Baby Shower for Melissa + Almond-Chia Seed Waffles

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Melissa is having a baby this month, and when Erin emailed asking if I wanted to participate in a virtual baby shower, I didn't have to think twice. You see, the amazing thing about our community is if we all by some great miracle were fortunate enough to live in the same place, I'm certain we would be spending quality time together as often as possible.

Our virtual friendships are bonded by a love for food, and the unique perspectives we each bring to the table. It would be better if we could spend that time together, but maybe that's also what makes this space unique. What does it say when we'll go to bat for each other, or participate in birthday celebrations or baby showers, or stand up for something, sight unseen? Perhaps that's the mark of an even stronger friendship, because we only know the truth on the screen, and that's enough for us. We may not have grown up together or navigated junior high together, but we know these people mean something to us, regardless of what led us to meet.  

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Melissa is definitely one of those people. She's incredibly talented in the kitchen and with her graphic design business. She appreciates a gray Sunday morning, doesn't have it all figured out yet, and stands by her man when his career asks her to move across state lines (again and again). I know all of this because of her blog, not because of a lifelong friendship we've forged. I also know how excited she is to bring her baby into the world, and that after a stressful move, she's feeling settled down and has a place to call home. If I lived in Connecticut, I'd make cupcakes with little flags on them and bring them to the party, but from the view in California, waffles are the next best thing. 

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Erin also asked us to share a kitchen tip--one of Melissa's favorite things--and as I thought about one to include, something a little less tangible came to mind. When I stood in the kitchen, pulling out ingredients to pour into my bowl, without much hesitation I swapped vanilla extract for almond, milk for buttermilk, and coconut oil for butter. I used my intuition, and trusted all I've learned over the last 10 years in the kitchen.

Cooking never stops teaching us things, but after a while, if you do it often enough, its lessons will seep into your soul and you'll forge a trusting bond with the ingredients and the tools, and you'll be able to improvise and create on your own in a way you never could have imagined  when you first started cooking. So my tip is simple: trust your gut. (And eat waffles.) (And wish Melissa well on this new adventure!)

from To a Little Invisible Being Who is Expected to Soon Become Visible

by Anna Barbauld

Germ of new life, whose powers expanding slow
For many a moon their full perfection wait,—
Haste, precious pledge of happy love, to go
Auspicious borne through life's mysterious gate.

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Almond-Chia Seed Waffles

Adapted from The Faux Martha

1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
2 tablespoons sugar
1/3 cup coconut oil
1 1/2 cups buttermilk
1 large egg
1 1/2 teaspoons almond extract
2 tablespoons chia seeds
Butter and maple syrup, for serving

Whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar in a large bowl. In another bowl, whisk the coconut oil, buttermilk, egg, and almond extract. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry, and whisk until no traces of flour are left. Stir in the chia seeds

Preheat your waffle iron to your favorite setting, and cook according to your machine's instructions. Serve with butter and maple syrup.

Makes 6-8 waffles

What I'm Reading | August 2013

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A few links to wrap up the long month of August.

When our literary idols don't live up to the fantasy.

The latest cookbook I'm coveting.  

Enjoying this new-to-me blog. This one, too. 

Jane Austen, immortalized.  

10 amazing cheeses and their literary counterparts. 

The case for eating fruit. 

The best recipes have a story arc. 

Why humanities students are exceptional. 

"Right now, you are missing the vast majority of what is happening around you. You are missing the events unfolding in your body, in the distance, and right in front of you." Find out why.

This article has been a big deal on Facebook. If you haven't read it yet, you should. 

The simplest appetizer you could ever eat this summer. Make it now.

Edwidge Danicat describes her ideal reading experience. 

50 rules of vacation. 

This blog gives you a behind-the-scenes look at writing a manuscript. 

A snack for your next weekend road trip. 

7 ways a writing career is like a theme park.

Living with Poetry | The Pursuit of Perfection + Remy's Ratatouille

Ratatouille's Ratatouille from Eat This Poem

After eating at The French Laundry last year, friends asked if the experience had ruined dining out for good. How could I ever step foot in another restaurant without suffering severe disappointment? This is a legitimate question, one I asked myself long before walking through the blue doors, but my response has been a confident No, it did not ruin anything. Quite the opposite, in fact.

I've never compared The French Laundry to any other restaurant. In my mind, it was a unique experience meant to be savored and remembered fondly in a category all its own. What I did compare the experience to was everything I had already learned about Thomas Keller.

For Chef Keller, urgency is what motivates his team of chef's. From the second they arrive in his kitchen, chef's are working against the clock, pushing their boundaries of creativity, and seeking to create a restaurant experience that is utterly memorable. It's not perfection itself, but the pursuit of it, that drives him.

I was reminded of this lesson during a recent pizza and wine night when we decided to watch Ratatouille. Because, of course, nothing goes better with a good meal than a film about good meals. Before turning off the television, we watched one of the bonus documentaries featuring a discussion with Thomas Keller, who developed the staring recipe, and Brad Bird, the film's director.

Chefs and directors are not very different. For Brad Bird, every day was an opportunity to make the film better. Even small changes that seemed unnecessary, like lightening the shadow in a single frame, pushed his team to create the best film possible. In the same way Bird was always thinking about the audience, Keller was developing a ratatouille recipe to please the senses. A diner eats with his eyes first, smells the comforting aroma of roasted peppers and sweet tomatoes. This meal was being served to an audience of millions around the world, who would hopefully leave the theatre hungry for French cuisine.

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“Works of art imitate and provoke other works of art, the process is the source of art itself.” 

― Edward Hirsch, author of How to Read a Poem, and Fall in Love With Poetry

A similar approach is taken by writers. Perfection is illusive most days. (All days?) We mostly strive for excellence, a strong sentence, a well-placed word at the end of a poem. We strive for feeling the a sense of purpose that fills our soul.   

You could say a good meal, a good film, a piece of art that makes you sigh, these are all versions of poetry. After all, what is poetry anyway? Poetry is an emotional response to the mighty world we live in. Poetry is composed, it is the right series of words strung together, the best you have to offer. So it art. So is life. We are always tumbling towards perfection, not with the goal of attaining it, but because the journey, the work, brings enough satisfaction to get you out of bed every morning. 

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Remy's Ratatouille

Inspired by Thomas Keller and various adapted internet recipes, including this one.  

I've seen Pixar's film a handful of times, and each time I've left craving ratatouille, obviously. This time, I decided to do something about it. An internet search turned up inconsistencies in the recipes claiming to be Thomas Keller's version of the film's ratatouille. The Pixar message boards include the proper name of the dish, Confit Byaidi, but include instructions using eggplant, yet failed to include eggplant in the ingredient list. Hmm. Deb made a lovely version, (her interpretation of the star dish) but peppers are layered among the vegetables instead of flavoring the sauce.

Keller's version was inspired by a recipe in The French Laundry Cookbook, and includes two sauces. First, a tomato and pepper sauce that the vegetables are nestled in, and second, a vinaigrette to drizzle over the top.  

*Be aware that this dish takes about 2 1/2 hours to cook, plus prep time, so it's an ideal project to prepare throughout the day.  

For the pepper sauce
1/2 yellow pepper, seeds and ribs removed
1/2 orange pepper, seeds and ribs removed
1/2 red pepper, seeds and ribs removed
Extra-virgin olive oil
1 large garlic clove, mined
1/2 small onion, roughly chopped
1 14.5-ounce can San Marzano tomatoes
Salt and freshly ground pepper
5 sprigs thyme, divided
2 sprigs parsley
1 bay leaf

For the ratatouille
1 large Japanese eggplant
1 large zucchini
1 large yellow squash
4 to 5 roma tomatoes
1 to 2 teaspoons aged balsamic vinegar

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees F. Place the peppers cut-side down on a foil-lined baking sheet, and roast until tender and the skins begin to loosen, about 20 minutes. Remove and let rest until cool enough to touch, then roughly chop. 

Reduce the oven temperature to 275 degrees F. 

Add 2 tablespoons of oil to a 10-inch cast iron skillet and warm over low heat. Add the garlic, onion, and season with a pinch of salt and pepper. Cook until soft but not browned, about 8 minutes. Add the tomatoes and their juices, two sprigs of thyme, the parsley, and bay leaf. Simmer until very little liquid remains, about 10-15 minutes.  Add the chopped peppers and simmer for another couple of minutes. Season to taste with salt, discard herbs, and turn off the heat.

Allow the sauce to cool slightly, then add to a blender. Puree until very smooth and season with additional salt and pepper. Reserve 1/4 cup of sauce for the vinaigrette, and pour the rest in the bottom of the cast-iron pan. 

While the sauce cooks, it's a good time to prepare your vegetables. Thinly slice the eggplant, zucchini and squash on a mandoline and place in a large bowl. Thinly slice the tomatoes with a sharp pairing knife. Don't worry if a few slices fall apart, they can still be used! 

Think of the next step as a meditation. You'll spend between five and ten minutes neatly arranging slices of vegetables around a pan, overlapping them ever so slightly. It might feel tedious, but see if you can find some joy in it. This is cooking. 

Starting from the outer edge of the pan, arrange alternating slices of tomatoes, zucchini, squash, and eggplant. Allow the slices to overlap so that about 1/4-inch of each slice is exposed. Repeat until the pan is filled. If you run out of zucchini, keep moving forward without it. If you complete two rounds and have extra yellow squash, fill the small opening with it. Don't worry if some of your tomato slices are too thin or too thick. It is a peasant dish, after all. The end result, will be beautiful, regardless. 

Scatter the remaining thyme slices over the top and drizzle with 1 to 2 tablespoons of oil. Season with 1/2 teaspoon of salt and a few grinds of pepper. Cover the pan with foil and bake until the vegetables are tender, about 2 hours. Uncover and bake for another 30 minutes. 

To make the vinaigrette, combine the reserved pepper sauce with 1 tablespoon oil and balsamic vinegar. Whisk together, then drizzle around the plate just before serving.