Attack of the Super Foods!

Earlier this Summer, we spent a Saturday at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science. We learned about gravity and dinosaurs, rocket ships and diamonds. Pretty gripping stuff. But there's really only one lesson that seems to have stuck with Princess H. It was delivered by an extreeeeemly enthusiastic, slightly plump, over-the-hill woman dressed in full-body spandex. And a cape. She definitely had my attention...

Princess H is going through a Pixar-fueled superhero phase, so "Annie Oxidant's" dynamic, multimedia presentation about the wonders of super foods made quite an impression on my aspiring saver-of-the-world.

We have lots of conversations like this:

Princess H: [takes a bite of a carrot] Wow!!
Me: What is it?!
Princess H: I really can see well!!

or

H: Mom! I need blueberries!!
Me: Sorry, babe, I don't have any right now.
H, panicked: But the free radicals, Mom!! They're everywhere!!!

The Princess' obsession is actually quite useful. She likes to put stuff in the grocery cart, and if it happens to be something I don't want to take home, I just have to point out that it isn't a super food. Horrified, she'll put it back immediately. But we do end up with lots of random produce. So, all summer long we've been noshing on this stuff. It's basically health in a bowl, and also happens to be super delicious.

Also: Do you think Rothko roasted beets?

Super Food Salad 

recipe after the jump!

Boil farro (I usually use about a cup and a half) in salted water for 10-15 minutes until al dente. Drain, rinse, and set aside to cool.

Meanwhile, chop lots of crunchy veggies into small dice and mince fresh herbs. Throw in some fruit, fresh or dried, and some nuts (I like mine salted). I let my kids pick pretty much anything I have around that is sturdy and fresh, which means they're more likely to eat the finished product with enthusiasm.

This time it turned out particularly well. We used:

1 carrot
1/2 sweet bell pepper
1/4 red onion
3 stalks celery
3 roasted beets
2 radishes
2 small gala apples
4 medium leaves kale, tough stems removed
1/2 bunch Italian parsley
a small handful Craisins
a small handful pistachios

I think this salad and I have the same middle name...

Favorite Vinaigrette
1 part whole grain mustard
1 part good jam
2 parts balsamic vinegar
3 parts evoo

Shake it all together in a jar, and add Kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste.

Toss all that with the cooled farro and it is delicious and super-satisfying (and vegan!). If I have it around, I also like to add smoked roasted salmon (not regular, lox-like smoked salmon -- also delicious, but probably not right for this particular concoction). If you add the fish, (more super food!), squeeze in the juice of half a lemon, too. As long as you stay away from less-than-stalwart veggies, this stuff keeps admirably in the fridge for days. Soooo good.

A good blender can solve most of my problems these days...

via

I think this salad is one of the best parts of Summer. I'm not just obsessed with it, I'm a little evangelical. And with no small amount of success. Since my initial discovery several years ago, I've been privileged to make the olive-studded melange of fresh herbs, juicy watermelon, briny feta and sharp red onions for NarBan's wedding, Three's rehearsal dinner, and countless family suppers in the park. Alas, Mr. One has yet to join my little culinary cult. He'll tolerate the stuff, if there's roasted lamb or some nice salmon on the plate. But he won't go for seconds, and certainly doesn't get reverentially misty-eyed when he sees me picking mint and squeezing limes. So I generally only make it when I know I'll have lots of other help finishing it off.

When we were invited to a foodie friend's birthday barbecue last week, it was a perfect excuse to whip up one more bowl before the weather turned chilly. So I did.

Then this happened:



Mister Tambourine Man

No amount of begging or greasing or pulling could get the thing off. Thanks to wise, long-distance advice from my sisters, I tracked down a neighbor with a pair of tin snips -- and, in case that didn't work, a die grinder -- to remove some of the little cymbals so the thing would slide back over Tiny's Olympic-sized noggin. By this time, we'd been delayed by nearly an hour. Exasperated, I explained to the adorably-accessorized tot that we were missing our party. He looked horrified and pulled the thing right off. I made a mental note to examine the psychology of the incident later, and piled the kids in the stroller for the quick stroll to our friends'. By the time we finally arrived, most of the other partyers had moved on gastronomically to another perfect slice of summer, this one in the form of a six foot long ice cream sundae(!!!).  It was a lovely evening, but as I made my way home and looked at the still-rather-full bowl clutched in Princess H's lap, I couldn't help but regret the wilted awesome that would inevitably greet me the next day.

Which brings me to my point. (And here you were thinking I didn't have one).

Mind-Blowing Watermelon Gazpacho

1) Make Nigella's watermelon salad.

2) Eat some of it.

3) Let the rest it sit in the fridge for a day or two.

4) Eat all the olives (because you used really good olives, and those always have pits. Incidentally, Tiny is very good at helping with this. In fact, if you turn your back just long enough to send a text message to your neighbor asking if he has tin snips, Tiny will complete this step even before you take the original bowl of salad to the barbecue.).

5) Blend it up.

6) Put a fresh olive on top and serve to Momo or Z or other people who appreciate this kind of thing.

7) Mourn the end of Summer.

8) Plan a trip to Greece (optional).

Silent

This summer, Momo and I went to the Boulder Chautauqua's screening of Rupert Julien's Phantom of the Opera. It was sort of fantastic. Now, sometimes, when I'm feeling artistic and morose and procrastinate-y, I'll watch a silent film. Unlike the Chautauqua, I don't have a beautifully improvised live piano score, so I've had to cobble together my own, one shuffle fits all playlist. It can often not make any sense, but occasionally, you witness some really beautiful, cohesive, unanticipated art. Here's a sample film (Alice in Wonderland) and my playlist -- you might want to try making your own combinations, though (if you can get past the general insufferableness of all this).

 

Back to school

To do list:

Enterrement de vie de jeune fille

This is not news, but I have the best sisters. Ever. 

I sincerely believe this sentiment cannot be reiterated enough. Like most sisters, we have had our ups and our downs. As the middlest among us I have personally pulled each one of their hairs, and their lovely pale arms have worn bruises baring a canny resemblance to the perfect crescent of my bite. I have stolen their clothes, broken their dolls, and blamed them for things I knew they never did. They have made me so mad that I have slammed doors and stomped so hard it hurt. And they have broken my heart so deeply that I could hardly breath. 

And while I know in my mind each that each of these things has happened, I have all but lost these memories. In their place sits a vast library of adventures, and travels, and sharing, and collaborating. There is the time Kimber and I almost stole a car (by accident), the parties with Charity and her artsy friends, and every night feeling like a slumber party when I’m in the company of Mercina and Glorianna. There are the hundreds of dinners we have cooked together, and the “ridiculously good” deals we’ve shared. And at the heart of it, there is the deep and sincere knowledge that we want what is the very best for one another, and will do whatever we can to make that happen.

Two days before my wedding, my sisters surprised me with the most perfect bachelorette party I could have dreamed of. The culture of bachelorette parties in America is something that generally doesn’t speak to me. They are a celebration of one’s unattached status, and, evidently, anything phallic girls can get their hands on. But the French term for “bachelorette party” is enterrement de vie de jeune fille directly translated to mean "burial of the life of the young girl". I feel that captures the essence of the celebration I was thrown much more aptly. We came together to bid adieu to my childhood and to welcome in the next chapter in our customary fashion. This is to say, with laughter, good food, a late night, but most importantly, together.

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An Open Letter to the Internet

Dear Internet,

I need some alone time. It's not about you. It's about me.

Love,
Two

Sometimes I wish the world were a little smaller.

So all the people and places I love could fit in the same room.

I think that would be heaven.