Enjoy Every Sandwich!

I am partial to a good tuna sandwich. But sucks to my as-mar, my definition of good tuna never seems to coincide with the vision of mayonnaise and limp meat that makes up deli-counter tuna. If I want a good tuna sandwich, I gotta make it myself. I will, too! In the morning/before work/in my underwear...my favored method, as has been previously discussed. To make your own version of the beast pictured at left, I have included the recipe below as exactly as I can recall it from its spontaneous concoction in my mid-morning kitchen. Of course, if you're also of the crowd that dislikes mayo-drenched tuna, this recipe is applicable to all kinds of exhilarating situations!

You Will Need:
1/2 can of tuna
2 Slices Rye Bread
Handful of Pea Shoots, coarsely chopped
A Few Slices Tomato
A Few Slices Onion
A Few Slices Cucumber
Lemon Juice, Black Pepper, Ginger Powder (to taste)
1 tbsp. olive oil
1 tbsp. mustard

To Make:

Mix the tuna and the tbsp of olive oil in a small bowl, well enough so that the tuna is coated and cohesive. Then mix in a dash of lemon juice, black pepper, and ginger powder.Only the faintest touch of the ginger is necessary, mind you. It's mostly the lemon juice and black pepper that will make good company for the tuna taste. Stir everything up nice, then smash it down onto one slice of mustard-slathered rye bread. Pile your tomato, cucumber, and onion on top of the meat. Then comes the finishing touch: a pile of chopped pea shoots. Smash the other piece of rye bread down over the whole she-bang and immediately transfer the finished product to some kind of holding cell (plastic lunch bag, tin foil--whatever is your preferred method of food transportation). Viola! LUNCH!

for the love of burgers

Well, after twelve long years of abstinence, and a level of what some could even have called 'self control' (my least exhibited quality in cases ranging from most to all), I have begun eating hamburgers again. And HOW I have begun eating hamburgers again! I am in carnivorous heaven. I forgot all about them--the chin-dripping juice, the sumptuous flavor, the complete satisfaction--it's been a whirlwind tour of Burger NYC ever since. Thankfully, many of my friends have been very accommodating of my mission to reconquer the humble beef patty. They have allowed me to haul them around to each and every last den of city-based, meaty fame without complaint or question. I am keenly aware that the trade-off for these outings would be much more satisfying for them if I spent less time cramming my face with oozy, juicy burger and more time talking to them and/or even looking at them. But I can't help it! I'm rolling with king Burger now.

Pictured above is the notorious West Village burger joint Corner Bistro, shown in accompaniment is Nani (as tiger).

Expect more burger reports to follow. Huzzah huzzah!

Know Your Chickpea

This recipe was inspired by the fact that I recently unearthed three jars of tumeric in my cupboard without the slightest clue as to a.) how they got there or b.) what they were for. I'm also obsessed with chickpeas, and have been tossing sauteed and browned versions of them into just about every single dish I've made over the last few weeks. Yesterday I didn't feel like getting out of bed or moving at all, so I warmed up this little dish and crawled back in with it to self-contentedly eat and continue watching old movies. As is per my standard, it is quick to make/easy as pie and ever-so-tasty.

You Will Need:
1 can Of Stewed Tomatoes
1 cup of Chickpeas
1 medium sized Onion
2-3 cloves of Garlic
1 tbls. tumeric
1 med. sized Zucchini
2 tbls. olive oil
Salt+Pepper to taste

To Make:
Using a medium sized pan, warm the two tablespoons of olive oil over medium-high heat. Once it's a-sizzlin' toss in the cup of chickpeas in along with a good dose of salt and pepper. Let the chickpeas hiss and pop for four to five minutes in the oil, until they are nice and toasty brown around the edges. Then toss in the onion, garlic, and tumeric, mixing everything together thoroughly so it is all coated with oil and letting it cook down for another three to four minutes. Next toss in the zucc's. I used both yellow and green in my recipe, to aesthetically counteract what would eventually be the overwhelming red glop of the stewed tomatoes. Cover the pan and let the concoction cook down for another few minutes, stirring occassionally and adding more salt+pepper as you see fit. Now it's time for the tomatoes! Add the can slowly, mixing it in with the vegetables and onion so that everything is coated. Put the heat on low, cover the pan again, and let the dish simmer until the zucc's have cooked all the way through. Then remove from heat and serve (over grains: brown rice or red quinoa goes best!)

soup kitchen

photo credit: (click)

My friend Jacky and I don't see each other much. This is the understandable way of two girls in New York City who have multiple jobs and very little time to spare, but our rare and always magnificant collisions have unearthed a little remembered (and even more rarely employed) architecture of total contentment. It is a flawless structure thus far; a wordless affirmation that when times are hard, bliss is still available to be assembled on a case-by-case basis. Or, in this case, a "can"-by-"can" basis...Waka waka waka.

What we do is make soup. Then we kick back inside one of the monstrously comfortable cushions of her couch and watch an old movie. By the end of the night, everything bad has dribbled off to rest their haunches in some other anxious cave and I'm left to peaceably toe the line between sleep and consciousness. Of our sessions, this recipe for split pea soup has become my most favorite. It begins with an incredibly easy-to-make base of peas and onion, and can then be fleshed out with whatever happens to be in your fridge. (Jacky had spinach and carrots, but honestly anything will do just fine.)

You Will Need:
2 cups of split peas
2 onions, diced
2 carrots, diced
1 Bunch Spinach
2 tbsp olive oil
4 cups of water
1 lemon

How To Make:

In a large pot, big enough to accommodate the eventual soup, warm the 2 tbs of olive oil with the 2 diced onions for a few minutes, until the onions soften. Add the water and peas and bring everything to a boil, then lower the pot to a simmer. Add the carrots and spinach and simmer for twenty-thirty minutes until everything is soft. At this point you can puree or not to puree, whichever way you prefer your soup (once again---peanut butter: chunky or smooth?) Add the juice of the lemon to taste, along with salt and pepper and paprika and VOILA, a hearty, vegetable garden of split pea soup. It's that easy. Amazing! And suddenly your total mental and physical well being is right at hand.

Side-note: I have also found out that it is nearly impossible to take an attractive photo of Split Pea Soup, so forgive me the lack of.

Seasonal Affective Disorder

Asparagus is in season! Starting! Right! NOW! So eat a BUNCH.

Ten Minute Tasty Asparagus And Brown Rice
Asparagus Bread Pudding
Spring Veggie Tart

a thing i've found and am fond of looking at

It has recently come to my attention that mashed potatoes can be served in bar form. At first I thought this was an ode to mess hall days, as in big troughs of pillowy white potatoes served up in endless variety; a frothy celebration of starch and mash. I was wrong. It literally meant bar form, as in that dark dungeon of delectable sin where one dwells to shut out the light and knock back self-indulgently absurd amounts of artistic poison. This is literally a mashed potato martini.

Mashed Potato Martini, Sir?

vaguely related to things vaguely related to food

I remember dinners with my family being a lot like the first few moments of this video: the curious gravity, the warmth, the ceremonial and quiet gifting. It seems sad now in my remembering of it, but only in the peculiar way that anything seems sad when it has succumbed to a little time and a great distance.

A Picture of Our Torn Up Praise:Phosphorescent