tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58406749818054486572024-03-13T15:07:30.733-07:00Unabashed KitchenAn experiment in all things I've never done beforeSarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-55918007039784601572012-01-05T15:31:00.001-08:002012-01-05T15:59:28.973-08:00A &apos;winter&apos; afternoon<br />
It is 65 degrees, the sliding doors are open to the balcony and blue sky, the neighbors' lemon and orange trees are in full fruit, I'm listening to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ZW7tsxCnnk">this</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C4DK4_TMgnk&ob=av2e">this</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f5M_Ttstbgs">this</a>, and life is good.<br />
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Today was also a weird coincidence of my colorful meals matching the rest of my life...<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> Beet, clementine, and avocado salad Avocado on toast</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> (and my purple Rich+Skinny jeans) (and my beloved green kitchen chairs)</span></div>
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The salad was an attempt at this one from the January 2012 Runner's World, though it was pretty bland-- and looks nothing like the picture, even if you try. As is my opinion with almost everything, I think it'd be better on toast.<br />
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Speaking of which, I bought $11 walnut oil for this RW recipe (and decided, wisely, to nix the raspberry vinegar and inch-long piece of black licorice. Come on, people... I can't afford to spend $25 on specialty things, it just needs to taste good.) Back to the walnut oil: I bought it, it didn't make a difference, and now my pantry is all dressed up with nowhere to go. Enter the miracle of avocado on toast: two pieces of whole-wheat sourdough, a quarter of an avocado, and a drizzle of walnut oil, and behold:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvx9EvCTdgrwrRYuUEj5eMcrNUP51c-e4RjhRnudoPtnhk5U7oo7stN8I8_EAwLShjgSXis4pwBg9v5c8od4hsfQcRbMgMAgHaJOQjgAGN4AbZ6MKRjwxhYzXFUFDGhZtF3Mm3zbugndMz/s640/blogger-image-1531911164.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXlK6M9OLJGtMznXzMmTb7kYqHl4l2woAlagXmh2H-qwblrHAjojZuD10eCSKqi7n8-rn9yclAzlcGfjWR6xa6AQea5-EWy3gdmSTLUcShSQe8qoC5HRCfx0h2HSfpQbktM0tBU4ND4SnS/s1600/blogger-image--1477584984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXlK6M9OLJGtMznXzMmTb7kYqHl4l2woAlagXmh2H-qwblrHAjojZuD10eCSKqi7n8-rn9yclAzlcGfjWR6xa6AQea5-EWy3gdmSTLUcShSQe8qoC5HRCfx0h2HSfpQbktM0tBU4ND4SnS/s640/blogger-image--1477584984.jpg" /></a><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvx9EvCTdgrwrRYuUEj5eMcrNUP51c-e4RjhRnudoPtnhk5U7oo7stN8I8_EAwLShjgSXis4pwBg9v5c8od4hsfQcRbMgMAgHaJOQjgAGN4AbZ6MKRjwxhYzXFUFDGhZtF3Mm3zbugndMz/s640/blogger-image-1531911164.jpg" /><br />
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</div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-75525445578288699542012-01-04T19:13:00.000-08:002012-01-05T15:30:10.512-08:00On returns.I'm back after a prolonged absence, once again, though I promise it's not for lack of cooking. Though the post-work evening light during the winter provides for some spectacular sunset views from my kitchen, it makes for pretty sorry lighting. And, as it tends to go, no pictures= no posts.<br />
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The nestle-down season of winter is, however, pretty good for one thing (not skiing-- we're not discussing my Christmas 'ski vacation' without an <i>inch</i> of the white stuff in sight.) Nope-- it's cooking music. Here are a few of my favorite combinations over the past month:<br />
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<a href="http://bakingbites.com/2006/04/sunday-brunch-coconut-banana-macadamia-pancakes/">Banana pancakes</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sy3lJIxyZ60">Bon Iver</a>, for Saturday mornings<br />
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<a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2007/12/a-slice-and-bake-cookie-palette/">Sliced</a>, <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2011/03/tiny-poppy-seed-taschen/">seeded</a> & <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2007/12/espresso-chocolate-shortbread-cookies/">shortbread</a> <a href="http://chocolateandzucchini.com/archives/2008/05/french_meringues.php">cookies</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-J6ldkgAIw">She & Him</a>, for the family gatherings<br />
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<a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Red-Cabbage-Apple-and-Caraway-Soup-104088">Apple, cabbage, & caraway soup</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qdM8WdTfH4">Tallest Man on Earth</a>, for sticking to my New Year's ResolutionsSarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-81972311984398691852011-11-23T09:00:00.000-08:002011-11-23T20:33:28.050-08:00Repurposing<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBPaYvMgJS7FZL7Mj9QsFbdtMumDiZz10Jv4RmrgO3nlnIh1t9f9x9KfiLGw1DeLVQFjPpHX_Mv_QdsBEvtH0R4T9QSBIO9qPErPVXxOocJIljUbLCANDZkbbMDxTntLU8Z9358NThq_m1/s640/blogger-image-354559040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
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</a>Being post-college puts you in that weird place of being between families. You identify less as a child in the in which family you were raised, though not quite an adult responsible for your own family. Instead, birthdays and some holidays get celebrated with and the crazy community "family" of friends that you may get to choose more than biological family, though there still seems to be a quirky Uncle Paul in the corner, a loud Aunt Sally who drinks too much, poor cousin Ben who will always be the butt of all the jokes, and more than enough food and revelry to go around.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">For our Friends-giving, I judiciously chose a harvest salad as my contribution because 1) it's freaking delicious, 2) it balances the creamed corn, mashed potatoes, biscuits, stuffing, and sweet potatoes that were other offerings, and 3) I don't feel as guilty eating leftovers because this isn't my only Thanksgiving feast this year. It's like pre-gaming family Thanksgiving with more Thanksgiving. That, just like the real thing, leads to an overload and ensuing Thanksgiving hangover if you're not too careful. Not that I'm one to argue with that. I just like to keep it at one hangover per weekend, thankyouverymuch. </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My contributions:</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Harvest Salad</b></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1/2 cup of Gorgonzola cheese, crumbled</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1/2 cup of dried cranberries</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1/2 cup of spiced pecans (I used TJ's Sweet and Spicy pecans, then chopped them up a little smaller)</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1 Asian pear, sliced (I also cut each slice into thirds to make them more bite-size)</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">a half-pound of fresh baby spinach</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For the vinaigrette:</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1 Tbsp. balsamic vinegar</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">a pinch of sugar</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">a couple grinds of fresh black pepper</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Combine all the dry components of the salad, emulsify the vinaigrette, and toss the salad in dressing. The dressed salad actually kept surprisingly well-- the picture below shows it on day three.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Classic Cranberry Sauce</b></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Adapted from <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2006/11/cranberries-candied-fruity-and-drunk/">Smitten Kitchen</a></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3/4 cup granulated sugar</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1 cup water</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">1 (12-ounce) bag of fresh cranberries, rinsed and drained</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Zest of one orange, plus a squeeze or two of the juice</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Combine water and sugar and bring to a boil. Add cranberries and orange zest and return to a boil. Boil <i>gently*</i> for about 12 minutes. Add a squeeze or two of orange juice (I squeezed one slice). Cover and cool completely at room temperature, then refrigerate until it is ready to be served.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*I didn't, and ended up with burned sugar in the drip pan under the burner, which turned to black stickiness, which turned to char, which turned to a smoking emergency. This was also on a Saturday night before heading out in attempts to be ahead of the game, which slightly backfired.</span></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I didn't take any photos of the actual preparation process (see above, re: shitshow scramble to get everything together), but buying two too many pears, two too many oranges, and having leftovers of everything you brought to dinner combined with the fact that you're not even going to be home for the next five days, and you get creative. Maybe I should've just called this blog "creating under pressure." Regardless, orange slices and black tea go excellently with that old chocolate zucchini bread (which froze very well, actually) for breakfast, a hunk of sourdough bread paired with the remainders of the salad made for a delicious lunch, and dessert was half an Asian pear, sliced and browned in 1/2 Tbsp. of butter (just enough to soften and sweeten it) with warmed-up cranberry sauce for dessert. Let's not discuss dinner, which was a disaster of an omelet that turned into burned scrambled eggs. Well, I'm trying.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And one final Fall color picture...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</a>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-47065255215266997012011-11-21T14:51:00.001-08:002011-11-21T15:03:07.725-08:00Weekend in reviewFall colors, Farmer's Market, hazy hangover memories, and fresh pumpkin pie. Not pictured: black rain clouds, Big Game victory celebrations, dancing, and a 20-person "Friends-giving" by candlelight. Of all weekends, this is one for the books.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8wGsLL2QfaEiWhuJqyCOYieqEakcDtupPXT6C3eImCi4AIARJIyLUJqPSoo2DG7ddTCNIeSdFwYYq2Bb26oX_TDspDOOdiWKrigHoOpJ2lpAF56A-xSiOl5cWznYxvQPjSYPT7_gOpK2/s640/blogger-image-56650031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8wGsLL2QfaEiWhuJqyCOYieqEakcDtupPXT6C3eImCi4AIARJIyLUJqPSoo2DG7ddTCNIeSdFwYYq2Bb26oX_TDspDOOdiWKrigHoOpJ2lpAF56A-xSiOl5cWznYxvQPjSYPT7_gOpK2/s640/blogger-image-56650031.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHAfMW2n9wnywYpcg_BPYVwLtVCiomGE6wj_2wJHsimvKbCG4X8jpR0cc5rihOolL72JgeY8bZCSfhAknCQX7ZqaiNOJ1mOmXnmdIkbaptgORs4v_6FF8YfGkMhyphenhyphenNxP8RZFG1oFniKelpK/s640/blogger-image-578520739.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHAfMW2n9wnywYpcg_BPYVwLtVCiomGE6wj_2wJHsimvKbCG4X8jpR0cc5rihOolL72JgeY8bZCSfhAknCQX7ZqaiNOJ1mOmXnmdIkbaptgORs4v_6FF8YfGkMhyphenhyphenNxP8RZFG1oFniKelpK/s640/blogger-image-578520739.jpg" /></a></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-35390677357443557342011-11-17T23:42:00.001-08:002011-11-23T20:38:03.485-08:00Found: the perfect holiday dress<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm trying (clearly, not hard enough) to curtail impulse buys, but sometimes the perfect dress just comes along and I can't help myself. This dress from <a href="http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=22932032&catId=CLOTHES-DRESSES&pushId=CLOTHES-DRESSES&popId=CLOTHES&navCount=6&color=009&isProduct=true&fromCategoryPage=true&isSubcategory=true&subCategoryId=CLOTHES-DRESSES&templateType=subCategory">Anthropologie</a> is perfect for my cousin's winter wedding, and I'm psyched about it. I think I'm going to plan a holiday party or two aka more opportunities to wear it!</div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-38366221758064308722011-11-15T09:00:00.000-08:002011-11-15T09:00:03.003-08:00Persimmon and Pomegranate Salad<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm on an Alice Waters kick. It's true. Because if the woman can invent an amazing salad that tastes like the best of summer and fall out of TWO ingredients (plus two extras) for a total of $6 and it's easy to make ahead for the entire week of lunches well, then you've got a winner. I bought her cookbook specifically because of this salad, used it for only that, and then shelved it and forgot about it for over a year until last week, when my fall craving came on strong. So the salad is back with a vengeance. I've eaten it--in all its various incarnations-- every day since I bought the makings nine days ago. Maybe now I can branch out to the other 386 pages of recipes...</div>
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<b>Persimmon and Pomegranate Salad</b></div>
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Adapted from Alice Waters' <span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">The Art of Simple Food</span></div>
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3 ripe fuyu persimmons</div>
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1/2 pomegranate</div>
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a few large handfuls of frisée (curly endive) or spring mix <i>*optional</i></div>
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a small handful of spiced pecans (I used Trader Joe's Sweet and Spicy Pecans)</div>
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For the vinaigrette:</div>
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1 Tbsp. red wine vinegar</div>
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2 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil</div>
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salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste (don't skimp on the pepper... it adds the best spicy kick to the sweet persimmon and tart pomegranate)</div>
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1. Cut the tops off, peel, and cut up the persimmons.</div>
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2. Seed the pomegranate. I do this by cutting the pomegranate in half, then scoring each half down the middle of the skin. Submerge the halves in a bowl of water and break apart to avoid the juice from staining <i>everything</i>. The pith will float, the seeds will sink. Skim off the pith and pour the water off the seeds. You can use this same bowl to dress/assemble your salad.</div>
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3. Dress salad with vinaigrette and serve.</div>
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Variations:</div>
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As a fruit salad, cut the persimmon into slices and top with pomegranates and freshly cracked pepper.</div>
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As a lunch or side salad, cube the persimmon, mix with pomegranate seeds, and serve with frisée, spiced pecans, and a piece of warm, crusty bread.</div>
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To make it in a batch for a week of lunches, I use 4 persimmons and a whole pomegranate, dress the fruit, and store it in an airtight bowl in the fridge. In the morning, spoon some of the fruit over a container of spring mix, top with pecans, and you're good to go.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiub2mbQ2xrFuGd-vaVGomCKEsJbM2TgnF2IMcIkt8u7Jsn6GML2T8gVdFnQnlftahtqjqrmN5sQn2z7-jIFCc1q2X4KQF8hssGXUst-HKzJlOswJrRRSb4R6U7ZiDqx6nRQFsKPjUJDki6/s640/blogger-image-1628459956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiub2mbQ2xrFuGd-vaVGomCKEsJbM2TgnF2IMcIkt8u7Jsn6GML2T8gVdFnQnlftahtqjqrmN5sQn2z7-jIFCc1q2X4KQF8hssGXUst-HKzJlOswJrRRSb4R6U7ZiDqx6nRQFsKPjUJDki6/s640/blogger-image-1628459956.jpg" /></a></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-79171068068007630992011-11-14T15:04:00.001-08:002011-11-21T15:20:19.469-08:00Weekend in Review.<div style="text-align: left;">
November 13. Reuniting with my oldest friend visiting on a business trip... amazing how it only takes minutes before a resurgence of our same old goofiness. Not pictured: pizza, salad, and gelato in North Beach, noses in books at City Lights bookstore, and the weekend bookended by two coffee and pastry dates with another friend visiting for a wedding. Reunions abound :)<br />
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<br /></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-25843018846687466422011-11-11T19:59:00.001-08:002011-11-12T00:52:09.423-08:00Searching for flavorIn my first class of Freshman year of college-- a class called Classical Cultures, where we studied Plato, Aristotle, and the like-- my professor, a Jesuit, read the eighteen of us bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Honors students the opening passage from the introduction of Alice Waters' <span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">The Art of Simple Food</span>:<br />
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"... I was searching for flavor, not philosophy, but what I found was that the people who were growing the tastiest food were organic farmers in my own backyard." </div>
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Now really, this whole thing seems absurd. A priest, in a suit, reading us a passage from a cookbook I'd never heard of. In a Philosophy & Classics course. Except that priest became one of my two closest mentors, that class became my inseparable, devoted group of friends, and that cookbook became both a love and a wealth of knowledge. Not unlike the other two, I suppose.<br />
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Two years later, I was halfway through an intensive Physics sequence of summer school, and my friend suggested we go eat our way through the City. We started at Mama's Cafe with a Norwegian omelet and French Toast, wandered over to Tartine for coffee and lemon tart, and ended up in Berkeley at a restaurant Jennifer had said she'd heard of. I had no idea where we were going, let alone where we were, so we arrived at 8pm on a Sunday-- her in jeans and a top, me in black leggings, flip flops, and a J. Crew sweatshirt. She asked if they had space for two, and they asked if we had a reservation. We said no. Within five minutes, we were in the upstairs dining area-- a treehouse, cabin-y sort of place-- cozied up between a wood-paneled wall and a young married couple dressed to the nines. I ordered the lamb-- the most melty, delicious lamb of my life-- and had a glass of red wine. So thank you, Chez Panisse, for not being too snobbish or inaccessible for a couple of curious college students. For being the most unassuming, perfect end to a day full of incredible eating. And for being one of the more memorable meals of my life-- if not only for the deliciousness but also for the laughable fact that I ate at Chez Panisse sans reservations in refined sweats.<br />
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Lemon Curd Tart and Espresso from Tartine</div>
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I had no idea this was the restaurant, the food culture, or the lifestyle I had been less-formally introduced to during my first timid weeks in the Bay Area, nor did I ever realize that I'd be making my home in this same wonderful region. Little did I know that the idea of searching for flavor, not philosophy pervades throughout my life: friends, careers, classes-- and obviously, eating. Things taste better, moments feel more perfect when they're unplanned, impromptu, organic. The standing dates I have with my housemates for dinner on Mondays and with ten friends for pub trivia on Wednesdays? Those are some of my favorite parts of each week. But the impromptu weekday breakfast with a friend visiting from out-of-town, the spontaneous texts, the weekends where the four of us decided to shove two couches together, binge on a box of leftover Halloween candy, and watch Modern Family for hours on end? Sometimes, they're even better. Moments like that create philosophies I hold. And here's the funny thing about being almost-23 and single: I'm putting myself into categories of things I like and hoping it's somehow original. All of a sudden, I'm very aware of who I am. Not just how I look, or how I'm perceived, but the kind of person I'm becoming. I can't really philosophize maturity, nor can I search for philosophy. I'm just looking for it in the details... searching for flavors, for enjoyable moments, for spontaneity and wow-I-can't-believe-we-pulled-that-off kind of hysterical moments. The fun stuff.</div>
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<br /></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-8693039588149093872011-11-06T21:51:00.001-08:002011-11-21T14:58:04.771-08:00Best weekend ever.<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Weekend Roundup from November 5. Hard to beat a weekend that starts like this:</div>
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Because carboloading pasta needed to be jazzed up a little </div>
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(with something that had no butter, protein, or fat, according to my Runner's World plan)</div>
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My best attempts to use up the remnants of that CSA box by halving <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2010/08/fresh-tomato-sauce/">this recipe</a>:<br />
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1.5 lbs heirloom tomatoes<br />
2 Tbsp. olive oil<br />
1/2 white onion<br />
1 small clove of garlic<br />
small bunch of stubby carrots<br />
pinch of salt<br />
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1. Blanche and peel the tomatoes by cutting a small X in the bottom, dropping them into boiling water for about 30 seconds, and ladling them out. Rinse under cold water, and peel back the skin. (This proved difficult for craggy heirlooms, so I re-blanched a few times.)<br />
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2. Squeeze the seeds out over a strainer/bowl. Reserve the juices and tomato pump. Coarsely chop the tomatoes.<br />
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3. Mince the onion, carrot, and garlic.<br />
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4. Sauté the carrots, onion, and garlic in the olive oil over medium heat. Add the tomatoes and bring to a simmer for 30-45 minutes. Add salt to taste.<br />
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Note: Mine was carrot and onion-y, which I think was delicious-- just not your typical pomodoro sauce, that's all. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjHkiM1NuAyOW4nGc-seubq7K-bM4zZQMIa2uUaJDGDqe0BIHK7t5KQlgfEeSxgvPSys9xxrWFgxieyjO2GEvQPfs3pc7IgsxQmNn0g5rgQ1_HXCetN7WspfqvYkdnPoTRb99RJlED3wc/s640/blogger-image--880429708.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjHkiM1NuAyOW4nGc-seubq7K-bM4zZQMIa2uUaJDGDqe0BIHK7t5KQlgfEeSxgvPSys9xxrWFgxieyjO2GEvQPfs3pc7IgsxQmNn0g5rgQ1_HXCetN7WspfqvYkdnPoTRb99RJlED3wc/s640/blogger-image--880429708.jpg" /></a></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-37915358374992917402011-10-24T17:30:00.000-07:002011-10-24T17:30:00.880-07:00Direction.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My wonderful roommates bought me my first-ever massage as a post-marathon treat. The massage was booked for 3:45pm at a yoga studio an hour away, near the beach. As my workday quickly dwindled, a plan slowly unfolded. </div>
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I started training for this marathon at almost exactly the same time I started dating someone. I guess it's fitting that both ended within a day of each other. I finished the marathon and thought, "What now?" The answer? I have no fucking clue. I lack a little direction right now, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to run around aimlessly. I'm infamous for my inability to relax. Not since I was conceived, my mom says, have I been able to sit still. I'm trying to be at peace with this whole ebb-and-flow thing, be okay with the fact that I'm actually going stir-crazy though I need to relax and let my body recover. Massage, beach, sunset... then rushing back home so we could go out to the bar for trivia like we do every week.<br />
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After my massage, I had a magazine, my MCAT book, and a decent craving for a hot cup of coffee. But instead of looking up beachside cafés, instead of a Point A-to-Point B direct route, I would just drive. I decided to follow the traffic, hugging the coast until I hit a nice little strip mall with a Starbucks inside a Safeway. I splurged on a Salted Caramel Mocha, got a bar of spiced chocolate, and treated myself to a sunset on the beach. I found a break in a chain-link fence and a sign that said, "WARNING: Dangerous cliffs. Do not go beyond this point." Damn right I took that as an invitation.<br />
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I started on the cliff, overlooking the ocean. I didn't want to get my massage-oiled feet wet and sandy. But soon I found myself sans ballet flats, clambering over boulders down to the beach, welcomed by a scruffy fisherman and equally scruffy dog who ran up to me barking, like he had been waiting for me. Five times in a row.<br />
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I keep thinking about blogs and how certain people only like posts with a unified theme. A central topic that has subtexts and develops throughout the paragraphs. That's not what this is. My thoughts aren't cohesive. I've only got photos. Lots of them.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEGRNWwz5paQtIIDXwpLhoiQ3svJeD71lvtMA0XZN-oF8XhlU0ieBgeCIzhIC_GnBD5Z3g9M7joPvhEFpuNRh2VyX0NkXBskGbwSby-fnm3Rx6Xl9kSBE-PvnAUtnd5s_0tE1Fgukg-COl/s640/blogger-image--70291398.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-10541083226318317842011-10-24T12:03:00.000-07:002011-10-24T12:03:36.920-07:00NWM 2011: Marathon Finish<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well, so there it is. My marathon finish.</div>
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It has taken a while to sink in, that I've accomplished that. It didn't feel that special at first-- it felt like a really hard, long run that my friends happened to be cheering at. But calling myself a <i>marathoner</i>, trolling through the results page to see that no one else from my hometown, no one else from my alma mater even competed in the (full marathon) race, seeing that I actually broke the top 25% of finishers... that makes it sink in. It's only my second race I've ever competed in, but I've got the bug.</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">4am wakeup to eat my pre-race food (bagel, PB, honey and Gatorade)</span></div>
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5:15am wakeup call for final preparations and to walk down to the start (0.8 mi away)</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Back in the first half of the marathon, when I was all smiles and focus</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">My official Tiffany & Co. finisher's necklace</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">A bouquet from my sweet sister that was waiting on the doorstep of my apartment</span></div>
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The mood got dampened a bit the next day, but you know what? I was only ever doing this for myself and my own goals. He wasn't ever giving me pep talks or cheering me on. I went for runs with his friends while he slept. And I have the necklace to prove that I've accomplished my goal. It feels good.</div>
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I was out weeks 4-8 of my 16-week training plan with a strained hip flexor and bronchitis. I jumped back into the plan when every person I talked to and article I read told me to stop. I wanted it so badly, though I also felt like I was making too many excuses and wasn't pushing myself hard enough. I let almost every double-digit run slide, missing two twelves and a fourteen, and then doing 8-milers instead of 12, twelves instead of 16, and only one of the two 20s on my plan. But even if only for frugality's sake, I signed up for that race, so I was going to run it, damnit.</div>
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Miles 1-9 were great. Hills were just what I was anticipating, the scenery was beautiful, I stopped at every hydration station and ate every banana/orange slice/energy chew offered. Around mile 11.5, my piriformis started to hurt-- bad. I hadn't taped my right leg, so my foot was numb, burning, and tingling. Four of my friends were there, waiting, cheering, yelling, taking pictures... being their amazing, crazy selves. All I could do was turn on my iPod for a few songs (which I had decided to use on an emergency basis, since I wanted to get the most out of the experience), tighten my sweatshirt against my lower back to apply a little pressure and hope for the best, even though it was all I could think about... until mile 14.6, where two of my friends were standing on the sidewalk, waiting to join in. They had boundless enthusiasm, and all of a sudden we were clapping, singing (yelling), and half dancing to the Black Eyed Peas' "Pump It (Louder)", a Nike+ powersong at mile 16 or so-- even after the music was too distant to hear. I was too excited to have them there to actually care that I looked like a fool. With one guy running on each side of me, I kind of felt like I could tackle anything. It was amazing.</div>
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At mile 19, my housemate joined the three of us, and with 10k left, I was on track to make my goal time, a 4:30:00 marathon. But then I hit a wall--<i>hard--</i> around mile 21. Nausea, anger, depletion of energy, dehydration... all of it. The "bitch zone" is a real thing. I stopped to walk 7 or so times not due to muscle ache, but nausea, and now wish I had obeyed the "puke and rally" sign we saw around mile 23, just before a hill that I didn't remember coming. I definitely wouldn't have been the only one. I resolved to run from mile 25 on, and that was pure adrenaline. The four of us pressed on, and they left me with a half mile to go for the finisher's chute. I turned on my iPod a second time to find the most adrenaline-pumping song on my carefully-crafted marathon playlist. It had turned off after two hours of pause, so it shuffled to something random. I wasn't even looking at it, just pressing the play button enough times to turn <i>something </i>on. (I kind of lost the capability for coherent thought around mile 22.) The song: "I get by with a little help from my friends", by the Beatles. The least adrenaline-pinching, but most appropriate song I could have ever picked. Needless to say, there were tears at the finish. And I'll be back for more.</div>
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</div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-73404713880510203132011-10-15T16:22:00.000-07:002011-10-17T09:55:45.402-07:00Tomorrow!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ready... let's do it</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmbh7YmuRlKrLDSziSZCCXuf2GJeqEUOee_MdDpp9k_FB-ku7zGeIHhnUhU-CV_lUoA648PbVuzA_D9m5l5wiKAh50qoFEFx_N2Ky8F7KZKeMTuHcdQqkovi14yo-nZeUn0E4O5eITiuUj/s640/blogger-image-274002900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-16003562187071081022011-10-14T09:25:00.000-07:002011-10-14T12:42:05.784-07:00Last-minute paradigm shifts and final marathon prep<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Am I ready???<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; font-size: x-small;">Trip to Target for the essentials, and my afternoon snack for work (after I ate half)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; font-size: x-small;">Starting off Thursday with a bagel and homemade strawberry jam</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; font-size: x-small;">Thursday night at the Expotique in Union Square: seeing my name on the wall somehow makes it 10x more official (as does finally inking it into my planner now that all threat of injury has passed)</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMGRM9-6kStsbnhdpsQpBPILiy4PILFVxqDPNv6eed8Pd146WHSBL4aLo_tXNVMndKYl4wVrNWRwBGzKU5pin6SmIu9dJDNGuvsW_w1p_1uk7v07juURaTgihjuM7Bvw8egwolXMexYJjr/s640/blogger-image--1689286662.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMGRM9-6kStsbnhdpsQpBPILiy4PILFVxqDPNv6eed8Pd146WHSBL4aLo_tXNVMndKYl4wVrNWRwBGzKU5pin6SmIu9dJDNGuvsW_w1p_1uk7v07juURaTgihjuM7Bvw8egwolXMexYJjr/s640/blogger-image--1689286662.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">My pre-race nutrition plan. This is my second race ever, after all (my first being the US half last April) so I'm trying to be much more vigilant about what I eat. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">I am now a morning runner</span>. That's right. I started all this a year ago with 10pm runs, then they slowly crept up from post-dinner to post-work to midday to midmorning (on the weekends.) This week, I decided that I would run in the morning to get my body used to the early wakeup for the marathon. Instead of my usual 7:30 or 8am wakeup, I woke up between 5:30 and 6:15 this whole week. And now, surprise of all surprises, I'm actually <i>awake</i> in the mornings and <i>tired</i> at night. Wait a sec, this is what it is <i>supposed</i> to be like... whaaaaat? That's not to say that this hasn't come without serious bouts of kicking and screaming (or the mature adult equivalent. No, wait...) but fortunately, I have an amazing housemate who helps pull me out of bed and convince me that yes, this really is a good idea.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">I'm a carboconvert</span>. I really don't like carbs. Really. I stick to things like Greek yogurt and fruit, salads, and eat carby meals like pasta only when I don't have any vegetables in the fridge. I mean, don't get me wrong-- I lived in France for four months. I like baguettes and croissants. But when it comes to healthy thinking, I was always under the impression that "the more nutrients, the better." Because I thought of nutrients as things like vitamins and minerals and protein. I try to eat quinoa, beans, nuts, and eggs for protein and make sure I'm getting enough fiber, but I never even think about carb requirements. Not even how it would affect my running. (Seriously. I feel stupid admitting this.) So I would eat my normal fruit, veggie, and dairy diet before every run. Even the long ones. Only the night before my 20-miler did I think, "Hmm, maybe I should eat pasta." So I did. And guess what? My 20 miles were great! Then I went back to vegetables and salads. Well, it turns out, there is nothing scary about carbs. They make my runs--even the 4-milers-- feel AMAZING! Who knew?! (Oh wait... everyone else did... pretty sure we learned about the food pyramid in middle school)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">The funny thing about paradigm shifts is that you can't stubbornly stick to a routine-- running or otherwise. You have to be open-minded enough to let them happen and try out a million different things-- sometimes multiple times-- before you can choose. And that's kind of the point of this blog and the whole unabashed thing. Like admitting that what you've always done really <i>isn't</i> the best way to do achieve your goal. Because trying to optimize a really shitty plan just gives you a really nice looking but still shitty plan. (Subtext: my Honors Thesis.) Sometimes, there's better ways to do it. You just have to look. And better late than never, right?</span></div>
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<br /></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-90383932699784411852011-10-13T10:00:00.000-07:002011-10-13T10:00:04.102-07:00Good things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Nine very fall things I'm loving this week:<br />
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1. Long shadows</div>
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2. Yellow ballet flats</div>
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3 and 4: Festive new decorations</div>
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5 and 6: Walking to work and new shorts for my marathon</div>
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7 and 8: Old cars+sun flares and the giant bouquet of zinnias my mom bought us from the market</div>
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And last but not least: Fall leaves (and an encore of my favorite flats)</div>
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<br /></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-36342612871056717992011-10-12T19:20:00.000-07:002011-10-12T19:24:08.234-07:00Pumpkin, Cashew, and Coconut Curry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Every Monday night, my roommates and I have family dinner. The week we moved into our apartment, it started as a "pizza and beer at the place across the street" kind of thing. For whatever reason, we've begun to set the bar higher each week. Now we slow-cook things and buy red wine. Who <i>are</i> we?</div>
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Anyway, I decided to take advantage of both the week of drizzly fall weather and my Indian neighborhood market and decided to make curry. I got that sugar pumpkin in the CSA box two weeks ago, typed "pumpkin" into Epicurious, and found "pumpkin and cashew curry." It looked great, except for the fact that it called for a million ingredients, and the only ones --literally the <i>only</i> two I had in my possession-- were pumpkins and cashews. Eff that. I found an easier recipe in Sunset Magazine and ran with it. It still called for curry leaves (which I didn't know were even a thing), but I also discovered that Bharat Bazar is the place to go for 10-cent lemons and limes and 69-cent fresh samosas. </div>
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<i>Pumpkin, Cashew, and Coconut Curry</i></div>
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Adapted from Sunset Magazine via <a href="http://www.myrecipes.com/recipe/cashew-coconut-pumpkin-curry-50400000116275/">myrecipes.com</a> </div>
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Serves 5 (or three people for dinner + three smaller lunches)</div>
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3-lb. sugar pumpkin, peeled and cut into small chunks (I did this the night before and kept it in a Ziploc)</div>
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1 tsp. salt, divided*</div>
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3 Tbsp. vegetable oil, divided</div>
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1 onion, halved and cut into half-moons</div>
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1 green serrano chile, minced**</div>
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1-2 cinnamon sticks</div>
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20 fresh curry leaves (can substitute 6 dried bay leaves)</div>
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1 tsp. turmeric</div>
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1 tsp. cumin seeds (found at the Indian market-- and spicier than I expected!)</div>
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1 can (14.5 oz) light coconut milk</div>
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1 c. raw cashews</div>
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1 Tbsp. lemon juice (or the juice of 1/2 lemon)</div>
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Steamed basmati rice (I made 1 1/2 c. dry)</div>
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* I shook a little salt into the Ziploc of pumpkin, but didn't add salt to anything else. It definitely needed salt.</div>
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**I used a jalapeno from the CSA box because that was all I had... couldn't taste the difference because you cook most of the heat out of it</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXCHfk3B9xjvN1dbWkldhantBX-uR7lSUkckeZxxNNOuTWEknl-VP20w5oW5XV0kyJQaLHcz2qaA2V4SgL45JRC1RU7eHx-x_TOqSrICqVeaMEb6TYXvPlEnIjHw8KlBmM0clY56ASSlJL/s640/blogger-image-563207326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXCHfk3B9xjvN1dbWkldhantBX-uR7lSUkckeZxxNNOuTWEknl-VP20w5oW5XV0kyJQaLHcz2qaA2V4SgL45JRC1RU7eHx-x_TOqSrICqVeaMEb6TYXvPlEnIjHw8KlBmM0clY56ASSlJL/s640/blogger-image-563207326.jpg" width="320" /></a>1. Heat 1 Tbsp. oil in a large nonstick frying pan over medium-high heat. Sprinkle 1/2 tsp. salt onto the pumpkin. Brown half the pumpkin in oil, turning once, around 8 to 10 minutes (or 12, if you have a weird stove like mine.) Pumpkin should get a little soft, but it will cook more in the simmering sauce. Reduce heat if pumpkin gets too dark. Transfer to a bowl and repeat with 1 more Tbsp. oil and the rest of the pumpkin. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQyqc01OT0dlbps5FCbFVPnUlgy6tsNYpCvBHdACW0nBjN43qTejmxHJuBmVoV6LX8CCaN12sfukhbf8mH-_OW9Hx7q2UqQ9MB5m0eVHN1JtP6rY8QA4jNHIYOYclR5NMswWCGfQ8zoH78/s640/blogger-image-1186224392.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQyqc01OT0dlbps5FCbFVPnUlgy6tsNYpCvBHdACW0nBjN43qTejmxHJuBmVoV6LX8CCaN12sfukhbf8mH-_OW9Hx7q2UqQ9MB5m0eVHN1JtP6rY8QA4jNHIYOYclR5NMswWCGfQ8zoH78/s320/blogger-image-1186224392.jpg" width="320" /></span></span></a>3. In another large nonstick frying, heat the remaining 1 Tbsp. oil over medium heat. Cook onions until golden brown, about 12 to 15 minutes. Transfer half to a separate bowl if you want to use it for topping. If you don't care (like me), then just leave it in the pan. Check the cashews and once they're fragrant and a light golden brown, take them out.</div>
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4. Add minced chile, cinnamon, and curry leaves to the sautéed onions. Cook, stirring often, until curry leaves are fragrant (about 2 minutes). </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEloNMZLS6Y7xRLXSOHJNMU68Gki42VMrf7xls2eRnlwB0ybr7DLgPyNzZr2t4soufrk93y03cU-SKy50AbXSpjrXat7PweZ-o7OFzIAFQHFu7g6Y_4rmmhURXzonQmcea15im-1LZXDlM/s640/blogger-image-2103898948.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEloNMZLS6Y7xRLXSOHJNMU68Gki42VMrf7xls2eRnlwB0ybr7DLgPyNzZr2t4soufrk93y03cU-SKy50AbXSpjrXat7PweZ-o7OFzIAFQHFu7g6Y_4rmmhURXzonQmcea15im-1LZXDlM/s640/blogger-image-2103898948.jpg" width="320" /></span></span></a>6. Return pumpkin to frying pan with onion and spices and add coconut milk. Bring to a boil over high heat, then cover, reduce heat, and simmer 5-10 minutes, until pumpkin is tender. Stir in cashews and lemon juice, and add more salt to taste. </div>
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7. Serve on basmati rice and top with reserved onion... and if you're in the mood for something extra carby, add a piece of plain naan (or two). </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">In case you're wondering-- yes, I did in fact eat this for breakfast with a cup of tea this morning. I woke up at 5:30am to run, so by the time I got back and got ready for work, it felt like lunchtime!</span></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-85896808057328549132011-10-10T23:01:00.000-07:002011-10-10T23:01:03.307-07:00Fall to summer... A weekend in pictures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-16943261788171120952011-10-04T00:37:00.000-07:002011-10-04T11:38:41.733-07:00Rainy day tarte aux fraises<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Woke up this morning to clear blue skies... came home from work to a rainy day like this. Makes me miss Seattle weather a little bit. It was very fitting for the first Monday of October-- perfect for the quiet moment I've been needing all weekend, with a cup of Tahitian Vanilla Chai (my new obsession) and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0IywjWWlxF8">this song</a> playing in the background. </div>
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I scrapped my run (only 4 miles anyway, pshhh) and instead used two and a half sticks of butter and some whole milk to make a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: line-through;">healthy</span> delicious dessert. It was that kind of evening. The occasion? Family dinner on a random Monday. <i>Tarte aux fraises</i> with cappuccinos for dessert. </div>
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We like to class things up a bit.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCzACEWbI86FuDM3SM64wPgVev5OEbgZ6PnaMS8n4aRBGqkUAyqw-Sfea_JERO8jVuWpxcQQan4b928TQB8D-BstDXoOVFnp18oraOMKxRu9G9cmt56-kHpa2yeFbFfzOhCqFiKBeWQOGC/s640/blogger-image-1707216523.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCzACEWbI86FuDM3SM64wPgVev5OEbgZ6PnaMS8n4aRBGqkUAyqw-Sfea_JERO8jVuWpxcQQan4b928TQB8D-BstDXoOVFnp18oraOMKxRu9G9cmt56-kHpa2yeFbFfzOhCqFiKBeWQOGC/s320/blogger-image-1707216523.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Tarte aux fraises</i></div>
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<i>Pâte Sucrée </i>adapted from <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2006/12/chocolate-concise/">this recipe</a> (entire recipe makes 3 tarts-- I froze the other two)</div>
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2 1/2 sticks salted butter</div>
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1 1/2 c. powdered sugar</div>
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1/2 tsp. pure vanilla extract</div>
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2 eggs at room temperature</div>
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3 1/2 c. all-purpose flour</div>
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1. First, cream the butter and sugar together. I don't have a KitchenAid mixer, so I just used a wooden spoon and lots of arm muscle. Add the vanilla and kept mixing until smooth and blended together.</div>
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2. Stir the eggs with a fork, then mix in until incorporated.</div>
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3. Add the flour until the dough just holds together (or else it will be too tough and chewy)</div>
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4. Divide the dough into three balls or disks; refrigerate the one you're going to use (it says for at least 4 hours... I only had half an hour, and it wasn't bad), and wrap the other two tightly for the freezer. (They can be frozen for up to a month.)</div>
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5. After dough rests in the refrigerator, roll out between two sheets of plastic wrap. Transfer to a pre-buttered, fluted removable-bottom tart pan on a parchment-lined baking sheet-- press edges of tart into mold, cutting off (or eating) any extra.</div>
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6. Poke holes in the center of the tart with a fork and bake for approximately 20-25 minutes at 350 degrees F. The recipe says to weigh the center down with rice or beans (wrapped in parchment, of course), but I omitted this step and the center was fine.</div>
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While the tart is baking, make the pastry cream and hull the strawberries (I also sliced mine in half):</div>
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<i>Pastry Cream</i> adapted from <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2007/06/two-of-tarts/">this recipe</a> </div>
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1 1/4 c. whole milk</div>
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1 tsp. pure vanilla extract</div>
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3 large egg yolks</div>
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1/2 c. sugar</div>
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3 Tbsp. cornstarch</div>
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3 Tbsp. salted butter (cut into chunks)</div>
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1. Bring the milk to a boil in a small saucepan. Once it is at a boil, cover and remove from heat for 10 minutes to cool. After 10 minutes, add the vanilla extract.</div>
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2. In a separate (medium) saucepan, whisk the yolks, sugar, and cornstarch together until thick. (And it WILL be thick.) Slowly drizzle in the hot milk while whisking the egg mixture, then put the pan on medium heat and continue whisking until mixture is at a boil for 1-2 minutes. Remove from heat, scrape cream into a clean bowl, and let room at room temperature for 3 minutes. Stir the butter chunks into the cream, then let cool in the refrigerator with plastic wrap pressed on top. Or, if you're really in a hurry, place the bowl in a larger bowl filled with ice to cool.</div>
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Assembly of the <i>tarte aux fraises:</i></div>
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1. Once tart has cooled, spread the pastry cream on top.</div>
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2. Arrange the hulled, sliced strawberries on the cream in some sort of semi-organized, decorative manner.</div>
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<i>Et la voilà ! </i></div>
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<i>Note: The tart makes an <span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">incredible</span> breakfast the next morning with a cup of coffee. We polished that bad boy off in no time. I also ate half, which is 1 1/2 sticks of butter. In 12 hours. </i></div>
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<i>That'll motivate my run today...</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XjouFcGRF1Uho-iCOKtEDXN6WNOlg2AsU54-JUyK0UPkaWYrrgz_lXWS4NxnEQQ_SaJBwYOmtezIwq92RKvvq3w2LQJ5pvHIK-TeGZOWenQx7T7ihkFTjWImFbMdpbmIAUti2vPue5q6/s640/blogger-image-1628200677.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XjouFcGRF1Uho-iCOKtEDXN6WNOlg2AsU54-JUyK0UPkaWYrrgz_lXWS4NxnEQQ_SaJBwYOmtezIwq92RKvvq3w2LQJ5pvHIK-TeGZOWenQx7T7ihkFTjWImFbMdpbmIAUti2vPue5q6/s640/blogger-image-1628200677.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7swfMGPQtl_cYB_4pK5NGpGTbNruk-IqhMQlcrma2t35nSrGZFL6uNPgcRJc9KxrPU69HCiyJx2eAn8HJD_ukU6Kydn0c_W0DwdvQU_v3ZBmUr8wLREPrP0UVS9jStVvaIvvm1NTZ2ko9/s640/blogger-image-45221519.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7swfMGPQtl_cYB_4pK5NGpGTbNruk-IqhMQlcrma2t35nSrGZFL6uNPgcRJc9KxrPU69HCiyJx2eAn8HJD_ukU6Kydn0c_W0DwdvQU_v3ZBmUr8wLREPrP0UVS9jStVvaIvvm1NTZ2ko9/s640/blogger-image-45221519.jpg" /></a></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-73961138111968776192011-10-02T21:35:00.000-07:002011-10-03T15:14:37.467-07:00The big 2-0 and TAPER TIME!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I did it!! Last Friday was my first <i>long</i> run, and I actually went ALL twenty miles without stopping. Since my hip flexor injury in the end of July-- and since I came from it at the end of August-- I haven't been able to go for a long run without stopping at least once to walk. Usually I stop around the 4-mile mark for a short walk break, and I've never been able to make it to 7 miles without a longer (1/4 mile to a mile) walk break. It was demoralizing, to say the least. How am I supposed to run 26.2 miles if I can't even run 8 straight? Visions of being run over by the race course police opening the road back up to traffic because I'm too slow kept running through my head. My goal shifted from "sub 4:30" to "just don't get kicked off the course." But, as predicted by my experienced friends, tapering is just as psychological as it is physical, and man am I psyched to be over the worst of it!!</div>
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Night-before prep: </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">1.5 hours of yoga</span>. Wasn't expecting this-- I wanted to do gentle yoga (even though I prefer Bikram) because I didn't want to be sore, but then I got there too late and got 90 minutes of hot Bikram instead. It ended up going surprisingly well after not having done it since February!</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">My first time taping my piriformis</span>. Didn't go so great. Totally having someone else do it before the marathon. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">It was s</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">upposed to look like <a href="http://www.piriformis-muscle.com/179/kinesiology-tape-m-piriformis/">this</a>,</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black; font-size: x-small;">but it ended up looking like a really pathetic almond shape that basically outlines a love handle on my right lower back in neon pink K-tape.</span></div>
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My food plan:</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(logged because I'm a creature of habit and will most likely repeat this exact thing before my race)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">Pre-run dinner (at 10pm)</span>: 2 oz. whole wheat spaghetti with juice + zest of 1/4 lemon and finely grated Parmesan (and milk)</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">Dessert</span>: 4 mini Famous Amos cookies and milk </div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">Morning of</span>: a couple myrtl exercises (fire hydrant, circles, leg swings) and regular stretches (hip butterfly, single-leg stretching), gummy multivitamins, 1 ibuprofen, 1 Endurolyte, and 2 Clif ShotRoks in peanut butter, some sips of water... no breakfast <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(this was an experiment... I ALWAYS eat breakfast no matter what)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">During run</span>: 5 Clif ShotRocks <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(taken at miles 2, 5, 8, 10, and 12)</span>, 3 (12-oz) bottles of water <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(refilled at miles 7, 11, and 15)</span>, 4 almonds. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">D</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">efinitely should have fueled up more for such a long run, but couldn't bring myself to stomach the gel I brought.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">Immediately Post-run (in my car)</span>: at least 50 oz of water, joint health Emergen-C, Vanilla Honey Stinger waffle <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(After which I realized that I paid $1.50 for an organic version of a single stroopwafel. Last time I had stroopwafel, I got a whole package straight from the Netherlands, and there's no healthifying something that good. This kind of proves my moral opposition to fitness company BS. It's not an "energy waffle", it's freaking Dutch dessert. I don't want GU when I can eat gummy bears. And I still get roped into it half the time. But I digress.)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">When I got home</span>: more water, 1 ibuprofen, 1 Endurolyte, and a hard-boiled egg with 2 oz. whole wheat spaghetti with juice + zest of 1/4 lemon and finely grated Parmesan </div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-72995086460316175072011-09-30T00:49:00.000-07:002011-10-02T21:35:54.842-07:00Csa box #1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Guess what I got today?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLRnojcRS_6iTFU2BDg6hEfV4gMGCODCiW2sbuunet3DlJ-dkBVmiCVzasHZbSIapztjvaoPrjVdHrnN3uRkEwDLF0Hvulhj5hCVRU-62-pXcsVV2SLapzRVlFHsRG6In2kbae-BBztMfO/s640/blogger-image-1621302514.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLRnojcRS_6iTFU2BDg6hEfV4gMGCODCiW2sbuunet3DlJ-dkBVmiCVzasHZbSIapztjvaoPrjVdHrnN3uRkEwDLF0Hvulhj5hCVRU-62-pXcsVV2SLapzRVlFHsRG6In2kbae-BBztMfO/s320/blogger-image-1621302514.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Having a boss who is too busy to eat from the CSA boxes she orders is really starting to pay off :)</div>
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The contents:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqO-qWwG-N-K9fnSbRchAZszJGz4f5AiAV1FGxKCH8uqQ0htxNu-9fJW171pnVCnCqnpSE4gDneYtDyAG2Ha0frvGPTtGV2MfbxpXLcGbsKIOPA88q8sMZPXNsJ55WHTzBbpZdiF4nk8e/s1600/csa+box+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqO-qWwG-N-K9fnSbRchAZszJGz4f5AiAV1FGxKCH8uqQ0htxNu-9fJW171pnVCnCqnpSE4gDneYtDyAG2Ha0frvGPTtGV2MfbxpXLcGbsKIOPA88q8sMZPXNsJ55WHTzBbpZdiF4nk8e/s400/csa+box+1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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My plans for it:</div>
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<a href="http://unabashedkitchen.blogspot.com/2011/09/watermelon-tomato-and-feta-salad.html">This salad</a> (again)</div>
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Couscous with fresh corn and grape tomatoes (again... maybe I should branch out)</div>
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<a href="http://spoonforkbacon.com/2011/07/grilled-zucchini-tacos/">These grilled zucchini tacos</a> with homemade salsa verde</div>
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Still searching for...</div>
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a good chocolate-pumpkin bread recipe</div>
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maybe a vodka sauce (to store) to use my tomatoes</div>
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something to do with my green beans (I'm not a huge fan, but garlic sauteed beans would be nice)</div>
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something to do with the rest of my carrots</div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-5904370836973551532011-09-28T12:00:00.000-07:002011-10-02T21:40:14.661-07:00Smells of Summer: Peach and Blackberry Galette<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The other day, on one of my long runs, I was thinking about my favorite outdoorsy smells. Sun-baked pine needles reminds me of camping at Yosemite. The scent of eucalyptus trees reminds me of a certain road trip to Bodega Bay. But, without fail, the scent of a California summer is hot asphalt. It's not glamorous, no, but it cooks the prematurely fallen leaves to the perfect crunch. Deeply inhaled, it's the scent of the road. Of racing. Of hot summers in the city, always blown away by cool breezes at night.</div>
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Growing up, I used to go into the Body Shop and try all their perfume samples. My favorite? Fuzzy peach. Because I <i>swear</i> you could smell the fuzz in the bottle. It amazed me that they somehow captured that dusty musk over the syrupy sweet peach notes. Ten years later, peaches still have me in lust. The drive-four-hours-to-pick-some-with-friends kind of bliss. And behold:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3fx-S7pvBlKcc9rQJg3SXW48FzKHKdw1l7HeMyTe0Z5_rBLwJgbDEJEnRP6dLhg94-5UOBQ24ZoviXoQIRbXd0ENtw5O4FMjghCmVlgcwiNje2_-GuUJ15TmCsh7g9YVSqyTHjdSLc6Bx/s640/blogger-image-148092086.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3fx-S7pvBlKcc9rQJg3SXW48FzKHKdw1l7HeMyTe0Z5_rBLwJgbDEJEnRP6dLhg94-5UOBQ24ZoviXoQIRbXd0ENtw5O4FMjghCmVlgcwiNje2_-GuUJ15TmCsh7g9YVSqyTHjdSLc6Bx/s640/blogger-image-148092086.jpg" /></a></div>
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We don't have peaches on my side of the mountains, though. Until two weeks ago, I'd never picked any before in my life. But you know what we do have? Berries. Oh, do we have berries. Every summer there would be a berry excursion. We'd pick blueberries in the slough by my house, forage blackberries along the road by the park, or drive an hour away to a U-pick farm to pick as many raspberries as possible and spend the entire next day making jams to store. Blueberry and apple pie, blackberry and raspberry jams, berry crumbles, berries and cream... the desserts of my childhood summers.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVegqX-CZ2l7gQeHkNgFzKjK5i4B3u7xbXH9SbrRc7z0O6HsDABE4qyKM0ZcwbTRKGZlNO7wxvZDbcINmjMVzDDHO2MLurdjJbmU-pIYlaNUsCAwUt_yBiuZHTohOp7BG4QtGaKSrDmbRn/s640/blogger-image--566307110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVegqX-CZ2l7gQeHkNgFzKjK5i4B3u7xbXH9SbrRc7z0O6HsDABE4qyKM0ZcwbTRKGZlNO7wxvZDbcINmjMVzDDHO2MLurdjJbmU-pIYlaNUsCAwUt_yBiuZHTohOp7BG4QtGaKSrDmbRn/s640/blogger-image--566307110.jpg" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFvtQrofi7xdkmYoR7rmV94dgKcX88QlBlOT5P9XybtVZTiYrCuv10brgSzv88DoW_BBUBKi72DQw-iwWlfpRTG1pw99-uFMtM-uB9r7b4Bs1BiLa1S_xRTikSCqyg3f4-4CVkrK7xhkcH/s640/blogger-image-246905956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFvtQrofi7xdkmYoR7rmV94dgKcX88QlBlOT5P9XybtVZTiYrCuv10brgSzv88DoW_BBUBKi72DQw-iwWlfpRTG1pw99-uFMtM-uB9r7b4Bs1BiLa1S_xRTikSCqyg3f4-4CVkrK7xhkcH/s640/blogger-image-246905956.jpg" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVegqX-CZ2l7gQeHkNgFzKjK5i4B3u7xbXH9SbrRc7z0O6HsDABE4qyKM0ZcwbTRKGZlNO7wxvZDbcINmjMVzDDHO2MLurdjJbmU-pIYlaNUsCAwUt_yBiuZHTohOp7BG4QtGaKSrDmbRn/s640/blogger-image--566307110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a></span></div>
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On my long run at home, the trails smelled of cooked berries-- those that had fallen to the asphalt, the sugary juices growing more sweet in the heat of the sun.</div>
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What better way to celebrate the end of a great season than filling the house with the scent of this sweet galette and a ready-for-fall kind of comfort.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFvtQrofi7xdkmYoR7rmV94dgKcX88QlBlOT5P9XybtVZTiYrCuv10brgSzv88DoW_BBUBKi72DQw-iwWlfpRTG1pw99-uFMtM-uB9r7b4Bs1BiLa1S_xRTikSCqyg3f4-4CVkrK7xhkcH/s640/blogger-image-246905956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimFuzY0u6Fe_sSAuwf10r1CMrX5xbK27P5ziqT-zzQtlF0cje7apu7FWIB6Al0fryF8nouRg6J7lLnVgLSdA3eXTGbqT1PwWxkb7ZniXLctI8B24JtNYh0sOTVPbdmVEOA88smNXjH3bjc/s640/blogger-image-951178166.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimFuzY0u6Fe_sSAuwf10r1CMrX5xbK27P5ziqT-zzQtlF0cje7apu7FWIB6Al0fryF8nouRg6J7lLnVgLSdA3eXTGbqT1PwWxkb7ZniXLctI8B24JtNYh0sOTVPbdmVEOA88smNXjH3bjc/s320/blogger-image-951178166.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I've made this four times in the past week, eaten an entire galette in the past two days, and will be making it again for a housewarming party this weekend. I've gotten phone calls and emails about it. It is AMAZING.</div>
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Peach and Blackberry Galette (from the recipe listed <a href="http://nicoledula.com/cookbooks/peach-and-blackberry-galette">here</a>):</div>
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For the pate brisée:</div>
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1 1/4 c. + 2 Tbsp. all-purpose flour</div>
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1 Tbsp. sugar</div>
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1 1/2 tsp. salt (it tasted a little too salty, so I used 1 tsp.)</div>
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1 stick cold butter, cut into small pieces</div>
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7 Tbsp. ice water</div>
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1. Whisk together flour, sugar, and salt in a large bowl.</div>
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2. Work the chunks of butter into the dry ingredients using a pastry blender (or your fingertips). It may still be a little chunky.</div>
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3. Add the cold water to the dry ingredients. If using a food processor, pulse until just blended. If doing by hand, do a tablespoon at a time until dough barely holds together. </div>
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4. Shape the dough into a ball, cover in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for 1 hour to overnight.</div>
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For the filling:</div>
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3 c. fruit (though this is very approximate. I ended up using 2 large peaches and a half cup of blackberries)</div>
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the juice of one small lemon (or half a large lemon)</div>
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1/3 c. sugar</div>
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1/2 tsp. salt</div>
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1 Tbsp. cornstarch</div>
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1 egg</div>
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1 Tbsp. milk</div>
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extra sugar for dusting</div>
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1. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Cover baking sheet (preferably rimmed) with parchment paper.</div>
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2. Let chilled dough sit out for approx. 15 minutes, or until soft.</div>
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3. Roll into 14" round on lightly floured parchment paper. Refrigerate while preparing next step.</div>
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4. Combine fruit, lemon juice, cornstarch, and sugar in a bowl. I wanted my peaches to stay yellow, so I arranged the sliced in a circle in the center of the dough (leaving an inch border) and only combined the blackberries with the rest of the ingredients. Pour the blackberries into the center of the galette; the juices will diffuse and cover the bottom.</div>
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5. Whisk together egg and milk and brush over crust. (You will not use all of this! I only used about a third. Make an omelet or something with the rest.) </div>
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6. Sprinkle entire galette with granulated or sanding sugar-- how much will depend on the sweetness of your fruit (I used a few tablespoons.)</div>
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7. Bake at 375 degrees for about 45 minutes.</div>
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8. Transfer to wire rack and let cool.</div>
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Enjoy!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgC6ZFlAPw_KaJ5PcqNwJBOAM3Wx3e1N6dSrZjMX67wicJycq67DFlupY2c0AsmlpHTHJLlvdz7PZcl0WKBC1L1sJrKG3EwPii0L2Wk4-CDH76gDdP9KHOE-p9x0cx1_-DUPVHaA-7dOzF/s640/blogger-image--717323951.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgC6ZFlAPw_KaJ5PcqNwJBOAM3Wx3e1N6dSrZjMX67wicJycq67DFlupY2c0AsmlpHTHJLlvdz7PZcl0WKBC1L1sJrKG3EwPii0L2Wk4-CDH76gDdP9KHOE-p9x0cx1_-DUPVHaA-7dOzF/s640/blogger-image--717323951.jpg" /></a></div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-68525068067537898482011-09-27T18:05:00.000-07:002011-09-27T18:07:33.027-07:00A year of running<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPoqkcdYoPdpqN8SR62oLgxb8sfN0YDjUlP2gXv4OSB3hqkGgyVgFRdKAeFEqHTR6E21VjM7KRt8t5WJkbR8rsp2tlSKAIS0kBl7poqn-Q_KmVIi10IUHCbU9lnBcgDY5Ojv9ec8z2gsgC/s640/blogger-image-1033282933.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPoqkcdYoPdpqN8SR62oLgxb8sfN0YDjUlP2gXv4OSB3hqkGgyVgFRdKAeFEqHTR6E21VjM7KRt8t5WJkbR8rsp2tlSKAIS0kBl7poqn-Q_KmVIi10IUHCbU9lnBcgDY5Ojv9ec8z2gsgC/s640/blogger-image-1033282933.jpg" /></a></div>
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A year ago today, I went for my very first run. In typical fashion, I started my senior year of college with about twenty to-do lists of things I had hoped I would accomplish. Elaborately scheduled days in which I would wake up at 6:30am, work two jobs, have 4 hours of class, cook for myself, and get amazing grades, do extracurricular reading, meet my friends out at the bar, and be asleep by 1am.</div>
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I ran for 17 minutes that day-- including some walk breaks. I was embarrassed by my form, so I only ran at night for the first two months. I would avoid the campus loop and wait to be away from streetlights or behind parked cars if I needed to walk. I was embarrassed that I was in college and not fat, but so incredibly out of shape. I plodded along, though, with the help of an Excel spreadsheet. My times were only calculated by counting how many songs I listened to on my playlist, and my distances only tracked by charting my loop on Nike +. It was laborious, but look at the difference.</div>
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Last fall:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDZia-PyAO_7PioQdJyIH4HtXcrGakaBK4-Qy1jWSO_KWh4CpbGRHFARLjt2cS-9QQRnjGNRvoxvUJyja7QBi19UhHRpGJprtRjUABLo7okthPL_3MAHERItuS_XuZThZ3l_BFeE0TQc_X/s1600/running+plan.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDZia-PyAO_7PioQdJyIH4HtXcrGakaBK4-Qy1jWSO_KWh4CpbGRHFARLjt2cS-9QQRnjGNRvoxvUJyja7QBi19UhHRpGJprtRjUABLo7okthPL_3MAHERItuS_XuZThZ3l_BFeE0TQc_X/s400/running+plan.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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This fall:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dp5PZH_7Rh_yQ1SjjTssXSR8_hyPIOxLrJhhNChnYoxbrTDv3mWTAV5ShsWbL-SqRpAHSigP5MfrqC14aVC9ehVNbtHnz7wIs_mQqR9WdzqvlRaD2nhrbt9OeQpFY0d8pAX6ft2vcsvW/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-09-27+at+6.00.26+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8dp5PZH_7Rh_yQ1SjjTssXSR8_hyPIOxLrJhhNChnYoxbrTDv3mWTAV5ShsWbL-SqRpAHSigP5MfrqC14aVC9ehVNbtHnz7wIs_mQqR9WdzqvlRaD2nhrbt9OeQpFY0d8pAX6ft2vcsvW/s400/Screen+shot+2011-09-27+at+6.00.26+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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It actually doesn't look like that much of a difference, but it's been <span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">one</span> year, and I'm doing a marathon. Is that crazy? Probably. I'm fighting injury and (now) illness. My paces aren't any faster, but I'm more fit and MUCH happier. I can eat whatever I want (within reason, of course-- or with less guilt, at least.) It's been a good year, all things considered. It's a bucket list item I actually stuck to. Here's to many more years of running!</div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-56413536961583684752011-09-16T10:00:00.000-07:002011-09-27T18:16:44.785-07:00Chai spiced apple cake (or, a story of the worst best friend ever)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Once upon a time, there was a girl who used to do great things for one of her closest friends, like send her big care packages for the crazy weekend that her friend decided to graduate from college and then run a marathon the next day. And then the summer happened (you know, the one where I decided to train for a marathon of my own, move, get a job, and go out of town every weekend) and I forgot her birthday (actually I was camping without cell service for it-- excuses excuses!) So I'm driving to visit her tomorrow, to finally spend a weekend in her hometown four hours away, and I decided to bake a cake. A sort of thanks-for-hosting-me, happy-belated-birthday, please-don't-move-to-Oxford-next-week-even-though-it's-because-you're-incredibly-amazing kind of cake. </div>
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So after another round of tea and dumplings (seriously, good thing those bad boys are gone), my mom and I decided to make this delicious looking <a href="http://www.gojee.com/recipes#!3629">chai spiced apple cake</a> that I found via <a href="http://www.gojee.com/">Gojee</a> (the Pandora of recipe databases. All photos. Best. Procrastination. Tool. Ever.)</div>
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We have this beautiful Bundt pan at home, and I had high hopes for the glaze. You know, maybe some beautiful drizzling, maybe piped along the ridges of the cake. Maybe some artful Swiss dot detailing along the edges. </div>
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Until my mom took it out of the oven and the following conversation happened:</div>
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Mom: "So is it done? Do we leave it? Do we put it somewhere?"</div>
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Me: "I don't know. Doesn't say. Yeah, leave it."</div>
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Mom: "Okay, yeah. Let's leave it. We'll just leave it."</div>
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(five minutes later)</div>
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Mom: "Okay, well let's take it out. My mom used to make Bundts all the time. And she'd turn it over on a glass."</div>
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Me: "A glass? Like a glass plate?"</div>
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Mom (going to the cabinet, getting a glass, starting the process): "No, like a glass. I don't really know what it does."</div>
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Me: "Maybe it's high up enough that it slides down? Maybe keeps it from caving in?"</div>
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So guess what the didn't have in the 1960's that they have today?</div>
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Nonstick Bundt pans.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzYOeeeCATvtrBiq-LHp3lOpnHUhAUNB5qFjtD-0Fx4bra7Yrjv6HCC3jHxIbhIOuq-F5ZFYOtkFI5InxK9SEstuGQAWEfDik-jaMVQlBX0KGLsOy4tVf_iFBf9cmUOjbUMOXgjXYGgKeV/s640/blogger-image--929908227.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzYOeeeCATvtrBiq-LHp3lOpnHUhAUNB5qFjtD-0Fx4bra7Yrjv6HCC3jHxIbhIOuq-F5ZFYOtkFI5InxK9SEstuGQAWEfDik-jaMVQlBX0KGLsOy4tVf_iFBf9cmUOjbUMOXgjXYGgKeV/s640/blogger-image--929908227.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i>Dear Anna, </i></div>
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<i>Happy belated birthday. Sorry it looks like we threw your cake on the floor before I drove it four hours to your house. It didn't come out of the oven until 10:30pm and besides that, we ran out of apples. I swear it's delicious-- fortunately I was able to taste some, and you'd never know because it's completely in shambles. It means nothing as to how much I value our friendship, I promise!</i></div>
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<i>Love, Sarah</i></div>
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(Good thing some strategically placed icing and flowers hid the damage.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8bFjCM4ap74z0tTpn0rKOErUVDc3neRCy-eIKRQA2QN3c8dn5EEpzAnNWgtbiizs0ylA5dvAlBMTiEIT_3nhyo9xZo8CyWxMbMyi2V4z4cy7fYVL1_yxzGxjEEZdZc4FayF2B-V6trcL_/s640/blogger-image-894956001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8bFjCM4ap74z0tTpn0rKOErUVDc3neRCy-eIKRQA2QN3c8dn5EEpzAnNWgtbiizs0ylA5dvAlBMTiEIT_3nhyo9xZo8CyWxMbMyi2V4z4cy7fYVL1_yxzGxjEEZdZc4FayF2B-V6trcL_/s640/blogger-image-894956001.jpg" /></a></div>
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Chai Spiced Apple Cake</div>
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2 sticks of buter, softened</div>
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1 1/2 c. granulated sugar</div>
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2 eggs</div>
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2 tsp vanilla extract</div>
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1 c. buttermilk</div>
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3 c. all-purpose flour</div>
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1 tsp. baking soda</div>
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1/2 tsp. salt</div>
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1 tsp. cinnamon</div>
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1/2 tsp. ground ginger</div>
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1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg</div>
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1/4 tsp. ground cardamom</div>
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2 cups peeled, diced apples</div>
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1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Spray a nonstick Bundt pan with cooking spray.</div>
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2. In a KitchenAid mixer, beat butter and sugar until creamed. Add eggs (one at a time) and vanilla.</div>
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3. In a separate bowl, mix flour, baking soda, salt, and spices.</div>
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4. Add half the dry ingredients to the butter and sugar, add half the buttermilk, then add the remaining ingredients of each.</div>
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5. Fold in the apples and pour into Bundt pan.</div>
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6. Bake 50-60 minutes or until knife inserted into center comes out clean.</div>
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7. Invert onto rack (no glass needed!) and let cool.</div>
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Buttermilk Icing</div>
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2 c. icing sugar (powdered sugar)</div>
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4 Tbsp. buttermilk</div>
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1 tsp. vanilla extract</div>
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1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg</div>
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1. When cake has cooled, beat together all ingredients and drizzle over cake.</div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-57936060708645400722011-09-15T18:16:00.000-07:002011-09-15T23:28:28.583-07:00Good eats<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
What is it about home that is so comforting? As much as my city's changed in the five years since I've moved (and as much as I've resented and mocked that change), there's something about the gray skies and 65-degree weather that is comforting. Dependable. Like still being able to wake up as late as I want (that mattress is killer. I swear. It has a pillowy death grip on me for 10 hours. <i>Every night</i>.) and settle back into my standard spot at the kitchen island and have my mom cook me breakfast. Just like I'm fifteen again (but without the whole "I hate being a teenager" thing.)</div>
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This morning: whole wheat French toast with cottage cheese, half a sliced peach, and a little cinnamon and maple syrup. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKOX6K-YUxs_cLaeKAwgbaJSpeQYKhSVV7OxrU8ce8UhaJw_iEhPyK1NKJJH-4i_sbpJFU4TFC4GS_XoWNtl0nEc55aOb00yZMtgNcrUF2nKZlZ170AqWwYT8W3Cav1vA3WJj_SG9ZEHvz/s640/blogger-image--1018225407.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKOX6K-YUxs_cLaeKAwgbaJSpeQYKhSVV7OxrU8ce8UhaJw_iEhPyK1NKJJH-4i_sbpJFU4TFC4GS_XoWNtl0nEc55aOb00yZMtgNcrUF2nKZlZ170AqWwYT8W3Cav1vA3WJj_SG9ZEHvz/s320/blogger-image--1018225407.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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My post-lunch dessert: Jasmine green tea with black sesame dumplings from last night's dinner at Din Tai Fung. And guess who's going to be trying <a href="http://rasamalaysia.com/black-sesame-dumplings-tang-yuan/2/">the recipe</a> as soon as I get home and get my hands on black sesame seeds and glutinous rice flour? THIS GIRL.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rYMCaSCCtWzcULp5r-KSO3hPvBCu8K_H9Y423QJoxaYaB2LLsQDucv8fHuaNlL0VovyY0q-rLQ-tmBVItv0iZnsIjW78zv1NhwC4O76YctIQPPDJonTEzvUjoiS8X8NyApT_qYEgqJJh/s640/blogger-image-840377566.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rYMCaSCCtWzcULp5r-KSO3hPvBCu8K_H9Y423QJoxaYaB2LLsQDucv8fHuaNlL0VovyY0q-rLQ-tmBVItv0iZnsIjW78zv1NhwC4O76YctIQPPDJonTEzvUjoiS8X8NyApT_qYEgqJJh/s640/blogger-image-840377566.jpg" /></a></div>
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...And then a trip to the Farmer's Market for a fresh pretzel. Completely unnecessary, but soooo carb-y. So salty. So good. And then on the way out, we saw <a href="http://www.mollymoonicecream.com/ice-cream-flavors">this truck</a>. And I did the whole "oh I've heard that place is good! I've read about it! Oh but it's 5:15pm, so ice cream is probably not a good idea... and I don't think I have any money." But I scrounged together $2.50 in change, and I got the most delicious honey lavender 100% cream ice cream that I've ever eaten. <i>In a cone</i>. That's right. The six-year-old girl behind me ended up ordering the same thing, which only made me more sure that that was <i>exactly</i> the right decision. Carpe diem, baby.</div>
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No workout today-- yesterday's 18ish hilly miles did a number on my quads, and a run is out of the question. Do ice baths actually help? This is the sorest I've ever been...</div>
Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5840674981805448657.post-36953631836470285222011-09-14T23:43:00.000-07:002011-09-30T00:54:00.997-07:00My first ice bathDoes anyone else actually want to throw up at the thought of food after long runs? No? Just me after 18 miles? Moving on...<br />
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Guess what got my mind off that pretty quickly?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVvS0AOWiHeFPilyrLx74mX4eYKl1f0aica0MRjNYl5BftCvhg2Skffd4htSgOxWMKLlIDvrSn65gMAPu7nqx4Bocb3mp5MNgnrH9H5fcKMZI3Gq9Im6Br2XisMAA-vD0gGy3hfGfVxmrX/s640/blogger-image--1792564066.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVvS0AOWiHeFPilyrLx74mX4eYKl1f0aica0MRjNYl5BftCvhg2Skffd4htSgOxWMKLlIDvrSn65gMAPu7nqx4Bocb3mp5MNgnrH9H5fcKMZI3Gq9Im6Br2XisMAA-vD0gGy3hfGfVxmrX/s400/blogger-image--1792564066.jpg" width="299" /></a></div>
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I read some hints about doing the whole ice bath thing, which I never really understood, to be honest. I mean, I'm usually a little sore after a long run, but not so much so that it's immobilizing! I sprang for it today, and got ready in my bikini and North Face. What a combination.<br />
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I settled down with my go-to recovery for long runs: Joint Health emergen-C and Chobani. When I really can't stomach the thought of anything that takes effort to digest, I stick to high-protein yogurt. Mmmm.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZM9eKVeXiI-yd8YrnS1aacUJFpFn9B1uokOn_EhtZz0Ho8fmCgaXlQLG9tGje7BqdvtZV1L2OukMdKKRD28D1mAxjGqYS0patS3hMmAFbWLBk21bsK4kO8oDIWqEEl7pRQGX4ug-HGY11/s640/blogger-image--1990725143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZM9eKVeXiI-yd8YrnS1aacUJFpFn9B1uokOn_EhtZz0Ho8fmCgaXlQLG9tGje7BqdvtZV1L2OukMdKKRD28D1mAxjGqYS0patS3hMmAFbWLBk21bsK4kO8oDIWqEEl7pRQGX4ug-HGY11/s400/blogger-image--1990725143.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I read that you're supposed to stay in an ice bath for 15-20 minutes. I set my phone alarm for 12 as my no-bail minimum (naturally), and if I wanted to stay longer, I would. I use this same technique for my runs, and I'm always surprised how well it works. Sure enough, I stayed in for about 17 minutes. My mug of hot tea and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0QvJ3dXqmvw">this song</a> popping up on Pandora were the only things getting me through my first ice bath. My muscles didn't feel any different--until I tried to get out of the tub and felt like I legitimately needed a handicap lift-- but didn't think about this side effect:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfO6YXeg-SoQpnQeuNRjznBXj0X-piTs2VHaqDigfnrk9YFXONdEL0yiZuC3Cy2dFjQ426R4hyphenhyphen-6DlcozZh-k5yE-9wEKGLUESw3LxYUqI0S-lQvKMc84YLcfUInZL7BzNkhgLcQP51Fej/s1600/web-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfO6YXeg-SoQpnQeuNRjznBXj0X-piTs2VHaqDigfnrk9YFXONdEL0yiZuC3Cy2dFjQ426R4hyphenhyphen-6DlcozZh-k5yE-9wEKGLUESw3LxYUqI0S-lQvKMc84YLcfUInZL7BzNkhgLcQP51Fej/s200/web-1.jpg" width="200" /> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRjqp1_lPNTwhrJo-39rVuvQsdjfouwTQNnovb-1jp_t2xSCfz59KwiwBFkED5KapDRijzLuKhe_IOL35yteJYYesU59ap6oT-9zG6sQwMpX6hN1HxysqUzUtv5NPoCqLaxqB8kWL_sN2w/s1600/web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRjqp1_lPNTwhrJo-39rVuvQsdjfouwTQNnovb-1jp_t2xSCfz59KwiwBFkED5KapDRijzLuKhe_IOL35yteJYYesU59ap6oT-9zG6sQwMpX6hN1HxysqUzUtv5NPoCqLaxqB8kWL_sN2w/s200/web.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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Numb fingers (and toes), officially called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raynaud's_phenomenon">R</a>aynaud's, it's more annoying and embarrassing than anything else. Try holding a door open for the stranger behind you when half your hand looks like a corpse's. As far as the genetic lottery goes, though, I have to say I'm still pretty lucky. I guess shitty blood circulation is just kind of my pet trick.<br />
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Fortunately this whole ordeal was assuaged by seeing Contagion, shopping, and going out to <a href="http://www.dintaifungusa.com/en/en_index.html">Din Tai Fung</a> for dumplings. I'd been craving pork buns for weeks. We ended up splurging on hot & sour pork soup, pork buns, garlic sautéed green beans, shrimp and rice cakes, spicy noodles in peanut sauce, and chicken dumplings, washed down with a Tsingtao. Dessert was <i>the most delicious</i> sesame dumplings with jasmine tea. Seriously, next time I'm going back just for dessert.<br />
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10464370083187961017noreply@blogger.com0