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Love, me.

maryland crab soup

Growing up in Houston meant growing up believing that Gulf shrimp and crawfish reigned supreme in the crustacean world. And while I don’t necessarily consider this worldview having changed, living in the mid-Atlantic for the past five years has opened my eyes to the beauty that is the Maryland blue crab.

Crab cakes…crab dip…crab chips...crab gumbo. I’m summoning Bubba Gump here for inspiration. I cannot get enough.

eat me.

One of my favorite crab recipes is Maryland crab soup, a regional specialty that forsakes the typical creamy base that so regularly populates seafood soups. It’s instead tomato-based, brothy, loaded with beautiful veggies and wonderfully spicy when done correctly.

This is a definite must-order for anyone visiting or new to the mid-Atlantic region, and is likely to be added to our regular recipe rotation after the hangover salvation it provided for both of us alongside a tray of cheddar-garlic biscuits in the midst of last night’s cold, rainy drizzle and Drew Brees’ record-breaking touchdown pass.

Crab soup and football. Because that’s what Maryland does.

 maryland crab soup

(***note: 'round here, crab soup vegetables are sold packaged together in the frozen section at some grocery stores. But I listed all of them here anyway for those going it from scratch.***)

celery, onions, carrots (mirepoix)

butter or olive oil

garlic

potatoes

green beans

lima beans

peas

corn

crab (I used a combo of claw and lump meat – but whatever kind is on hand is fine. Except for imitation crab. That is definitely not OK.)

canned diced tomatoes

vegetable broth

old bay

salt & pepper

Texas Pete’s or Tabasco

Sautee and season the mirepoix in butter or olive oil over medium heat until onions are fragrant. Add garlic, vegetables, tomatoes, old bay and vegetable broth over high heat. Bring to rolling boil, then reduce heat to a healthy simmer. Add crab and simmer for 15-20 minutes while biscuits bake. Add salt & pepper and hot sauce to taste.

Ensalada suroeste picante (spicy southwest salad)

Ah, salad. Few foods in the American diet share its level of ubiquity. One could even argue that it’s experiencing a sudden upsurge, considering the exponential growth of dedicated salad joints like Chopt, Mixt, Sweetgreen and whatever other obnoxiously named cafés I’m omitting.

Though it’s an easy way to introduce a hefty serving of veggies into one’s diet, eating what can sometimes taste like a bowl of grass for lunch every day gets pretty old.

salsa + ranch = <3

Enter homemade dressing. Using whatever ingredients are at one’s disposal to create new salad sauces helps dispel the monotony surrounding a daily dish of greens. In this particular salad, spicy salsa contrasts, and also carries farther the calorie count, of cool, creamy ranch, while hot peppers and onions offset crisp chilled lettuce and other veggies.

Other good ingredients to keep on-hand for homemade dressings are mustard (Dijon, regular, horseradish, whatever), honey, vinegar, lemons, limes, oranges, avocados, scallions, chiles, cilantro, basil, garlic, ketchup (haaaahahaha), Worcestershire, soy sauce, ginger…all it takes is a little imagination and a lot of quality olive oil.

Ensalada suroeste picante (spicy southwest salad)

onions and peppers (sautéed in olive oil, garlic and splashes of Worcestershire and tabasco)

black bean burger, cooked and diced

lettuce

carrots

red cabbage

pepper jack cheese

avocado

banana peppers

diced cherry tomatoes

salsa mixed with ranch dressing

vegetarian chili mac

There exist in this world three core belief systems with which every Texan must make peace at some point in his or her life. The first is God. The second is guns.

The third is chili.

Chili is the official state dish of Texas. According to Wikipedia (the modern be-all end-all of American history – Encyclopædia Britannica, your number's up), chili arrived with frontier settlers and spread throughout the southwestern United States as a result of San Antonio’s tourism industry.

proceed with caution

But, at the risk of eternally losing my Texas card, the following recipe violates state chili standards in three critical ways:

1) Its usage of beans. An old and quite common state saying goes something like “If you know beans about chili, you know chili ain’t got no beans.” But I can’t forgo them in my recipe. Absent beans, chili lacks the heartiness that so characterizes the dish.

2) Its substitution of veggie crumbles for ground beef. This will be considered sacrilege by many, and I hereby accept the subsequent Facebook defriendings that surely will ensue. But after it’s stewed for hours upon hours, I’m confident that this could survive a taste test among even the most insistent of carnivores.

3) Its mixing of macaroni. Texans serve chili with lots of crackers, lots of cheese and lots, lots, lots of hot sauce; pasta is rarely, if ever, included.

Perhaps from this recipe I’ve learned one thing – just like this chili, my particular brand of Texan may be composed of atypical traits. But sometimes a different batch of ingredients can still create something just as good as the real thing.

vegetarian chili

package veggie crumbles

black beans

canned diced tomatoes with chipotle (if you can’t find these then just add a can of chipotles in adobo)

Shiner Bock

onion

bell pepper

garlic

worcestershire

chili powder

cumin

paprika

oregano

tabasco (or chalula, whatever)

sriracha

crushed red pepper

salt & pepper

1 box whole-wheat elbow noodle (rotini would be good too)

 Slow-cook all ingredients except pasta on high for three to four hours. Cook pasta, toss with chili, top with cheddar cheese and serve with cold beer.

salted-caramel apple pie

Pertinent factoid: I do not bake.

Usually, if I bake something for you, I am either a) trying to poison you or b) apologizing for something I have done wrong.

Many wise women have said that the key to baking is precision. This requires an exceptional amount of patience, a trait of which I have decidedly little. I believe that in the kitchen one should be wild, experimental, instinctive, creative, not measuring and sifting and pinching and dashing.

That being said – I’m all about trying new things. So when a girlfriend of mine described preparing a peanut butter pie for her beloved, and his subsequent goddess-like worship of her, I figured there just might be something to getting all old-school domestic and making a pie.

Since neither B nor I are big peanut butter people (haha, picturing people made out of peanut butter, the funnies) I went with apple instead, with a drizzle of homemade salted caramel for good measure. And since B and I are both big bourbon fans, I went with a big hearty splash of Jack Daniels in the filling. Aaaand maybe a wee bit in my coffee, too…

3.14159265359

salted-caramel apple pie

1 double-crust pie crust recipe (I used the Trader Joe’s premade crust, don’t judge…)

6 green apples, thinly sliced

2 TBSP flour

½ cup sugar

1 TBSP cinnamon

1 TBSP lemon juice

1 cup salted caramel (click for recipe, big thanks to brown-eyed baker for step-by-step recipe with pictures)

Pinch salt

Pinch nutmeg

Big splash of bourbon

Preheat oven to 425. Mix all ingredients. Put in crust-lined pan, top with other crust, poke slits in top to vent. Bake for 45 minutes, let cool at least two hours before slicing, serving with vanilla ice cream and drizzling plate with extra salted caramel.

barbecue tofu broccoli cheddar pizza

Sounds weird, doesn't it? But sometimes weird can be good. Just look at Salvador Dali, chicken and waffles, Pink Floyd, prosthetic limbs...sometimes things that initially seem bizarre become actualized as masterpieces.

Masterpiece this was not, but it was strangely, surprisingly good. An extra hour at work and a tighter-than-normal budget combined forces to condemn me to a 30-minute cooking window using mostly on-hand ingredients, and thus was born this patchwork Frankensteinesque pie.

The broccoli edges toasted up all nice and crispy in the oven; sharp cheddar cut right through the sweet, smoky barbecue sauce, while sauteed onions and garlic lent depth and fragrance. And tofu, because protein.

B initially sounded skeptical when I suggested a barbecue-sauced pizza, but two glasses of wine and four slices later I think he’d begrudgingly accepted its existence. If begrudging acceptance is exemplified by taking leftovers to work the next day.  

barbecue tofu broccoli cheddar pizza

storebought pizza crust (Pillsbury cuz I’m simple like that)

barbecue sauce (Stubbs cuz I’m Texan)

broccoli, tossed with olive oil, salt & pepper 

tofu bites (recipe below)

extra sharp cheddar

onions

garlic

olive oil

salt and pepper

While pizza crust is pre-baking, sautee onions with garlic in olive oil, season with salt and pepper. Spread barbecue sauce on crust and sprinkle with toppings. Bake for 10-15 minutes or until pizza has reached desired crispitude.

crispy tofu bites

1 block extra-firm tofu

worcestershire sauce

honey

Whisk honey into Worcestershire sauce. Squeeze excess water out of tofu until it’s as dry as possible, dice into ½-inch cubes. Marinate cubes in Worcestershire-honey mixture for an hour. Bake for 30 minutes, turning once, at 400 degrees. Pop under broiler for a few minutes at end of baketime.

easy egg and avocado salad with tomatoes and banana peppers

Confession time: I am not an avocado fan.

This statement is not to be misread as “I am not a guacamole fan,” because let’s be honest: who ISN’T a guacamole fan? Maybe Hitler, because he’s German and dead, but that is probably about it. The additions of lime juice and spicy pico are in my opinion what turn bland, crayonlike alien green mush into creamy, tart chip heaven. Plain avocados merely pale in comparison.

But alas -- they’re good for you. Like, really good for you. So there I was this morning, bound and determined to somehow incorporate those wrinkly little suckers into my diet, thinking “how can I make this work?”

ready for my close-up

What resulted was the product of a sort-of kitchen-sink mentality: throw things together and see how it goes. And it went oh so very well. Spicy, tart banana peppers cut through the creaminess of the avocado and add the crunch that would have been present had I actually thought to stock celery in the refrigerator.  

And a little tip for you carni/omnivores out there: Adding crumbled bacon would send this salad off the charts.

omg hi

easy egg and avocado salad with tomatoes and banana peppers

4 eggs, hard-boiled and diced

1 avocado, diced

banana peppers, minced

grape tomatoes, quartered

mustard (I used regular but whole-grain would be much amazings)

garlic powder

tabasco

salt and pepper

Mix everything together sloppily in a bowl while racing the clock to make it to work on time. Slather on toast with veggies, try not to spill all over self during commute.

10 tips for surviving Bikram

The Bikram yoga bandwagon has brainwashed its latest rider.

Though I’ve long looked to running for its unique capacity to clear my mind, free my spirit, strengthen my body and burn major calories all in one fell swoop, it's beginning to weather these achey old joints of mine.

Enter hot yoga. With Bikram, I get all of those benefits wrapped up in a low-impact (albeit high-cost) package: a full 90 minutes of stretchy misery in 104 sticky degrees. It alleviates daily stressors in a number of ways, perhaps the most evident of these being that it forces you to so unwaveringly focus on staying alive that your mind has no energy — or sweat — left for the small stuff.

It is not a task to be undertaken lightly. Class can prove more of an exercise in patience than in fitness when it comes to battling sweaty yuppies for mat space; balancing precariously on the toes of one foot with pretzel-twisted limbs akimbo is often a labor of pain as much as it is one of love.

What follows are mainly nuggets of wisdom (if you can call it that) I wish someone would’ve offered me before I went into the experience. I may still be a Bikram rookie, but can only hope that a few of the things I’ve learned so far along this journey will keep you from spending your first class passed out in a puddle of your own vomit.

1. Raid the web for coupons before signing up — Groupon, Living Social, Google Offers, Amazon Local…dig and dig and dig for a deal before you settle on paying full price for a class. Hot yoga is mad expensive, but you can find bargains hiding among the annals of the ’net with a little patience, some perseverance and moderate interwebbing skills.

2. Skip the bra — Let the ladies breath. Trust me, they’ll need it. You won’t be moving quickly or abruptly enough to necessitate the support of one, anyway. If you want to stash one in your car to weather the speed bumps on the drive home, then so be it, but you’ll be much better off either without one or with a wireless cotton style that isn't too tight. Wear the lightest, loosest-fitting tank top you can find. Yes, it may look a little obscene, but the people around you are worried far more about the black spots they’re seeing in front of their eyes than what’s protruding from beneath your shirt.

3. No Bikram on squat/lower body days — Depending on your conditioning schedule, it’s better to do the class on upper-body workout days. The postures are heavily focused on hips, knees, glutes and quads, with lots of balancing, stabilizing and flexing leg muscles. Doing squats in the morning and Bikram at night can be overkill on your stems.

4. Get a good yoga towel — This doesn’t seem like something that would make a big difference, but good gracious does it ever. Standing on one locked knee with both elbows contorted in some warped fashion is difficult enough, but when the surface below is uneven twisted terry cloth, what should just be a minor annoyance can ruin a perfect pose. Get a long, flat yoga towel. In fact, get three or four. Laundry less often — that’s my motto.

5. Only fill your water bottle halfway — If your bottle is completely full at the start of class, the bottom half of it will be hot by the time the end rolls around. And after 90 minutes of hot yoga, the last thing you’ll want to drink is hot water. If you only fill it up halfway, you’ll have drained it halfway through class and can refill your bottle with nice, cold water. If you don't want to interrupt your zen session to refill then just jam your bottle with ice before class.

6. No big meals or difficult foods on yoga day — Eat small, light meals, and avoid foods that are prone to give you gas. Indigestion can ruin the whole experience…for everyone.

7. Don’t just hydrate; preserve your hydration — It’s not enough to just drink water all day leading up to yoga. Also avoid ingesting any high-sodium foods within three hours before class (or just in general, in life, at all. Except pickles and kimchi. ’Cuz yum.)

8. Do not wear pants — I love yoga pants as much as the next person, but they will feel like suffocation instead of freedom during Bikram.

9. Avoid the 6 p.m. weekday session — It may work best with your schedule, but there’s a reason for that — it works best with everyone else’s, too. Bikram requires an exceptional amount of concentration, and the more crowded the class is, the harder it is to focus on not dying everywhere all over everybody. Hold out for the 8 p.m. instead, or even get up for the morning class if you can summon the energy.

10. Wait 10 minutes after class to drive — Driving on a yoga high is not advised. Cool off in the AC for a few before attempting to operate heavy machinery…neighborhood pedestrians will thank you (since they’ll be alive to do so.)

11. BONUS TIP — Eat blueberry Greek yogurt afterward. Not only is it the perfect post-Bikram snack to cool down with its tart creaminess, it’s loaded with good protein and carbs for recovery while still being light on calories.

lemon-rosemary swordfish

A little more than a month ago, the D.C. metro area was swept by a storm to end all storms. A storm that felled 100-year-old trees, a storm that blew lounge chairs into pools – a storm that robbed my apartment complex of power for almost two days.

Fortunately for me, a good friend nearby – who used his wizardry to somehow emerge from the wreckage as the only Arlingtonian to retain electricity – hosted a barbecue for those less fortunate. And at said barbecue, another friend prepared a fish I’d never before enjoyed off the grill – swordfish.

Cue all-out obsession. There was Facebooking, tweeting, gchatting, somnambulating…I quickly became a woman possessed by the idea of making a swordfish to rival his.

i'm not as juicy as i look

Unfortunately, last night’s effort fell far short of such a goal. It was good, to be sure, but the mere 10 minutes under the broiler proved about three too many and the fish, alas, emerged almost dry.

In my defense, it is predominantly the fault of one Pentagon City Harris Teeter that did not carry swordfish, forcing me over to the local Giant, which only sold the frozen variety. I therefore had no choice but to forgo my best-laid marinate-and-pan-sear plan for a haphazard baste-and-broil method (since the marinating half-hour became a thawing half-hour). This, in turn, led to less moisture for the fish, which led to less flavor in the meat, which led to a nearly parched piece of swordfish landing on my plate. Just one more example of the wide-ranging implications of the butterfly effect.

lemon-rosemary swordfish (next time: marinate for an hour to right my wrongs.)

lemon juice

chopped rosemary

honey

olive oil

butter

swordfish

garlic

salt & pepper

lemon pepper

Whisk together lemon juice, chopped rosemary, honey, garlic and olive oil. Marinate swordfish in mixture for an hour. Preheat a greased broiler pan, add swordfish, season with salt, pepper and lemon pepper. Broil one inch from flame for seven minutes. Serve with quinoa and salad.

broccoli quinoa

quinoa

butter

chopped broccoli

chives

veggie broth

salt & pepper

Cook quinoa in veggie broth according to package directions. While quinoa is cooking, sautee broccoli and chives in a little butter, season with salt and pepper. Stir into cooked quinoa.

Spicy tofu stir-fry

They say there is a first time for everything. In the life of me, there’ve been many momentous firsts: my first kiss, my first job out of college, my first apartment. But last night’s first was potentially one to end all others: my first attempt at cooking tofu.

Most, but not all, of you are aware of one fact: I am Asian. And very, very bad at it. My math skills hover somewhere between abysmal and nonexistent, I can only finish three sides of a Rubik’s cube and doing my own nails rarely if ever yields smudge-free results.

Thus, the task of preparing tofu was somewhat daunting. But now that the number of protein sources in my daily dietary vault has dwindled, I knew it was something I had to do. Abe Lincoln had to free the slaves, JFK had to quell the Cuban missile crisis, Paula Abdul had to leave American Idol and I had to learn to make tofu. It was my duty.  

eat me.

It began with much googling and clicking and culminated in finally settling on this preparation strategy. Click the link for in-depth instructions, but the abridged version is this: slice tofu, use towels to squeeze water out of pieces, put slices in DRY nonstick skillet to further evaporate/dehydrate tofu, toss into marinade, cook.

It was simple. It was fast. And it was really good. Since almost all the water had been squished out of the tofu, it was thirsty for moisture and thoroughly absorbed the marinade in only about 20 minutes. It stir-fried up quite nicely with one of my favorite simple veggie combos – broccoli, carrots, red cabbage and onions – but it would also be great sliced into smaller shreds in a Szechuan-style setup, with carrots, celery and onions, or with asparagus and snow peas, or bok choy and butternut squash, or whatever other lovely veggies are in season.

Were a few pieces mushier than ideal? Of course. Was the sauce a little saltier than I’d intended it to be? Sure. Did B and I eat all of it anyway? We most certainly dang did – with a hibachi-style salad and some fluffy brown rice, a bottle of Virginia sweet red wine and an adorably enthusiastic explanation of how one goes about playing Magic: the Gathering.

Some days I swear I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

up close & personal.

spicy tofu stir-fry

1 block of extra firm tofu, prepped like this
broccoli
carrots
red cabbage
onions
brown rice

marinade/sauce
garlic
sesame oil
soy sauce
sesame ginger salad dressing
honey
sriracha
Szechuan sauce
red pepper flakes
cornstarch
hot water

Drain, squeeze and dry-fry tofu. Whisk together marinade ingredients (I try to aim for equal parts of each ingredient except for the garlic and red pepper flakes. Just a spoonful and sprinkle of each, respectively, is good.) Add tofu to marinade, let sit for 20-30 minutes.

Prepare brown rice according to package instructions. Add generous drizzle of sesame oil to skillet. Add vegetables and stir-fry for a few minutes, then add tofu. Stir-fry for five to ten minutes, serve over rice with salad, DVR’ed Jeopardy episodes and American Psycho.

"can't believe it's not meat" loaf

There is perhaps no other entrée as divisive as meatloaf.

For some (my father included), it induces shudders and flashbacks to school cafeteria mystery meat, or mealy clumps buried beneath piles of congealed gravy at the dinner table. But for others, it’s inextricably linked to childhood memories of a home kitchen redolent with the light brown scent of steaming onions and peppers tucked tightly into folds of tender beef.

B and I are fortunate to fall further toward the latter group. We had, for some time, discussed the idea of preparing a loaf that would befit a vegetarian, but most of the recipes we stumbled upon looked to lentils or eggplants for texture.

That’s all fine and good, but we weren’t jonesing for a vegetable loaf, here. It was meatloaf we wanted – soft, savory, comforting and piping hot. So instead of pureeing pintos and chopping walnuts and mincing tofu and the hundreds of other complicated methods of replication, I just made it the old-fashioned way, but substituted veggie protein crumbles for ground beef.

impostor.

And I’ll be damned if it doesn’t taste almost exactly like the real thing. So much so that at the risk of incurring a lawsuit from Parkay (or some other cranky agriculture industry giant), I have decided to bestow upon this recipe a title associated almost exclusively with the infamous butter substitute.

The texture was almost identical to a real meatloaf; the flavor perhaps slightly lacking, but that could easily be rectified by a beef bouillon cube or a packet of beef onion soup (if you’re the kind of vegetarian who doesn’t mind that sorta thing).We really could not tell much, if any, difference between this loaf and those which our mothers and grandmothers so lovingly prepared.

Smothered in homemade gravy and nestled beside fluffy mashed potatoes, it took me right back to a lazy summer afternoon in my great-grandma Hazel’s kitchen, while she smiles at me over bowls of peppermint ice cream and my great-grandpa David whittles a little toy horse.

Of course, we threw a salad in for good measure. To make it healthy and all.

so good it gets two pictures.

"can't believe it's not meat" loaf

16 oz. (1.5 packages) veggie protein crumbles (I like this kind. The Boca version is OK too, but texturally inferior.)

1 bunch chopped scallions

½ finely chopped bell pepper

Slather of hickory barbecue sauce

Big splash of worcestershire sauce

1 egg, beaten

Bread crumbs

Garlic powder

Salt & pepper

Preheat oven to 350. Thaw the soy crumbles in the microwave. Stir in scallions, bell pepper, garlic powder, salt, pepper, a good thick slather of the barbecue sauce and a hefty shake of worcestershire, and mix well. Fold the egg into the mixture, then add bread crumbs (start with about ½ a cup, add more if needed to make stick) and form into a loaf. Bake in a greased loaf pan for 45 minutes.

easy, homemade brown gravy

beef broth

butter

flour

Melt about a tablespoon of butter over medium-high heat. Whisk in flour to create a roux. Cook roux for 3 to 5 minutes, then turn heat to high and whisk in about a cup of broth and cook over high heat for a minute. Reduce heat to simmer, stirring occasionally. Add more broth if needed.

double-mushroom four-cheese penne marsala -- aka the best thing i have ever made.

Until somewhat recently, mushrooms topped the very short list of foods I refused to consume. But something wonderful happened over the past few years, and these delightful little fungi have switched from the top of the yuck list – which is no longer so much a list as it is the lone item “black olives” – to the top of the yum one.

Consequently, they’ve acquired a starring role in what is likely the awesomest recipe in my oeuvre. There’s nothing fancy about this pasta, but there is a lot yummy about it. Capers and red bell peppers, atypical Marsala ingredients, really brighten an otherwise fairly standard sauce, and the added four cheeses make things rich and lovely. I was so engrossed in devouring it that I completely forgot about the garlic bread smoldering away in the oven. We saved it just before it crossed over into crouton afterlife.

This supper was supposed to make for a low-key end to a low-key weekend (which included Rock of Ages, highly recommended for a super-fun summer flick), but two bottles of wine and a few slugs of 1800 later we wound up almost entirely neglecting the 3,000-piece jigsaw puzzle strewn all over the basement table. We’re wild like that.

messy plate,. very sorry.

double-mushroom four-cheese penne marsala

1 lb. whole wheat penne
8 oz. baby bella mushrooms, sliced
8 oz. Portobello mushrooms, sliced
1 red onion, thinly sliced
1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
Three large garlic cloves, minced (I only used two, and it was not enough. B disagrees, but he is clearly wrong.)
Capers, like a handful or so
Marsala wine (a cup? Maybe? Just use enough to achieve the right consistency)
Italian four-cheese blend – ours was provolone, mozzarella, asiago and parmesan, but any blend will work
Salt & pepper
Butter (full-fat, salted, none of this margarine crap)
Flour

Melt 3-4 tablespoons of glorious, unapologetic butter over medium-low heat and caramelize the red onions. Raise heat to medium-high and add the peppers and mushrooms. Sautee for 5-10, until the mushrooms start to cook down, then add garlic and capers. Sautee for about 5 more minutes, until the garlic gets super fragrant, then salt and pepper everything. Add in 3-4 tablespoons of flour and stir well for 3-4 minutes to cook up a golden-brown roux. Stir in Marsala wine and raise heat to high. Thicken sauce, stirring constantly and adding in more wine as needed to reach the right consistency (it should be thinner than gravy but thicker than jus), then stir in servings of the four-cheese blend in quarter-cup increments until the sauce looks dangerous. Toss with pasta, top with more cheese and watch YouTube videos while singing inappropriately at the dinner table.

spicy black bean burritos

Though I might be a bit of a Tex-Mex snob, I am not above a visit to Chipotle on occasion; their barbacoa is the stuff of  legends. But now that I've drastically lessened the amount of meat in my life, I've found myself forced to stick to their black beans, which -- I'm sorry Willie Nelson, I really did love your adorably animated Chipotle commercial -- are bland, boring and nothing to write home about.

This problem is easily remedied by homemade burrito bar. With a little corner-cutting, it doesn't take nearly as long as you'd think: I had this all ready in 20 minutes with the assistance of prepared rice and guacamole.

had to use microsoft paint instead of photoshop for labels,
sorry for the kindergartenness of it...

I, like a total amateur, forgot to put cheese on mine -- there were just too many moving parts. And B, like a total amateur, ate his with a knife and a fork -- this, which borders on dealbreaker territory, is a transgression for which he must thoroughly atone. I'm fairly certain it is the eighth deadly sin.

Recipes for the beans and peppers are below; you can figure out the rest. I used Spanish rice from the box (yes, I am ashamed), 100-calorie burrito-sized whole-wheat tortillas, light sour cream, jarred salsa and pre-made guacamole (stop judging me!) Set everything out separately and frantic burrito assembly will surely ensue.

Throw in a few dishes of slow-cooked carnitas and barbacoa, some chips and queso and, of course, plenty of tequila and margaritas, and these would be the makings of a very fun dinner party.

spicy chipotle-brewed black beans
1 can organic black beans
1 small can chipotles in adobo
1 bunch chopped scallions
Chili powder
Cumin
Garlic powder (embarrassing but true, I was out of fresh garlic)
Tabasco

Mix beans with chipotles in adobo and scallions in small saucepan; use kitchen scissors to cut up chipotles in sauce. Add chili powder, cumin, garlic powder and Tabasco, stir well. Cook over medium heat for five minutes or so, then lower heat and simmer for as long as your stomach can stand it (minimum of 15 minutes, maximum of 1 hour). Serve with a slotted spoon to strain out some, but most certainly not all, of the cooking liquid.

charred peppers and onions
1 green bell pepper, sliced
1 onion, sliced
1/2 TBSP butter
salt & pepper

Melt butter in skillet over medium-high heat. Add peppers and onions and DO NOT stir. Season with salt and pepper and let cook for 4 minutes, then carefully flip over with spatula to char other side.

b's mom's mac 'n' cheese

When a man says "my mom makes the best _____," it is cause to swing into full-blown Barney Stinson mode: "Challenge accepted."

So B's mom gave me her mac 'n' cheese recipe, and I did my best to not only do it justice but to also put my own spin on it with a sprinkling of panko bread crumbs, an extra layer of cheese and a shower of ground black pepper.

queso es la vida

b's mom's mac 'n' cheese

1 lb. whole grain pasta (used shells)

1.5 lb. cheddar (used wisconsin)

1 8 oz. carton fat-free half 'n' half

panko bread crumbs

pepper mill

Preheat oven to 375; boil pasta. Mix noodles with some half 'n' half and one pound of cheese. Sprinkle top with panko bread crumbs and cover with the rest of the cheese. Bake, covered, for 45 minutes; remove foil and bake 5-10 more minutes or until cheese is browned on top.

red pepper parmesan brussels sprouts

If I could go back in time and tell 7-year-old me that grown-up me would love brussels sprouts, I am fairly certain there would be much pointing and laughing from 7-year-old me. Burgeoning adulthood has brought with it a palate that not only tolerates but actually seeks out cruciferous vegetables.

bonjour, mon ami.

Roasting these lil baby cabbages really brings out their sweetness without any of the bitter flavors or that funky sulfur smell; adding onions and red peppers to the mix lends a sweet edge, too.

red pepper parmesan brussels sprouts
quartered brussels sprouts
sliced onions
sliced red bell peppers
salt & pepper
garlic powder (or whole peeled garlic cloves)
extra virgin olive oil
parmesan cheese

Preheat oven to 425. Toss first six ingredients and spread in single layer on baking sheet. Roast for 25 minutes, sprinkle with parmesan, add back to oven for three more minutes to melt cheese.

caramelized onion and cherry tomato ragout

If you're anything like me, you realize how truly rare it can be to actually finish a pint of cherry tomatoes before they pass on to a better place. So instead of throwing a third of the package down the garbage disposal at the end of the week as per usual — and because these particular tomatoes were organic, plump, firm and begging to be cooked — I got saucy.

it's amore

This is insanely simple; no bells and whistles here. It does take awhile — ragouts are to be cooked slow and low — but the long simmer time makes up for the short list of ingredients by steeping the deepest flavors of each element. I tossed it with pasta for this particular lunch, but it would be just as good on pizza...maybe even my low-cal version, perhaps...

caramelized onion and cherry tomato ragout

quartered cherry tomatoes
diced onion
minced garlic
balsamic vinegar
water
salt and pepper
crushed red pepper
extra virgin olive oil & butter
parmesan cheese

Sautee onions over lowwwww heat in a little bit of butter/olive oil mix, stirring occasionally. Add garlic and crushed red pepper after 10 minutes. After about 15 minutes, when the onions are nearly caramelized (really caramelized, not just softened), stir in tomatoes, splashes of balsamic vinegar, dashes of salt and pepper. Toss in a little water (start with 1/4 cup, add in more if mixture looks dry) and bring mixture to a boil for a very quick minute or two, stirring constantly and smushing the tomatoes in the pot. Return heat to low, cover and simmer for an hour, stirring occasionally.  Remove from heat and let stand to thicken before serving. Toss with pasta and parmesan.

lemon-pepper crusted salmon with roasted garlic broccoli

In the year 2008, I had somehow miraculously obtained the trifecta of urban stability: a rewarding career, a wonderful relationship and a beautiful apartment. Over the past four years I've experienced various incarnations of these blessings, but the one thing that's since then remained steadfast has been my friendship with my work family from that time.

My Monday mornings weren't filled with week-starting dread; rather, they launched with an excitement and anticipation to see my colleagues. We laughed so loud at times there were tears; we played Uno, shared baked goods, fabricated utterly outlandish inside jokes, ichatted, gchatted, out-loud chatted, chat-rouletted and once even threw chairs across the room when the rest of our office was out of town. I can't make this stuff up.

We've all since moved onward and upward career-wise, but still meet for a monthly dinnertime gigglefest. There are three of us: A is the brains of the operation and inventive baker, S is our moral compass and creative genius, and I'm pretty sure I am there solely for entertainment value. And for this:

joy to the fishes (that are still) in the deep blue sea...

lemon-pepper crusted salmon
salmon
panko bread crumbs
lemon-pepper seasoning
Italian dressing
butter & olive oil
salt

Preheat oven to 350. Marinate fish in Italian dressing for 25-30 minutes. Season panko crumbs with lemon pepper and salt, coat fish in crumbs. Heat skillet over medium-high heat, melt in butter & olive oil mix. Sear fish, skin side up, for 3-5 minutes or until golden brown. Transfer to baking sheet and roast in oven for 15-20 minutes or until the middle looks juicy and awesome.

roasted garlic lemon broccoli
broccoli florets
FRESH garlic
olive oil
lemons
salt

Toss broccoli florets with minced fresh garlic, olive oil and salt. Roast for 20 minutes at 350, season with lemon juice before serving.


We had salad (nothing special), bread (from the bakery) and scalloped potatoes, too, but I'm ashamed to say they were of the Bob Evans pre-made variety so there is no recipe to be posted. My sincerest apologies...

the end of a (very brief) era

My 30-day experiment came to a joyous end yesterday at a baby shower for one of my closest friends.

Meatballs were had. Chicken salad croissants were devoured. And, most importantly, multiple mimosas were downed. And afterward, I didn't get sick. (Phew.)

But despite all that, my ways remain irrevocably changed. From now on, I will only eat meat once a week. (For clarity's -- and flexibility's -- sake, I mean one day a week, not one meal a week.)

With the fourth week of this project arrived physiological changes that were simply too clear to ignore. Vegetarianism bears with it a quiet lightness of being that operates subtly on multiple levels -- physical, ethical, mental -- and my hope is that allowing just a little bit of meat back into my life will allow me to maintain this feeling while occasionally still indulging that carnivorous primal urge. After all -- I may be many things, but Texan is and will always be first and foremost.

What follows is a brief assessment of this month's not-exactly-drastic-but-still-significant results.

How I look
Pretty much exactly the same. I didn't lose a single pound or inch from anywhere. I will say, however, that my nails are looking mighty healthy (when they're not covered in semi-chipped black polish).

How I feel
I know, now, what Mick Jagger meant when he sang about satisfaction: He must have been going vegetarian. Up until yesterday, I hadn't been full -- that busting at the seams, unbuttoning-jeans, need-to-pass-out-now type of full -- throughout the month. But I learned to adjust my expectation level from being full to simply no longer being hungry.


Weeks one and two were grumpy. Lots of jonesing, lots of craving, LOTS of smoking -- yikes. My desire began to subside in week three. And by week four, I barely wanted or thought about it at all.


I shaved 30 seconds off my average speed on my standard six-mile run, and that's only so far; I continue to PR every few runs. Last week's nine-miler came in at 1:15:41 -- definitely no Jeremy Wariner, but pretty quick for my long-distance norm and especially for a smoker of Marlboro Reds...kicking those is absolutely next up on the deprivation agenda. It's only a matter of when.

I also cut the time it takes to peruse a menu; for someone like my former self, who'd eat anything and everything available (so long as there were no olives in the mix), there's something to be said for only being allowed 20 percent of a restaurant's repertoire. Maybe, sometimes, less choice does equal more freedom.

And you know what? The whole thing was actually kind of nice. I was more productive, more focused and much less ethically compromised by the idea of consuming another mammal. It was a previously unbeknownst conviction, a guilt that I was completely unaware existed because it'd been so deeply ingrained in my lifestyle from such a young age.

I won't try to pretend that some thick veil has vanished, that I'm a whole new woman, that the heaviest of weights has been lifted from my soul. I will just say that I am different. Not dramatically different, maybe not even noticeably different, but most definitely not the same.

And now, a recipe, just in time for summer:

There was an abundance of tomatoes left over from the shower. I bought three one-pound containers of Camparis to make mini chicken salad croissants, clearly underestimating just how mini the croissants would turn out to be. So when I got home, after a five-miler fueled primarily by cakeballs and peach champagne (bad idea), I threw together this nice summery salad:

should have added red onion. was tired of chopping.

Yeah, I know -- it's not summer yet. But we live in D.C., and it's already insanely hot. (Probably because of all the sinners).

cucumber
tomato (I used Camparis, but romas or even grapes would be a good choice)
red onion (I was too lazy to put them in. don't be like me.)
reduced-fat Feta
olive oil
red wine vinegar
honey (just a little bit, hey baby, just a little bit...)
garlic powder
Italian seasoning (I used Penzey's Italian dressing base)
lots of salt and pepper

Whisk olive oil, honey, vinegar, garlic powder and Italian seasoning together. Cut up vegetables, toss with dressing and feta, season with salt and pepper to taste.

the stir-fry of my people

And by my people, I mean Texans. This stir-fry is not the most authentically Asian, but it's healthy, quick and supremely spicy.

just in time for passover. wait, what...

Once upon a time, I was ambitious and patient enough to whisk the sauce together in its own separate bowl. But alas, these days I'm more inclined to just slosh all the ingredients in the skillet willy-nilly. Can't a busy girl get a break?

PS — My recipe is salty. Like really, salty. Like banned by the American Heart Association salty. If your palate is even half as salty as is mine, consider only using a little soy sauce and tossing in a few tablespoons of white wine or chicken broth instead. Pineapple juice might add a nice teriyaki-like sweetness to this, too.

recipe:
garlic
ginger
sesame oil
soy sauce
green tea
sriracha
sesame-ginger salad dressing
broccoli
red cabbage
red peppers
carrots
onions
cooked brown rice

Heat drizzle of sesame oil over medium-high; stir-fry all veggies. Add garlic and ginger, stir-fry for two minutes, then add some soy sauce, lots of sriracha, a little green tea and some salad dressing. Stir well over medium heat for three minutes; serve over rice with a very large glass of water, and maybe a large glass of wine, too, if it's been one of those days...

250-calorie pizza. seriously.

There are few things in this world that I love more than pizza. But alas, indulging in it on a daily basis has for dietary purposes long been verboten -- until now.

Then, god willing, along came these:

it's not just a wrap. 

What appears to be your average wrap is in all reality an incognito, exceptionally thin pizza crust. And once I was through with it, it looked like this:

only 250 calories. seriously.

recipe:
1 100-calorie rosemary wrap (in the deli section)
3 tbsp marinara sauce
red bell peppers
onions
mushrooms
1/4 cup part-skim reduced-fat mozzarella cheese

Bake wrap at 380 for 8 minutes. While crust is baking, sautee red peppers, onions and mushrooms. Remove crust from oven and top with marinara sauce, mozzarella cheese and sauteed veggies. Bake at 380 for 10-12 minutes. Shovel into face.

b's black bean lasagna

My mister is many spectacular things — talented songwriter, MMA fighter, critical thinker, defender of our freedom — but culinary extraordinaire is not one of those things.

This is a man whose weeknight recipe arsenal consists almost wholly of eggs, cans of beans and boiled asparagus. A man who has but two skillets, one pot and zero tongs.

So I was a mixture of thrilled and apprehensive when he so generously offered to cook dinner for me after a long weekend trip to Richmond (where I just so happened to witness a wedding reception in a train station, but that's another story for another day.)

And ladies and gentlemen, the man can cook. Behold, the black bean lasagna:

the layers, oh, the layers.

I must confess a certain amount of dread when I saw how many fat-free cheese packages were being unloaded from his grocery bags, but it didn't matter at all in the end. This mess was awesome.

b's black bean lasagna

1 jar marinara sauce
1 package no-boil lasagna noodles
2 cans of black beans
1 can of kidney beans
1 can of corn
1 container of part-skim ricotta cheese
2 small packages of fat-free cheddar cheese
cumin
oregano
chili powder

Mash all three cans of beans with cumin, chili powder and oregano; mix with corn. Spread across bottom of casserole dish, then layer noodles, ricotta cheese, noodles, marinara sauce and fat-free cheddar. Bake at 375 for 40 minutes. Let rest 10-15 minutes before cutting into slices and arguing about politics while eating dinner in the living room.

Lemon-broccoli linguine with red peppers and cherry tomatoes

I dare say, depriving oneself of meat is difficult. But depriving oneself of pasta is practically inhumane.

For much of last year I was almost entirely Paleolithic -- meaning lots of meat, nuts and veggies, a little bit of fruit, and zero starch. So the best part about this experiment, thus far, is bringing glorious, gluteny carbs back into my life. I'm sure I'll probably be eating my words five pounds from now...

hello, lover.

ingredients:

linguine

white wine

various herbs (oregano, basil, thyme, salt & pepper)

broccoli

red bell peppers

cherry tomatoes

lemon

garlic

onions

parmesan cheese

Sautee sliced onions, red peppers, garlic, tomatoes and broccoli while pasta is cooking. Deglaze pan with white wine, add juice of one lemon, season with herbs, salt and pepper (add crushed red pepper if you like it spicy). Drain pasta and toss with sauce and a shameless handful of parmesan cheese.

How to pack a non-soggified salad

We've all been there -- you're trying to be good. You pack a salad for work. The dressing defiles the lettuce and what was once crisp romaine is suddenly soggy soup. Gross.

You could pack the vinaigrette separately...if you're a sucker. Or, if you're awesome, you could do this:

Shake well. (duh)

From the bottom-up: dressing, shredded carrots, red cabbage, hard-boiled eggs, parmesan cheese, cherry tomatoes, cracked black pepper, spring mix & romaine.

Runspiration: the Southern rock in your step

For most people, rap and techno are the primary genres that come to mind when populating a running playlist. But nothing keeps my motor running better than a long, loud, lovely guitar solo.

On this most beautiful of spring afternoons, consider fueling your run instead with these solo-heavy songs, brought to you by none other than the one and only epic, unmatchable Allman Brothers Band.

zucchini and squash salad with roasted garlic and parmesan cheese

Borne out of necessity due to an overstocked fridge, and just in time for this early spring. This would be beautiful with red bell peppers but I had none. Good luck to all the rock 'n' roll marathon runners and happy St. Patrick’s day! 

pardon the messiness of the bowl.

Ingredients:
1 zucchini
1 squash
extra virgin olive oil
salt & pepper
3 whole garlic cloves
red wine vinegar
shredded parmigiano-reggiano


Preheat oven to 425. Toss sliced zucchini and squash in olive oil, salt and pepper and spread in single layer on baking sheet. Wrap whole, unpeeled garlic cloves in aluminum foil; roast veggies and wrapped garlic for 35 minutes.


Squeeze pulp from garlic cloves into a few good-sized dashes of vinegar, toss in some herbs and whisk in some olive oil. Toss dressing with veggies and sprinkle with cheese. And when I say sprinkle, I mean cover. 

In which I survive two happy hours without faltering

If ever there were a time to fail on my mission, tonight would have been it.

The setting was lively and collegial; two major NCAA upsets had the sports fans at Old Ebbitt all riled up and rowdy. My inhibitions were at their absolute lowest after three drinks and a particularly strenuous workout. And one of my all-time favorite foods — wings — was being passed around like a loaded bong at Bonnaroo.

I can only attribute my resolve to the wonder that is this glorious libation:

Alice in Wonderland wouldn't have stood a chance against this.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is a Samoa cookie martini. Samoa. Cookie. Martini. Like the Girl Scout cookie made all kinds of grown-up delicious, liquified, bourbonized and crusted with toasted coconut. Were it not for this cold and lovely treat distracting my senses, I'd likely have been unable to withstand the scent of vinegary, piping hot wing sauce. After indulging in this potion I found myself humming with just the buzz I needed to stroll four blocks out of the way and gaze sentimentally at the White House on my way home.

Last night's happy hour was a wildly different story. Two sauvignon blancs, two Coronas and two shots of Jameson is definitely not a recipe for a fledgling vegetarian's success. I can only attribute that resolve to my inability to make food go into my mouth before passing out. But hey — means and ends, amirite?

Runspiration: The perfect song for that perfect mile

You know the mile. That marvelous mile along your favorite beach, around your favorite monument, at the foot of your favorite mountain. The mile that goes by in the blink of an eye and six swift breaths; the mile that makes you smile. The mile in which you can feel the stress streaming like rain from your weary pores, pouring down your tensed temples, tempting you to run till your legs melt away.

This mile, for me, happens by the banks of the Potomac River, across from the Washington monument and the Jefferson memorial, the cherry blossoms and the tidal basin, the occasionally awe-inspiring vision that is the District of Columbia. The song for this scene isn't rap or techno; it doesn't have a quick beat or a fast pace or a single power chord. It, instead, resonates of gratitude and fulfillment, sounds like euphoria and feels like pure freedom.

The first supper

My original plan to begin the vegetarian experiment tomorrow was thwarted by tonight's dinnertime arrival of my non-meat-eating boyfriend. There's no time like the present, right? And since I already had a fully stocked cupboard, and the universe saw fit to bless the D.C. metro area with a 75-degree evening, it seemed like the perfect night to test-run my recipe for spicy black bean burgers with sweet potato fries and avocado cream cheese dip.

Black bean burgers, sweet potato fries and creamy avocado dip.

I had trouble getting the dip to blend smoothly — partially due to the fact that there wasn't enough liquid and partially due to the fact that my brandnameless blender cost less than $25. Genius B came up with the idea to add some lemon juice, which mercifully gave the dip a zing that yinned the sweetness of the oven fries' yang.

The burgers were so easy to make — aside from mashing the beans, it was essentially identical to the process for making a beef burger (minus the E.coli contamination potential). And good gracious Lord were these cheap...probably around the fourth of the cost of making regular burgers. So far, so good.

We housed these beetches on my balcony, gazing out over the city with a few cold beers and talkin' 'bout deep life things like Family Guy. The end of the episode we watched clipped a Conway Twitty classic that strummed the chords in my heart for Texas, and reminded me of how homesick I truly am, and always will be, so long as I am away from the rolling plains, the hot days, the cool nights, the Shiner Bock and the big, bright stars. You can take the girl out of Texas, but you can never take Texas out of the girl...

black bean burgers

1 (16 ounce) can black beans, drained and rinsed

1/2 green bell pepper, cut into 2 inch pieces

1/2 onion, cut into wedges

3 cloves garlic, peeled

1 egg

1 tablespoon chili powder

1 tablespoon cumin

1 teaspoon Thai chili sauce or hot sauce

1/2 cup bread crumbs

I added some Penzey's Arizona spices (big thanks to my homegirl for bringin' em back for me), some red bell pepper, and, of course, Sriracha...couldn't call myself a true Asian without adding at least a few good-sized dashes.

Directions

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C), and lightly oil a baking sheet.

Mash black beans with a fork until thick and pasty.

Finely chop bell pepper, onion, and garlic, stir into mashed beans.

Whisk together egg, chili powder, cumin, and chili sauce.

Stir egg mixture into beans, mix in bread crumbs until the mixture holds together, divide into four patties.

Place patties on baking sheet and bake about 10 minutes on each side.

Sweet potato fries with avocado cream cheese dip (adapted from a Food Network recipe)

2 large sweet potatoes, peeled or unpeeled, cut into 4-inch long and 1/4 to 1/2-inch thick fries

2 tablespoons olive oil, or more as needed

1 teaspoon paprika

1/2 teaspoon chili powder

1/2 teaspoon ground coriander

Coarse ground rock salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Avocado Dip, recipe follows

Directions

Preheat your oven to 450 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil and set aside.

Place the sweet potatoes in a large bowl and toss with olive oil until the sweet potatoes are coated. Add the paprika, chili powder, coriander, salt, and pepper; toss to distribute evenly.

Arrange the coated fries in a single layer on the prepared pan. Bake for 20 minutes on the lower rack until the sweet potatoes soften. Transfer the pan to the upper rack of the oven and bake 10 minutes longer, until fries are crispy. Serve with Avocado Dip.

Avocado Dip:

1 avocado

1/3 cup mayonnaise (I use olive oil reduced fat kind)

1/3 cup reduced fat chive & onion cream cheese

2 scallions, white and light green part only, chopped

1 lime, juiced

1 lemon, juiced

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Blend the avocado, mayonnaise, cream cheese, jalapeno, scallions, and lime juice, season with salt and pepper.

SERVE WITH COLD BEERS.

Runspiration: the seven-mile Jack White edition

I am pretty far from being a White Stripes fan; I find Jack White, while talented, wildly overrated. (Especially by the leagues of idiots who irreverently compare him to Jimmy Page. What is wrong with you people?)

All that aside, this song is one of the best running songs ever, ever, ever. It reignited my juices for the last two miles of my run today, which a wise man once said are always the toughest no matter how much distance you're laying down. Rock out, flail your arms and fly. 

[Note: Could not find official music video. For shame.]

The beginning of the end.

The end of my lifelong career as a carnivore, that is.

From mid-March to mid-April, I will forgo any and all chicken, beef, pork, turkey, venison, duck, goose and so on and so forth. It's not that long a time frame, but spending the vast majority of my life in Texas has fostered a strong affinity -- an addiction is more like it -- for all things barbecued, burgered and baconated.

Why: There are a host of reasons, not the least of which being dietary. I seem to find that the older I get (the exact number shall remain unspecified) the more meat seems to sap my energy. Vegetarianism is more cost-efficient, more environmentally friendly and far less guilt-inducing (cows are just too dang adorable with their big brown eyes and furry ears).

The Rules

• Absolutely no meat. From midnight March 15 to midnight April 15. The one exception will be allowing fish, only in restaurants and only in truly desperate situations.
• Protein replacement at every meal. Eggs, beans, tofu, seitan...wide open to suggestions. 
• Workout maintenance. In order to wholly assess the impact of this lifestyle change, all exercise habits and lengths must remain at their current level of time and intensity.

A Texan without meat is like a preacher without a Bible. Hence the hullabaloo, the utter and all-consuming dread, and, of course, this blog, where I'll post recipes, updates and stories from what is sure to be a very (to put it politely) interesting journey. 

It's an experiment I've contemplated undertaking for quite some time now, but only recently have been inspired to move forward with, when a dear friend pointed out how cavalierly we slaughter and devour other mammals. "But they're delicious," I replied, and though that'd worked as justification for many years up 'til now, it no longer struck a chord. 

I don't expect to be perfect. I just expect to accomplish this thing -- this thing which, in the grand scheme of things, is not that big of a thing. It certainly won't be the hardest thing I've ever done, my stunning lack of impulse control be damned, but it might be the most sweeping nutritional change I've yet made. And it's certainly not forever, either -- once my month is up and I assess my state of being, I may wind up with a rack of ribs in my lap. So please send me your advice, recipes and other ideas on transitioning. I could really use y'all's help!