Farro Salad with Roasted Grapes

Cooking in someone else’s home is hard. You don’t know which knife is the best. You’re uncharacteristically clean. You’re unsure whether you can just rinse a cup that was only, sorta, kinda used or if you really have to use soap. The burners never get hot fast enough, the oven gets hot too quickly, and eventually your just throw your arms up spoon feed yourself some peanut butter.

I said bye to my kitchen on Sunday as I packed up some clothes and moved out of San Francisco for the summer. There are geese outside my window here. And a lake. Yesterday, I took a long walk beside a corn grove. I even walked for 25 minutes without seeing another person. It didn’t make me nervous. I sat on a lawn chair, next to a pool. I listened to a waterfall. I read Bon Appetit, laughed with a friend, stared at the lake, stared at the geese.

When I first visited Israel, someone told me that one of the worst thing I could let happen to my life was routine. At the time, it seemed kind of dramatic, especially on the heels of the second Lebanon war. I see now how naive I was. Routine shrinks our eyes. It offers a temporary comfort in exchange for substantial discovery, growth, radical amazement. It’s frustrating when we open a cupboard for a glass only to find cereal and open another only to find vitamins. But we grow when we open that third cupboard to find exactly what we set out for.

I started a new job on Monday, in a new city, with new people, new questions and some unfamiliar independence.  I don’t yet know the best coffee shop around, the cheapest nail salon, or which file to put in which folder with which cover sheet. I suspect the next ten weeks will feel like I’m in someone else’s kitchen every day, at every turn. It’s exhausting. But like my friend was essentially saying, the worst thing we can do is remain the same.

What You Need

2 c dry farro

1 tsp salt

juice of 3 lemons

1 garlic clove; chopped

2 c celery; sliced (you could substitute for cucumber, too)

6 or 7 radishes; thinly sliced

5 thyme sprigs

2 c arugula; (before) chopped

2 leeks; sliced vertically, chopped, then roasted

1/4 c olive oil

1 to 1 1/2 c red grapes; halved and roasted

salt to taste!

How To Do It:

Preheat the oven to 425 F. Toss the leeks with olive oil and then roast for 15-20 minutes (or until they are crunchy). When finished, raise the temperature to 450 F, toss the grapes in a wee drizzle of olive oil (and pinch of salt!) and roast  for about 7 or 8 minutes (they should get wrinkly and look like an old person’s forehead). Remove from the oven, stick your finger in the juice and smile.

While those items are roasting, cook the farro with salt. In a large bowl, mix the farro with the lemon, garlic, celery and radish. Toss in the thyme and arugula and add the grapes last. Enjoy!

Roasted Eggplant with Tehina and Pomegranate Seeds

What are you thankful for? That you can make it to all of your kids’ sports games? That you have a job? That you have good health? I have a lot to be thankful for this week.

Our vet found a rare tick hidden on this little guy’s body that paralyzed and nearly killed him. But once removed, he was back to his happy, dancing self!

I accidentally left a spoon in the blender the other day, and when I turned the blender on, the glass broke and a huge shard flung into the kitchen wall. Happy it didn’t fling the other direction into my stomach.

Happy to be typing this post with two hands. I accidentally turned the electrical hand mixer on as I was trying to put one of the whisks into the socket. It turned on with my hand stuck between the two wands. It hurt, but all’s intact.

Happy birthday to MyJerusalemKitchen! 100 posts and two years later, my little blog is growing up. And happy birthday to Adam, the love of my life!

And most importantly of all, that this woman is my mom and has taught me everything I know about being an ambitious and compassionate woman. We shared this eggplant dish for a light mother’s day lunch. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! I love you!

Serves 2 for a light lunch

What You Need

1 eggplant; burnt on a burner

1/2 c tehina/tahini

salt to taste

lemon for drizzling

1 handful of pomegranate seeds to garnish; for how to de-seed one easily, look here

1 tblsp of parsley for garnish (mint would have been good, too)

 

I got to spend the last week with some family. Some I hadn’t seen in years and others have grown inches in a matter of moments it seems. My mom and I spent a lot of time together doing fun stuff but also just sitting in the car, giggling, running errands, and driving back home to get things we forgot. We tried to “make plans,” but we mostly just wasted time together like school girls. My mom, probably like many of you, or at least like many of your moms, does it all. She buys hundreds of crickets for the lizards my sister catches in the backyard and she stays up late into the night, talking with us, if we are worried about our lives. She finds lessons in a bad turn of events. She encourages us to follow our hearts but tells us that it’s hard to make a dollar. She worries that we’ll stand too close to the subway platform or lean against the wrong window, that we’ll walk anywhere at night, or too close to a pool without a cover. Please don’t get tattoos, don’t wear high heels, and don’t let manicurists cut your cuticles.

Mom, and moms of the world, you teach us how to exist. Your constant worrying keeps us safe and makes us a little crazy. But you soften us without making us think the real world is easy. This Sunday, you deserve a break. You spent hours in excruciating pain to bring us into this world, and every subsequent hour has been spent wondering where we are, what are friends are like, and who we will become. Today, breathe out a little. We love you.

How To Do It:

You’re going to burn the eggplant on top of a burner on your stove. Put some foil on your burner, leaving an opening around the burner, so you don’t have too much to clean up after. Over high heat, burn the eggplant, turning every 3 minutes (with tongs!) or so until the eggplant is completely black. Set aside to cool. Once the eggplant isn’t too hot to the touch, peel the black burnt skin off. Do not wash the eggplant because you want to retain that roasted/smoky flavor. Make four cuts into the eggplant, vertically, leaving the “head” of the eggplan intact (don’t cut all the way up to the top so that if you want to divide it with another person, each if you has two slices that are intact). Fan the pieces out on a place. Drizzle tehina across the eggplant, squeeze the juice from half a lemon all over, salt to taste, and garnish with pomegranate seeds and parsley. Enjoy with someone you love!

Lemon & Garlic Bruschetta with Roasted Tomatoes

  

Everyone’s on a juice cleanse. I wanted to make a fruit salad this week because it’s fruit, and there’s no reason not to be accommodating (though I’d rather accommodate with real food than liquid). I thought about a Middle Eastern one with a rose water and honey syrup and some thick and creamy Greek yogurt. I even bought a pomegranate and was getting ready to de-seed it and sprinkle the jewels all over the yogurt when I made the huge mistake of cutting myself a piece of sourdough bread. There were some lemon droplets on the cutting board, and that’s when everything went awry.

A couple of hours later, my minimal counter space was adorned with oven-roasted tomatoes and red onions. Chopped lemon bits were sprinkled all over the floor, and a lemon and garlic sauce was simmering on the stove, wafting — well, not really wafting through our apartment because we have relentlessly horrible circulation — but it was definitely filling the kitchen with a spring-time aroma.

I know the threat of summer weather makes us all think twice about the food we put in our mouths. But summer also means hanging out with friends, picnics, beach bags, and outdoor parties. You definitely can’t serve your friends a single glass of orange-kiwi-pineapple-whatever juice at any of the above. Thus, you need a new appetizer, a new party favorite that will have everyone forgetting they’re wearing a bikini and, instead, maybe starting to resent you a bit for having so much spare time to make these snacks (in truth, they take no work at all!). But the key is to make them think you slaved away when all you did was use your time wisely. This is not an appetizer/snack to miss! Keep the tomatoes around to sprinkle in salads, put on sandwiches, or just eat straight! Enjoy!

Inspired by The Zuni Cafe Cookbook

What You Need:

Lemon & Garlic Sauce

about 1/2 lemon; thinly sliced then chopped (about 2 tblsp of chopped lemon)

2 garlic cloves; chopped

1/2 c olive oil

For the Onion and Tomato

4 tomatoes

1/2 red onion

1 tsp sea salt

a dash of pepper

3 tblsp olive oil

How To Do It:

For the lemon & garlic sauce: place all the ingredients in a small saucepan. Cook over low heat until the oil is hot to the touch (allow it to simmer for about five minutes).

For the tomato and onion: Toss the ingredients together, lay on parchment covered pan, and heat for two hours at 275 degrees F.

Toast some sourdough bread, place tomato/onion, and top with the lemon & garlic sauce. Enjoy!

Watercress Salad with Polenta Croutons

 

There was an article last week in the NY Times called “The ‘Busy’ Trap” that I thought was perfectly insightful.  Now, a week later, it’s just sort of haunting me.  The author wrote: “Busyness serves as a kind of existential reassurance, a hedge against emptiness; obviously your life cannot possibly be silly or trivial or meaningless if you are so busy, completely booked, in demand every hour of the day.”

This clip is how I feel when people tell me they’re busy.

This meme is how I feel when people ask me to do things when I’m busy.

Most of us are operating on the assumption that we will do our work now and live our lives later — when we retire. Why can’t we live our lives right now? Why can’t the work day be shorter and things just move a little slower? I thought someone said there were roses to smell along the way!

When we lived in Jerusalem, I had constant, whiny freak-outs because I wasn’t in school, I didn’t have a “real” job, and I definitely didn’t even own a suit (truth-be-told, I was pretty much wearing pajamas for a straight two years because no one dresses up in Jerusalem). I think my anxiety stemmed from being an “overbooked child/teenager/young adult,” constantly on the move not only between houses but from volleyball to basketball, to Hebrew school, to Sunday school, to piano lessons, to guitar lessons, to volunteering, blah blah blah. And my childhood schedule pales in comparison to my wee brother and sister’s who are not only shuttled among similar activities but who also attend farm camp, robot-building workshops, and will likely be writing computer code before they can legally ditch their bumper seats in the car. They are nine, and they have more “skills” for their resume than I do.

I’m not gonna’ lie: that stresses me out.  But it also worries me. When my little sister was probably six years old or so, she came home from a big day at kindergarten and, when our mom asked if she wanted to do something with her, she replied, “I just want to put my feet up.” I fear that her feeling will remain with her until she retires.

I can hardly recall why I used to wish busy-ness upon myself. Today, I’m in endless classes, reading at all hours of the day, still don’t have a “real job” but I’m certainly “on a track,” and probably should have taken out another loan for the several suits I now own. Although my life is moving forward, happily, my life isn’t necessarily better or more creative or more fulfilling. I really believe it was only during such a “down time” in my life that I found my way to creativity. In the article I mentioned above, the author writes: “The space and quiet that idleness provides is a necessary condition for standing back from life and seeing it whole, for making unexpected connections and waiting for the wild summer lightning strikes of inspiration — it is, paradoxically, necessary to getting any work done.” I think he is so wise.

Look, this recipe takes time. Making it will force you to “stir continuously,” let things “rest” and not to let things boil too long. Indeed, you have to pay attention and you do need time. You have the time. It might be hidden somewhere, or you might have left it at the park when you were six years old, but you can find it now. It is important for your well-being. If you don’t make the time for this salad, make some time to do nothing, or wait around to do nothing, or take a walk with your kid, or just stare at a wall. Do something that gives you anxiety about everything you’re putting off, smile when it’s over, and you will see, miraculously, that you have somehow survived and your life is still meaningful, if not more. Enjoy!

What You Need:

Polenta recipe adapted from 101cookbooks

Polenta Croutons (this will make more croutons than you need, but you can just fry them up after and make polenta fries per the recipe linked above)

2 c milk (I used low fat)

2 c water

1 1/2 c polenta

1 tsp salt

oil for frying

For the Salad

4-6 large handfuls of watercress (just put as much as you want!)

Burrata; ripped into golf ball-sized pieces

1 tblsp olive oil

pinch of salt

1 bunch of asparagus; shaved, halved, and blanched

3 tblsp lemon juice (plus a little at the end)

How To Do It:

Polenta Croutons

Bring the milk and water just to a boil in a large saucepan. Slowly stream in the polenta while stirring constantly. Stir in the salt and turn down the heat a bit if needed (you don’t want the polenta to scorch). Continue stirring until the polenta thickens up (see picture); this can take anywhere from just a few minutes to much longer depending on your polenta.

Remove from heat and spread out 1/2-inch thick onto a baking sheet using a spatula (I wish I had made thicker ones — give it a try!). Chill in a refrigerator for at least an hour. Cut into 2″ x 2″ squares (or diamonds, or whatever!).

Bake in a 450 degree oven, middle rack, for 20 minutes or until golden and crispy.  On the stove, heat a tblsp of olive oil over high heat. Fry polenta squares until brown on all sides.

The Salad

Trim off the bottom 1-2 inches of your asparagus and shave about half of them with a peeler. Keep the remains. Halve the asparagus. In a medium sauce pan, bring salted water to a boil. Once boiling, blanch the asparagus for three minutes. Immediately run under cold water to stop them from cooking. Add the olive oil, lemon juice, and a pinch of salt to the asparagus. Set in the fridge to get cold.

Layer watercress, “croutons,” asparagus, and more watercress. Top with chunks of burrata mozarella. Drizzle some olive oil, salt, pepper, a squeeze of lemon and enjoy!

Swoon-worthy Orange & Coconut Macaroons

 

 

Matzo ball soup. Brisket. Four huge glasses of wine. Macaroons. Which of these things is not like the rest?

Macaroons.

I don’t trust any food that can survive a year in a little tin canister without molding. We left Egypt! Our food should expire, stale, lose flavor or, at least, evaporate. We deserve as much.

It feels like everywhere I look these days, people are updating the seder. The haggadot are endlessly accommodating, educational and simplified, and our grandmothers wouldn’t even recognize the recipes on today’s seder plate. People really are willing to leave what doesn’t work in Egypt, and I think this is right. But as I write this, I can hear Tevia in my head, curling his wrists and exclaiming, “Truh-dish-un… TRADITION! Dum DUM!”

These aren’t traditional macaroons. And THANK GOD. These coconut macaroons are crispy around the edges and chewy in the center. They are extraordinarily moist with a fresh and bright orange scent. The chocolate shavings are, well, there because it’s not really dessert without chocolate. And they’re shavings, so they look fancy. Even if you’ve already had your seder, I hope you’ll be able to enjoy these macaroons throughout the week, or even just for non-Jewish culinary pleasure. Enjoy!

Makes about 12 large macaroons

Inspired by this recipe!

What You Need:

3 egg whites

2 c sweetened, shredded coconut

1/2 c white sugar

2 tsp vanilla extract

1/4 tsp salt

1 tblsp orange zest

dark chocolate shavings to garnish (just use a peeler to shave the chocolate)

How To Do It:

Line a pan with parchment paper. Combine all of the ingredients (except the orange zest and chocolate) in a large heatproof mixing bowl, preferably stainless steel because the mixture will heat faster than in glass. Set the bowl directly in a wide skillet of barely simmering water (if your bowl bobs in the water, simply pour some out). Stir the mixture with a silicone spatula, scraping the bottom to prevent burning, until the mixture is very hot to the touch and the egg whites have thickened slightly and turned from translucent to opaque, 5 to 7 minutes. Set the batter aside for 30 minutes to let the coconut absorb more of the goop. Add the orange zest to the mixture and fully incorporate.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Using 2 tblsp of batter, make attractive, pointed heaps 2 inches apart on the lined cookie sheets. (You can also make these smaller and bake for less time, in 1-tablespoon heaps.) Sprinkle the chocolate on the tips. Bake for about 5 minutes — just until the visible coconut tips begin to color — and then lower the temperature to 325 degrees and bake for 10 to 15 minutes, until the cookies are a beautiful cream color with golden and brown edges. Set the pan or just the liners on racks to cool. Let cool completely before gently peeling the parchment away from each cookie. If you are impatient, I removed mine from the parchment early and they were fine. Store in an airtight container. Enjoy!

Note: the macaroons may seem slightly soft when they come out of the oven, but they will firm up if you just give them 5-10 mins outside the oven.

 

Refrigerator Pickled Red Onions (easy!)

 

I want more.

I know it’s not really “zen” and all, but I do.

An airline carrier that emails me before I arrive for a cancelled flight.

A pedicurist who doesn’t skimp on a firm, long foot massage.

A can opener that works and a shower caddy that doesn’t rust.

One thing’s for sure and that is, these super easy pickled red onions go the distance. With minimal ingredients, these pickled onions pack a big punch. Lip-smacking punch. Like you got punched in the face punch. If you’re like me, and you are resistant to pickling for fear that you’ll give yourself and everyone you love botulism, these pickled onions just go right in the fridge! No boiling, burning, infecting required! Curious how to eat them? Give your turnip soup a face lift, decorate your kinda boring kale salad, and accessorize your cheese sandwich. Let your food live! That’s not wanting more — that’s wanting what you deserve.

By the way, I’m sorry for the delay in posting this week. These last few weeks have been some of the busiest of my life, but I am happy to say that the craze will finally be over in the next couple of weeks. My teammates and I are packing up for New York to compete in a moot court competition, and the first Jewish Food Festival to hit SF arrives this Sunday (I was on the planning committee). I would be honored if you would check out this article I wrote for the Jew and the Carrot about the Festival and my connection to Jewish food. And for those of you in SF, you can learn more about this Sunday’s festival here. Come March 25th, I’ll be a relaxed woman ready to settle into a joyful Passover dinner with my family and breathe a little easier. I won’t be posting next week because I will be out of town, but I wish you all a restful, reflective, and rejuvenating holiday — if you celebrate — and if not, a wonderful week ahead of you.

What You Need:

2 c white vinegar

1 c sugar

8 alspice berries

1/2 tsp yellow mustard

1 tsp black peppercorns

2 medium onions; as thinly sliced as you can

1 tblsp fresh tarragon; chopped

2 garlic cloves; thinly sliced

one slice of red beet (for color)

How To Do It:

Put all the ingredients — except the garlic and the beet — into a sauce pan and cook over medium heat until the sugar dissolves (a few minutes) but without bringing the mixture to a boil. Set aside and allow to cool (about 15-20 minutes). While that’s all going, thinly slice the onions, thinly slice the garlic, and chop the tarragon. Put the beet in the mason jar for color (it can be chopped, sliced, whatever) and the garlic. Stuff as many onions as you can into the jar (it should be packed). Once the vinegar mixture has cooled, pour it into the jar and tightly seal. Give it a good shake to mix everything up. Allow to sit in the fridge for at least a day before enjoying. These are good for two weeks in the fridge. Enjoy!

Farro Salad with Leeks, Dates, and Chickpeas

You know how movies that feature a handful of A-list celebrities are almost always a flop? It makes sense – no one can shine when everyone is great. Food really isn’t like that though. I’m not saying that you should add white chocolate to Babaganoush because you love chocolate and you love eggplant and you love lemon (although someone thought it was good because it was featured in Bon Appetit). But I am saying that I would be stunned, shocked, and appalled if you didn’t love this bowl filled with A-list ingredients — leeks, dates, chickpeas, garlic, A TON OF LEMON and salt.

The best thing about this recipe, besides how delicious it is, is that if you make it for lunch on Sunday, you’ll have leftovers until Tuesday. And this isn’t one of those recipes where you push the tupperware farther and farther back into the fridge because you’d rather lick pavement that eat soggy leftovers one more time. Farro is sturdy and it doesn’t get mushy after a few days in your fridge (although if you replace it with quinoa, you’re looking at a problem…). Eat with pride, happiness and enjoy this for days!

Recipe adapted from the NY Times

Serves: 4-5 hungry people as a main dish

What You Need:

4 leeks; halved and thinly sliced

1/3 + 1/4 c olive oil

2 1/4 tsp sea salt

1/2 tsp black pepper

1 can chickpeas

1/3 c lemon juice (about 3 meyer lemons)

1/4 tsp red chili flakes

2 garlic cloves, minced

2 c dry farro, cooked (if you’re gluten-free, use quinoa!)

2 c celery celery leaves and tender stems (the inner part of the celery)

1/2 c dates

1/2 c raisins

How To Do It: 

Preheat your oven to 425 F degrees. Toss the leeks with 1/4 c oil, 1 tsp of salt and 1/2 tsp pepper. Spread them out in a single layer (use a second baking sheet if necessary) and roast, tossing frequently, until golden brown and crisp at the edges (about 20 minutes). In a large bowl, toss the leeks with the chickpeas, 1/3 cup lemon juice, 1 1/4 tsp salt, chile flakes and garlic. Stir in 1/3 c oil. Let marinate while you prepare the farro. In a large pot of salted boiling water, cook the farro until it’s tender. Drain and then toss with chickpea mixture. Stir in the dates, raisins and celery. Season to taste (either more lemon or salt). Serve warm or at room temperature. Enjoy!