For some reason, every summer I start craving portobello mushrooms and eggplant. I'm not sure if it's because they're both so good on the grill (which is sad, because I don't have a grill), if it's because they're in season (though you can get them any time of year at our wonderful new Harris Teeter in the neighborhood). Maybe it's just tradition; who knows. But every summer, all I can think about (besides tomatoes) is portobello mushrooms and eggplant - and preferably a way to eat them both together.
So last night I created a pasta to celebrate the two. As luck would have it, it turned out great and Josh decided it was definitely a make-again. That, added to the fact that it was simple to make, means it will doubtless become a summer favorite. Here's how you make it:
Start a pot of water for pasta - I used linguine.
Thinly slice some eggplant - I used a whole baby eggplant, which was about right for two people - lightly fry it in some olive oil until it's soft and golden brown on both sides. (Side note: eggplants soak up a LOT of oil, so I start with a little bit of oil and add as necessary - if you put in all the oil at once it'll all soak up and you'll have to add even more). Drain the eggplant on paper towels.
In the same pan, saute some roughly-chopped portobello mushroom (we used one big cap and kept the pieces pretty big so you get the juicy, meaty flavor of the mushroom). When the mushrooms start releasing their water, add a chopped tomato (or two - no rules here) and the eggplant.
Let the flavors mellow together for a few minutes, over medium heat, add some chopped rosemary (if you want - garlic would be good to, but a bit heavier) and several cubes of feta cheese. Add some of the pasta water to help create a sauce (using pasta water instead of regular water will add some starch to the vegetables and help the sauce thicken a little bit). Let the vegetables cook until the water evaporates a little and you're left with a sauce that looks like a ragu.
Serve over pasta. Couldn't be easier.
My last night in Kenya's port city of Mombasa, I went out with old friends from high school days for "quality best Swahili dishes" at a roadside eatery in the middle of town.
The food, as the sign promised, was indeed "quality best," replete with chapati mayai (the Indian cum Kenyan flatbread stuffed with spiced, scrambled eggs), grilled tilapia (severely overcooked by Western standards, but perfectly crunchy on the outside and meaty on the inside by Kenyan standards) and an abundance of seasoned and grilled meats, fresh salads and more mandazis (fried, slightly sweet, Kenyan dough puffs) than anyone could ever ask for (though we did ask for an extra serving to take home).
Wash it all down with a Bitter Lemon (or two) and finish with some late-night shisha in the company of wonderful friends and you've got the makings of a perfect evening.
As a side note, upon seeing my pictures, my sister-in-law Rachel wisely asked how one could have "Swahili" food. Swahili (or Kiswahili), the national language in Kenya and a number of other East African countries, comes from the name of the people (Waswahili) that live along the coasts of Eastern Africa. The word "Swahili" comes from the Arabic "sawahil," meaning "coasts."
I'm finally back from a month's travel in Kenya and Sudan. While my trip was productive (I was there for work) not to mention a ton of fun (seeing old friends), by the time the month was up I was more than ready to be home.
One thing I'm already missing, though, is the delicious food I indulged in in Nairobi (Sudan, not so much). Kenya is not known for its food (and as much as I love sukuma wiki and ugali, I understand why); but Nairobi is host to a variety of "ethnic" restaurants. You can, of course, get Indian and Ethiopian food here in the States, but it's different in Kenya. In the States, Indian restaurants, for the most part, cater to American who love Indian food. That's also true, though to a lesser extent, I think, with Ethiopian restaurants. But in Kenya, the Indian restaurants are run by Indians and cater to the large Indian community in Kenya. The same goes for Ethiopian restaurants.
So when I'm in Kenya, I eat a little Kenyan food to remind me of home and to fill the craving, but mostly I eat Indian and Ethiopian food to my heart's content (and sometimes beyond, I admit).
Below are some pictures of a memory-filled evening spent with Kim and Steven (Wheaton friends that happened to be in Nairobi that weekend - Kim lives in Kisumu and Steven lives in Jakarta) at Habesha, my favorite Ethiopian restaurant in town. and an outing with my wonderful family at a hole in the wall Indian restaurant in Westlands.
Let the Tusker flow!
I just dropped Josh off at the airport. Again.
Over the course of May and June Josh will have been in the UK twice, in Cincinnati once and in Atlanta once, and I'll have been in Pennsylvania, Indianapolis and in Sudan for almost a month. In other words, Reagan/Dulles goodbyes are becoming a regular occurrence. But that doesn't make them any more fun.
Enter comfort food. Often, my comfort food is Israeli Breakfast (see below). But sometimes coming home to an empty apartment, putting a meal together (even if it's easy as Israeli Breakfast) and doing the dishes before getting back to the laptop to do more work just seems too depressing.
Instead, I go to one of my favorite places in the city - the docks at the South West waterfront. Last week I had a shrimp taco (with avocado, lettuce and tomato) and crab balls. Tonight called for something even more homey - clam chowder and steamed shrimp with a good dousing of Old Bay. Sure, if you ordered them in a restaurant you'd probably send them back, but somehow it's exactly what I want when I'm in this kind of mood.
So I go to the docks, get some shrimp (or raw oysters, or crab legs, or clams) and then take off my shoes and sit on the docks and watch the sun set. Something about the docks feels very urban and gritty, but somehow they're also one of the most peaceful places in DC.
Besides, where else can you get a shrimp taco for $3 while fending off sea gulls and secretly making fun of the absurdly pretentious (Osprey II) or overly poetic (Tomorrow's Dawn) vessels anchored in the marina? Nowhere, I bet.
Josh heads across the pond for Oxford tomorrow, so to celebrate trans-Atlantic relations (or something) we made crepes!
Those of you who know me know that I'm not really a dessert person (unless it's cheescake, cheetos win over sweets any time), but bananas and dark chocolate chips all wrapped in a deliciously thin crepe topped with a scoop (or two) of vanilla ice cream and fresh strawberries is about as good as it gets. This will have to become a Weissburg tradition...
This time of year, I can't wait to have fresh fruits and vegetables again. As much as I love root vegetables (turnips were my new favorite this year), it's nice to have, as my mom would say, "all those colorful vitamins coursing through your bloodstream."
But when the weather won't cooperate, I try to make the most of it; as I did a few weeks ago. Slow-roasted tomatoes are the best way to bring summer to a dreary day. And this is the best time to do it, too, because slow-roasting brings out the best in tomatoes - even mediocre ones. It's also one of the easiest things to make: quarter some tomatoes, drizzle with some olive oil, top with whatever aromatics you want (I used garlic and basil, but you could do rosemary, thyme, or leave the herbs out completely) and sprinkle with a touch of salt and a touch of sugar. Then roast over low heat (about 250 degrees) for several hours, until their flavors are concentrated - it's almost impossible to go wrong with these.
The tomatoes will keep in the fridge for a few days. I eat them plain, add to pasta, throw in a salad or put them into a sandwich; anywhere you would put regular tomatoes at their peak.
This is just too good not to share. A little cynical and vitriolic, yes, but pure genius.
So, Josh and I aren't big anniversary types (shout out to Becky: Ew. Sick. Gross), but we decided that it would be fun to cook a fun dinner together on Tuesday - our 2-year anniversary.
So, here's our menu:
Appetizer:
Apple & Manchego salad (adapted from a tapa by the same name at Jaleo), dressed with a champagne vinaigrette.
Main Course:
Branzino Me Alati, a whole Branzino (small variety of Sea Bass) baked in what amounts to a sea salt cast;
Rosemary & thyme roasted new potatoes;
Arugula salad with shallots and a (different) champagne vinaigrette.
Dessert:
Blackberries in Mascarpone cream.
All to be served with a light, crisp Bollini 1997 Pinot Grigio Grave del Friuli Reserve.
I'll post pictures when it (hopefully) turns out! (Update: It turned out!)
Josh and I rack up, on average, a $100 grocery bill every week. I'm ashamed to say it - it's an incredible amount of money for just two people for (mostly) food - but it's true. I guess that's what happens when you pick up a delicious-looking block of Manchego from the cheese guy at Eastern Market and discover that the thing just cost you $8.50.
So, when I'm trying to be good, and save some money, I make lentils. They're a completely underrated legume - I used to think of a gray, tasteless mass when I thought of lentil soup - but they've recently become one of my favorite things to cook (and one of Josh's favorite things to eat). Below is my take on Indian-inspired lentil soup.
Ingredients
1 cup of lentils (any kind will do)
1 quart of chicken stock or water (or a combination of the two)
1 to 2 -inch piece fresh ginger root, chopped
4-5 garlic cloves, chopped
A big handful of fresh cilantro, roughly chopped
Some turmeric (it's just for color, so if you don't have it, you can skip it)
One dried Ancho chili, reconstituted, chopped*
Some chopped carrots
Lemon juice, to taste
Olive oil for sauteeing
Garnish with whatever you have. I like fresh cilantro, goat cheese or Labneh (or sour cream, if that's what I have around - though that's rare) and chili powder or paprika.
*On the Ancho chili: you could add any other chili or even chili powder or paprkia, instead, but the Ancho is nice and gives it a bit of a smoky flavor. I bet a chili in Adobo sauce (from a can) would be just as good. If you've got to go with a powdered spice, I'd go with pimenton, the spanish paprika that also has a smoky flavor. Really, though, anything for a bit of heat would be fine.
Method
Saute the ginger and garlic until fragrant (30 seconds or so), add the onions, carrots and turmeric and saute until the onions are translucent. Add the lentils, stock/water, Ancho chili, and cilantro. Simmer until the lentils are soft; 25 to 30 minutes. Add lemon juice to taste. Garnish with any or all of the above.
Total Time: 35 minutes
Yield: Makes 2 servings.
To Serve
I usually serve this with some crusty bread and maybe some wilted greens (kale, spinach, bok choy - whatever) on the side. Delicious!
In no particular order:
At Home in Provence, by Patricia Wells, the maven of French cooking. But this isn't that rich, creamy, over-the-top food that I think of when I think of French cooking. It's simple, fresh, farm-house French cooking - food the way it was meant to be if you happen to be lucky enough to live in Provence. It's where I get recipes like the Fettuccine with Roquefort, Lemon Zest and Rosemary, that takes all of 15 minutes to put together.
The Improvisational Cook, by Sally Schneider. Josh picked up this beautiful cookbook (which really is more of an inspirational suggestion book for cooking) for me when he was last out in LA. It's full of delicious ideas and pretty pictures - as much as you could ask for in a cookbook.
The Complete Mediterranean, part of The Beautiful Cookbook series. All the Tuscan, Greek, Moroccan, Turkish, Lebanese, etc... recipes you could ask for. I often find that I need to adjust the recipes a bit to give them more flavor (I think they've been watered down a bit for American taste), but it's a great instructional for basic Mediterranean cooking.
And then of course there's anything by Mark Bittman (How to Cook Everything, How to Cook Everything Vegetarian, The Best Recipes in the World) and James Peterson (Splendid Soups, Fish & Shellfish) and a variety of ethnic cookbooks.
With these, and of course scoping online, I'm a happy cook. (Click on the pictures for links.)
