A Happy Miscommunication

Owning our own business has led to a new level of closeness and partnership between Brian and me.  We spend days discussing how to grow the business, better meet the needs of our students, improve the website, etc.  It has led me to be probably the happiest and most content I have ever been in my professional life.

It also has led me to be home much less so Brian has become the primary canine caregiver, and food preparation has become a more evenly split affair (OK, fine Brian is doing most of the dinner prep these days).  I do try to hold up my end of things, making sauces ahead of time, marinating meat the day before, etc.

Last week, we had pork chops sitting in the fridge, waiting for one of us to come up with a flavor plan.  I went ahead during some free time one morning and made a balsamic glaze for the chops, thinking we could just drizzle it over simply grilled chops.  However, Brian had beaten me to the preparation punch and already had the chops marinating in a Latin-inspired mixture of citrus juices, cumin and oregano.  In my mind the marinade and the glaze tasted awful together. 

Balsamic glaze requires a nice amount of balsamic vinegar, which is not an inexpensive proposition.  In this case, I had reduced almost three-fourths of a cup down to one-third of a cup.  It was a lot of good vinegar, and I did not want it to go to waste.

Luckily, a by-product of this entirely-too-hot-for-my-taste summer is the most bountiful local peach season we have encountered.  Every day, the grocery store has baskets overflowing with Hudson Valley peaches.  These peaches have been ripe, juicy, wonderfully sweet orbs.  Brian loves peaches nearly as much as he loves tomatoes so at a minimum he has been eating two per day. 

I enjoy the peaches, but after days on end of plain, ripe peaches, I wanted a little pizazz.  Not much, just something to make them extra special.   And that is where the balsamic glaze enters the picture.  It gives the super-sweet peaches a touch of tartness that makes them sing.  Somehow those sweet peaches taste a little daring, a little dangerous with that glaze and it makes them oh so fun!

You just need to drizzle a little glaze over freshly sliced peaches.  It doesn't take much.  Balsamic vinegar has a sweetness to it that makes it a good candidate for dressing fruit (remember this for strawberry season next spring).   So give it a try...take your fruit over to the wild side!


PEACHES WITH BALSAMIC GLAZE

1/2 cup balsamic vinegar (I used Colavita brand)

Fresh, ripe peaches

In a small saucepan, bring the balsamic vinegar to a boil.  Boil until it is reduced by half, this will take five to ten minutes, depending on the size of the pan.  Keep a close eye on it as the sugar content in the vinegar makes it a candidate for burning if it is over reduced.  Remove from the heat and cool.

Slice peaches into wedges.  Using a small spoon, lightly drizzle the peaches with the glaze.  Start with just a few drops on the peach, taste it, and adjust to taste.

If your peaches are slightly under-ripe (meaning they don't slightly yield to light pressure when touched), then stick them in a brown paper bag, folded close, overnight. 

Away Too Long

It would be great if I could tell you I was kidnapped by aliens, in a coma, or fell off the face of the earth.  I find all of those acceptable excuses for why I left this space in April with every intention of returning in just a few days, and then a few more days, and then next week, and then...well, then turned into four months.  My weekly "to do" list, which I keep in a notebook shows that every week I intended to update my blog.  It's just something wonderful, that truly required my full attention, happily, gratefully got in the way.

I started my own business.

Whew.  There I said it.  I am not sure why it feels like a confession, but it sure does.  I had never set out to own my own business.  I am happy to work with and for others.  I had never dreamed about legal filings, payment ledgers, labor laws and yet they have become my mainstays recently.

What I did say, when it became abundantly clear to me that a life in the restaurant business for which I had trained would require sacrifices in my marriage I was unwilling to make, is that I wanted to teach more yoga.  It turns out the universe is quite an abundant place.  As soon as I said it, and meant it, an amazing opportunity to run my own yoga studio presented itself.  And so that is what I am doing here.

My blogging absence  is evidence of how I have thrown myself into this wonderful task.  Not only am I able to teach more yoga, but I also get to work with other yoga teachers who help me become a better teacher and student every day.  I encounter yoga students of all stripes, bringing their energy and focus to their mats, and I am privy to their endeavors.  I am so very lucky.  I feel so very blessed.

Truly, I should not be saying I started my own business.  Brian and I started a business.  I could not have done it without him, without the support of family and friends, and without the one yoga student of mine who hatched the idea and believed in my ability to bring it to fruition.   The whole experience has been pretty darn wonderful and I cannot wait to meet more new students, witness the progress of current students, and see where this leads. 

I know, though, that a life of one volition, lacks balance.  Not only have I  been absent from this space, but I have been absent from my own kitchen, my own recipe testing, my own culinary passions.  I have felt this absence and slowly I am trying to ingratiate myself.  However, at this time, I don't have much to offer.  My breakfast staple has been toast with apricot preserves and two slices of Manchego cheese.  It's delicious, but I doubt you need a recipe to replicate it.  A photograph shows you all you need to know:

I hope to return, and be more of a presence, in the near future.  For now, though, it's back to the yoga studio, as both student and teacher.

Spring Green

Brian and I went to Long Island this past weekend to spend time with my lovely aunt and uncle.  It is an annual Easter tradition, going on 10 years now.  While some families spend Good Friday in pious reverence at church, we go to the Blue Point Brewery in Patchogue, New York to sample some of our favorite beers.  To be fair, we did eat fish for dinner that night.

While some families return to church on Easter Sunday, we go to the beach at Smith Point.  Some years it rains or it's cold or it's windy.  Last year, it was windy and sunny and cool so my aunt and I look like a couple of shipwrecked Eskimos.

I love Easter.  I love being with my aunt and uncle and playing cards and drinking possibly a little too much wine and spending lots of time cooking and eating.  I love that Brian was swept right into this family tradition and enjoys it just as much as I do.  I love that for three solid days I do not watch TV, or check email, or log into Facebook.  In fact, I so completely check out on the outside noise constantly pounding us (of course, we do invite it), that I am then able to check in with myself.  I catch up on sleep.  I read.  Remember reading?  Doesn't it seem like such a luxury?

I am sad to leave this utopia behind and return to everyday life, but coming home this year brought unexpected pleasures.  We did not move into our house last year until the beginning of summer so we had no idea what spring would bring.  Monday morning, though, we awoke to lots of daffodils and a pear tree just about to bud, and verdant grass.

In the foods we eat, spring also seems to bring green to the plate with asparagus and lettuces and my green sauce.  When I posted the recipe for flank steak I promised augmentations.  I developed a sauce for the meat that is a hybrid of salsa verde and chimichurri sauce (the Argentinian sauce of parsley and cilantro and chile-inflected heat that is served with beef).  While this would be great with meat, it also would be quite lovely with brown rice or potatoes.  The base needs to be on the mild side because the sauce has a bit of acidity and sourness which requires a counterbalance.

MOLLY'S GREEN SAUCE
Makes ~ 1 1/2 cups

2   large garlic cloves, smashed
1   small jalapeno, stemmed and seeded, ribs removed
3/4 cup   cilantro leaves, washed of sand and loosely packed
3/4 cup   Italian (flat-leaf) parsley leaves, washed of sand and loosely packed
1   lime, juiced
pinch of kosher salt
1   anchovy packed in oil, drained
2/3 - 3/4 cup   olive oil, extra virgin preferably
1/4 t.   red hot pepper flakes  (you may double this amount if you like KICK in your sauce)
1/2 t.     dried oregano


Blend in a food processor until smooth.  The amount of oil depends on how thick or thin you want the sauce.  If you want it a bit thicker, add less oil.  If you want it thinner, add more oil.  If your lime seems a little on the dry side and did not produce much juice, then use two limes.  The key to a good sauce is tasting as you go, so before you add more of a particular ingredient, taste it first and determine if it needs more.  This sauce is most potent on the day it is made and then mellows with time.  It will keep 7-10 days in a sealed container in the refrigerator.

Grill Master B

Lately (and shall I say finally), citizens of the Hudson Valley have received the weather we deserve:  sunshine, sunshine, sunshine.  It was so lovely and warm, with daytime highs in the low 70s.  I ventured over the Hudson River Walkway with my friend Mary.

The dog has been the recipient of some long, family walks.

And all this warm weather means grilling season has begun!  Not that we ever took a seasonal break.  Brian grilled leg of lamb over the holidays.  In early February, he put a rack of lamb on the rotisserie (and oh my goodness, you better believe that was the best rack of lamb).  We've been enjoying grilled pizza every few weeks since we first made it last August.  Our grill has actually received a lot of good use during months usually reserved for cooking (and hiding) indoors.

This was not always the case.  Before we bought a house and before we received an awesome gas grill as a wedding present from Brian's parents, we lived in a second-story apartment and our grill was a little table top number with a little can of propane attached to it.   Brian would have to hustle up and down the stairs, ferrying items to be grilled and items to be consumed, checking the heat (always inconsistent), and generally producing awesome meals in the face of challenge.  My good friend Khambay from culinary school witnessed Brian's grill prowess on that little grill on more than one occasion and referred to Brian as Grill Master B.

Often we like to grill flank steak.  It takes to marinade quite well, becoming tender, and it benefits from grilling.  Also, to be frank, it is one of the cheaper cuts of beef and therefore we can afford it.  We always start from the same base point and then augment.  Today, I'll give you that base and then in the future I'll share the augmentations.

I should make a note about serving sizes.  From a one pound serving of flank steak we can get four meals: two dinners and two lunches.  This equals about 4 ounces of steak per person.  Most people would consider this a small portion so you may want to budget 6 - 8 ounces of meat per person.


GRILLED FLANK STEAK
Yield:  3-4 servings

1   pound flank steak, trimmed of fat
1/4   cup low-sodium soy sauce
Freshly ground black pepper

Combine steak and soy sauce in a one-gallon ziploc bag and marinate in the refrigerator anywhere from two hours to overnight.  The longer you marinate the steak, the more tender the final product.

Remove the steak from the refrigerator one hour before you plan to grill it.  A good general rule of thumb when grilling any kind of meat is to bring it to room temperature first.

Preheat the grill to medium.  Remove the steak from the marinade and discard the marinade.   Season the steak with freshly ground black pepper.  You do not need salt because the soy sauce, even the low-sodium version, provides an ample amount.

On our grill (and this is where I say that all grills are different, may have temperature fluctuations, and may have hot spots), Brian grills a 1-inch to 1 1/2-inch thick steak six to seven minutes per side.  When it is done grilling, he lets the meat rest for five to 10 minutes before thinly slicing it against the grain.

When we ate flank steak last week, we served it with potatoes and asparagus and my version of salsa verde which I promise to share with you soon.  It was a delightful way to usher in spring!

Astonishingly Foul

If you live in the Hudson Valley, then last week was bad.  Very bad.  From Monday night until Sunday afternoon, the sun did not shine.  It did not appear.  It was nowhere to be found.  In its place was just gray.  Everything was gray.  The sky, the light, the mood, the lawns.  Grayness fell from the sky in the form of an awful slushy mess that the meteorologist kept calling snow, but this was unlike any other snow I've ever encountered.  When the snow was done, then the ice would fall from the sky.  It, too, was gray.  When the ice subsided, the rains came.  Sometimes, the wind would make an appearance just to add to the malaise.   An addition, by the way, that led to downed trees and power lines.

Brian writes a weekly update for our families since the distance between all of us means we are not involved in each other's daily commerce of life.  Here is the lead paragraph from last week's update:

Hello from New York!  I guess the big story from last week was our astonishingly foul weather, with two winter storms.  Even by east coast standards, it was appalling.  We had five full days of nonstop wet heavy snow, with no interruption, just a constant deluge of slushy snow.  Our usual daily routine was to spend about two hours every morning clearing the driveway and our decks, with much of that time spent on the three-foot-high wall of compacted icy snow at the end of the driveway resulting from the town's plowing of the street.  This would be repeated in the late afternoon, for a total of about three or four hours a day of snow management.  We have to use the word "snow" with a bit of caution here, because this was not really snow in the normal sense of the word.  This was some kind of evil, sticky, heavy substance more akin to wet cement than to what you may have experienced as snow.  Although our road crews do an extraordinarily good job here, our streets were ankle deep in slush for most of the week.  Even the dog wasn't too thrilled about walking in it.  On Saturday morning, when the precipitation finally stopped, I measured the accumulation in our front yard at eighteen inches. 

Nothing was spared.  Not even the tall, proud mailbox.

To be fair, one of us did enjoy all that snow:

When weather like this appears as it did last week (and last June) in which the sun decides to go on some sort of extended, and unapproved I might add, vacation, two things occur.  One, I hide under the bed as I am prone to malaise.  In fact, I was so unable to deal with all of the grayness that I threw in the towel and put myself to bed at 7:00 p.m. on Saturday night.  Two, my thoughts turn to the food I associate with warmer weather: strawberries and corn and lettuces and tomatoes.

You can have tomatoes right now, though.  You don't have to wait until July and August.  Really!  Normally, I wouldn't know such a thing.  I would avoid those awful, mealy tomatoes of winter and patiently wait for the gorgeous, ripe, juicy tomatoes of summer.   However, I live with (and love dearly) Brian.  And Brian dearly loves tomatoes (the word addiction has been thrown around).  He has to have them (in much the same way my dad, brother and I consider a day incomplete without a little chocolate).

At first, a compromise was struck.  We would get the little grape tomatoes and put those on our salads in the winter.  However, we grew tired of lettuce in winter, because like the tomatoes, it lacked flavor.  Besides, it makes no sense to pay more for less ripe produce in winter because it has to be shipped from someplace far away, like South America, never mind the environmental concerns of such an endeavor.  We stopped eating salads which meant no reason to eat the grape tomatoes.

Brian is true to his loves and he still wanted his tomatoes.  Then, I happened upon a wonderful recipe for roasted plum tomatoes.  Slow roasting tomatoes increases their flavor and their color such that one might hardly notice, if at all, the tomato started out as a mealy, underripe plum tomato.

In fact, we've grown so fond of roasted tomatoes, we now make this gem of a recipe once per week.  We spread the tomatoes on homemade whole wheat baguettes, we use them in the base of pasta sauces, and we use them on pizzas.

The recipe was shared by Molly Wizenberg who writes the Cooking Life column for Bon Appetit magazine.  She also has a great blog, Orangette, and a delightful book, A Homemade Life, all of which I have enjoyed reading.

In the meantime, if you live with a tomato lover or just need a taste of summer amidst all this winter blah, this is a wonderful recipe. 

Colorado Chili

Everyone has that one recipe.  It’s the one thing your mom makes, and you never tire of it, and you could eat it over and over again.  For me, it is my mother’s chili.  She always makes a batch for my visits home to Colorado, even if it’s July and 100 degrees outside.  We have it at the holidays and we have it just because it’s Tuesday.

I have been eating this chili, which I call Colorado Chili, for as long as I can remember so that’s 30 plus years.  Naturally, having eaten something for so very long has led me to feel incredibly proprietary about it.   It’s the best chili ever, period.  There, I said it.   Want to know why?  No beans.  Big chunks of meat.  Thrilling complex mingling of flavors.  Lots of tomato goodness.  Wine, red wine!

Geesh, I can hear the grimacing already.  I said it’s the best.  That’s all you really need to know.    In fact, that’s the end of this discussion (that’s how my mom would end arguments when I was a child – very effective).  Would you just make it before you come back to tell me that it isn’t chili without ground meat or beans? 

All of this reminds me of when I worked for a big, huge, giant company headquartered in Cincinnati.  I worked in another city, and every time I called corporate I’d get a puzzled sigh on the other end, “Wait, where are you calling from?  I didn’t know we had an office there.  Are you sure?”  Um yes, I am sure, because the company logo is on my paycheck stub. 

Ok, well that story has nothing to do with chili.  However, I do remember the first time I went to Cincinnati on a business trip.  My colleagues in the home office wanted to take me out to lunch to someplace local and authentic.  They took me to Skyline Chili.  After my experience there, I have this to say:  my above story maybe non-germane to chili but so are spaghetti and cinnamon both of which can be found under and on Skyline chili.

This is not a quick recipe.  You want to begin making it in the mid afternoon if you plan to serve it the same day.

Normally, I don’t dedicate my recipes to anyone.  However, when I told my friend Tara my next post would be about chili, she replied, “Ugh.  (My husband) hates beans and it is such a pain in the ass!”  She perked right up when I told her my chili recipe has no beans.  So Tara, this is for you!


COLORADO CHILI
Yield:  ~ 3 ½ - 4 quarts

More photos of the chili making process are posted at the end of the recipe.  Salud!

1 lb.          beef stew meat, cut into one inch cubes
1 lb.          boneless pork chops, cut into one inch cubes
3 T           vegetable oil
1              large Spanish onion, diced
3-4           cloves garlic, minced
Beef broth
2              4-oz. cans diced green chiles
2             28-oz. cans crushed tomatoes (that are just tomatoes…no seasonings)
½ T          cumin
¼ - ½ t     cayenne pepper  (I like it hot, Brian does not)
1 t            oregano
½ - 1cup  dry red wine, such as cabernet sauvignon or shiraz (syrah)
                (or substitute low sodium beef broth)
Salt and pepper

Season the meat with salt and pepper.  Brown the meat in batches.  In a 5-quart stock pot, heat one tablespoon oil over medium high heat.  Once hot, add one-third of the meat.  Let brown on one side, and then stir occasionally and brown on all sides.  Remove meat from pot and set aside to keep warm.  Repeat until all meat has been browned. 

Remove final batch of meat from pot, lower the heat to medium and add the onion and garlic.  Stir so the onion absorbs the cooking juices from the meat and also so the garlic does not burn.  You can deglaze the pan with a little beef broth to intensify the flavor.  Cook just until the onions are translucent.

Add the chiles, tomatoes, and spices.  Return the meat to the pot, and stir to combine.  Add the red wine or beef broth.  Simmer for an hour. 

To Serve:
In bowls, big and fat, with big spoons.  You may augment and garnish with any of the following, based on your personal preferences:

Sour cream
Shredded Cheddar or Monterey Jack cheese
Hot sauce (or an additional sprinkling of cayenne pepper)
Fresh cilantro, chopped
Avocado, diced, sprinkled with fresh lemon juice to prevent browning

You may also consider sides, such as:

Warm flour tortillas
Cheese quesadillas
Cornbread (we like this recipe and it halves nicely)

Like most soups and stews, this chili only improves with age and is even better the next day.

PHOTOS:

Some of the ingredients:

Pork, cubed:

Browning the meat:

Onions and garlic, cooking and soaking up all the wonderful meat juices:

Introducing Casey

Some recent events at the local dog park I visit frequently provoked me to think about dog park etiquette.  Obvious things like: don't wear your fur coat to a muddy dog park (or really any dog park for that matter), if the sign says no kids under the age of six that means no kids under the age of six, and don't bring your freshly groomed white dog to the park.

Telling you all of this, though, is putting the cart before the horse.  Some of my less than a dozen readers are wondering what the heck I am doing at a dog park in the first place.  I am with Casey.  She hired me as her social secretary, personal chef, and belly rubber at the end of November, and I have to say she is one of the best employers I have ever had.

For one thing, she is pretty easy on the eyes.

 

For another, she has awesome ears, and usually sleeps with one straight up in the air.

 

Then again, she sometimes sleeps with both ears down.

 

Could she be any cuter when she sleeps?  I feel like there's a pink neon sign just dangling above her chair reading "CUTENESS ALERT."  If it existed, it would explain why Brian and I can spend the better part of meals with our necks craned uncomfortably watching her sleep.  If you own a dog, you may be wondering how it is we can watch her sleep if we are eating.  Why isn't she at the table begging?  The answer is she doesn't beg because she is the best dog ever.  She has never really begged at the table.  When we eat, she automatically gets on her chair.  When we leave her alone in the house, she doesn't chew up stuff that is not hers.  In fact, we have to officially present her with toys or she'll leave them alone. 

The only thing she does do that she is technically not allowed to do has led to our household version of the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy.   That chair of hers is the only piece of furniture she is allowed to be on.  When we first brought her home from the shelter, she tried to get on the couch numerous times.  Since we gently removed her every time she got on it, she learned not to do it.  Then, we returned from being away and noticed paw prints on the couch and fur (she sheds like crazy).  The fur was particularly noticeable because it was her light blond on a bright red raspberry colored couch.  There were a number of ways we could have handled her transgression.  However, upon further consideration we decided not to do a darn thing about it.  She is so good about everything else like not going into rooms where she is forbidden (guest room, guest bathroom), not eating the furniture, not going through the garbage, and only jumping up on me (she likes to hug), that if being on the couch makes her feel more secure at home while we are away then so be it.  

Her chair, by the way, belonged to my great-grandmother Bernice.  Casey just loves it.  We repositioned it so she can sit and look out our big south facing window.  She monitors the action on the street, albeit a very quiet street.  In the mornings, she is particularly fascinated by the children who gather at the corner to catch the bus.  

  

And yes, this picture should tell you we left our Christmas tree up well into January.  In our defense, we didn't decorate it until Christmas Eve, and we did take it down before the calendar reached February 1.   

We've been spending many mornings over the past several weeks with her best friend Bella, a mix that people love to speculate has Whippet in her because she's so zippy.  Bella's owner and I coordinate our dog exercise schedules every weekday morning, at the request of the dogs of course.  Bella and Casey just love playing together whether it be chase, wrestle, tug of war, or keep away.

Here they are playing tug of war while another dog referees. 

 

Sometimes, Pike joins in.  He loves Bella and can be seen here giving her a love bite on her butt.    

Sorry Pike, but I do not think the affection is mutual.

As Casey and I go to the dog park quite frequently, we are in the car together often.  Let me just tell you  she is a little human when riding in the car.  Have you seen the movie "Smart People" with Dennis Quaid?  Remember how he would only ride in the backseat of the car behind the driver.  Casey does the EXACT same thing.  I finally brought Brian along one day so he could document it.  Here she is waiting patiently for me to start the car and back out of the garage (and yes, that is mud splattered on the inside of  the car):

Her patience rewarded, we finally cruise down the street headed for her version of nirvana.

 

It's funny because three months ago, she wasn't with us.  She was just another dog at a shelter, and we were just hopeful potential owners.   Now, she so consumes my life that I can't imagine her not in it.  Sometimes, the love I feel for her just hurts because I am so grateful to have such a wonderful, well-mannered dog, and I hope she is with us for a long, long time.