I'm breaking up with Melt.
Most Clevelanders between the ages of 18 and 45 are familiar with Melt Bar and Grilled, even if they have not eaten there. Melt boasts 2 locations that serve up specialty grilled cheese sandwiches on steroids. Every plate looks like it has been ordered with the works...we're talking Dagwood Bumstead-style sandwiches. And every plate is delivered to your table by a young hipster who would probably seem downright cherubic if it weren't for the scrawls of body ink Jackson Pollack'ed across their forearms.
It's young. It's fun. It's relaxed. It's tasty. It's a reasonably accurate snapshot of Cleveland. And it's no good for me.
Let's rewind. When Melt first opened its west side location some 5 years ago, I visited the restaurant from time to time. It was a convenient and enjoyable place to meet friends who lived on that side of town. If we could get a table (the wait times are mind-bogglingly long for a city whose population is steadily declining), we'd get a sandwich that really stuck to our ribs. It all went along swimmingly, and without incident.
Until Melt opened the east side location. Melt's newest branch is minutes from my house, so it became even easier to meet friends for a brew and a sandwich in a casual setting... except I now seem to be unreasonably crippled by the experience.
Every time I go to Melt, I have a great time. I love the sassy, friendly, heavily tattooed servers. I love the selection of specialty beers. I like the devil(and diet)-may-care attitude about food. Melt seems to be saying, "Yeah, we're fattening. So What?" As you look around the room, not a body on the staff seems to weigh over a buck thirty, so you buy in. The whole Melt concept is pretty appealing, so you let the night be a mockery of your dietary values.
Your dedicated regimen of eating light now completely down the toilet, you decide to order a triple decker grilled cheese stuffed with an unholy combination of savory starches and proteins that is blanketed in a thick coating of beer batter and thrown into the deep fryer, plated up with seasoned french fries. And wow. It's GOOD. It's so good in fact, you also forget your usual self-control and moderate appetite and darn near finish the plate. You are having so much fun. Your server is telling gripping tales of adventures in Amsterdam youth hostels. The limited edition micro brew is going down easy. Everyone is laughing. So you order dessert. You've gone this far, you may as well try the deep fried Twinkies topped with fresh berry compote. You're still laughing and giddy with a zest for life as you hug your dining companions goodnight in the vestibule. "We really need to come here more often," you all agree.
And then somewhere between the vestibule and your mattress, you realize that you kind of feel like you ate a bag of fast-setting concrete. Or maybe you had some plans to get a couple things done after dinner and before bed...except now...the...food...coma......cannot......be.........reckoned.........with. In any case you lay down, feeling not unlike a beached whale, and wait for sleep to relieve you from your shame.
At least, that's how my last couple visits have been. And it hurts my heart nearly as much as my tum-tum. Why can't it work out between me and Melt??
I mean, Melt is casual weekend material tailor-made for a gal like me...I like the energetic atmosphere. I like the unapologetic Cleveland comfort food concept. I like the kitschy rock and roll menus. The whole thing is such a good time that I want to believe that my metabolism would forgive me the occasional dietary indiscretion at Melt.
But, alas...it is not to be so. I guess I've crossed some invisible line. I can't sit next to the amplifiers at a concert. I can't stay up past my bedtime. And I can't eat dinner at Melt.
Perhaps it's time for me to trade in my grilled cheese for molecular gastronomy, my triple-deckers for "small plates".
Everyone endures some heartache. Remember your first case of I loved him/her, but the love just wasn't returned? You were stuck in denial for a while, making phone calls you shouldn't have, driving past to see if the lights were on, and other such sad demonstrations of an unwillingness to move on until one day you finally woke up free, unchained, and able to move on to someone better.
Melt...I really loved you, but you never loved me. I'm finally waking up and I think it's time for me to move on to someone better.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Whaddya Gonna Do?
Gert Buchbinder worked closely with me throughout my first cooking job. She was the senior citizen mother of one of the company's owners. I loved Gert. She wouldn't chop onions, eat fruit, drive after 5pm or in the rain. She taught me a handful of useful Yiddish phrases. She also taught me the futility of control through her favorite, and oft-muttered phrase: "Meh. Whaddya gonna do?"
Most professional cooks are control freaks (present company included, I'm sorry to say) You HAVE to be a little controlling to be a decent cook. You have to control the flame on your burner to get the right sear on your meat. You have to control the salt to bring out the flavor in your sauce without overwhelming it. You have to control your knife to work quickly and accurately. You have to control all the elements of your recipe, preferably by having a good mise en place. You have to control your urge to let a string of bad words fly when you get burned.
Gertie, though, had seen it all and was well aware that there were some things that were simply beyond anyone's control. You might never be able to please a diner with tastes that run counter to your style of cooking. The pineapples might come in green all week long. You might get stuck in another task and leave the cheesecake in the oven too long, rendering it drier than you like. At times like those, Gert would just shrug and say, "Meh. Whaddya gonna do?"
What ARE you going to do? Go home crying because someone didn't love your cooking? Or shake them by the lapels and tell them to develop a real palate? Go into litigation with Dole for shipping fruit too early? Make another 3-hour cheesecake when the event is in an hour and a half?
Throw a saucepot at the wall?
In her experience, Gert knew there wasn't a darn thing you could do. You just get up every day and try your best. Sometimes it works out. The lights turn green before you hit the intersection. The souffles rise and never fall. The customers think you have a gift. Other times, everything goes wrong. You wake up late and everything is behind schedule. Someone bumps into the temperature knob on the oven and turns your tender braise into a hockey puck. A customer lets you know, in no uncertain terms, that you swung and missed. In any case, it begs the question: "Meh. Whaddya gonna do?"
We can't control for everything. Not in cooking, nor in life. You just get up every day and try your best.
There's no reason to hoch mier en chinik...it wouldn't do any good anyway.
Most professional cooks are control freaks (present company included, I'm sorry to say) You HAVE to be a little controlling to be a decent cook. You have to control the flame on your burner to get the right sear on your meat. You have to control the salt to bring out the flavor in your sauce without overwhelming it. You have to control your knife to work quickly and accurately. You have to control all the elements of your recipe, preferably by having a good mise en place. You have to control your urge to let a string of bad words fly when you get burned.
Gertie, though, had seen it all and was well aware that there were some things that were simply beyond anyone's control. You might never be able to please a diner with tastes that run counter to your style of cooking. The pineapples might come in green all week long. You might get stuck in another task and leave the cheesecake in the oven too long, rendering it drier than you like. At times like those, Gert would just shrug and say, "Meh. Whaddya gonna do?"
What ARE you going to do? Go home crying because someone didn't love your cooking? Or shake them by the lapels and tell them to develop a real palate? Go into litigation with Dole for shipping fruit too early? Make another 3-hour cheesecake when the event is in an hour and a half?
Throw a saucepot at the wall?
In her experience, Gert knew there wasn't a darn thing you could do. You just get up every day and try your best. Sometimes it works out. The lights turn green before you hit the intersection. The souffles rise and never fall. The customers think you have a gift. Other times, everything goes wrong. You wake up late and everything is behind schedule. Someone bumps into the temperature knob on the oven and turns your tender braise into a hockey puck. A customer lets you know, in no uncertain terms, that you swung and missed. In any case, it begs the question: "Meh. Whaddya gonna do?"
We can't control for everything. Not in cooking, nor in life. You just get up every day and try your best.
There's no reason to hoch mier en chinik...it wouldn't do any good anyway.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Give Me Life on the Road
Solitude has gone missing.
I have a hard time turning off the computer when I am home. If I am not working in someone else's kitchen, my cell phone is never far away, and (*sigh*) I'm often on it. Whether I am literally with others, or just electronically tethered, I feel like I am never alone.
Reassuring, perhaps. Exhausting, definitely.
I think I might take up a life on the road.
Running, for me, is the most blessed solitude. I ran, in my younger days, because it was the only means I had to work out an almost unbearable restlessness. The first two weeks of getting your legs and lungs into some kind of regimen are sheer hell. And then, running is sheer joy. And running brings that missing solitude right back. You can't run and be on a cell phone. You can't run and email. Or run and Facebook.
You can only run. And breathe. And be. In a perfect sort of solitude.
Many years ago, I ran a marathon. I ran it slowly... poorly, even... if you looked at my atrociously slow time. But I ran it. And during the 3 months I trained, I ran 6 days a week, sometimes staying out on the roads alone for hours.
Throughout those 3 training months, I cleared an awful lot of cobwebs out of my young mind, lost my youthful interest in overdoing beer and chips, educated myself about health and nutrition, and found an inner resolve that allowed me to accomplish my business goals.
Running alone was powerful stuff. Oh, and I liked the way it made my jeans fit, too, even as I ordered thirds on Bete Noir. (Oh, yes I did!) I was together, fit, and eating my weight in flourless chocolate torte.
Despite the tendinitis in my foot, despite the already surgically-altered right knee, and despite the fact that we could see more weeks of damp and penetrating cold, I think it's time I hit the road.
The blessed solitude of running is, I think, the nicest way to rebel against the Facebook generation. So restorative, when little else is these days.
And then there's that matter of extra dessert...
I have a hard time turning off the computer when I am home. If I am not working in someone else's kitchen, my cell phone is never far away, and (*sigh*) I'm often on it. Whether I am literally with others, or just electronically tethered, I feel like I am never alone.
Reassuring, perhaps. Exhausting, definitely.
I think I might take up a life on the road.
Running, for me, is the most blessed solitude. I ran, in my younger days, because it was the only means I had to work out an almost unbearable restlessness. The first two weeks of getting your legs and lungs into some kind of regimen are sheer hell. And then, running is sheer joy. And running brings that missing solitude right back. You can't run and be on a cell phone. You can't run and email. Or run and Facebook.
You can only run. And breathe. And be. In a perfect sort of solitude.
Many years ago, I ran a marathon. I ran it slowly... poorly, even... if you looked at my atrociously slow time. But I ran it. And during the 3 months I trained, I ran 6 days a week, sometimes staying out on the roads alone for hours.
Throughout those 3 training months, I cleared an awful lot of cobwebs out of my young mind, lost my youthful interest in overdoing beer and chips, educated myself about health and nutrition, and found an inner resolve that allowed me to accomplish my business goals.
Running alone was powerful stuff. Oh, and I liked the way it made my jeans fit, too, even as I ordered thirds on Bete Noir. (Oh, yes I did!) I was together, fit, and eating my weight in flourless chocolate torte.
Despite the tendinitis in my foot, despite the already surgically-altered right knee, and despite the fact that we could see more weeks of damp and penetrating cold, I think it's time I hit the road.
The blessed solitude of running is, I think, the nicest way to rebel against the Facebook generation. So restorative, when little else is these days.
And then there's that matter of extra dessert...
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Eating Clean, Fast-and-Dirty-Style
My last post about Lupercalia as an inspiration to give my diet a good "spring cleaning" has gotten me thinking about eating clean, and why we, as busy Americans, so frequently fall short of this goal.
What IS "clean" eating?
-Using the freshest, most natural produce and meats available. This can often include organic or local selections.
-Not eating chemicals. If it comes in a box or a can or a bag, you'd be well-advised to read that ingredient label twice. If it looks like your tenth grade chemistry final, then don't eat it.
-Increasing whole grain, less-processed starches, i.e. brown rice instead of white rice.
-Limiting sugar
-Limiting alcohol
-Staying adequately hydrated
Even the most stuck-in-his-ways, unadventurous eater of the Standard American Diet can review those basic guidelines and agree that they are pretty reasonable and totally attainable.
So...why do we all fall so short of the mark so often?
We're busy.
We leave work after a rough day, harried and exhausted. All we want to do is change out of the monkey suit and sit down in our own space. We're also traveling home with a growling stomach. We're starving. And we definitely don't feel like starting an elaborate cooking project. We want to pick something up on the way home, or nuke something that will be done in 4 minutes. So we buy packaged, processed foods. Or stop at drive-throughs as a desperate act of re-fueling. Or eat out at places where their sources and cooking methods are at best, unknown... at worst, totally suspect. Or we eat a bowl of sugared cereal or microwave popcorn in front of the TV.
I've done it, too.
But I HATE it. I don't think it's natural or right on any level. And I know for certain it makes us chubby or sluggish or both. We can all do better.
There is no shortage of information on how-to. The world is rife with "20-minute meal" cookbooks. Those cooking shows on TV lead us by the hand through the process of easy meals. Your local grocer might even give the occasional free demonstration/sample in the hopes that you'll buy the product he's promoting.
You can do it. I manage it. And I'll be honest, after cooking all day, I really have zero interest in cooking and cleaning up again when I get home. But I do have an interest in being healthy. So I dig deep and I pull it off. And I'm able to pull it off because I keep the preparations really short and uncomplicated (which, coincidentally, makes most "clean-eating" meals taste best!)
I humbly submit to you, my planned menu for the week, with estimated prep/cooking times (I am not counting inactive time where something is cooking in the background with zero effort on your part). I hope it gives you some inspiration. You don't even have to cook every night. If you think you can pull off just one or two of these in your busy week, you will reap dividends in your sense of well being. Just ONE...or two, if you're really motivated. Pick one, any one...! The only special equipment you need is a cast iron pan, available everywhere from fancy cooking stores to your local hardware store. They cook good food FAST and hot.
-Petit Filets of Beef with Raw Broccoli salad. Season the beef and sear in a hot cast iron pan (or on a hot griddle or grill) approximately 5 minutes a side. While the beef rests, chop a head of broccoli and an onion and toss with some dried fruit in slaw dressing. Elapsed work time: 15 minutes
-Whole Grain Pasta with Tomato-Raisin Sauce and Mixed Green Salad. Boil a pot of water for the pasta noodles. You can change clothes, return phone calls, whatever, while your water comes to a boil. Cook noodles for approximately 9 minutes. While they are cooking, open a bottle of high-quality, sugar-free pasta sauce and warm in a sauce pan. Toss in some raisins and capers. Throw some greens into a salad bowl and dash with olive oil, balsalmic vinegar, and some salt. Elapsed work time: 11 minutes
-Seared Coriander Tuna served with Lime Mayonnaise and Haricots Verts. Pat the tuna steaks dry, then liberally sprinkle with salt and ground coriander. Let that sit for a moment and boil some water for the haricots verts (skinny, pre-trimmed green beans). You don't need a humongous pot of water. Wipe a tablespoon of oil in a pan and get the pan good and hot. Drop tuna steaks in and cook 4 minutes a side. Meanwhile, drop your beans in the boiling water and let them go for 1-2 minutes, depending how al dente you like them. Squeeze half a lime into 3 tablespoons of mayo. Elapsed work time: 11 minutes
-Flank Steak with Brown Rice and Asian Slaw Follow the directions on the box or bag and start some brown rice in a pan as soon as you get home. Also, mix some lime juice, sesame oil, salt, and just a pinch of sugar and nuke in the microwave 1-2 minutes until warm. Drag your flank steak through this marinade and leave it out for a couple minutes while you change, return phone calls, whatever. Come back to the kitchen, grab a big bowl and toss some shredded cabbage with a half a can of coconut milk and a spritz of lime. Plop the flank steak in a lightly oiled, very hot cast iron pan and cook 4 minutes a side. Slice flank steak into thin strips to serve. Elapsed work time: 23 minutes
-Roast Chicken Breast with Apples and Garlic over Pureed Sweet Potatoes In your lightly oiled cast iron pan, drop a bone-in chicken breast skin-side down and cook on medium high for about 5 minutes or until skin is brown. Flip it over, skin side up, and toss a couple cloves of garlic and a chopped apple over the chicken. Put in a 400 degree oven for 30 to 40 minutes. (It's done when you prick it with the tip of a knife and the juice that runs out is totally clear, not pink) While it cooks, do your thing, answer some emails, and open a can of no-additive peeled, cooked sweet potatoes (you can boil them yourself, but I'm saving you time) and mash with a fork or whiz through a food processor. Add salt and dried oregano to taste. Elapsed work time: 11 minutes
-Baked Eggs with Smoked Salmon and Goat Cheese and Steamed Asparagus Beat 3 whole eggs. Add a cup of milk, some crumbled goat cheese, and some smoked salmon you've cut into little strips. Add some salt and onion powder to the mix. Pour this mix into your lightly-oiled cast iron pan and bake at 425 for 20 minutes or until fluffy and golden. While it bakes, cut the tough ends off some asparagus and drop it into a microwave safe dish with a lid. Pour a quarter cup of water over this, salt, put the lid on and nuke for 3 minutes.
Elapsed work time: 10 minutes
I hope these ideas get you thinking that you, too, can do a little better than average. They are so very do-able...really...and you deserve it. Remember that you could be waiting in a drive-through line for 11 minutes. Remember it will take the pizza delivery guy every bit of 20 minutes to show up. If you put a small amount of effort into those idle moments, you can achieve the goal of eating clean, even if you are doing it fast and dirty.
What IS "clean" eating?
-Using the freshest, most natural produce and meats available. This can often include organic or local selections.
-Not eating chemicals. If it comes in a box or a can or a bag, you'd be well-advised to read that ingredient label twice. If it looks like your tenth grade chemistry final, then don't eat it.
-Increasing whole grain, less-processed starches, i.e. brown rice instead of white rice.
-Limiting sugar
-Limiting alcohol
-Staying adequately hydrated
Even the most stuck-in-his-ways, unadventurous eater of the Standard American Diet can review those basic guidelines and agree that they are pretty reasonable and totally attainable.
So...why do we all fall so short of the mark so often?
We're busy.
We leave work after a rough day, harried and exhausted. All we want to do is change out of the monkey suit and sit down in our own space. We're also traveling home with a growling stomach. We're starving. And we definitely don't feel like starting an elaborate cooking project. We want to pick something up on the way home, or nuke something that will be done in 4 minutes. So we buy packaged, processed foods. Or stop at drive-throughs as a desperate act of re-fueling. Or eat out at places where their sources and cooking methods are at best, unknown... at worst, totally suspect. Or we eat a bowl of sugared cereal or microwave popcorn in front of the TV.
I've done it, too.
But I HATE it. I don't think it's natural or right on any level. And I know for certain it makes us chubby or sluggish or both. We can all do better.
There is no shortage of information on how-to. The world is rife with "20-minute meal" cookbooks. Those cooking shows on TV lead us by the hand through the process of easy meals. Your local grocer might even give the occasional free demonstration/sample in the hopes that you'll buy the product he's promoting.
You can do it. I manage it. And I'll be honest, after cooking all day, I really have zero interest in cooking and cleaning up again when I get home. But I do have an interest in being healthy. So I dig deep and I pull it off. And I'm able to pull it off because I keep the preparations really short and uncomplicated (which, coincidentally, makes most "clean-eating" meals taste best!)
I humbly submit to you, my planned menu for the week, with estimated prep/cooking times (I am not counting inactive time where something is cooking in the background with zero effort on your part). I hope it gives you some inspiration. You don't even have to cook every night. If you think you can pull off just one or two of these in your busy week, you will reap dividends in your sense of well being. Just ONE...or two, if you're really motivated. Pick one, any one...! The only special equipment you need is a cast iron pan, available everywhere from fancy cooking stores to your local hardware store. They cook good food FAST and hot.
-Petit Filets of Beef with Raw Broccoli salad. Season the beef and sear in a hot cast iron pan (or on a hot griddle or grill) approximately 5 minutes a side. While the beef rests, chop a head of broccoli and an onion and toss with some dried fruit in slaw dressing. Elapsed work time: 15 minutes
-Whole Grain Pasta with Tomato-Raisin Sauce and Mixed Green Salad. Boil a pot of water for the pasta noodles. You can change clothes, return phone calls, whatever, while your water comes to a boil. Cook noodles for approximately 9 minutes. While they are cooking, open a bottle of high-quality, sugar-free pasta sauce and warm in a sauce pan. Toss in some raisins and capers. Throw some greens into a salad bowl and dash with olive oil, balsalmic vinegar, and some salt. Elapsed work time: 11 minutes
-Seared Coriander Tuna served with Lime Mayonnaise and Haricots Verts. Pat the tuna steaks dry, then liberally sprinkle with salt and ground coriander. Let that sit for a moment and boil some water for the haricots verts (skinny, pre-trimmed green beans). You don't need a humongous pot of water. Wipe a tablespoon of oil in a pan and get the pan good and hot. Drop tuna steaks in and cook 4 minutes a side. Meanwhile, drop your beans in the boiling water and let them go for 1-2 minutes, depending how al dente you like them. Squeeze half a lime into 3 tablespoons of mayo. Elapsed work time: 11 minutes
-Flank Steak with Brown Rice and Asian Slaw Follow the directions on the box or bag and start some brown rice in a pan as soon as you get home. Also, mix some lime juice, sesame oil, salt, and just a pinch of sugar and nuke in the microwave 1-2 minutes until warm. Drag your flank steak through this marinade and leave it out for a couple minutes while you change, return phone calls, whatever. Come back to the kitchen, grab a big bowl and toss some shredded cabbage with a half a can of coconut milk and a spritz of lime. Plop the flank steak in a lightly oiled, very hot cast iron pan and cook 4 minutes a side. Slice flank steak into thin strips to serve. Elapsed work time: 23 minutes
-Roast Chicken Breast with Apples and Garlic over Pureed Sweet Potatoes In your lightly oiled cast iron pan, drop a bone-in chicken breast skin-side down and cook on medium high for about 5 minutes or until skin is brown. Flip it over, skin side up, and toss a couple cloves of garlic and a chopped apple over the chicken. Put in a 400 degree oven for 30 to 40 minutes. (It's done when you prick it with the tip of a knife and the juice that runs out is totally clear, not pink) While it cooks, do your thing, answer some emails, and open a can of no-additive peeled, cooked sweet potatoes (you can boil them yourself, but I'm saving you time) and mash with a fork or whiz through a food processor. Add salt and dried oregano to taste. Elapsed work time: 11 minutes
-Baked Eggs with Smoked Salmon and Goat Cheese and Steamed Asparagus Beat 3 whole eggs. Add a cup of milk, some crumbled goat cheese, and some smoked salmon you've cut into little strips. Add some salt and onion powder to the mix. Pour this mix into your lightly-oiled cast iron pan and bake at 425 for 20 minutes or until fluffy and golden. While it bakes, cut the tough ends off some asparagus and drop it into a microwave safe dish with a lid. Pour a quarter cup of water over this, salt, put the lid on and nuke for 3 minutes.
Elapsed work time: 10 minutes
I hope these ideas get you thinking that you, too, can do a little better than average. They are so very do-able...really...and you deserve it. Remember that you could be waiting in a drive-through line for 11 minutes. Remember it will take the pizza delivery guy every bit of 20 minutes to show up. If you put a small amount of effort into those idle moments, you can achieve the goal of eating clean, even if you are doing it fast and dirty.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Lupercalia: Please, Honey...Not the Chocolates this Year
It's often asserted that the early Christians made sure to have their holidays fall at close to the same time as previously-existing pagan holidays. That way, converts wouldn't feel so bad about missing out on their favorite feasts from days of yore that were now discredited by their new religion. Missing your wintertime festival of Saturnalia? No problem, we'll make sure Christmas is around the same time. Worried about a depressing spring without a big fete for the vernal equinox? Hold on, we'll make sure we observe the resurrection at about that same time.
I know my tone is casual, but my point is not to disrespect to anyone's faith. Of course I think it is important that people are free to joyfully uphold their spirituality through the observation of sacred events.
But back to the synchronicity of dates: The Feast of Saint Valentine coincides with Lupercalia, an ancient pagan celebration which was partially in honor of Lupa, the fertile, life-giving mother-wolf. The rituals around the celebration of Lupercalia were sort of like a spiritual spring cleaning. This newly clean state, then, might restore fertility to the world, literally, or at least ensure a lush and verdant spring. We can also see that promoting romantic love might also restore fertility to the world, which is why the early Christians got no argument putting this love-and-marriage-promoting saint's day on the calendar at this time of year.
This is a lot of introduction to tell you that I love the idea of the Lupercalian spring-cleaning. After a long holiday season of rich, braised meats, hearty drinks, and flourless chocolate tortes, I am ready to practice some more discipline, especially if that restores a little "spring" in my step!
I've gotten a head-start on my Lupercalian spring-cleaning. I had just been feeling draggy and a little TOO well-fed lately. So, I've been reining it in...cleaning house, if you will. I'm putting the buttered bagels away for the moment and leaning towards the tangy citrus. I'm drinking more water. The ultra-light grilled chicken pitas with tzatziki I made for dinner tonight really hit the spot.
St. Valentine would probably understand my enthusiasm for Lupercalia. After all he must know that being/feeling healthy and vibrant puts far more love in our hearts than an almost-expired box of Russell Stover from the corner drug store.
I know my tone is casual, but my point is not to disrespect to anyone's faith. Of course I think it is important that people are free to joyfully uphold their spirituality through the observation of sacred events.
But back to the synchronicity of dates: The Feast of Saint Valentine coincides with Lupercalia, an ancient pagan celebration which was partially in honor of Lupa, the fertile, life-giving mother-wolf. The rituals around the celebration of Lupercalia were sort of like a spiritual spring cleaning. This newly clean state, then, might restore fertility to the world, literally, or at least ensure a lush and verdant spring. We can also see that promoting romantic love might also restore fertility to the world, which is why the early Christians got no argument putting this love-and-marriage-promoting saint's day on the calendar at this time of year.
This is a lot of introduction to tell you that I love the idea of the Lupercalian spring-cleaning. After a long holiday season of rich, braised meats, hearty drinks, and flourless chocolate tortes, I am ready to practice some more discipline, especially if that restores a little "spring" in my step!
I've gotten a head-start on my Lupercalian spring-cleaning. I had just been feeling draggy and a little TOO well-fed lately. So, I've been reining it in...cleaning house, if you will. I'm putting the buttered bagels away for the moment and leaning towards the tangy citrus. I'm drinking more water. The ultra-light grilled chicken pitas with tzatziki I made for dinner tonight really hit the spot.
St. Valentine would probably understand my enthusiasm for Lupercalia. After all he must know that being/feeling healthy and vibrant puts far more love in our hearts than an almost-expired box of Russell Stover from the corner drug store.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
On Groundhogs and Rhubarb
Today, I succumbed to the warnings of the Chicken Little Meteorology Team running the Greater Cleveland weather report and took a snow day, which I regretted all day long when the storm of the century didn't come. Ooof. Note to Self: Keep your own counsel, even on matters of weather.
But the threatening skies, covered in a dense blanket of clouds extended well into Pennsylvania...into Punxatawney, PA, to be exact...and Phil, the season-predicting groundhog, did not see his shadow. According to legend, this means we will have an early spring.
I can't really remember the last early spring we had around here, but if it is to be so, I am not going to interfere.
I love spring. And I love spring food. I love lamb, and duck, and ramps, and rhubarb, and horseradish, and edible flowers, and mushrooms. I love the Cleveland restaurateurs who open the patio promptly and permanently come April 1, despite the fact that everyone knows it often snows (sometimes mercilessly) in April in Cleveland.
Hang in there, kids. And the second you see rhubarb in the produce aisle at your grocer's, make this sauce. It's excellent on roast chicken, pork loin, or polenta.
And when you taste it, you'll be encouraged that summer's sunny bounty is only a few short weeks away:
Rhubarb-Herb Sauce:
-1 small yellow onion, diced small
-1 stalk of rhubarb, cut up
-3 T butter or good olive oil
-2 T sugar
-2 t flour
-salt, to taste
-1 T fresh marjoram or sorrel, chopped
-1/2 C chicken stock
In a saucepan over medium, heat, soften onion and rhubarb in butter or oil, add sugar, salt, flour and herbs until well blended. Add chicken stock, whisking well, and bring to a soft boil, then immediately lower heat to a simmer. Simmer for a few minutes or until reduced slightly. Adjust salt and sugar to taste.
But the threatening skies, covered in a dense blanket of clouds extended well into Pennsylvania...into Punxatawney, PA, to be exact...and Phil, the season-predicting groundhog, did not see his shadow. According to legend, this means we will have an early spring.
I can't really remember the last early spring we had around here, but if it is to be so, I am not going to interfere.
I love spring. And I love spring food. I love lamb, and duck, and ramps, and rhubarb, and horseradish, and edible flowers, and mushrooms. I love the Cleveland restaurateurs who open the patio promptly and permanently come April 1, despite the fact that everyone knows it often snows (sometimes mercilessly) in April in Cleveland.
Hang in there, kids. And the second you see rhubarb in the produce aisle at your grocer's, make this sauce. It's excellent on roast chicken, pork loin, or polenta.
And when you taste it, you'll be encouraged that summer's sunny bounty is only a few short weeks away:
Rhubarb-Herb Sauce:
-1 small yellow onion, diced small
-1 stalk of rhubarb, cut up
-3 T butter or good olive oil
-2 T sugar
-2 t flour
-salt, to taste
-1 T fresh marjoram or sorrel, chopped
-1/2 C chicken stock
In a saucepan over medium, heat, soften onion and rhubarb in butter or oil, add sugar, salt, flour and herbs until well blended. Add chicken stock, whisking well, and bring to a soft boil, then immediately lower heat to a simmer. Simmer for a few minutes or until reduced slightly. Adjust salt and sugar to taste.
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