This Year's Christmas Gift

I made these as Christmas gifts this year.  They taste delicious, but give yourself plenty of time to segment the oranges. Turns out it is one of the world's most monotonous tasks.  Ever.  I wish blood oranges were in season so I could have used those.

Oranges with Dark Chocolate and Sea Salt

Makes approximately 30 segments

  

-3 navel or blood oranges 

-3.5 oz. high quality dark chocolate (I use 72% Cacao)

-1 to 2 tablespoons high quality sea salt (If you can’t find Fleur de Sel, I have also used Himalayan Pink Salt from Trader Joe’s)

For segmented oranges:

-Carefully peel and segment oranges. Scrape away excess pith (aka white) carefully with a non-serrated knife. 

For peeled oranges:

Slice oranges width-wise, then into smaller circles.  Carefully cut off the rind and pith. Can either be left as a full circles, or sliced into half-moon circles.

Melt dark chocolate over a double boiler.  Pat orange segments dry before dipping into the melted chocolate.  After dipping, place oranges on a sheet of wax paper to dry.  While the chocolate is still semi-wet, sprinkle a small amount of sea salt on top of the chocolate portion of the orange (if you sprinkle the salt on the chocolate too soon, the salt will mostly dissolve in the chocolate).  Oranges will be dry and ready to serve/eat in about an hour.  Oranges are best if eaten within a day or two of preparing.  

Mushroom Primavera with Spaghetti Squash

Made this for dinner tonight.... It's delicious, particularly when spaghetti squash is sweet and in season. Super healthy and gluten free as well if you're into that sort of thing.  I'm generous with most of the ingredients, particularly the kalamata olives and feta cheese.  I also use half olive oil/half butter when cooking the mushrooms. Make sure to salt and pepper the sauce--I do this after adding the onions and garlic to the mixture.

1 spaghetti squash (about 3 lbs.)

1 T. olive oil

1 lb. white button mushrooms

1 C. chopped onion

2 tsp. minced garlic

1 C. cherry or grape tomatoes, halved

3/4 C. crumbled feta cheese

1 1/2 T. sliced kalamata olives

1/2 C. chopped fresh basil, plus more for garnish

With the tip of a knife, pierce squash in about five places.  Place on paper towel in microwave and cook on high for 10 minutes, or until squash has softened.  When cool enough to handle, cut squash lengthwise and remove seeds with a spoon.  Remove the spaghetti-like strands of squash with a fork, set aside and cover to keep warm (or reheat in microwave at serving time). 

Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium high heat.  Add a single layer of mushrooms and cook, without stirring, for about 5 minutes or until mushrooms become red-brown on one side.  Stir in onion and garlic and cook for 3 more minutes, until onions are softened.  Add tomatoes, cheese, and olives and cook about 3 minutes longer, until mixture is hot and bubbling.  Remove pan from heat and stir in basil. 

Divide squash among 4 shallow serving bowls.  Spoon sauce over spaghetti squash and garnish with additionally chopped basil.  Serve immediately.  Serves 4. 

Another day in “Paradise Shrimp” at… Nunthaporn's?

On Tuesday September 18^th Ben and I drove down to Mesa to see Fiona Apple in concert.  Thankfully her arrest for drug possession occurred Wednesday the 19^th of September rather than Monday the 17^th because her show was “extraordinary” (Extraordinary Machine?  If you’re still confused, nevermind).  We were running short on time for dinner so we decided to park at the concert and try to find something within walking distance. I remembered seeing a Thai restaurant on Main Street on one of my trips down to the Mesa temple, so I asked Ben to look it up. We soon discovered the restaurant I had seen was called “Nunthaporn’s.” I was initially encouraged. You can often tell the authenticity of a restaurant based on its name, and no self-aware, English (first language) speaking restaurateur would include the name “porn” in his restaurant (unless perhaps he owned some disturbing, hole-in-the-wall eatery off the Las Vegas strip). I have yet to try my favorite-poorly-named restaurant clearly titled by a foreigner: Fook Yuen Seafood in Honolulu. But I digress. So… I’m thinking, perhaps there is potential with Nunthaporn’s.  There were also decent online reviews, which, combined with our affinity for Thai food, sold us.

The restaurant was fairly crowded, but we were seated immediately and ordered promptly.  I asked our server which of three dishes he preferred (all three were shrimp dishes, and descended in order down the menu), and he informed me all were good (which, by the way, is a pet peeve of mine as this is not a helpful response from a server).  I went with the “paradise shrimp” because I was craving something sweet and it was mango season.   Soon our curry noodle soup arrived, and as the waiter was about to set down our second dish, a puzzled look covered his face, which communicated that this was not the right dish.  He turned around, without informing us what the issue was, and rushed back to the kitchen.  Ben and I ate the curry, which was pleasantly surprising.  Light, but with a unanticipated depth of flavor.  It had been about five minutes and we began to be somewhat antsy looking at the clock.  But no need to fear—just as we began to worry our server came back carrying a new plate.  He set it down on the table and apologized for the delay.  The first thing I noticed was baby corn and large specks of black pepper running throughout the dish.  My mind immediately returned to the description of “black pepper shrimp” (which, by the way, was NOT one of my three options) and I asked the server, “Is this the black pepper shrimp?”  He looked at me with a look of horror in his eyes as if he’d been caught red-handed, and then thrust the fingers of his right hand to his forehead while closing his eyes (think Homer Simpon’s “d’oh!”) while saying ever so shamefully, “Yeah… it is….”  His next response: “It’s really good!” was even better.  Yes Nunthaporn server who will remain nameless—I’m sure it is good—but the problem is it is not what I ordered.  As the nameless server became more and more agitated, the apparent owner, an older Asian woman, came to see what the problem was.  She asked me, “Do you want me to make you another one?”  (another pet peeve of mine… of course I want you to make me another one!  Did I order the black pepper shrimp?  Aren’t I the one paying here?!).  Through more chaos, it was eventually decided that she would return to the kitchen and cook the “paradise” shrimp.  Third time’s the charm apparently, and after another five minutes the correct dish arrived at our table.  I wouldn’t call it “paradise”, but it was definitely a decent dish with bold seasoning. We had hoped to share mango and sticky rice for dessert, but by this point we thought we better cut our losses and stick to the safe side.  After all, nothing more could go wrong at this point right?  As we were nearing the end of our meal, our nameless server dropped off our bill, stating, “I know you need to get to a concert, so here’s your bill.”  I always look at bills before handing off my debit card, but because I was so eager to see Fiona, I thought, “just this once”, and handed off my debit card.  Fateful mistake.  When our check returned Ben looked at the bill and started laughing out loud. We definitely paid someone else’s ticket because we did not order two glasses of wine and green curry.  With how complicated the whole process had been so far, I dreaded how long it would take to resolve this mess.  Our nameless server was so downtrodden with dishonor he avoided all eye contact at this point.  Eventually things were straightened out we walked out the doors of Nunthaporn’s. 

Turns out our rush was for naught because Fiona didn’t get on stage until her “opening act” played an hour-long less-than-exciting set.  All in all, we enjoyed our adventure at Nunthaporn’s… primarily because we continue to giggle when we say the name.  So reader:  Eat at your own risk!  It won’t ever become a destination for us, or one of my “diamonds in the rough”, but if I’m ever feeling up for an adventure again and need to eat somewhere near Main Street in Mesa, I would consider a second go-around.  

Cafe Rio... oh how I miss you.

My college years were fantastic--for many reasons.  One major reason, I have come to realize, is that both undergraduate universities I attended were within 5 minutes of a Cafe Rio. Gone are the college days of frequent (ok, obsessive) pork barbacoa salads and enchilada style burritos (with pinto beans and medium sauce, to be exact...).  Thankfully my trip to Mesa today gave me a wonderful trip down memory lane.  Americanized?  Yes.  Delicious?  Absolutely.  Nothing quite like a Cafe Rio food coma... Ahh...

Heirloom Tomato, Watermelon, & Cucumber Salad

My favorite recipe for the blistering summer heat!

¼ C. red wine vinegar

¾ tsp. salt

¼ tsp. black pepper

½ C. olive oil

3 C. watermelon chunks

3 C. coarsely chopped heirloom tomatoes

3 C. coarsely chopped cucumbers

1 C. chopped basil

½ C. chopped red onion

3/4 C. crumbled feta cheese

Combine vinegar, salt, pepper, and oil. Whisk well. Gently toss remaining ingredients in a large bowl. Pour vinaigrette over salad and toss to coat. Serve immediately. Serves 12.  

Foodie Quote of the Day

“When you wake up in the morning, Pooh,’ said Piglet at last, ‘what’s the first thing you say to yourself?’ ‘What’s for breakfast?’ said Pooh. ‘What do you say, Piglet?’ ‘I say, I wonder what’s going to happen exciting today?’ said Piglet. Pooh nodded thoughtfully. ‘It’s the same thing,’ he said.”


         - A. A. Milne, “The House at Pooh Corner”

An essay on Indian lunch Buffets... And being stubborn.

Fellow Yogis: “OM...”

Jessica: I want Indian food for lunch today….

Fellow Yogis: “OM…”

(My yoga instructor encourages us to stay present in the moment, releasing thoughts of past and future “to-dos”)

Jessica: Chicken tikka masala…. Mmmm…..

Fellow Yogis: “Namaste...”

This is how my day began today.  Not too atypical from most… beginning bright and early with thoughts of what will be on my menu for the day.  An Indian lunch buffet from Maharaja Palace sounded like just the ticket. I arrive home from yoga to a voicemail from my husband, informing me his morning clinic schedule was cancelled, and he has taken a good friend to breakfast at Cracker Barrel for his birthday.

(I have never been to Cracker Barrel. I suspect what I would find there would be mediocre chain food along the line of an Applebee’s, but I should not judge.  It’s hard to shake a story a college friend once told me about seeing a man step out of Cracker Barrel throwing up something blue in color over the railing… thoroughly grossed out?  Me too. Thank you Alex Erickson for that permanent imagery).

Because I am hungry, I am initially disappointed I am not eating pedestrian buttermilk pancakes, however, I hold on to my daydream from before—chicken tikka masala—knowing that in just a couple of hours I will be devouring the rich savory dish.

My husband pops in after Cracker Barrel to inform me of another errand he has to run—estimating he will return in 45 minutes. He gives me a somewhat vague response as to whether he will be hungry enough to go to lunch with me, but I smile, seeing the happiness that came from his morning adventures.  I spend another hour on the blasted time-share website (a whole other story) before deciding to lie down for a power nap. The dogs have their favorite toy out, and are squeaking away in puppy bliss.  Puppy bliss = no sleeping for me. I attempt to hide the toy in between my legs (under the covers), but it isn’t long until they burrow their way down there and find it. Plan B: Pups go into kennel. Jessica dozes.  After a fitful nap, I look at the clock and realize it is noon.  Maharaja palace has already been open for a half hour!  Where is Ben? I then start to become more irritable as I realize his “I’ll be home in 45-minutes” estimate came an hour and fifteen minutes ago.  In typical Ben fashion, there is no text message announcing his whereabouts, and he does not answer his phone. With stalker-like dedication, I repeatedly call his phone again and again (halfway hoping he will hear it vibrating, and halfway to make a point that he will see 7 MISSED CALLS and be racked with guilt over the agony he has caused his wife). I also realize that he needs to be at the clinic by 1:00p, and will not have time to have a slow and mindful lunch (see.. I can easily be mindful about food… why can’t I carry that into my yoga practice?).  In a huff I brush my teeth and get ready.  “I’ll show him,” I think, as I plan to be gone when he gets home, leaving him to feel so sad he missed the opportunity to have lunch with me. As I’m playing out this scenario in my head, my phone rings.  “Hello?” I say with distinct annoyance. “I’m so sorry—I left my phone on the couch,” says an appropriately apologetic husband.  He then proceeds to tell me he is just pulling into the gate.  Click.  I hang up without a closing salutation.  He calls back and I do not answer.  At this point I ask myself, is this more about making a point, or am I legitimately angry?  I decide it’s much more about making a point (enter my first voice of reason), but being one of the world’s most stubborn people, I hold “strong” in my position. Ben arrives home, and is very apologetic, offering many hugs and kisses (which I act as though I’m not interested in receiving… although… isn’t this really what I want?).  I inform him that I love him and will forgive him, but also plan to stay upset at this point.  He mentions several times that he has time to “grab” something with me before he needs to be back at school (it’s now 12:15p).  I selectively ignore his statements, knowing that my chicken tikka masala in no way fits into this “grabbing” category.  We part ways on cool terms. 

Halfway to my destination, my second voice of reason speaks to me, and I text a message to my husband bordering on sweet, but still carrying and air of displeasure. I arrive at Maharaja palace with a growling stomach.  (I realize this is one of the first times I’ve gone to eat by myself since moving to Phoenix… I really miss that about New York.  No one looks at you like you’re a sad, little, lonely person when you ask for a table for one…). I waste no time in serving myself a heaping plateful of basmati rice, chicken tikka masala, vegetable korma, mint and tamarind chutney, and spiced lamb.  The smells are already titillating my tastebuds.  I sit down at my booth (with plenty of room), and feel a small sense of pride in my nod-to-the-past solo dining experience, but feel a larger sense of loneliness, missing my husband significantly.  The korma is a perfect temperature, nicely spiced. The naan—hot out of the oven and perfectly chewy. However, I can’t help but notice it does not taste as good as the meal Ben and I shared here one week ago today.  I stare at my phone and ask myself, “Am I staring because I want to hear from Ben, or because I want to look like I have something to do to all the diners staring at this sad, little, lonely person?” I decide it is the prior. I do get a message from Ben… “Hooray!” I think to myself, then immediately jump back into my critical frame of mind: “Don’t buy into his manipulation! Let him feel how inconsiderate he was,” a voice from somewhere deep in my mind tells me, so I carefully craft a response that is not too effusive. Ben is upset, I can tell.  I’ve succeeded!  He feels bad that he was so inconsiderate!  Wait a minute… I realize (my third voice of reason) that I am the one being manipulative and uber-passive-aggressive.  Sigh.

With a full belly, and a guilty conscience, I leave the pink-walled restaurant smelling like curry.  I thought I would be happier after satiating my now 5-hour craving. What can I do to make it up to Ben?  A basket full of treats for him? Oh yeah—that’s right, I’m trying to encourage him to be more healthy.  Ok… a 30 minute massage!  Wait—he’ll come home sweaty as can be (Did I mention it is 105 and very humid today?), and the last thing he will want is for me to rub his back… What about a gift card?  Oh yeah—I’m almost out of money.  (Still adjusting to this part-time gig, and while not missing an OUNCE of my full-time work, I am missing the consistent paycheck).  I head to Sprouts to purchase some more Rainier cherries (better than any candy in the world), and decide to purchase two of Ben’s favorite carrot cake cliff bars.  Not much in the way of an apology, but it’s better than nothing.  Maybe (not likely), I’ll learn from today, and curb my stubbornness before it leads me to another isolated meal without the love of my life.  Now what’s for dinner…..?