shefqet, lived in an old stone house surrounded by fruit trees and beautiful vegetable gardens. That part of the world is particularly sunny, which means that summers tend to be hot and dry. Being that Bab Shefqet loved to garden – one of his many talents – he devised a beautiful and very effective irrigation system of mini gutters that were in direct connection to the fresh spring up the mountain, about a 10 minute steep hike from the house. The gutters stretched, weaved, and turned every which way, making sure to provide the needed moisture to the gardens, and when time for crops came, it was glorious. Bab Shefqeti guarded the gardens from the rambunctious grandchildren - like yours truly - who liked to pick the not quite ripe tomatoes.

In an attempt to remedy this destructive tendency once and for all, on one of our summer visits, Bab Shefqeti asked me to follow him into the garden. This was frightening. Was I in trouble? No, not really. He just took me where a tomato vine, heavy laden with blushing orbs, had given birth to a perfectly ripe one. Bab Shefqeti picked it, smelled it and said: “See? Smell it. This is a ripe tomato.”

I was reminded of that smell as I walked in the grocery store yesterday, 3-year old Jack safely loaded in the cart. I felt it for a fleeting second, long enough to make myself turn around and search for the red lovelies. And I found them, sitting pretty in a large bin, with a .99c/lb sign on top. I bought 5 pounds and I happily told Jack: “Këto janë domate. Mmmmm…” (“These are tomatoes”) He rubbed his tummy and his best pretend voice said: “I love tomatoes, mommy.” I wish he really did. But it is a start, and soon enough he will love them, I hope.

I like to eat my tomatoes in a plain tomato and sweet onion salad (will share this with you soon), but I made a version of bruschetta instead, for a group of good friends who came over for dinner. I added mint and oregano in place of the basil, and it was delicious. It brought back memories of vegetable-filled summers, lazy afternoons under my grandparents grape vine covered porch, sipping freshly squeezed fruit juices, listening to my grandfather’s recitation of epic Albanian poetry, flies buzzing, dogs barking, donkeys braying.
I tried to get Jack to try it, but he claimed that it had green yuckies on it. Oh well. At least, I think he loves the smell.

Tomato, Mint, and Oregano Bruschetta

Ingredients:

5 fresh tomatoes, diced
3 cloves of garlic
2 tablespoons fresh oregano, chopped
1 tablespoon fresh mint, chopped
2 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon salt
pinch of sugar

1 fresh baguette

-Toss the diced tomatoes in a colander with the salt and let sit for 10-15 minutes. This will remove the excess juice. I usually save this juice and add it to soups, vinaigrettes, etc.
-Crush the garlic with a pestle and mortar, or with a garlic press. Make sure it is well crushed.
-In a mixing bowl mix the drained tomatoes, garlic, oregano, mint, olive oil, and sugar. Toss well to combine.
-Serve with fresh baguette slices as an appetizer, or as a light lunch.

Ju bëftë mirë! (Bon appetit!).
-E.