Tag Archives: spring

Soba Bowl with Braised Cabbage + Tahini Dressing from Eat This Poem

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Both the cook and the poet are makers.
One holds a knife, the other a pen.
– Nicole Gulotta from Eat This Poem

 

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Years ago, I began this blog as a recent college graduate with an abundance of quiet determination and no real idea what to do with it. I had a degree in agriculture and a minor in English, it was 2009 and the jobs for recent graduates with very generalized degrees were particularly non-existent. I was headed towards a teaching program in the fall, mostly because I had said I was going to years before, and every time I brought up my doubt, mentors and loved ones said try it and then decide. 

Words, whether mine or another’s, have always been a big part of my life, hence the reason I opted to keep pursuing literature courses long after deciding I did not want to specialize in the subject. So too has food, and the ability to create and celebrate a community about it, been particularly important. This space took its beginnings with that idea, of merging these two interests of words and meals because I didn’t know then of another way to combine the two. And so that first post back in June 2009 was about picking cherries high in a tree in a dress on the curb outside my last college house. And then making pie afterwards, a gift for my dad.

Since then, it’s fair to say I’ve often questioned whether I want to continue here, what the content should be, and whether anyone other than me cares for the words (or meals) that are shared.

 

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Though there are so many blogs now, I am still drawn to the ones that do as I started to all those years ago, capturing an otherwise forgotten moment or memory with the meal that accompanied it, in a way that is not often practiced in writing online. That is, with a real voice. Nicole Gulotta’s Eat This Poem, is one of those sites. And Nicole just wrote a whole cookbook merging the two! I’m so glad I get to share about it here.

Eat This Poem is at once a poetry anthology and a cookbook, as Nicole believes food and poetry are two of life’s essential ingredients. In the same way salt seasons ingredients to bring out their flavor, poetry seasons our lives; when celebrated together, our everyday moments and meals are richer and more meaningful. Each of the twenty-five inspiring poems—from such poets as Marge Piercy, Louise Glück, Mark Strand, Mary Oliver, Billy Collins, Jane Hirshfield—are accompanied by seventy-five recipes that bring the richness of words to life in our kitchen, on our plate, and through our palate. Eat This Poem opens us up to fresh ways of accessing poetry and lends new meaning to the foods we cook.

With poems simple and complex and recipes that mirror them, Eat This Poem nudges us to be thoughtful, to slow down, to pause and consider, and to cook and eat in the same way. I chose to make and share this particular recipe because it did exactly that, and after pausing and reflecting, I wanted to literally eat the poem, letting the meaning of the words fill me completely.

 

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After a life spent doing other people’s taxes, this writer has purchased a new pen; dusted off an old desk; and written a single, fresh word on his blank piece of paper. Cabbage. That wrinkled, heavy, winter globe of a vegetable can be intimidating, but with a few slices of a knife and a bit of heat under its leaves, cabbage transforms into something tender and approachable. 

For writers, the blank page can be just as intimidating. Fearing rejection, they talk themselves out of doing the very thing they must do, burying their work in drawers for years. One day, they buy a new pen in hopes that it will fuel inspiration. They press on. Let this poem be a reminder to keep putting one foot in front of the other, to raise our heads, to do the difficult work, whatever it may be. Whatever struggle a writer endures, it is fuel for the page. The good news, always, is that what challenges us also changes us, usually for the better if we recognize its potential. 

What I love above all are Nicole’s reflections on each poem, like this one above about writing the word cabbage, in Determination. What I love too, is that poetry has the power to mean so many things, far beyond perhaps its literal meaning. So when I read Determination, it hits me where I’m at in life for reasons completely beyond the “simple” task of putting words to a page. And those words were more impactful when I ate them, mindfully and with intention, in this beautiful and tasty Soba Bowl with Braised Cabbage + Tahini Dressing which they were presented with.

I hope you pick up a copy of Eat This Poem when you get a chance, for it is filled with many more beautiful and moving poems from prominent and less known authors, along with recipes that fill us, in the way that only well spoken or written words and lovingly prepared meals can.

 

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Soba Bowl with Braised Cabbage + Tahini Dressing, serves 4

2 Tbs. toasted sesame oil
2 Tbs. extra-virgin olive oil
One 1-inch knob of ginger, finely grated
2 garlic cloves, finely minced
1 medium head cabbage, halved, core removed and thinly sliced (6-8 cups)
¾ cup water
Salt
8 ounces soba noodles (gluten-free if necessary or try adzuki spaghetti noodles)
1 bunch green onions, green parts only, thinly sliced
½ cup lightly packed cilantro, minced
1 red chile pepper, optional
2 Tbs. sesame seeds

For the Dressing:
1/3 cup tahini
¼ cup water
2 tsp. toasted sesame oil
1 tsp. rice wine vinegar
½ tsp. salt
2 tsp. honey
1 small garlic clove, peeled

  1. Set a large sauté pan over low heat and add the sesame and olive oils. Add in the ginger and garlic; cook for 1 minute or until they begin to dissolve and become fragrant. Add the cabbage and water, then season with 1 teaspoon salt. Increase the heat to medium, cover and cook for 15 to 20 minutes, or until the cabbage is tender. Check on it halfway through and toss the cabbage.
  2. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. While you’re waiting, make the dressing. Combine all the ingredients in a blender and pulse to combine. If you make the dressing in advance, put it in the refrigerator until this point. Take it out and thin with a bit of water if needed; it will have thickened when chilled.
  3. Cook the soba or other noodles according to package directions, roughly 3 to 4 minutes. Remove from the heat, drain, and rinse with cool water to stop the cooking, then pour into a large bowl. Pour the dressing over the top and work it together with tongs or a large spoon. It may need an additional sprinkle of salt. Mix in the cabbage along with the green onions, cilantro, minced chile pepper (if using), and sesame seeds; toss. Serve with additional sesame seeds sprinkled on top.

NOTE: For this dressing, you want just a whisper of garlic. A good clove would be one pulled from the interior of the bulb.

 

Adapted from Eat This Poem A Literary Feast of Recipes Inspired by Poetry by Nicole Gulotta, © 2017 by Nicole Gulotta. Reprinted by arrangement with Roost Books, an imprint of Shambhala Publications, Inc. Boulder, CO. www.roostbooks.com

 


Red Lentil Falafel with Millet, Lemon Ginger Dressing + Quick-Pickled Onions

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I’m reading this novel right now, Sweetbitter. It is a coming-of-age about a young  girl who lands her first post-college job as a back waiter in a prestigious New York City restaurant. Broken up by seasons in her first year, I’ve just reached the point of early spring and the first thing she does is mention the Hungry Gap, the short phase in the year when even the hyper-local restaurants scramble for produce and need to source from afar, the season where we’re sick of winter but warmer days are fickle and food is just sort of ho-hum.

I’ve definitely been feeling the hungry gap season and have reached the point, which inevitably happens every year, where the only meal that sounds good is plain, steamed vegetables (mostly cabbage), a plain grain and protein, and if I’m feeling particularly adventurous, a leftover dressing or some random seeds sprinkled on top. William is extra lucky he’s working long days because of tax season and his office often feeds him. Mutiny would come quickly if he had to endure more than one or two nights of my “plain steamed veg” for meals.

Thanks in part to The Recipe Redux for the march theme of making due with what’s on hand, i.e. spring cleaning the cupboards, I decided to use my creativity an extra bit and make the first day of our new season include more than steamed carrots, turnips, and cabbage.

So here we have red lentil falafel, an extra delicious lemon ginger cashew-based dressing, and pickled onions. This just might be the meal that gets me back into eating a little more adventurously. And maybe you too?

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Red Lentil Falafel with Millet + Lemon Ginger Dressing, serves 4
I love falafel, especially baked falafel with lots of accompaniments like pickled onions, but the lemon ginger dressing is the real star of this dish, in my opinion. After enjoying a lemon ginger dressing at a super hipster Portland restaurant a while back, I’ve been trying to get a homemade rendition right all winter. It may have taken all season, but this version might just be better than its inspiration. Make sure to be liberal with both lemon zest and ginger!

Red Lentil Falafel:
1 cup red lentils, soaked
3 garlic cloves, peeled + roughly chopped
1 bunch green onions, chopped
2 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. ground coriander
1 Tbs. apple cider vinegar
3/4 tsp. sea salt + more to taste
freshly ground black pepper pepper
1 tsp. baking soda
1 cup cooked millet

  • In a large saucepan over medium-high heat, bring the soaked lentils and 2 cups water to a boil. Turn down, and simmer for 20 minutes. They do not have to be completely soft all the way through. Drain and turn into a food processor.
  • Then, preheat the oven to 375 degrees F and line a baking sheet with parchment.
  • In the food processor with the red lentils, combine the garlic, spring onions, spices, apple cider vinegar and baking soda. Pulse the mixture until it comes to a chunky paste but is not completely a puree. It should be fairly wet so add a little liquid if it’s not. Then turn it into a large mixing bowl along with the one cup of cooked millet. Combine the grain and lentil mixture well.
  • Next form about 20 falafels with your hands or with a medium cookie scoop and place them on the parchment lined baking pan. Bake for 20-25 minutes, until they are lightly browned and a little firm to the touch.
  • Serve the falafels with extra millet or flatbread, the sauce, lettuce, and pickled onions if desired.

Lemon Ginger Dressing, makes about 1 cup
1/2 cup cashews, soaked + drained
zest of one lemon
1/4 cup lemon juice
1/4 cup water + more if needed
2 Tbs. freshly grated ginger root
1 tsp. Dijon mustard
1  tsp. maple syrup (optional)
1 Tbs. light miso

  • In a food processor or blender, combine the soaked and drained cashews, lemon zest, and remaining ingredients and blend until it comes to a consistency that is spoon-able but not runny. Add more water as necessary to reach this consistency.

To Serve:
Quick-Pickled Onions
lettuce
additional cooked millet or flat bread, if desired

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strawberry, asparagus + radish flatbread

 

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It started with my annual, have you tried asparagus before? questioning at the high school garden. To all the new students who told me they won’t eat asparagus, I brought them over to the plants, cut off a few stalks, snapped them into smallish pieces, and handed them over.

This always works.

I love converting asparagus haters. Fresh-off-the-plant raw asparagus is the epitome of what spring tastes like. It’s not tough or bitter or slightly limp like some of us have grown used to. It’s alive and green and has a flavor that even vegetable-avoiding high school students can get behind.

 

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Since then, we’ve been eating a few asparagus-filled meals on repeat.

 

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The first is this strawberry, asparagus + radish flatbread. It is perfect for a light meal or can be paired with others for more of a tapa-style selection. The Recipe Redux theme this month is tapas and small bites, so check out the link-up below for more ideas, if you’ve the mind. William and I have tended to make two of these flatbreads at a time, eat one for dinner, and then the other for lunch leftovers the next day. I like mine drizzled with a little balsamic vinegar and he leaves his as is. We love them.

 

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The other asparagus dinners we’ve been enjoying and sharing with friends this spring include a quick sauté of asparagus, mushrooms, zucchini, and peas over Lindsey’s chickpea mash and then again with her vegan chickpea alfredo pasta, which we serve with asparagus, peas, and any number of other spring vegetables.

 

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Strawberry, Asparagus + Radish Flatbread, makes 2

1 1/3 cups garbanzo bean flour

2/3 cups brown rice flour, plus more for dusting

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon fine grain sea salt

1/2-2/3 cup water

1 bunch asparagus, chopped into 2-inch pieces

1 bunch radishes, thinly sliced

juice from 1/2 lemon, or more to taste

olive oil

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 Tbs. raw honey

1 lb. strawberries, sliced

1 handful fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped

balsamic vinegar, to drizzle, optional

  • Mix the flours, oil, baking powder, salt, and water. Add enough water to make a dough that can be handled and rolled. Then allow the mixture to rest for about 10 minutes. Divide it in two, and roll out one of the flatbreads on a floured work surface. Transfer to a baking pan or pizza dish and with a pastry brush or your fingers, coat the dough with a small amount of olive oil.
  • In a large bowl, toss the asparagus, radish slices, lemon juice, and garlic.
  • Then top the dough with the asparagus mixture and bake at 400 degrees F for about 16 minutes. Without removing from the oven, add the sliced strawberries, a handful of parsley, and a drizzle of honey, and then bake for an additional 3-4 minutes, just to warm the ingredients.
  • Remove from the oven, drizzle with a small amount of balsamic, if desired, slice and serve.
  • Repeat with the remaining dough and ingredients.


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