5 second rule

Beauty can be simple.

Close your eyes. Now picture the most beautiful places you've ever been.

Where are you?

I'm in Santorini, Greece, with its white-washed buildings and its azure sea. In Interlaken, Switzerland, with its pasture so green it makes my eyelids quiver. In Maui, where a double-rainbow crests over the Pacific. In Norway, where fjords jut in and out in majestic glory. In the Dead Sea. In Cordova, Alaska. In a color-splashed market in Mexico City.

It's no secret that I love to travel, and I've had the chance to see some incredibly lovely sights over the years. But there's beauty everywhere. And some of the most stunning spots are those within a few hours of where I live: Big Sur, Mendocino, and even a small cottage in Woodside, California, home to a talented writer/photographer/artist named Erin Gleeson.

I mentioned in a prior post that I'd recently attended a book party in honor of Yvette van Boven's new cookbook, Home Made Summer. Yvette is based in Amsterdam and Paris, and even though Erin and Yvette had never met, Erin offered to host a party at her home during Yvette's U.S. book tour. My friend Emma invited me to tag along as her guest.

When I walked down the wooden steps to Erin's home, my mouth formed one of those cartoon o's.

Towering trees dwarfed the house on all sides. And Erin, in her quiet way and with her artist's sensibility, did an outstanding job both deferring to nature, and complementing it.

Nibbling on dishes from Yvette's book and Erin's blog (called The Forest Feast), we guests reveled in a place so natural and unique, it rivaled many of the better-known spots to which I've traveled.

Because beauty can be near or far, sophisticated or stripped down.

It can be luxurious, like expensive jewels.

Or humble, like necklaces strung not with gems, but with kumquats.

Don't look too far or too hard.

I promise. You'll find it.

9+ New Cookbooks for Mothers, or others

Thank god for post-its.

In the days and weeks leading up to Mother's Day, I jot down ideas for little things I'd love and stick them all over the house: on computer monitors, mirrors, the refrigerator, the TV. This way, no one has to second-guess what's bound to please me (a new tea mug), and gift-burps like cake-scented candles are handily avoided.

For you, I've been piling up my favorite new(ish) cookbooks in anticipation of this loveliest of maternal holidays. Consider gifting one or two to the mother-figure in your life, or -- for a little self-love -- scribble your favorite titles on neon post-its and stick them around your home. 

From the top:

Crackers & Dips, by Ivy Manning (Chronicle Books, to be released on May 7, 2013). Manning's newest cookbook, her third, is a sweet, slender volume dedicated to homemade crackers and their spreadable companions. With its perky design, snappy writing, and approachable recipes for things like Everything Flatbread Crackers, Tangy Cheddar Cheese Crackers, and Brown Butter Hazelnut Crackers, this book takes the mystery out of cracker-making and makes the process accessible and fun. If you're a fan of crispy, crunchy snacks, learn how to bake up the classics. Prepare to experiment with some unusual flours and intriguing flavor combinations as well.

The New Persian Kitchen, by Louisa Shafia (Ten Speed Press, 2013). Shafia's second book (her first was Lucid Food) has already won a place in my heart and on my shelf. Another smaller-framed hardback, this love-note to the author's Persian heritage serves as a welcome primer to the big flavors and bold colors of ancient Iran, but with Shafia's modern twist. Break out your sumac, your saffron, your pomegranate molasses, your tamarind. You'll love playing with the Persian pantry and infusing simple dishes (chicken, fish, vegetables, desserts) with colorful, heady, Middle Eastern flair.

The Blue Bottle Craft of Coffee: Growing, Roasting, and Drinking, with Recipes, by James Freeman, Caitlin Freeman, and Tara Duggan (Ten Speed Press, 2012). This book is for all the coffee-loving mamas out there, and I know there are a lot of you. I also know that San Francisco's Blue Bottle Coffee inspires mad-love, even though I myself drink {let's say it together now} tea. This sophisticated book, with its rich, coffee-colored palette, is part educational adventure, part practical guidebook. You'll learn a ton about the ins-and-outs of coffee-making: sourcing, processing, growing, and brewing. Then, you can play in the kitchen, making sophisticated sweet and savory treats like olive oil and rosemary shortbread, brandy cake with arborio rice and almonds, and brown sugar and winter spice granola. This book is for the culinary adventurer with a deep-passion for coffee. Dilettantes need not apply. 

Burma, by Naomi Duguid (Artisan, 2012). Duguid is a bad-ass adventurer in the best possible way, one of those brave souls who immerses herself in other cultures for a living. An intrepid photographer and intensely curious food wanderer, Duguid paints a portrait with her words, her recipes, her lens; in coming along with her on this journey, you'll find yourself transported. Discover Burma through fried shallots, lemongrass, chiles, galangal, shrimp, noodles, and endless pots of rice. This is one book you'll want to take to bed. I promise you vivid dreams.

Home Made Summer, by Yvette van Boven (Stewart, Tabori, and Chang, 2013). I'm completely smitten with this quirky, joyful, and altogether original sun-splashed collection, van Boven's third. I'll save most of my praise for a separate post, as I had a chance to meet the author last weekend at a stunning outdoor party deep in the woods. (Stay tuned for lots of photos from that event.) For now, you'll want to take my word for it: this playful cookbook is quite different and delivers a sense of wonder and a spirited outlook on life's small culinary joys. 

Vegetable Literacy, by Deborah Madison (Ten Speed Press, 2013). Although I find this comprehensive tome a touch overwhelming as I'm neither a botanist nor an expert gardener, I nonetheless have the utmost respect for Madison and her unparalleled contributions to the canon of vegetable cookery. This book is for anyone who finds bliss communing with seeds, seedlings, and edible plants in the great outdoors, and then bringing their harvest into the kitchen. It's the book I would definitely buy for my own mother, a devoted and highly skilled gardener, were she still alive today.

50 Best Plants on the Planet, by Cathy Thomas (Chronicle Books, 2013). Another plant-forward cookbook (though there are meat recipes in here), this one, brought to you by the fine folks at Melissa's Produce, is on this list for a personal reason. Two questions that followed me around while promoting Ripe last year were: 1) Do you talk about the main nutrients in each fruit and vegetable? and... 2) Do you have the nutritional breakdown for all of your recipes? And my answers were: sometimes, and no. This was a concerted choice, as I don't personally see produce through a nutrient-lens, but it became clear to me over time that many people do. Filled with tips, solid information, and recipes across the breakfast-lunch-dinner-dessert spectrum, 50 Best Plants on the Planet is bound to please any health-focused, nutrient-loving, produce-centric cook.

Bakeless Sweets, by Faith Durand (Stewart, Tabori, and Chang, releases May 7, 2013). Durand may be best-known as the executive editor of Apartment Therapy's The Kitchn, but here she offers a lively ode to cool treats -- all of which can be made without an oven. Beautifully designed and photographed in feel-good pinks, reds, and yellows, Durand's collection is ideal for non-bakers who still possess a substantial sweet tooth. Covering panna cottas, puddings, trifles, mousses, and much more, these recipes blow open the dessert world, extending its borders way beyond the cookies, pies, and traditional cakes that come to mind when you think: I-need-something-sweet.

Modern Mediterranean, by Melia Marden (Stewart, Tabori, and Chang, 2013). A year or two ago while I was visiting New York, my agent Jenni took me to lunch at a terrific restaurant called The Smile. What followed was a wondrous meal of unfussy dishes -- small plates, sandwiches, salads -- filled with bright, crisp Mediterranean flavors. The Smile's executive chef Melia Marden has just published her first cookbook, a color-forward explosion of inspired dishes rooted in her Greek-American heritage. This cookbook is one I've opened often, and cooked from even more, in the few weeks since it arrived. I found its large trim-size a bit odd at first, but I've come to love the bold fonts and how much breathing room each relatively simple recipe has on the page. Just looking at it makes me realize I can make these recipes for dinner tonight, and make them well, and that they will satisfy my family each and every time.

Need more ideas? Here are some additional titles on my radar that I don't yet own but will soon. Emma Christensen's True Brews: How to craft fermented cider, beer, wine, sake, soda, kefir, and kombucha at home is on its way (it releases on May 14), and as Emma is a great friend and all-around terrific drinkmaster, I'm excited to share more about her book after its release. You may also want to join me in checking out Gaby Dalkin's brand new Absolutely Avocados, Melissa Lanz's The Fresh 20, Michael Pollan's newest treatise, Cooked, and Mary Roach's ode to the digestive tract, Gulp. 

For if there's anything a mother truly wants on Mother's Day, it's to be fed, fêted, loved, and -- above all -- schooled about what goes on inside her stomach.

Bring on the bacteria.

Two weeks ago, while Colin slept and the boys pitter-pattered, waves swooshed outside our door. Birds cheeped, turtles turtled, and the sun blew a kiss across the sea.

Three nights away -- a little fun, a little sun -- and then we'd head back to school and work.

I'd gotten an early text, so I stepped outside to call Jenni, my agent. It was noon in New York, but only 7:00 a.m. where I stood, barefoot, in my pajamas. I steadied myself against a plastic table with a fake pineapple on it, and dialed. Then an old man walked by on his way to the pool.

Hello, he said.

Hello, I replied.

At that point I kind of wished I'd gotten dressed.

Then Jenni picked up. It was good news. 

I'm pleased to announce that I've just signed on to write a new cookbook: Yogurt Culture. It will indulge my love for writing and research, and recipes, and naturally healthful food, but most of all, it will indulge my love for yogurt. The book will drop in Spring 2015, so between now and then all I have to do is basically write the entire book and try to find ways of inserting words like lactobacillis and acidophilus seamlessly into my copy. (I love you, spell-check.)

Rux Martin, who recently launched her own imprint within Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, will be my editor, and I'm thrilled to bits. I think she'll hold me to a high standard, and because I'm eager to be pushed and pulled and stretched like taffy, good things are bound to happen. Either that, or... well, let's just go with that.

So, help me celebrate, friends. Raise a spoon...

To yogurt!

A barely contained effervescence.

She bubbles.

I don't know how else to express it, but my friend Jess Goldman Foung bubbles and bounces, her energy so all-consuming, and so contagious, that after I meet up with her I feel buzzed. Do you know people like this?  People whose very being shines so bright they make the air a few degrees warmer? She's a lit match, a jolt of caffeine, a prism that shoots rainbows through a room.

And the thing is, the crazy thing is, Jess was really sick, way before I met her. When she was a 21-year-old student at Stanford, she landed in the hospital with a Lupus diagnosis so severe her kidneys had basically shut down. As a college senior, while her friends were studying and going to parties, she was in full-on renal failure. 

Jess writes in her new cookbook:

"I could have functioned as a 21-year-old, on dialysis, waiting on the transplant list. But that wasn't the life I wanted to live. I was attached to machines every three days for three to four hours at a time, and while I was happy to be alive, I longed to be free."

So, what did she do?

In addition to receiving excellent medical care from her team at Stanford Hospital, Jess chose to radically change her diet. She cut out sodium from all non-natural (processed) sources and slashed her intake of foods whose natural sodium levels were simply too high. She focused on reversing her destiny. She got educated, and she started educating others.

Sodium Girl's Limitless Low-Sodium Cookbook barely contains Jess's bubbly personality. I feel her energy on every page, and I marvel at how she has created low-sodium recipes that are fun, joyful, and celebratory.

The balsamic blueberry steak sauce I've made twice now (pictured above) is a perfect case in point. I don't eat much steak, so I paired the sauce with some middle eastern lamb meatballs, fragrant with cinnamon, cumin, clove, and allspice -- like kofte, but round. I left out the salt to be true to Jess's spirit, and because I wanted to see if the sauce would be boldly-flavored enough to compensate for what I worried might be bland, no-salt-added meatballs.

With balsamic vinegar, molasses, brown sugar, and blueberries, the sauce had flavor to spare.

My boys swept those meatballs through that sauce, swirling them around and around, then licked the platter clean. Robust, brightly-hued, balanced, beautiful, the sauce filled our bellies and lifted our spirits.

It was Jess on a plate.

...

If you or anyone you know must follow a reduced-sodium diet, please check out this cookbook. The recipes make over high-sodium favorites (ketchup, green bean casserole, buffalo wings, bloody marys, French onion soup) and also offer modern, new dishes (like pistachio and broccoli pesto-crusted salmon, beet carpaccio towers, ricotta with pumpkin crumbs) as well.

If you don't (yet) actively limit your sodium consumption (I don't, generally) but you do have any other health or dietary challenges, I also recommend it. Jess's voice will empower you and lift you up.

Jess also publishes the Sodium Girl blog, which offers free recipes, tips, and practical information on low-sodium living. (She just gave away a Vitamix; alas, I missed the deadline to encourage you to enter, so I basically owe you all a Vitamix.) There are also links to several other recipes from or inspired by the book, including this post about Jess on Foodie Crush, which is completely adorable.

Finally, it bears mentioning that Jess is only 30 years old. While she writes about a dietary lifestyle more often associated with older adults, her youthful perspective truly sets this book apart.

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Recipe for Balsamic Blueberry Sauce

This is a very close adaptation of Jessica Goldman Foung's balsamic blueberry steak sauce from Sodium Girl's Limitless Low-Sodium Cookbook (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2013). All ingredients and quantities are hers; I've simply adapted the technique and hit it with some lemon.

This sauce partners beautifully with lamb meatballs (or kofte), or any kind of cheeseless meatball for that matter. (Jess has a pork and quinoa meatball in her book that looks great.)

Makes 1- to 1-1/2 cups sauce

1 teaspoon olive oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 onion, diced (she uses Vidalia; I used a yellow Spanish onion)
6 tablespoons balsamic (not the fancy kind)
2 tablespoons dark brown sugar
4 teaspoons honey
2 teaspoons molasses
2 cups blueberries (I used frozen, unthawed)
Lemon juice, to brighten at the end 

In a small saucepan, saute the garlic and onion over medium heat until softened, about 5 minutes. Stir in all the remaining ingredients. 

Bring the sauce to a boil. Reduce heat to very low, cover partly, and simmer gently for about 10 minutes. Uncover, raise heat, and let bubble vigorously until the sauce just starts to thicken and the berries are easy to mash with a potato masher, about 12 minutes, stirring frequently so the sauce doesn't scorch. Remove from the heat.

At this point, I squeezed in a few drops of fresh lemon juice to brighten all the flavors. I also pureed the sauce right in the pot with an immersion blender. Do this very carefully. (Depending on the size of your pot, the sauce level may be too low for you to do this successfully and safely.) Please do not let it splash on you.

Allow the sauce to cool for a good 15 minutes, or longer, before serving. As it cools, it sets up and jells, much like a jam. Then you can enjoy it at warm room temperature. Otherwise, refrigerate, covered, for a few hours to thicken further.

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A tasty trove of food books, for gifting.

{Enormous thanks to those of you who weighed in with such thoughtful counsel on my last post. I do plan to return to the Israel series. But first, a brief detour.}

The world, I'm convinced, is divided into recipe lovers and cookbook lovers. The recipe lovers -- practical souls focused squarely on producing food -- have a straightforward mission: get in, cook, get out. Many of us are recipe lovers during the week. We're all about the quick web search and download, the faster the better. We seek a speedy hit -- not context, nor lyricism, nor leisure.

The cookbook lovers -- weekend explorers, many of us -- live for the context, the lyricism, the leisure. We read books in bed, invest heavily in post-its and adhesive flags, and see recipes as part of a greater, more sumptuous whole. To us, cookbooks represent beautiful possibility, and we're hooked on their weight in our hands.

Above and below are some suggestions for cookbook lovers. These are books that have crossed my threshold this calendar year, and while most were published in 2012, a few are a bit older. 

This is not a Best Of list. These are not, some of them, obvious choices. My goal here is simply to expose you to some worthy titles with which you may be unfamiliar. Only you can decide if they're right for you or your giftees.

Finally -- as always -- if you purchase any items from Amazon via these links, I will receive a few pennies on the dollar in referral fees. I thank you sincerely for supporting my work in this small but meaningful way. Should you go the independent bookstore route, that's obviously wonderful in so many ways, too.

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Food In Jars by Marisa McClellan and Pure Beef by Lynne Curry 

Marisa McClellan, a phenomenal teacher with a warm manner and quick smile, taught a canning class in my home this past summer in support of her new book. If you've always wanted to master the fundamentals of canning, pickling, and preserving, but have felt intimidated (like I did), this book will ease your way with clear information, accessible techniques, and appealing recipes. (More about Food in Jars)

Lynne Curry and I met in late summer in Portland and shared several lovely meals together. A former vegetarian, she discovered a passion for beef, so long as it was raised ethically and sustainably. Her book is quietly beautiful, classy, and rich with recipes for various cuts of grass-fed beef. (I have her pot roast in my oven right now. True story.) Beef lovers, or those who need some inspiration when it comes to meat cookery, will really appreciate this well-written guide. (More about Pure Beef)

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Keys to the Kitchen by Aida Mollenkamp 

Aida's energy spins off the page in this fresh, catchall cookbook. This book's organization is a bit unwieldy, but I appreciate the breadth of her recipes, and the back section on quick, stress-free appetizers is worth the cost of the volume. This book would make a great gift for anyone who doesn't own the Joy of Cooking (or wouldn't appreciate an older book) and wants to learn a wide-range of fundamental techniques and recipes. Plus, it's much more modern. (More about Keys to the Kitchen)

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Pike Place Market Recipes by Jess Thomson and Suffering Succotash by Stephanie Lucianovic

I adore these two ladies, both friends and fellow alumnae of the culinary school I attended back in 2002.

Jess is a top-flight writer and recipe developer, and in PPMR, she celebrates the bounty of Seattle's most famous marketplace. I've cooked dozens of Jess's recipes over the years, and I can vouch for her skills; she's a true pro who knows how to devise flavorful dishes that satisfy every time. Jess also wrote Top Pot Hand-Forged Donuts and Dishing Up Washington. (More about Pike Place Market Recipes)

Stephanie is a humorist and former picky-eater. For this book (a narrative, not a cookbook), she honed her investigative skills to discover why some people hate the foods they hate. In her inimitable fashion, she delves into the science of taste, all the while keeping her tone light and accessible. If you know a child, or adult, with strong food aversions, this eye-opening paperback will make you more empathetic to their plight. It will also make you giggle. (More about Suffering Succotash)

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The Sprouted Kitchen by Sara Forte 

Here's a very pretty cookbook with a design and aesthetic reminiscent of Heidi Swanson's Super Natural Every Day. With simple, beautiful photos by the author's husband Hugh Forte, TSK presents the natural foods lover with numerous options for healthful meals. I'd put this book squarely in the "for cooks who like pretty books" category. (More about The Sprouted Kitchen)

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Jerusalem: A Cookbook by Yotam Ottolenghi & Sami Tamimi and The Book of New Israeli Food by Janna Gur

Jerusalem: A Cookbook is getting a lot of well-deserved love and attention, and with good reason. Released in October, this colorful celebration of a complicated city's dynamic foodways was co-written by the same chef behind last year's glorious, vegetable-focused cookbook, Plenty. (If you don't own Plenty, you should.) Since Ottolenghi is Jewish and his business partner Tamimi is Palestinian, the two -- who run the London-based specialty food shop Ottolenghi and its outposts -- approached the food of their natal city from a dual perspective, and the results are balanced, inclusive, and fascinating. (More about Jerusalem)

Janna Gur's The Book of New Israeli Food also focuses on Israeli cuisine and, like the book above, is much more than a simple collection of recipes. If you have a budding interest in the food of this region like I do, I highly recommend you check out both of these books, and then choose your favorite to add to your collection. Even something as simple as learning to make hummus the proper way will be a major turn-on. Trust me. (More about The Book of New Israeli Food)

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Yes, Chef: A Memoir by Marcus Samuelsson 

In my efforts to broaden my horizons, I attempted to download my first audiobook from my local library. I failed miserably, but thanks to a tech-savvy friend (hi, Sheri!), I was finally able to get Samuelsson's book on my iPhone. What a pleasure it has been to listen to the Ethiopian-born, Swedish-raised, Harlem-based chef tell his unique story in his own voice. Though you could certainly buy the print version of this memoir, see if you can download the spoken version, especially if you have a long commute or upcoming plane ride where you can just listen, undisturbed. (More about Yes, Chef)

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I could go on forever. I would like to, actually. I'd like to wax poetic (again) about Alana Chernila's The Homemade Pantry, which I wrote about back in July, and tell you how much I adore Kim O'Donnel, whose second book (The Meat Lover's Meatless Celebrations) just hit shelves. I know my friend Robin Asbell just came out with a new vegan baking book (Sweet & Easy Vegan), and that Jeanne Sauvage just released Gluten-Free Baking for the Holidays. Japanese Farm Food, by Nancy Singleton Hachisu, has gotten incredible reviews, and I can't wait to give it the attention it deserves. And then there's Herbivoracious by Michael Natkin. Oh, and my newest treasure, The French Culinary Institute's The Fundamental Techniques of Classic Pastry Arts, a book that will keep me busy for months. But I'll stop.

Almost.

One more. I'd be an idiot if I didn't take this opportunity to remind you that Ripe would make a lovely gift. Paulette and I are so thrilled with how well our book has been received, and are grateful to Vegetarian Times magazine for naming it one of the Top 5 Cookbooks of 2012 in their December issue. If you do purchase the book for friends and family, please let me know either via email or in the comments section, and I'd be happy to mail you a personalized sticker (or several) inscribed to whomever you choose, while supplies last. Thanks again, now and always, for your support. (More about Ripe)

Cars are made for snacking.

"So, if you think about books as an extension of ourselves, we are totally about to meet."

This is how I came to know Alana Chernila, and she came to know me. Not through a chance meeting at a conference, or a sweaty run-in at the gym I keep paying for but never attend. 

We met through our books. I ordered Alana's, she ordered mine, and they each arrived at our respective homes, in our respective states, on the same day. Thank you, United States Postal Service.

Alana's younger than me, this mother of two girls, a woman whose prose flows so naturally I want to drink from its tap. Never overwrought, always relatable, her stories of humble foods -- yogurt, bread, mayonnaise, granola -- will spur you to tie on an apron and get flour in your hair. You'll dream, suddenly, of making cream cheese, putting up tomatoes, rolling your own fruit leather.

Alana doesn't take herself too seriously, and for this reason, I want to hug her hard. The recipe titles in her book, The Homemade Pantry, reveal the simple truths of her life, and ours. Car Snack 1, Car Snack 2, and Car Snack 3 are three variations on cereal bars -- you'll want to make them, then hand them to your kids on routine drives to the library, the grocery store, the beach. 

But, listen. If you're the type of person who doesn't let your kids snack in the car, this may not be the book for you. 

Because it's all about the beautiful mess of real life --  a life where oats litter backseats, and there can never be too much strawberry ice cream.

...

Recipe for Strawberry Ice Cream 

Excerpted with permission from The Homemade Pantry by Alana Chernila (Clarkson Potter, 2012) 

{{from Cheryl}} I've made several recipes from Alana Chernila's The Homemade Pantry, including her granola, chai, and buttermilk ranch dressing. But her strawberry ice cream is stunning. The sugar-dusted strawberries macerate and weep their jammy juices, then get churned into a fruit-forward, creamy treat. Any left over ice cream can be whipped into a strawberry milkshake with nothing more than a blender, some milk, and a thirst for happiness. 

Makes 1 quart

3 large egg yolks
3/4 cup half-and-half
1/2 cup sugar
3/4 cup heavy cream
2 pints strawberries, washed, dried, and hulled
1 teaspoon Vanilla Extract, homemade or store-bought
1⁄8 teaspoon of salt
Optional: 2 teaspoons kirsch liqueur

In a small bowl, whisk the egg yolks.

Place the half-and-half and 1/4 cup of the sugar in a medium heavy-bottomed pot. Heat it over medium heat without letting it boil, and stir occasionally until the sugar is dissolved, 5 to 8 minutes. In the meantime, set a fine-meshed sieve over a large heatproof bowl.

When the half-and-half mixture is hot, whisk a little of it into the egg yolks to warm them. Then whisk all of the warm egg yolks into the hot cream. Stir constantly with a wooden spoon or heatproof spatula as you heat the mixture over medium heat—keep scraping the bottom and stirring until the mixture thickens and you get a good coating on the spoon. Again, do not let it boil. Remove from the heat and pour through the strainer over the bowl. Add the heavy cream to the mixture and stir to combine. Cover and chill in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes.

Put the strawberries in a large bowl and mash them a bit with a potato masher. Then add the remaining ¼ cup sugar. Let the strawberries macerate in their own juices, stirring occasionally until the sugar has melted, 10 to 15 minutes. Add the berries to the cream mixture. Then add the vanilla, salt, and kirsch, if using. Chill, covered, in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes, but up to 2 days.

Freeze according to your ice cream maker’s instructions.

printable pdf

Ripe Party at the Rustic Garden Bistro

Join us.

Outside.

In the garden.

Under the stars.

We will be serving a complete, 5 course meal from Ripe, followed by a potluck dessert buffet. 

We will drink festive libations. Talk about fruit. Commune with vegetables. Discuss life. Get to know each other. Share stories while we share a meal. Then I will do a reading and sign some books with the neatest handwriting I can muster. But please: make sure I don't drink more than one glass of wine. I am a Notorious Lightweight. Note the capital N and capital L. Now imagine them highlighted. And in 34 point.

Many thanks to my friend Kim Burnell, hostess for the evening. She's the owner of a home with what I understand to be a stunning edible garden in Orange County, California. And she's generously opening her garden for this special event on Saturday, July 21. 

If you live in the LA / Orange County area, or know folks who do, please pass along this invitation. While anyone may attend, you get first dibs. Bring a friend, or three.

Click the EventBrite link to get all the details and snag your ticket before they're gone. (Space is limited.) http://ripeinthegarden.eventbrite.com/

And if you don't live in Southern California, but you do like the idea of hosting a Ripe party sometime in the future, please let me know. I'm game to exploring similar parties in other cities. 

Let's talk.

It's jewelry, for food.

I have a gift for you. Just a quick, drive-by gift.

I'll press it in your hand with a gentle squeeze. I'll leave it on your stoop, tied with twine. I'll tuck it in that book on your bedside table.

On second thought, I'll place it here, below, because this is where we gather, at least for now.

One of my favorite recipes from Ripe is the Green Beans with Smoky Pistachio Dust. I blanch the beans until they just barely give. I slotted-spoon them into ice water, drain them, pat them dry like a freshly-bathed child, and drizzle them with oil. Then I sprinkle them with pistachios I've pulverized with salt, pepper, and smoked paprika. This is the best, easiest condiment I created for the book, and one with so many uses I could spend eons dreaming up new ways to enjoy it.

So, make the dust. Keep it in a jar on your counter. And shake it on everything. Salads, eggs, potatoes, noodles, any kind of casserole, any grilled or marinated vegetable you can imagine (except lima beans), mushed up avocado, any kind of grain dish, fish fillets, pilafs, are you bored yet?

It's jewelry, for food. Make it. Use it. Love it.

One day, I shall retire to the countryside with my jars of pistachio dust and have little pistachio dust babies and take up needlepoint and smoke my own paprika.

Come visit.

...

In Seattle? I'll be there this weekend. Say hello.

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Recipe for Beet and Frisee Salad with Ripe Smoky Pistachio Dust 

The smoky pistachio dust is adapted from Ripe: A Fresh Colorful Approach to Fruits and Vegetables by Cheryl Sternman Rule with photography by Paulette Phlipot (Running Press, a member of the Perseus Books Group, 2012) 

[Yes, that's me. I have to do that, though.]

For the smoky pistachio dust:

3/4 cup unsalted pistachios, toasted and cooled completely
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika, or to taste
1/2 teaspoon (kosher) salt
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Grind all ingredients in a full-size food processor fitted with the metal blade for about 30 seconds, until dusty. Store in a tightly sealed jar on the counter, where you'll see it and use it often.

For the salad pictured above, I combined:

12 small chioggia beets, scrubbed clean
Olive oil
White wine vinegar
Sugar
Salt
Frisee, rough-chopped
Avocado, diced
Cucumber, unpeeled, diced

Roast the beets: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Cut the leafy tops from the beets, leaving 1/2-inch stem. (Saute the leaves like other greens if they're very fresh.) Rub the bulbs gently with a bit of olive oil. Place in a Pyrex baking dish, with some wiggle room between each one. Cover tightly with foil. (Alternately, roast the oil-slicked beets in a foil packet on a baking sheet.) Roast for 50 to 60 minutes, or until a skewer comes out with very little resistance. Cool completely. Wear an apron. Peel with a paring knife. Dice.

Toss the diced, cooled beets in a jar with a splash of white wine vinegar, 2 generous pinches of sugar, and a solid pinch of salt. (Beets be stored, tightly covered, in the fridge for a good week, or longer, depending. Or use right away.) 

Make the salad: Combine the frisee, avocado, cucumber, and some beets in a large salad bowl. Make a vinaigrette by whisking a few tablespoons of olive oil with about half as much of the beety vinegar from your jar (2 parts oil to 1 part vinegar). Season to taste.

Sprinkle the salad generously with pistachio dust. Eat.

printable pdf 

Lend me your earlobes.

Promoting a book is weird. It's a swirling stew, equal parts thrilling, embarrassing, discomfiting, and wonderful. It's prideful and boasty, narcissistic and ego-y. It's one-tracky and tacky. But, listen, it's also important, not only because it represents the culmination of several years of work, but also because without promotion, books languish and die in warehouses and on store shelves.

And, so, Paulette and I have embraced the task before us and are getting out there -- in our hometowns and yours, at venues small, large, and medium-sized, together and apart. And you know what? Talking with people about colorful fruits and vegetables is fun. Super fun. It's even more fun than talking to computer screens, which is so squarely inside my wheelhouse I often get stuck in there and can't find my way out. Book promotion forces me to speak out loud and swallow big gulps of fresh air. It's good.

Above are some scenes from our early spring events and signings.

In the top row, I'm signing books (hello) at the Blossom Hill Certified Farmers' Market, my go-to market here in San Jose. I'm booked at several other local markets this spring and summer, and I couldn't be prouder to sit beside the farmers that grow my family's food. You can see their gorgeous produce in that basket in the upper right.

In the middle row, you'll see the favas I received from Melissa's Produce, a Southern California-based produce distributor that twice provided juicy pixies tangerines for Ripe parties, and shipped me not only those beautiful beans, but also chioggia beets, fresh edamame, kumquats, fennel, and cucumbers for the launch party at my home. I paid them in invisible money, so consider this a DISCLOSURE, FEDERAL TRADE COMMISSION. The local produce from my area farmers' markets and the generous donations from the Melissa's crew intermingled on plates and in salad bowls. There was no fussing or fighting. Just fruit, vegetables, accompaniments, and libations all getting along in a riotous mash of color until it disappeared into waiting mouths and bellies.

Also in that row, you'll see the Ripe display at Rizzoli Bookstore in New York City, which hosted a wonderful launch for us in late March. There you will also see Paulette with her daughter Cassidy, a little girl so cute I want to nibble her earlobes every time I see her.

The bottom row of photos showcases squares of blueberry-nutmeg cake I served along with several other dishes from the cookbook -- grilled five-spice pineapple, cucumber-halloumi salad, chocolate-dipped strawberries, tarragon-lime green tea, and radish-olive crostini -- at a party my very dear friends Alison and Julia hosted at Alison's home last weekend. It was such a joy to talk about produce with so many interesting women. To all of you who bought 4, 5, even 6 copies of Ripe at Alison's house, I will nibble your earlobes as soon as I'm done nibbling Cassidy's.

And finally, in the lower right corner, a photo Colin took of me just before my event at Omnivore Books in San Francisco. God, I love that shop. I can't wait to get back there and sink into the walls.

Here's a recap of our press to date. 

And here's a list of our upcoming appearances, including events next week in Boston, Maine, Philadelphia, and Idaho.

They're all open to the public.

I invite you and your earlobes to come say hello.

...

One more thing. I read every single comment you left on my Mother's Day post. Every single one. As some of you know, the New York Times even linked to that post. I want to thank you all for sharing your words and thoughts with me. I found myself unable to respond in line, but you moved me deeply, and I am grateful.

Ripe: the video trailer. (Get snacks.)

Like what you see? Then help us pass this baby around. If you do, I'll give you a big fat kiss when we meet. Unless you prefer a handshake, a high-five, or a subtle head-nod. I'm not above customizing my affection to suit your needs.

My heartfelt thanks to Paulette for producing this trailer. If I told you the budget she had for this project (zero point zero zero dollars, rounded down), you would cry.

With exactly three weeks until this cookbook hits shelves, we're gearing up and taking names. Thank you, (insert your name here), for your support.

*

p.s. Those of you who get 5SR via email or RSS may not see the video pop up on your screen unless you click over to the site: http://5secondrule.typepad.com/my_weblog/2012/03/ripe-cookbook-book-video-trailer.html

p.p.s. If vimeo acts funky, you can also watch the trailer on You Tube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ExeJOzkLRjI