Potato-Peeling as Meditative Trance! - Feasting, Friendship & Healing

My friend arrived for dinner last night around 6:30pm and we didn't stop eating and talking 'til 1:30am, at which point I offered the couch to her. Then we hung out today 'til 11am. So let me share some highlights from last night.

This is the menu that happened:

Caramelized Onions w/Grated Parmesan
Warm Cherries w/Goat Cheese by Chef Maili
Triple Citrus Tiger Prawns w/Thai Chili Sauce by Chef Maili
Sauteed Spinach

Warm Plum & Ginger Sauce by Chef Maili over Vanilla Ice Cream

Bogle sauvignon blanc (her gift)

Caramelized Onions:  I'd made these a few days before (using The Joy Of Cooking) to go with an omelet -- not realizing they'd take an hour and a half to cook. Didn't eat my omelet 'til 3pm! I'd been waiting for a chance like last night to try them out as a side dish/appetitzer the way the book suggested. Warm them up, then sprinkle some freshly grated parmesan on top. So I did, and served the onions along with a warmed-up loaf of Pain Rustique from Trader Joe's. Here it is:

Caramelized onions topped w/fresh grated parmesan

And here is the way my friend prepared the bites -- piling the onions onto the bread.

Caramelized onion on bread devotional

Then I decided to make cherry sauce and goat cheese for our second appetizer. Earlier I'd stopped at Whole Foods to pick up more halloumi cheese (craving that salad -- here's how it came out today for lunch)...

Halloumi Cheese w/Lentil & Cucumber salad redux

...and couldn't resist the shiny cherries. This appetizer was the first thing Chef Maili made at our initial cooking lesson on June 10th. Marilee and I almost fainted from pleasure. Maili uses squares of walnut raisin rye bread (wherever that comes from!). I substituted those with the irresistible olive and fig crisps I mentioned in another post (thank you for turning me on to them, Janet Graham!) You can get them at Whole Foods. The combination of all the ingredients is luscious and lethal.

For the first time, I didn't burn the almonds. (Set the oven to 350, toasted the nuts for only 8 minutes and also checked for when I could smell them...a sign to pull them out fast). While you're sauteeing cherries (something so satisfyingly perverse and unexpected about sauteeing bright red fruit -- at least to me!), you're toasting almonds. These small touches -- warming the sauce, toasting the nuts -- are the kinds of things Maili taught me that can elevate your food -- just like choosing a surprising word or phrase in a story can elevate the language.

Stupid kitchen mistakes:  Grating Parmesan Cheese. You think this is easy. And it is. What's not easy (for me) is directing where the cheese goes. When I grate cheese over pasta, most of it flies onto the floor. Last night, Eureka! The solution came to me -- grate the cheese into a bowl first! I know I know -- you're thinking nobody could be that lame in the kitchen. But I am. And I'm still cooking. So you can cook too.

Sauteeing cherries -- first in butter, then adding a simple syrup

I did not have chervil -- had forgotten to buy some -- so I just left it out. Chervil is a tiny, delicate herb. It, too, adds a certain something to the goat cheese mixture. But I'd forgotten it another time and added mint instead -- which somehow wrecked the whole appetizer. It was too strong and suffocated the other flavors, I think. I'm learning about what I like, what I respond to -- and then trying to figure out why. When Maili talks about foods "liking" certain spices, or herbs, e.g. fruit loves lemon -- it helps, er, humanize the cooking process. Maybe goat cheese hates mint, thinks it stole his girlfriend, I don't know. But it didn't work, so I skipped that part and just mixed the goat cheese with toasted chopped almonds. When I put it all together, it didn't look as pretty as Maili's. You can see hers on her blog (I couldn't figure out how to copy the pic).

Here are mine:

But, my guest devoured them so there's the testament.

Friend gets all reverential on the warm cherries and goat cheese

Finally I could prepare the shrimp. I love zesting fruit. (I use a Microplane, suggested by Maili. It's brilliant!) Somehow it feels like you're playing a zither with food. I scraped a whole lemon, orange and lime into a bowl. Set it aside. (The first couple times I made the zest I'd added a tablespoon of salt!!! mistakenly thinking because these ingredients were in one spot on the recipe it meant they all belonged together. I hadn't read carefully enough to understand that the salt was to be sprinkled on the shrimp along with the zest as you quickly pan-fried them. Not mixed with the zest! The first two times I made this dish -- for myself, practicing -- I couldn't figure out why it was so mouth-puckeringly salty. Despite the swallowing-sea-water effect, I ate the whole plate. This is something I'm working on -- being willing to toss failed dishes, expired foods, items. I plan to explore my resistance to throwing things out, dig beneath my emotional relationship to clutter. More on that another post when I talk the magnificent orzo-arugula salad...)

The only Blanche I know...swoon...

In another pan, I sauteed spinach. Just heated the pan to medium high, glugged some olive oil, sprinkled salt on top of the leaves, stirred them, and voila. However, my friend suggested another way to do it was first blanch the spinach. (I don't know what "blanching" is...) Then saute and drizzle w/olive oil upon serving. (She said she couldn't taste the olive oil -- which was weird to me since I'd used a lot to saute them. Maybe too much, she said gently. Because the spinach was heavy with oil and yet didn't have the taste. Always more to learn!)

By this point, we were so hungry and primed for the main meal, we scarfed the whole plate of shrimp before I remembered to document. My friend had no comments on this dish. She was too busy inhaling them all! Here's a shot from apres-feast. Even my friend's hand looks relaxed and sated, don't you think?

We finished the evening with warmed plum and ginger sauce spooned over a few scoops of Haagen Dazs plain vanilla ice cream. Downed the last of the Bogle sauvignon blanc. Drank up conversation for our aperitif. Then we fell silent, rubbed our happy bellies and patted our overly-analytical heads. Kidding. But there is such a simple pleasure in this cooking and feeding and sharing that it seems to bring out the child in you. When small things made you smile with contentment.

You'll notice there was no Proscuitto & Tuscan Melon w/Fresh Mint on the final menu. When I drove to the Valley yesterday to shop, I lost my cojones to face Costco. Costco's amazing, but it's like a city. You have to be brave to enter, and endure the warehouse overwhelmingness, the aisles like backstreet industrial alleys, the towering shelves jampacked with stuff.

Instead I stopped for a $25 hour massage. You heard me right. $25 for an hour. Lucky Feet, right on Topanga Canyon Boulevard near Dumetz. Check it out. If you recall, I'd only slept four hours and was wasted. I was also stiff and sore from working out.

I haven't mentioned yet that along with my cooking odyssey, I signed up for a five-week three day/week group physical bootcamp with Sonki Fitness. Getting in better shape while learning to cook made sense. I wanted to explore new foods without worrying (at first) about what was fattening, or unhealthy -- and focus instead on taste. Just have fun.

We meet every other evening on the breath-taking Santa Monica Bluffs. Interestingly, the trainer has a background in the military; so does Maili. Sonki Hong's an army guy whose job I believe was training recruits who'd failed the physical training. Maili's married to a West Point graduate, and her father cooked in the military. They're not messing around.

 I love the rigor, and feel these are the right people to entrust with Beginner's Mind.

Speaking of Beginner's Mind, my friend and I spoke of a thousand things last night -- but the topic of healing fits this blog.

When I gushed about the joys of living on the edge of the wilderness and the tonic effect of staring at green all day, my friend mentioned some places where she found healing in times of distress. One was the Santa Monica rose garden on the bluffs. What rose garden? I worked out there several times a week and had never seen one. Was this yet another reminder of my love junkie tendency toward tunnel vision? I was beginning to see my addictive hyper-focus could be turned to positive use, but it still could be myopic. Then I remembered finding the red rose on the street right where I parked the beat-up cherry red metallic pickup this past Wednesday.

Santa Monica bluffs public rose garden

And today, what do you know. On the walk back to the truck, after bootcamp, I spied that very rose garden to my left. I'd parked right next to it. So I wandered through the garden -- stooping to smell the roses. (Not stopping, stooping. That extra "o" is the only thing preventing me from truly become a walking cliche). Laugh all you like. It was a lesson I clearly needed, and keep needing. One tied closely to cooking.

Close-up of roses at Santa Monica bluffs public rose garden

You can't stoop to smell the roses if you don't even see them. You also can't sniff these blossoms if you're sprinting past like a speed-demon, hellbent on passing the guy in front of you. Addicts sure do love the speed, the immediate gratification, the grand experience. So it makes sense that even in my cooking odyssey, I'm ramping it up. One friend who came to dine remarked that if I did want to write a memoir about this journey, I wouldn't have any arc because I'd already gone from 0 to 60 in the first few weeks. Exactly! I said. Because that's a love junkie for you! Only in this case, it's a positive focus of energy. Instead of penning insane love letters to destructive and/or unavailable lovers, I was cooking up food, feeding myself, and feeding others. Going full throttle was part of the tale. So was finding a balance in the slowing down.

My friend mentioned another favorite place, the Santa Monica Farmer's Market where I'd also never been. When she urged me to go, I knew it was time to plan a trip. I imagined her walking through the market, past bundles of fresh asparagus, piles of dusty red tomatoes, basketsful of zucchini, boxes of gently layered parsleys and thyme. She would move through the fragrance of sliced oranges, and peaches, crushed mint, fresh plums, and her senses would awaken. I wanted that experience. I wanted that rebirth. Wasn't it a natural extension of living at the edge of a state park, in a rural area? Why had I resisted this whole foodie world for so long?

I thought about the girl on Twitter who admonished me when I complained about the worms I found on the corn I bought from the local Topanga farmer's market. Get over it, she Tweet-teased. Worms shworms. Then she explained in another tweet that she was a farmer's daughter, so that stuff didn't bother her. Would I prefer my corn hydroponic and chemically clean of bugs? She gave me pause. I thought about how pleasurable shucking the measly corn was, how gathering the silken greenish threads and pulling them away from the cob calmed me. It was as if time strolled, was filled with color and sensation. At dinner last night, my friend and I talked about how any kind of emotional healing seemed to require slowing down of time.

"When I saw the photo of you peeling potatoes, Rachel, I knew. It was exactly right. This cooking journey is meant to be. I could see peeling potatoes put you in a physically meditative place." She paused. "I know you needed that." What she left unsaid filled the quiet space around us on the deck. She knew me well.

 "Once a psychic told me I should be throwing pots. Same idea."

Balinese dancer

When I took pictures of our dinner, I photographed only my friend's hands. They were so expressive. This was out of respect for her request for anonymity, but also a way of commemorating our shared meal. I wanted to celebrate our reconnection, our conversation about food and healing, about memory and the mysteries of the body And I wanted to capture the artistry, articulateness and compassion that extends to my friend's very fingers.

M.F.K. Fisher in her kitchen

When my friend left, I was reminded of this quotation:

"There is a communion of more than our bodies when bread is broken and wine is drunk."
-- M.F.K. Fisher

If I can cook, anyone can. Eat well!

RR
xo

Your Mother Couldn't Cook

Could your mother cook? If she didn't, did that affect your own attitude toward cooking -- maybe without you realizing? Let's dish!

First attempt at Triple Citrus Tiger Prawns, June 22nd (looks pretty, but I misread recipe and SEVERELY oversalted!!!)

Ate them all anyway -- something Chef Maili would never do

Today I'm wiped out from posting another lengthy entry yesterday (check it out! I'd love your feedback!), cooking a meal for a friend last night, staying up 'til 4am afterward to tweak and edit the Muu-Muu post, and today needing to plan and shop and cook for dinner for another friend tonight -- so I'm going to take this day as an opportunity to gather some of the hysterical and incredible responses people have posted on Facebook and elsewhere to my questions above. If you want to join in, send me an e-mail or respond in the comments! Tomorrow I will also share about the meal I prepare for my friend, a beautiful woman and fellow memoirist whom I haven't seen in many months. We have a lot of catching up to do. On the menu so far:

Proscuitto & Tuscan Melon w/Fresh Mint (maybe)

Triple Citrus Tiger Prawns w/Thai Chili Sauce
(Triple Citrus Tiger Prawns w/Thai Chili Sauce by Chef Maili)

Caramelized Onions w/Grated Parmesan

Sauteed Kale

Vanilla Ice Cream w/Homemade Ginger & Plum Sauce
(Plum & Ginger Sauce by Chef Maili)

Meanwhile, feast on the following:

YOUR MOTHER COULDN'T COOK -- 

HYSTERICAL, HEART-RENDING TALES OF UNSPEAKABLE, INEDIBLE DELICACIES!

"This is so amazing. My mother used to boil a package of Hebrew National hot dogs and leave them on a plate on the kitchen table for like a week so we could pick at them. that's how bad a cook she was (is)."
-- Malina Saval, author of The Secret Lives of Boys: Inside the Raw, Emotional World of Male Teens (Coming out August 24 in paperback!), Malina Saval's site

Betty Draper "cooking"

"Monday was meatloaf so the leftover could be crumbled into Tuesday's spaghetti sauce (open glass jar of red glop, scorch same in saucepan). That was until about 1977 when some MAD MEN client invented boil in the bag chicken parmesan. I'm not kidding - my mom would toss the four indivdual bags into boiling water. Drain, cut open and dinner was served. (There were 5 of us but I think my brother opted to go hungry those nights.)"
-- Jane Claire Purden

"Another meal -- and I use the word tentatively -- my mom used to cook was elbows and cottage cheese. She'd boil a pot of elbows pasta, then once it was drained, smack a heaping spoonful of Breakstone's cottage cheese (it's a Boston brand; not sure we have it out here) on top. Then she'd mix it all together. She'd pair it with some incongruous beverage like Minute Maid lemonade or orange juice (it also works great with Coke). It's like peasant food and it's so good. Today, I make it for my kids."
-- Malina Saval

"I cook to create something, to let go, to meditate, to relax. I'm confident with a moderate repertoire of mundane to moondancing munchables I can prep and graduate with honors in an hour or less. Who would know -- with my timing, choice of ...a dominant spice, proud sauces -- that I came from naivete in the cupboards and cutlery, alongside culinary luminaries in our hood. Nonetheless, I was lost, bored cutting on the cutting board, more drawn to forklifts than lifting forks. It certainly wasn't from my family that I got any talent beyond enthusiasm with a spatula. To me, until college, whisk was the start of whiskey, and wine, though it rhymed with dine, was more interesting than eating. I grew up in a household where food was always wounded, invalid things dropped on plates after an accident of indescribable heat and attention deficit disorder. My Mom was a terrible cook, steamed veggies until they resembled green, drowned gingerbread men. She was totally uninterested, untalented with intuitions of spicing, uncaring for texture and balance of flavors, uncreative planning a meal, unfocused at the stove and mixing bowl; who would have thought she was an overeater?"
-- Don Helverson

"Anyone remember a unique to the 70's product called "1-2-3 Jello" ?? My mom thought it was a glamourous addition to any gathering. Nothing says celebrate your 25th anniversary or Happy Birthday quite like a dinner of burned Shake N Bake pork chops preceeding this: An orange or lime FLAVORED powder that will, with the magical addition of water, separate into a layer of solid followed by a layer of sponge-like foam topped with a seductive froth of faux chiffon. I think handfulls of shredded coconuts or diced pecans got flung on top - seasonal accents!"
-- Jane Claire Purden

"My mom could never warm the rolls, they were hard and black and hot as cinders by the time she remembered them..."
-- Vicki Whicker

"My mother didn't say don't cook, she just didn't do it well and didn't teach me, but I wasn't teachable back then and am barely now because recipes smack of math...so much precision in the printed recipe...Give me a pinch of that...a palmful of this...if you don't have this ingredient then why don't you try this...it this was how it was pen to paper, then maybe."
-- Vicki Whicker

"My mother refused to teach me how to cook or clean so I wouldn't wind up a housewife like her."
-- Adrienne Urbanski

"Rachel, I have always been wary of cooking and saw the whole subsisting on take out and frozen entrees thing as part of being a hip single girl. The same goes for having a cluttered apartment. But this summer I have been seeing cooking as a means to have better nutrition and save money, and also something that can be fun. I only cook for other people on holidays though, and have never cooked anything for a man. Cooking is something I just do for myself, to take care of myself."
-- Adrienne Urbanski

Tip Of The Day:  Snapware from Costco, $29.99. A set of 18 pieces. Super-sealing lids. Glass storage containers. You'd be amazed how much tastier your leftovers are, and how much longer they stay crisp and fresh. Thanks, Maili! If you need a few additional groovy glass storage containers, (generally overpriced but good in a pinch) Sur La Table in Santa Monica has a sale on Italian Bormioli Frigoverre -- "The Guarantee of Glass"!

Also coming soon...the various incarnations of Chef Maili's signature dish, Triple Citrus Tiger Prawns w/Thai Chili Sauce. You will wince when you hear how innovatively I botched the first two or three times I made them (see pics way above). This will be the fifth attempt. The fourth worked well, at my first dinner party (post TK) -- and then I served them the next day chilled on a bed of cucumbers. Totally worked! (I hate it when you make something and it goes bad the next day...) 

To close, rather than recounting the dinner and visit with my friend (let me do that for tomorrow's post) -- here is a fabulous addition to the various Your Mother Couldn't Cook tales:

"Once my mom made Lemon Meringue pie and forgot to put sugar in it. That was the only time she made it ;-)

"Once we picked wild raspberries and decided to make raspberry jam. We mixed the sugar with the berries, and stirred and stirred as it sat on the stove. We were convinced we saw the mixture on the verge of boiling. Those little tiny dots must be about-to-boil bubbles. After an hour, my sister came in and pointed out that the stove wasn't on. Apparently we thought raspberry seeds were bubbles.

"We often had burnt popcorn and apples for supper. A mom specialty that was kinda good - peanut butter chops. Peanut butter sandwiches cooked like grilled cheese. Burnt of course, but the charcoal mixed with the peanut butter for a taste that was kinda pleasing."
-- Amelia P. 

If I can cook, anyone can. And so can you -- even if your mother couldn't cook. Eat well!

RR

xo