Venice!  Is there a name in all the languages of humanity that makes us dream more than that one?  It is pretty, besides, sonorous and sweet; all at once it calls to mind a dazzling procession of magnificent memories, a whole horizon of enchanting reveries.

Venice!  That single word seems to send an exaltation exploding in the soul, it excites everything poetic within us, it provokes all our faculties of admiration.  And when we arrive in this unique city, we inevitably study it with forewarned and ravished eyes, we look upon it with our dreams.  –Guy de Maupassant, Venice

Soup is the very embodiment of “making much from little”: water, vegetables, and a gentle flame join forces on the stove to create a meal far greater than the sum of its parts.  Soup will welcome the odds and ends from your produce bin, exalting lowly root vegetables and leafy greens, however wilted they may be. In our home, soup has soothed frayed nerves and mended wounds.  Ladled hot into a bowl after a long, busy winter’s day, soup can seem like a benediction.

One of my favorite things about soup is its adaptability.  Last night, for example, I made a vegetable soup with leeks, potatoes, kale, fennel, and tomatoes.  To the broth, at the direction of the inimitable Diana Henry, I added a generous pinch of saffron, a ribbon of orange zest, and a few sprigs of thyme…et voilà! Niçoise stew.

Homemade rouille, bolstered and brightened by tomato paste and lemon juice, respectively, added body and nuance to the soup.  And the Gruyère at the bottom of my bowl melted into the hot broth and clung to the vegetables in silky strands.  Was I gilding the lily?  Maybe, but then again, when is cheese ever a bad idea?

As I head out into this New York day filled with appointments and obligations, it does my heart good to know that a pot of leftover soup is waiting in the fridge. As Louis Carroll wisely wrote:

Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish,
Game, or any other dish?
Who would not give all else for two
pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?
Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?
Beau – ootiful Soo – oop!
Beau – ootiful Soo – oop!
Soo – oop of the e – e – evening,
Beautiful, beautiful Soup!

First everything was gray and still.  The sky was gray, the grass was gray with dew, the light was gray, and the wind held its breath.

Then sharp streaks of green came into the eastern sky.  If there was a little cloud, it turned pink.  Laura and Mary sat on the damp, cold rock, hugging their chilly legs.  They rested their chins on their knees and watched…But they never could see when the sky first began to be pink.

The sky was very faintly pink, then it was pinker.  The color went higher up in the sky.  It grew brighter and deeper.  It blazed like fire, and suddenly the little cloud was glittering gold.  In the center of the blazing color, on the flat edge of the earth, a tiny sliver of sun appeared.  It was a short streak of white fire.  Suddenly the whole sun bounded up, round and huge, far bigger than the ordinary sun and throbbing with so much light that its roundness almost burst.

Laura couldn’t help blinking.  While she blinked just once, the sky turned blue, the golden cloud vanished.  The everyday sun shone over the prairie grasses where thousands of birds were flying and twittering.

–Laura Ingalls Wilder, On the Banks of Plum Creek

These days, I am most drawn to forthright, sturdy food: roasted chicken, vegetable soup with homemade stock, and sausages with white beans and tomatoes have all graced our table in recent weeks.  All these slow roasts and gentle simmers have helped me embrace winter this year, rather than grumble about the cold, damp weather.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been re-reading the Little House series, but I’ve been reflecting on abundance quite a bit lately.

The attic was a lovely place to play.  The large, round, colored pumpkins made beautiful chairs and tables.  The red peppers and the onions dangled overhead.  The hams and venison hung in their paper wrappings, and all the bunches of dried herbs, the spicy herbs for cooking and the bitter herbs for medicine, gave the place a dusty-spicy smell.

Often the wind howled outside with a cold and lonesome sound.  But in the attic…everything was snug and cosy.

–Laura Ingalls Wilder, Little House In The Big Woods

Laura Ingalls Wilder’s account of pioneer life in the 1800s is an inspiring reminder that a well-stocked pantry and the company of loved ones are the best kind of riches.  As we settle deeper into winter, I wish you many meals that nourish both your spirit and stomach.

A sonata is not the passing of geese, it is not a stream’s noise, nor the sound of a nightingale.  A violin does not speak, does not  chatter.  The catastrophe of a symphony’s wild end is not a storm breaking upon land.  It is not the shuddering and sundering of a house.  But it is in part, she would say, the understanding of these things.  You must be brutal, terrible, but with great sympathy, sympathy for all things, and yet no mercy.  Was that why the government wanted no music?  Because music was the only thing with any religion to it?  –Jesse Ball, The Curfew

The oysters were cold and tasted clean and briny, echoing the Puget Sound outside our window.  The Muscadet mirrored the brightness of the lemon, and the flavor of the ocean lingered on my tongue. Everything was quiet.  Chef Eyelashes grinned.  With one glorious bite, I’d become an oyster-lover for life.

Several years (and relationships) later, I traveled with my boyfriend to wine country in California. The September evening was crisp and I wore a wool dress to our dinner at the French Laundry. Our first course was Thomas Keller’s signature dish, “Oysters and Pearls,” described as a ‘Sabayon’ of Pearl Tapioca with Island Creek Oysters and Sturgeon Caviar.  The Schramsberg blanc de blanc we were drinking clarified and intensified the dish’s delicate richness, and I pronounced “Oysters and Pearls” the best thing I’d ever eaten.  Later that night, my boyfriend became my fiancé.

Just a week or two ago, the weather in New York finally turned wintery, and I found myself nestled in a back corner table at a Brooklyn haunt for dinner.  I was overstuffed from holiday excesses but still craved something festive; I ordered a half-dozen oysters on the half shell, this time with an ice-cold beer in a frosty mug as accompaniment.  I happily slurped down my Long Island Blue Points and was overtaken by the same rhapsodic silence that followed my very first oyster.

This time, the man grinning at me from across the table was my husband.

And thank heaven for that.

Last year I received a beautiful cookbook as a gift: Roast Figs, Sugar Snow by Diana Henry.  The book’s hearty wintertime recipes were interspersed with gorgeous photographs and vivid, in-praise-of-eating excerpts from authors like Laura Ingalls Wilder, Italo Calvino, Robert Frost, and Colette.  I read the book cover-to-cover and made the Swedish Thursday soup with split peas and ham, then set about learning more about Diana Henry, an Irish food writer and cook.

I found and ordered two more cookbooks by Henry, which immediately became indispensable resources in our Brooklyn kitchen.  I would go so far as to say that, if you were to have only one cookbook in your home, you’d do well to own either Plenty or Pure Simple Cooking.  Henry’s prose and recipes are practical, unassuming, and delicious.

She is a major advocate of oven-roasting, a nearly effortless way to serve a meal that is at once rib-sticking, homey, elegant, and sometimes even exotic (I am given, here, to a profusion of adjectives–forgive me!).  Oven-roasting is a very simple concept, but the resulting flavors are nuanced and eminently satisfying.

Nearly every recipe in Plenty and Pure Simple Cooking is appended with a variation or two, which means that an Italian-style roast chicken with rosemary and balsamic vinegar can easily become instead a Catalan roast chicken with pimenton, preserved lemon, and black olives.

As these winter days grow ever-colder (14° F today!? Sheesh.), the humble bounty of oven-roasted meats and vegetables warms both the home and the soul.  Happy cooking, happy eating, and Happy New Year!

 

 

Catalan-Style Baked Chicken – adapted from Diana Henry’s Pure Simple Cooking

Marinate 8 chicken thighs in 1/4 C olive oil, 1 Tbsp. pimenton (smoked Spanish paprika), 5 crushed garlic cloves, & the finely sliced flesh of 1/2 preserved lemon, plus 2 Tbsp. juice from the jar of lemons.

Put into a roasting pan with 2 lbs. unpeeled sweet potatoes, cut into big chunks, & 2 red onions, cut into wedges.  Season with salt & pepper.

Bake in a preheated 400°F oven for 45 minutes, until cooked through, adding a handful of pitted black olives & the shredded zest of the lemon 15 mins. before the end.  

Sprinkle with chopped fresh parsley & mint or cilantro & serve.

The four-way stop was, to my 9-year-old self, a daunting intersection to navigate.  I found the traffic rules intimidating, and usually just stood nervously on the sidewalk until a kindly driver waved me across, at which point I ran for my life and exhaled with relief upon reaching the other side.

All these years later, I still love New York City and the public library.  I’m also happy to report that I no longer find four-way stops to be challenging.  The intersection of art and commerce, on the other hand, is riddled with complicated questions: how can I make a living as a musician?  How are the arts funded in the United States?  How can I support the arts?  How can I garner support for my own creative endeavors?

The answers to these questions have never been definitive, but KickStarter provides some interesting options.  KickStarter is an online platform that offers unique ways to both support and be supported by the creative community.  I’ve backed several projects on KickStarter, and I’m also smack dab in the middle of my own campaign as I prepare to make my debut solo album, The Great City.

What I like about KickStarter is that it’s a two-way street.  You make a pledge to someone’s project, and you get something in return.  The “something” that you get, as per KickStarter rules, has to be generated by the project you’re supporting.  In my case, people who pledge toward my album will receive signed advance copies of The Great City, copies of my Christmas CD (in time for the holidays, of course!), album art, liner note credits, and in-home concerts, among other rewards.

So today, on Cyber Monday, please consider joining my KickStarter campaign and becoming a part of my album.  When you visit my KickStarter page and make your pledge, you’ll be giving and receiving the gift of music; what better way to spread holiday cheer?  I’ll meet you there, on the corner of art and commerce.  Happy holidays!

…Once a year, a city’s architectural, cultural, and horticultural variables come into alignment with the solar course in such a way that men and women passing each other on the thoroughfares feel an unusual sense of romantic promise. Like Christmastime in Vienna, or April in Paris.

That’s the way we New Yorkers feel about fall. Come September, despite the waning hours, despite the leaves succumbing to the weight of gray autumnal rains, there is a certain relief to having the long days of summer behind us; and there’s a paradoxical sense of rejuvenation in the air.

…Sitting in the jazz bars or the supper clubs, the worn and the well-to-do would be nodding their heads in smiling acknowledgment…that somehow, despite the coming of winter, autumn in New York promises an effervescent romance which makes one look to the Manhattan skyline and feel: It’s good to live it again.

–Amor Towles, The Rules of Civility

To that end, today’s post is an interview with my friend Alison, a writer, yogi, and food-lover.  For the duration of four months of intensive yoga training, Alison embraced vegetarianism, and she’s graciously agreed to discuss her experience of living meat-free.  Welcome, Alison!

While in yoga training, you spent four months as a vegetarian. Were dairy and eggs permitted, or did you go vegan?
I ate both dairy and eggs—a LOT of eggs, actually while I was a vegetarian. It was not required by our yoga training to be a vegetarian, but it was recommended and meat was not allowed in the studio, so I decided to go for a full-time vegetarian diet, but I wasn’t ready for veganism.

Was your foray into meat-free living a radical departure from your normal diet, or more of a minor adjustment?
Well, initially I thought it was just going to be a minor adjustment, but that just shows how little I was paying attention to what I was eating! Suddenly, I found myself at a loss as to what to eat besides pasta… that’s when I discovered vegetables. You might wonder how I’ve lived 30 years and am only now discovering vegetables—but I was sadly a “hater.” I associated vegetables with over-steamed broccoli and tasteless salads. But I couldn’t just eat cheese pizza for 4 months—I mean, this yoga thing is about health right? So, I decided to put vegetables front and center on my plate and see what happened.

It turns out I am truly passionate about a few veggies—like kale, collard greens and swiss chard. They have a kind of richness about them that really satisfied me when I was craving meat. I also fell deeply in love with artichokes, ripe avocados and beefsteak tomotoes. I have to limit the avocados, though…they are like the butter of vegetables!

Were there specific cookbooks and/or recipes that you’ve found yourself using again and again?
Yes! Kale chips are a regular in our house—basically roasted kale with olive oil and salt. I can’t remember where that recipe came from, but it’s so simple, I make them every week. Also, Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything Vegetarian was a lifesaver. My husband, Randy, really got on board with the veggie thing and he loved cooking out of this book. He made homemade veggie burgers from Bittman, and some really great stir-fries. It turns out the key with stir-fries is to cook the ingredients separately! Who knew?!

Did you eat any prepared meatless products, i.e. veggie burgers, “soysage,” etc.? If so, what were your favorites? Your least favorites?
Randy and I really got hooked on Morningstar Farms Breakfast Links. I almost like them more than regular breakfast sausage—they are so flavorful and you don’t have any of that gristly “what-is-that-weird-texture-oh-my-god-I don’t want to know” bites, like with pork sausage. We ate a lot of tofu, which is fine, but I’m not exactly ecstatic about it. We tried our hand at Seitan, but never got the hang of it. There really is an art to meat-alternative products, and I guess my heart just wasn’t in learning it.

How has your stint as a vegetarian informed and/or affected your current eating habits?
It’s certainly made me more interested in vegetables and recipes that feature them. After yoga school though, I started eating meat again and I feel good about that. The first “yama” or “restraint” in the eight limbs of the yogic path is “Ahimsa,” which means non-harming. Ahimsa is the principle that most people point to in yoga to explain their vegetarianism/veganism, and it’s a wonderful way to practice that principle. But there are other ways to practice ahimsa—and one of them is towards your body if it’s not reacting well to vegetarianism.

I try to only eat meat when I know where it has come from and how it has been treated—and I eat less red meat, though I have such a taste for it. Yoga is about accepting where you are in the present moment, and at this moment, this girl still loves a rare steak. Maybe at some other point in my life, I will transcend my attachement to roast chicken with lemon and shallots, or confit of duck (this seems doubtful) or maybe I will simply grow beyond the need to follow my attachments. I hope so—after all, yoga is about going beyond desire into Samadhi (basically union with divine consciousness).

Learning about my eating habits and paying attention to what I eat and why is an important step on my journey—and I believe, like so much of life, what we learn from experience is different for everyone. So, even if being a vegetarian is not a path you want to take, I would say that you can still practice being enlightened about food just by being fully present with what you eat. In any event, those four months as a vegetarian made me more joyful about eating all sorts of simple, natural foods, and that must be a step in the right direction.