When in Rome, make a Cheese Plate (Part V of V)

This is it: the final cheese plate. It has taken almost two months, but work is picking up at the office, and it feels great to be busy. I would have finished this earlier, but I’m also grieving the loss of my nine-year-old cat Miette. 

It feels strange to lose someone so dear to you while you’re abroad. On one hand, not being in the same place they were in removes the aspect of being constantly reminded that their presence is no longer there. On the other hand, the idea of not seeing her when I visit for the holidays or when I Skype my parents… it’s a blow to the heart, for sure.

A quick eulogy.

Miette had a tender tummy (like me). She struggled to hold food down, and we ended up putting her on a gluten free diet. Our cats have always been given supplements, special kitty litter, and different meal types (wet and dry) from companies that value quality for our four-legged family members as much as we do.

Finding out that Miette had passed while I was abroad brought about similar grieving patterns you would expect: the five stages of grief and loss. Part of me wishes it were a sick joke. Part of me thinks that it was my fault because I wasn’t there for her (or for my other cat, Lilli, who grieved heavily and searched for her for weeks). Part of me is grateful she was loved and taken care of until the end, but also angry with myself and in general. And a huge part of me struggles to fall asleep until after one a.m., even a month later, because we all know where thoughts can go in the darkness of night when you’re grieving.

She was a wonderful and slightly insane cat. She was picky. She insisted on waking people up at four in the morning to turn on the sink for her to drink water. She chaperoned CK’s and my walks around the neighborhood. She was fiercely loyal and she loved with all of her being. And goodness, that sandpaper tongue… She was the perfect model, who posed for photos and always looked at the lens.

She loved the weirdest foods too. She loved coconut milk and tried to eat avocado (they aren’t good for kitties, so stop them immediately when they do). She and Lilli would sneak onto the counters and eat meat or animal fats had been left out.

She was weird. She was obnoxious. She was sweet. She was family. She was part of this awesome dynamic kitty duo that slept with me under the covers. She made having a tender tummy something to bond over and not feel wrong for. She was there for me through heartbreak, through high school, college, and graduate school. She was there when Meals with Morri was created. It feels so bizarre that a lot of things are continuing on and she won’t be there to see it.

The sadness is lessening each day, but I will always miss her and grateful to have had such an amazing friend in my life.
 

During the last week of August, CK and I completed the South Italy cheese plate. Instead of trying to find food and wine pairings, like I had with the previous ones, I decided to make homemade buckwheat crackers and cracked open a cider and beer. The regions were Abruzzo, Apulia, Basilicata, Calabria, Compania, and Molise. One cheese was used to represent Calabria and Compania, since the cheese is found in both.

I apologize in advance for the descriptions to not be particularly descriptive. It’s been a while, and I’ve forgotten individual tastes and flavors. However, like the patterns of the previous regions, this particular region emphasized on mild flavors and semi-hard cheeses, usually pear shaped (which I will get into in a moment), showing that mild doesn’t have to mean tasteless. Almost all are considered pasta filata cheeses with a spicy aftertaste depending on the cheese’s maturation.

From Abruzzo, we tried Pecorino di Farindola Stagionato. It is a slightly piquant, grassy flavored cheese, with a small peppery aftertaste that is just delightful. 

We next tried Pallone di Gravina, a cheese found in both Apulia and Basilicata. A stretched-curd cheese, it’s hung to mature, resulting in the cheese being either pear-shaped or round.

From Basilicata, although this cheese is found throughout the South, we tasted Caciocavello Silano, a D.O.P. cheese. The spiciness comes from the aging process in the cellars along with Sila’s climate. It is rich cream color throughout, but with sporadic holes.

Caciotto represented Calabria and Compania, although I am curious whether or not there is a longer name to it. I recall this one being the most mild of the cheeses, kind if like a young provolone.

Finally, it took me quite a while to find a cheese from Molise, but it was a hidden gem in the form of Caciocavello di Agnone. Another pear-shaped cheese, its production in Molise is recognized and included in the list of traditional Italian food products (PAT). Its origins are also considered to be quite old, and perhaps the cheese with the oldest history we had tried.

This concludes my five-part Italian Cheese Plate Project! Despite trying over twenty different cheeses, this doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the many cheeses Italy has brought to the world. There is still a cheese from Sardegna that my Sardinian friend at the office wants me to try, and if any of you can recommend other cheeses from the regions, please let me know! 

I also have another project I want to look into: French butter. I finished a book on Julia Child's exploits in France (also in Germany and Norway) where she raved over how each region had its own butter, consisting of different flavors, textures, and uses.

Luckily, I don’t think CK will mind.

When in Rome, make a Cheese Plate (Part IV of V)

While I didn’t finish writing up the cheese plates by the time I left for Malta to resume my internship, I did hold on to my notes of the cheeses for the remaining two. For both plates, I struggled with pairings, if only because many sites reference wine and cheese pairings and not necessarily food and cheese. I paired the cheeses with mostarda and jam, but it seemed like these cheeses all paired with the tomato sauce the best. Everything else was a mediocre combination.

The other struggle I had was the time limit. I only had a week to finish three, and so the last two were rather rushed. That, and I wanted to spend as much time with CK without the camera lens between us before continuing on with the long distance (LD) status.

And we did.

The fourth cheese plate combines two regions that aren’t near each other whatsoever; they aren’t even connected to Italy’s mainland. The two I’m referring to make up Insular Italy, Sicily (Sicilia) and Sardinia (Sardegna).

As with many of these regions, I didn’t know much about either. They are Italian, but they are also immensely proud of being Sicilian or Sardinian. As they are not connected to the mainland, they are culturally different in many ways. And one of many things that distinguish these two regions is the food culture.

Since they are not connected and nowhere near each other, their cheeses were profoundly different. Both were saltier than any of the cheeses CK and I had tasted so far. We also picked two cheeses for both regions, of which one was represent with a DOP cheese and the other a cheese that happened to be offered in Eataly.

Now… about the wine. I couldn’t find Sardinian wine, sadly, so I chose a Sicilian wine to pair with both. I was rather disappointed with the pairing, to be honest. It didn’t fit with any of the cheeses, and following the cheese plate we realized that it just wasn’t a wine we preferred. It seemed too sour, and equally too pithy, for our liking. The wine we had was a 2011 Irmana Il Nero d'Avola E Il Frappato, from Sicily. Perhaps it was meant to be a table wine for a certain type of dish, but as I said, we just didn’t enjoy it like we had the others.

For Sicilia, we chose Ragusano (DOP) and Secondo Sale. The Ragusano is a dry cheese, but its buttery flavor was a lot like the butter Mama Dazz ordered from the Amish. It had a sour, pungent aftertaste that wasn’t exactly smoky, but reminded me of cooking over an open fire. The Secondo Sale, or “Second Salting”, was sharp and smoky cheese with glorious bits of whole black peppercorns throughout the cheese. It was so buttery, the natural oils beaded on top of the cheese.

For Sardegna, we chose Fiore Sardo (DOP) and RE Priamo*. The Fiore Sardo had also beaded natural oils onto the surface, and while sour, it wasn’t as pungent as the Ragusano. The RE Priamo, or whatever it is actually called, was the softest cheese on the plate as well as the most mild. It was sweet and buttery, but not tasteless, and had notes of tomato.

As mentioned, I really struggled with the pairings, if only because these cheeses were meant to be topped on some homemade tomato sauce. I was a bit discouraged with how it came together, and I’m still flinching over the presentation of the last one, but the cheeses were quite delightful. The lesson here is that I really want to travel to these different regions to taste their cheeses, although Eataly had definitely opened my eyes to what is out there.

* To this day I am still confused about the name of this cheese. Its name was on display as I’ve typed it here, and it says it originates from Sardegna. If anyone knows anything about this cheese, please comment below!

When in Rome, make a Cheese Plate (Part III of V)

After three cheese plates, CK and I started to see patterns. With the first cheese plate, we saw an array of fresh and soft cheeses. With the second, we saw cross-cultural appreciation of creaminess and hints of blue marble. Now, with the third, we saw hardness, aging, and Italy’s best-kept secret food combination.

Northeast Italy is made up of four regions: Emilia-Romagna; Friuli-Venezia Giulia, Trentino-Alto Adige; and Veneto.

This was an interesting cheese plate to create. It was simple, rustic, highly cheese-focused in comparison to the others. It was also the easiest to make (it took longer to pick out a wine than it did finding the cheeses). I was quite proud of the fact that, one, I was able to find all four region’s cheeses and, two, they all have PDO/DOP status. You may also notice that there were only three pairings on the plate along with the cheeses. This is because every cheese could be and was paired with vinegar or honey. The Grana Padano was also eaten with olives, just to be different.

This was also the first cheese plate that the wine went beautifully with all four cheeses and the pairings. The wine was a 2011 Allegrini Palazzo della Torre, from the Veneto region. It is a lovely wine, with a balance in sweetness and fullness that isn’t overpowering and absolutely luscious in between bites of cheese dipped in honey or balsamic vinegar.

From Emilia-Romagna came the fantastic and infamous Parmigiano-Reggiano. It’s a popular cheese here (as in, it completely fills an entire shelf unit in Eataly’s cheese department), and has similar notes to Parmesan or Grana Padano (strong flavors, a great pasta/topping cheese). A sharp cheese with a sweet end-note, it brings a smoky, almost spicy finish to any dish you can think of. CK and I thought the combination of this cheese with the honey was a match made in heaven. This was the secret I was telling you about. Pairing honey with this cheese was something of a cheese nirvana moment for me, sort of like the apple and peanut butter in the dairy world. And we all know how much I love that combination.

Montasio represented Friuli-Venezia Giulia. It’s a very mild cheese with a tantalizingly rounded aroma that reminded us of a mild swiss. This cheese is very similar to Trentino’s Asiago, only less pungent just slightly harder. It went beautifully with both pairings. Alas, I believe I was turned around in taking the photos, as I photographed the Montasio twice… Anyway, Asiago is quite the surprise. It has a similar aroma to Gruyere, only more mild in pungency and spicier.

Finally, Veneto’s Grana Padano, another popular cheese. Like Parmigiano-Reggiano, it had its own shelving unit stock-full of huge wedges. It isn’t a strong as the other cheese, but it does have a sharp quality that is more savory than it was sweet. When paired with honey, the cheese seemed to take on the sweetness as its own flavor, becoming a sort of honey fudge to me. It was delicious and rather rich, but we both felt that the vinegar paired significantly better with it.

I noticed that there was a spectrum to the pairings’ compatibility. We tried the cheeses with both the vinegar and the honey separately, sipping on the wine in between. Two of the cheeses excelled with both pairings equally (Montasio and Asiago), while the other two remained loyal team-vinegar (Grana Padano) or team-honey (Parmigiano-Reggiano) through and through.

So although it wasn’t necessarily the prettiest cheese plate, it was a satisfying one nonetheless.

When in Rome, make a Cheese Plate (Part II of V)

With two cheese plates down, I’ve reflected on national pride. National pride looks different to different people. Sometimes it’s a flag, an ethnic identity, an ideological belief. Sometimes, it’s a standard of living, a way of living, and a job well done.

With Italy, I’ve come to see much of the country’s national pride in the food.

I’m amazed by the cheeses here. Each region, sometimes down to a specific village or town, has a cheese to be proud of. Each region has a heritage, and a responsibility to uphold such a proud lineage of gastronomic proportions. The cheeses, and the wines, tell a story of where they come from, often with something special to remember them by. I will always savor how Mozzarella di Bufala Compana tastes, by itself and with quality balsamic vinegar. I will always appreciate Scamorza affumicata’s smokiness, or how the Northwest Cheese Plate brought with it a new-found appreciation for blue cheeses.

Before I go into describing this cheese plate, I must say that how Europe treats and views food is a breath of fresh air that I hope the United States will completely embody one day. I think we have lost our national pride in foods that goes beyond wines. Sure, we joke about the Midwest deep fat frying everything, or how California is one big vineyard, or New York’s bagels, or Chicago’s deep-dish pizza, or Appalachia being moonshine central, or, in my home state Virginia, the honey-baked ham. We have a history of food beyond the stereotypes, and I think the country has lost that pride with the replacement of factory processing and quantity over quality. We hide where food comes from, mostly because various corporations don’t want us to know. And while I agree in keeping a sanitary production of everything food related, I believe we’ve removed the humanity in what we eat. Almost everything I’ve eaten in Malta, although it is more so in Rome, tells the consumer exactly where it comes from on the label, sometimes down to the individual farm and the address. That’s a 'think global, act local’ mentality that I wish every place in the world included in its national pride, and something I think will be incorporated into my country’s pride in the near future.

Northwest Italy is made up of the following administrative regions: Aosta Valley (Valle d’Aosta); Lombardy (Lombardia); Piedmont (Piemonte); and Liguria. Every region either touches France or Switzerland, so there is likely some cross-national cuisine action going on or an Alpine culture that combines the neighboring regions’ cuisines into something spectacular (for example, the national languages in Valle d’Aosta are Italian and French). But each region is singular and individual, with different species of grapes that become fantastic wines, local languages, and cuisine specialties (Liguria is famed for being the original place of pesto, an important and very popular sauce throughout Italy as a whole).

It was hard to find the cheeses I was hoping to highlight, but with Eataly boldly labeling the regions of where their cheeses came from, I made do with what was there. Liguria was the hardest region to find a cheese, although from my research it seemed like blue goat cheese was something that came from there and so I found Erborinato di Capra as a substitute. We did find a wine that came from the Ligurian region (a DOC to boot), however, so I hope that will make up for it.

Because the cheeses turned out to be primarily pungent, soft, and two of them blue, the pairing suggestions tended to focus on fruits, nuts, and either fruity reds or semi-sweet to dry white wines. The Scamorza affumicata, on the other hand, didn’t feel like a ‘wine’ cheese; rather, it was something to be eaten on its own or being part of a dish where the food, not the wine, was the focus. The wine we purchased was a Durin Pigato DOC Riviera Ligure di Ponente Pigato 2013. It is a dry white, soft and round on the tongue, full-bodied and a distinguished as well as pleasant bitter background. Even though I tend to drink reds, I would recommend this wine to drink by itself or as an accompaniment to any dish with pesto or goat cheese.

Valle d’Aosta is known for Fontina, a cheese with PDO status. In the States, Fontina tends to be milder than what I purchased. The original stuff is quite pungent and intense, and the nectarine we paired it with seemed to lessen its bitterness. The wine paired nicely with it, rounding the sweetness of the nectarine and balancing the intensity of the cheese’s aftertaste. I wasn’t a fan of the cheese by itself, preferring to have the pungency be an accent to a dish instead of being prominent.

While Scamorza is typically known as a cheese produced in the south of Italy, Lombardia is also known for making the cheese. Like mozzarella, it is a pasta filata (or stretched curd) cheese, so it is easy to replace mozzarella with it in recipes. Scamorza affumicata is the smoked version, and one of our go-to cheeses when it’s offered. Although we typically get the pre-packaged kind, Eataly has a mozzarella station neighboring the cheese monger. They were offering fresh scamorza affumicata, so how on earth could we refuse? We tried a small slice before putting on the cheese plate, marveling in how different it tasted from what we usually ate. It had a sourer note, not as salty, but adding sea salt to it balanced the flavors quite nicely (CK also thinks it would have gone well on a bed of spicy Italian arugula, and I agree wholeheartedly).

As I said, Scamorza doesn’t seem to be the cheese plate sort of cheese, in that the cheese can be eaten on its own or as part of a dish, and the dish itself being paired with an appropriate wine. In this case, it was a “take it, or leave it” sort of deal with the white wine.

We picked Blu di Langa to represent Piemonte, and I was excited to try this cheese. Initially, I was hoping to find Castelmagno (a cheese with PDO status), but it was extremely hard to find. But when I saw the cheese through the display window, I thought it would be interesting to have two blue cheeses* to taste the differences. I was also looking for Gorgonzola specifically from that region (or Lombardy), but to no avail. But this cheese was a pleasant surprise, since I’m a bit cautious with blue cheeses in general. If you can imagine Brie that has blue veins, mostly mild and creamy with a little intensity per bite… oh yes, I was in heaven with this cheese. We paired this with golden apple slices, and it was a beautiful combination. I could imagine this cheese being used in a cheesecake, or on a bagel paired with a fig spread.

The wine went deliciously with the cheese, complementing the flavorful blue veins with something sweet and the creamy texture with a fruity sharpness that came with the combination. This was my favorite food, cheese, and wine pairing.

Finally, Eborinato di Capra to represent Liguria, and both CK’s and my favorite cheese on the board. It was milder than the Fontina, buttery and soft. And the blue veins were not bitter; rather, they were slightly sharp and gave you this pleasant surprise of flavor that was just enough without being overwhelming. We tried pairing it with the grapes (meh...), but in all honesty, this was a great “I stand alone” cheese with the possibility of some crunch with a good cracker. It was like that with the wine as well. It didn’t need to be paired with anything. It was heaven in its own right. 

This was a more challenging cheese plate to put together, since many of the cheeses (two of four) had to be picked on the fly, but like the first it was a delight to research the regions and their contributions to their country’s cuisine.


*A note on blue cheese and the gluten free diet:

From Tricia Thompson’s (MS, RD) (2011) “Blue Cheese” article: “In 2009 The Canadian Celiac Association tested 3 blue cheeses and 2 penicillium roqueforti cultures grown on a variety of gluten-containing media, including wheat-based dextrose, barley malt extract, and wheat/rye flour mixture. Results indicate that the gluten content is below the limit of quantification in these products using both the Sandwich R5 ELISA and the Competitive R5 ELISA (29).” For more information on this study, click here.

Now, while tests have been done and have shown that gluten content in blue cheese production is either low enough on both ELISA scales or quite possibly non-existent, I do urge people who are extremely sensitive to such miniscule amounts of gluten to do research and proceed with caution when eating blue cheeses in general. As far as I am aware, the Blu di Langa and the Eborinato di Capra are gluten free cheeses, and were safe for me (in that, I didn’t have a reaction, which tends to come on within a few hours of ingesting non-Morri friendly foods). But please be safe and follow your intuition with foods that are on the fence on such things.

When in Rome, make a Cheese Plate (Part I of V)

When looking at a culture, I’ve always said the best way to really immerse yourself into it is by tasting the food. I found it interesting that, with the number of times that I’ve traveled to Rome this year, I haven’t posted anything about it, especially the food. And that’s a shame, because my perspective of food changed because of living in the Mediterranean, eating homemade and wholesome foods, always fresh and usually local. I learned to savor ingredients in Rome, and so I thought to honor that by writing about cheese.

"I never had real cheese until I came to Rome." (CK)

I’ve mentioned before how CK is a cheese fiend, and it’s contagious. I have come to really enjoy cheese as a food in ways I didn’t before. I typically used cheese to top dishes, but I was never the sort of person to look at cheese as the main focus on a plate. When we arrived to Rome, I was trying to think of something fun CK and I could do together that was food related in August. I don’t know when I came up with the idea, but when we settled into his apartment, the game was on to create a cheese plate that described Italy in such a way that showed just how diverse and broad the food culture of country actually was.

Italy has more than Mozzarella, Parmesan, or Pecorino Romano to be proud of. The country makes hundreds of cheeses, and quite a few have PDO (Protected Designation of Origin) status, which promote and protect names of quality agriculture products and foodstuffs (an example of this is Champagne being found in only one part of France, and so not all bubbly white wines are called Champagne). I wanted to understand Italy through the cheeses it made, breaking it down to each cheese plate representing the larger regions (Northwest, Northeast, Central, Southern, and Insular) of the country, and each of those regions broken down into the twenty individual regions. Each cheese would have a food pairing, and each plate would have a regional wine.

To start this project, I did a bit of research. I made an excel spreadsheet of the smaller regions and came up with PDO cheeses for each one. I accepted the fact that some of these cheeses would be hard to find, and choosing one cheese over another should the neighboring regions overlap (which a few do). So to the Italians and cheese lovers alike reading this, I apologize in advance.

"To eat is an agricultural act.
 The first consumer’s agricultural gesture is to choose what to eat." (Eataly's Philosophy)

Lunch was freshly juiced "Pomodoro" and one deliciously prepared Mozzarella di Bufula salad.

CK and I spent the day running errands and found ourselves at Eataly for the afternoon. I still stand by my statement that this store is the love-child of Ikea and Whole Foods, because it leaves me in awe every time I walk through the door. There are multiple floors that break the store into categories of foodstuff: restaurants, kitchenware, coffee and desserts, pastas, meats, cheeses, fresh fruits and vegetables, alcohol (it has wine on tap and an in-house brewery), and so much more. We picked up a few non-food things, but what we were there for was a nice lunch and to make the first cheese plate of the five-part cheese project.

I decided that, since we’re in Rome, I’d begin with the central region of Italy, which is broken down into the following administrative regions: Lazio, with Mozzarella di Bufala Compana; Marche, with Casciotta d’Urbino; Umbria, with Caciotta al Tartufo; and Toscana (aka, Tuscany), with Stracchino. 

The wine we picked was an Umani Ronchi Serrano Rosso Conero DOC* 2013, from Marche. It is a fruity yet robust wine, with a medium-body but sweet finish. It is quite pleasant, and we both thought it paired wonderfully with the Mozzarella di Bufala Compana and the Caciotta al Tartufo. The Casciotta d’Urbino and the Stracchino would have paired better with a dry white or a rose.   

The Mozzarella di Bufala Compana was sliced and paired with a heirloom tomato on top of spicy arugula, and the tang finish of the cheese really brought out the brightness of its paired foods (a great recipe for such a combination can be found here). The wine was glorious to sip on in between bites, a great balance of flavor and textures. 

The Casciotta d’Urbino was paired with dried fig, and I was surprised by how buttery it was. It is a mild cheese, slightly firm and, in my opinion, a fantastic dessert cheese suitable for fruits and honey. As stated, the wine wasn’t the best pairing, as it soured the sweetness somewhat of the cheese and fig. CK is not a big fan of dried fruits, but he was a trooper in trying it out, and ended up enjoying it immensely.

CK and I bought Caciotta al Tartufo when we arrived on Tuesday and loved it. I’ve had truffles in cheese only once before and wasn’t a fan, but this one definitely changed my mind. Although I paired it with olives on the plate, the suggested pairings for this cheese were either egg or pasta dishes. I can confirm the former, as I made a zucchini, onion, mushroom, and olive frittata topped with this cheese. This also paired well with the wine, balancing the pungent earthiness of the truffles as well as the briny aftertaste of the olives.

Finally, the Stracchino was matched with a ripening pear. This cheese isn't specific to Toscana, but there are a few dishes from the area that call for the cheese, and so I chose it because of that. It reminded me of cream cheese and mascarpone combined, and it was the softest and the most mild cheese on the plate. Decadent and filling, I enjoyed its velvet richness with the vibrant fresh crunch of the fruit. It also didn’t pair very well with the wine, resulting in a bitter finish.

CK and I had a hard time choosing our “favorite” cheeses, but I have become a huge Mozzarella di Bufala fan since my first bite and he isn’t much of a fruit eater, so we leaned towards the 'savory' cheeses and their pairings. But one thing is for certain, we’ve been eating cheese all wrong up until now… and we’re changing that.

And, delightful readers, should there be a certain cheese in the remaining regions coming up that you believe we need to spotlight, let us know the name, region, and suggested food pairing, and we’ll work to make that happen!

* DOC, or Denominazione di Origine Controllata ("Controlled designation of origin") is a quality assurance label for Italian food products, particularly wines and certain cheeses (Denominazione di Origine Protetta).

The New St. Paddy Tradition

The day of and following St. Paddy’s had greener than green flora and overcast skies. There was leftover corned beef and cabbage from Friday (we started early this year), and a trial run of gluten free soda bread sliced on the counter. There were good conversations and rock climbing. There was family and good food and laughter around the table. Oh, and naturally there was green everywhere.

Since I was a wee lass, St. Paddy’s Day was celebrated with corned beef and cabbage, talk of leprechauns, and wearing green. Sometimes leprechauns left little trinkets in my shoddy shoebox trap, in place of the potato I’d left beneath it. There was a year green Ken doll footprints were found all over the furniture in the classrooms of my school. This isn’t the religious holiday my Irish cousins observe overseas, but for one day out of the year the U.S. is enthusiastically Irish.

Contrary to popular belief, the corned beef tradition on St. Paddy's doesn’t come from Ireland, as beef was considered a luxury at the time. In the 19th century, with the potato famine sending many Irish families to the United States, many say it was because beef being more readily available and the close cultural interactions with Jewish butchers that made corned beef a staple in Irish American cuisine. Thus, the corned beef and cabbage, the beef replacing the bacon for the traditional dish, became associated with St. Patrick’s Day.

Corned beef and I have had our rocky years. At one point, I wasn’t all too fond of the dish, though I did enjoy corned beef hash (oh yes, the canned kind) immensely. Though I started to develop a taste for it, only to realize that the store-bought corned beef in brine wasn’t as Morri friendly as it could be. Sugar is the basis for many types of brine, and I was determined to have corned beef and cabbage this weekend.

The answer was to make it from scratch, homemade brine and all.

I should have let it marinate longer than five days (the bare minimum amount of time for a decent corned beef), but it was a wonderful experiment and I consider it a success regardless. Since we bought a rather large brisket and only used half (the other half was then halved again and frozen), I’m going to make it again when I have a craving for corned beef hash. Another difference is that I will use whole spices instead of ground, because it was all I had at the time and we just restocked from Penzeys this afternoon.

The recipe for the brine comes from The Caveman Bistro’s post “The Brining of the Beef – a Paleo Experiment”. Most, if not all the brines I looked at for inspiration were in fact gluten free. But refined sugar free was harder, and this paleo brine saved the day. 

Corned Beef Brisket Brine

2 qt. Water
30 ml Unrefined apple cider vinegar
8 Garlic cloves, crushed
1 tbsp. Sea salt
6 Dried whole bay leaves
1 tbsp. Whole peppercorns
1 tbsp. Mustard seed powder
1 tbsp. Allspice powder
1 tbsp. Ground cloves
5 -7 lbs. Beef brisket, trimmed of heavy fat (though some fat can be left on for flavor and texture)
   
In a large pot on the stovetop, combine water, vinegar, garlic, salt, bay, pepper, mustard, all spice and cloves and heat to a boil. 
Reduce heat and simmer for 10 minutes, and then remove from heat and allow to cool until room temperature. 
Place brisket in the large pot with the cooled brine mixture and push the brisket down so that it is completely submerged in the brine. 
Place pot in fridge and marinate for minimum 5-7 days and up to 3 weeks.
When ready, prepare as you would a commercially prepared corned beef brisket…

Now that you have a delicious corned beef recipe waiting to happen, let’s make it even more amazing with a few additional ingredients!

The following recipe was the inspiration of the cookbook Irish Pub Cooking (2009), something I picked up at the GMU bookstore two years ago.

Corned Beef and Cabbage

Corned beef, after the desired period of marinating
1 tsp. Sea salt
1 Large white onion, sliced
6 Carrots, cut into chunks
1 Turnip, thickly sliced
6 Red skinned potatoes, cut into chunks
1 Green cabbage, cored and cut into wedges
9 g Parsley (or 1 oz stemmed), coarsely chopped
Mustard, as garnish

… Drain the meat, discarding the soaking liquid, then rinse (I discarded the garlic cloves, but held onto the bay leaves and peppercorns).
Put the meat and spices (including the salt) back into the pot, and pour enough water to cover.
Bring to a boil and then reduce the heat to a simmer and cover the meat to cook for 1 hour and 45 minutes or longer (I recommend using the pressure cooker to cut the time).
At the one-hour mark, add the onion, carrots, turnip, and potatoes to the pot, re-cover, and simmer for the remaining 45 minutes.
Add the cabbage and parsley on top of the broth and let it cook for another 25 – 30 minutes, or until the meat is tender.
Remove the beef, cover with aluminum foil, and let stand for 10 minutes to firm up.
Strain the vegetables (but keep the broth!) and put them into a warmed serving dish, discarding the stray bay leaves.
Carve the meat into slices and serve immediately with the vegetables, accompanied by the mustard.

Makes 8 – 10 servings.

Russian Blini for Two

I am being perfectly honest with you all when I say that this month’s GFRR was hard. I’m not sure it had to do with my mindset, or if it truly was the multiple crepe recipes that weren’t working out. Now, with the final recipe written and posted, I’ve learned a few valuable lessons I’d like to share.

I try really hard not to use this blog as my place to rant about whatever grievance may come my way, as I did my first few months of blogging. And whenever I do talk about things that are less than rays of sunshine, I do what I can to not come off as some whiny, self-centered princess. Every time I do the GFRR with the other amazing participants, I am always humbled by the journey I took to get to that winning (or not so winning) recipe, and also by the recipes the others made.

For this particular challenge, I focused too much in the beginning of what kind of crepe I wanted to make and not at all on making a simple batch successfully. And I do this outside the kitchen all the time: daydreaming the details, doing what I can to making it exotic and outlandish, and not even thinking about mastering the basics first.

As I said, I’ve made crepes before. And yes, this implies I did so successfully. I've made them in a (gasp!) non-stick skillet and recently in a cast iron griddle pan. I expected victory, demanded triumph. What I got was a smack of humility and the Universe telling me to chill the crepe out. If you want to make something as temperamental as crepes, you have to have a cool head, patience, and remain optimistic even when you mess up a crepe (or, you know, half the batch… twice in a row).

Michael Ruhlman called crepes a “vehicle” (Ratio p. 81). I know he meant literally, as in “a vehicle for foods and flavors.” But for me, food is just as figurative as it is literal. Figuratively, the crepe is a vehicle for introspection and perspective. You know where you are in life when you make crepes. If all goes well, and you have a batch of freshly made crepes on a plate just waiting to be devoured, you start thinking how wonderful your life is and how wonderful you are. And if it doesn’t, if the crepes stick to the pan, break apart when you’re getting ready to flip them, are too thick or too thin or too something else, a storm cloud forms above your parade and you start grumbling “Oh, crepe!” like it was an expletive.

To be fair, even the not so pretty crepes in the batch tasted just fine, so I don’t think it had anything to do with the ingredients. It was the execution of making said crepes: not a hot enough pan, not a thin enough spatula, not a balanced enough stovetop, not patient enough, not a positive enough mentality… the list could go on if I let it.

While making crepes, I struggled to remain optimistic as my spatula pierced through yet another one in my flipping attempts. I started thinking of the uncontrollables and uncertainties I tried to keep from surfacing. As I said before, I don’t like to talk about myself when I’m feeling less than awesome. When things are less than kosher, I become introverted and do what I can to fix it myself so I don’t worry people.

The truth of the matter, my dear friends, is this: health isn’t always a sunny pasture with organic fruits and veggies on rolling hills as far as the eyes can see. While making crepes, I was upset, though upon asking I wouldn’t know what to say. I don’t really talk about my hypothyroidism very much on this blog (as of yet), nor about my adrenals or my internal health. I talk about disordered eating and fitness and my trials with both. I philosophize about food and life and love. The things I don’t talk about are only mentioned in passing, simply because I don’t know much about them except by how they make me feel. And throughout the entire month of February, I was frustrated and upset. Frustrated and upset, because I didn’t know why I was frustrated and upset. Was it a hormonal imbalance? Am I taking too much or too little Armour Thyroid? Why do my hands still have that slight yellowish hue from time to time, and what do my nails say about my overall health? Have I developed hyperthyroidism in my attempts to remedy my hypothyroidism? (These are ask-the-doctor questions, I know.)

I can always tell something’s wrong whenever I begin nitpicking at myself. It usually comes in the form of criticizing my body, and then wondering why my exercising and my eating habits weren’t transforming me into a shorter version of Wonder Woman in a matter of twenty-four hours.

Sometimes the conditions for making amazing crepes don’t happen. Sometimes you don’t understand what’s going on with your body or why your day was laced with moments where all you could say was “Oh, crepe!” Sometimes less than pleasant things happen, like crepes looking like badly formed discs of dough or falling twenty feet from a rock climbing wall and your chin painfully colliding with your chest.

These things happen, and the best thing you can do is brush off the hand chalk on your shorts after climbing or the splatter of crepe batter on your apron.

February and the start of March was a challenge in every right, and T.R. from No One Likes Crumbly Cookies picked the ratio that embodied it perfectly.

The concept for the crepe ratio is simple enough: 1-1-1/2, or one part egg, one part liquid, and half parts flour. (I focused on how much the eggs weighed and went from there.) But when it comes to the science of bringing them ingredients together… that’s where it gets iffy.

Some say to make sure the ingredients are at room temperature before blending, while others don’t even mention it. Some say refrigerate to let the batter “bloom” up to an hour or overnight, while others use it immediately. They vary in the use of a crepe pan, a non-stick skillet, or a cast iron griddle pan. And on what heat I ask you, medium or medium-high?

I tried different liquids, the most notable being the batches I made with sparkling water and goat milk. I tried different fillings for different kinds of crepe dishes, like the ricotta-cream cheese combination for a blueberry blintz recipe. The recipe that I am using for this month’s GFRR was originally going to be little fluffy canapés with random toppings, both sweet and savory. But as time went on, it ended up a little different than I expected. They have a taste of Russia in them complete with sour cream, a cornichon pickle, and chia “caviar”.

So, without further ado
I give you Russian blini… for two.

Russian Blini

2 (119 g) Large eggs
60 ml Goat milk
59 ml Lukewarm water (about 110ºF)
5 g Active dry yeast
3 g Creamed honey
30 g Buckwheat flour
30 g Garbanzo bean flour
1/4 – 1/3 tsp. Sea salt

Coconut oil or butter, for greasing the pan

Pour the eggs and goat milk into the blender and set aside to get to room temperature (at least an hour).
Combine the flours and salt into a bowl to be used later.
In another bowl, bloom the yeast with the water, honey, and at least 10 g of the dry ingredients for twenty minutes.
Add the flour and yeast mixture in the blender and pulse on low until just combined, and allow it to rest on the counter for another hour (you can then make the crepes or put it in the fridge overnight).
Heat your pan over medium heat.
Pour just enough batter to coat the bottom as you tip and tilt the pan.
Allow it to cook untouched until it’s set, at least a minute or so, and then gently turn the crepe and briefly cook the other side.
Remove the crepes to a rack as you make more to be used immediately or allowed to cool.

Makes 6 – 8 crepes. Serves 2.

Want to see what the others of the GFRR made this month? Well, scroll on down and click on their links!

Thank you, T.R. We couldn’t have had a better host for crepes.

Adina | Gluten Free Travelette     Breakfast Crepes Three Ways

Angela | Angela's Kitchen     Savory Buckwheat Crepes with Sweet Potato, Mushroom and Kale Filling

Caitlin | {Gluten-Free} Nom Nom Nom     Buckwheat Crepes

Caleigh | Gluten Free[k]      Banana Cinnamon Crepes

Caneel | Mama Me Gluten Free     Slightly Sweet Crepes with Caramelized Bananas and Nutella Sauce

Charissa | Zest Bakery     Black Pepper Crepes with Chicken Tikka Masala

Erin | The Sensitive Epicure     Socca with Za'atar & Sumac (Garbanzo Flour Crepes)

Ginger | Fresh Ginger     Sweet 'n Savory

gretchen | kumquat     nutella crepe cake

Heather | Discovering the Extraordinary     "Southwestern" Crepes

Jenn | Jenn Cuisine     Braised Duck, Fennel and Chestnut Crêpes

Karen | Cooking Gluten-Free!     Gluten Free Crepes Savory or Sweet

Mary Fran | FrannyCakes     Gluten-free Peanut Butter Crepe Cake

Mary Fran | FrannyCakes     Gluten-Free Vanilla Bean Crêpes Sucrées

Monika | Chew on This!     Dessert crepes with caramelized plantains, toasted coconut and chocolate sauce

Morri (me!) | Meals with Morri     Russian Blini for Two

Pete and Kelli | No Gluten, No Problem     Key Lime Crepes

Shauna | gluten-free girl     Gluten Free Buckwheat Crepes

*T.R. | No One Likes Crumbley Cookies     Brownie Crepes with Strawberry Wine sauce

*T.R. | No One Likes Crumbley Cookies     Basil Tomato and Feta Crepes

*T.R. | No One Likes Crumbley Cookies     Fresh Fruit Crepe

Tara | A Baking Life     Breakfast Crepes with Eggs and Kale

Jonathan | The Canary Files     Vegan Crepes for Filipino Spring Rolls

Rachel | The Crispy Cook     Raspberries and Cream Crepes

Mrs. R | Honey From Flinty Rocks     Crepes - Spinach & Dessert

To Be Cool as a Cucumber

I’ve been rather flaky with things in my life: missing appointments, missing hang out opportunities with people I care about, and simply not feeling as awesome as I could be. Love Your Body Week gave me perspective, but there were times where I was feeling “blah” about myself. My new fitness regimen, or possibly a stress I’ve yet to identify, has me craving fats like crazy. Peanut butter, almond butter, coconut oil, cheese… I can’t get enough. That, and I was waking up ridiculously early this week, one day as early as 3:20 a.m., and that’s thrown my appetite out of order. 

But it’s Sunday now. It’s the end of the old week, or the start of the new week. Whichever the case, I’m moving on to new experiences and a better tomorrow. For now, I want to share a new way of eating one of my favorite foods.

Regardless if you call it a fruit or a vegetable, the cucumber is an amazing food. There are quite a few varieties, but the English cucumber is the species I most enjoy. The have a thinner skin and are nearly seedless, and it is said that they are easy to digest. Unlike some other popular varieties, you don’t need to remove the skin to enjoy it.

I have had it sliced on top of salads and dipped into sauces. I’ve had it juiced and blended into gazpacho. I’ve never baked them into “chips”, and I’ve never pickled them myself. 

Seeking new ways to eat one of my daily foods, I looked in my Mama Dazz’s cookbook collection for a new recipe to try for my beloved cucumber. I found Jeff Smith’s (1990) The Frugal Gourmet on Our Immigrant Ancestors: Recipes You Should Have Gotten from Your Grandmother. It lists the different immigrant groups that came to the United States over the years, providing a brief history of their culture, the people, and most importantly, the food. I reveled in the amazing stories of the Basques and the Swedes. I rejoiced in the recipes of my ancestors, the Irish and the Dutch. He talked about the beauty of the American Indian and South American cuisines, whose food was soon traded and seen all over the world.  But living in such a diverse neighborhood where I grew up with families from Bangladesh and El Salvador as close neighbors, things like papusas and curry were normal to me. But the recipe I found I wasn’t used to, and of course I had to make it for myself.

So I made cucumber namasu (p. 239, Smith), from Japan. It’s the kind of recipe I tweaked slightly to fit my needs. And like most pickled foods, its flavor enhances the longer it marinates. Since I used sea salt, I do not recommend using as much as the book recommends, i.e., one tablespoon. Even two teaspoons was a bit much, so I used stevia to balance it out. It worked beautifully. And since it was the first recipe I photographed with my new lens earlier this week, I was ecstatic with its success.

Cucumber Namasu

518 g English (seedless cucumber), quartered and thinly sliced
1 – 2 tsp Sea salt (I used 2 tsp. and thought it was a bit much, so taste as you go)
60 ml Unrefined apple cider vinegar or Rice wine vinegar
2 ml Coconut aminos (or CGF Tamari for those who aren't soy free)
1 tsp. Ground ginger
1 tsp. White sesame seeds
1 tsp. Black sesame seeds
Stevia, to taste (optional)

Place the cucumber slices in a large mesh strainer over a bowl and sprinkle the salt on top.
Lightly toss and let it sit up to an hour for all of the liquid to drain.
In another bowl, combine the remaining ingredients except for the sesame seeds.
When the liquid from the cucumbers is gone, drain the bowl and use it to toss the dressing with cucumbers.
Sprinkle and mix the sesame seeds throughout the salad, then chill for another hour before serving.

Makes 4 servings.

A Taste of Adventure

Maybe it’s my delirious state that has given me the audacity to be something I don’t encourage on this blog: a Doubtful Darcy. (This in no way judges the ladies of the world named Darcy, nor do I believe they are more or less likely to be more doubtful than a David, say, or a Dolores… or a Dan.)

My getting sick started out as a wave of nausea on Saturday morning, and completely took the winds from my sails by the early afternoon. Then the coughing started, followed by the rise and fall of body temperature, a raw throat, and a Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer mouth. I’m better today, though I’m rather unsettled with the whole thing, partially because I was in bed most of the day, thinking. And when your heart rate is going at a runner’s pace simply because you’re standing or lying down, your thoughts become anxious and fragmented.

Now, I’m a Doubtful Darcy (or a David, a Dolores, or a Dan) because of this blog. I believe in it with all my heart, and I know I’m making progress with my recipe making, my fitness, and my photography, but I want to go the next level.

Since I haven’t been able to focus my attention more than a few minutes before getting lightheaded, I’ve just been looking over my old blog posts and old blog posts of foodies and health enthusiasts I respect. These people have beautiful photos from the very get-go of their blogging careers, have amazing recipes that are well thought out and restaurant-worthy, and beautiful site layouts. I have a yearning to have something just as perfect in my neck of the woods in cyber space.

In short, I want to be taken seriously.

Delirium and sickness has made me a deep thinker, I know. I’ve been looking into various organizations on idealist.org that are doing what I want to do for the world. And believe me, there are many. I feel stagnated, because I know what my potential is, and I’m not certain how to go about it. Do I want to apply for a Masters program for 2013? Am I willing to move away from Virginia in order to follow my dreams? Do I need to get some sort of Culinary Degree to open a community-oriented place to begin a movement of food security? How do I change the world for the better?

All of this Doubtful Darcy stuff came about from my old photos, when I was (and still am) getting used to using a DSLR. Part of me wants to delete the old photos, the ones that are grainy because of the ISO I used, or the ones that are out of focus, have a low shutter speed and a small aperture setting, or were taken in awful lighting. I’ve learned quite a bit since April 2011, and the other half wants me to hold on to the physical evidence that shows my progress. My other idea is to recreate my early works, edit the recipes, and take new photos this April but keep the old posts the way they were written. Somehow, I am uncertain how I would feel about it – maybe even feel a little hypocritical – though I’m sure none of my readers would mind very much.  

It occurs to me that the bloggers I respect so highly, the ones with phenomenal photos, stories, recipes, and sites, worked their butts off for it. They paid for quality and received the fruits of their labor with the same eminence. If I’m going to get to their level, I’m going to have to work hard, be patient, and follow my heart.

My heart has led me down many paths in the past. It is a lot more spontaneous and daring than it used to be. Besides rock climbing, I want to take a class that works on digital photography techniques, maybe buy one or two lenses to really enhance the images (especially for low/no light, moving subjects, outdoor, and non-food) I post. Perhaps I can go into a culinary program at a community college, look into molecular gastronomy or focus on a kind of cuisine (gluten free and holistic, naturally).

The details are unknown, but I do know what I want as far as the big picture is concerned: I know that I want to work with/for the community, the word ranging from a group of people to every single sentient being on this planet; I know that I want to work with food, empowering the relationship of what comes from the ground and what goes into our mouths; I know that I want to end food insecurity, world hunger, and I want to be part of a nonprofit or movement that is just as passionate about it as I am; and lastly, I want to make a place for people from all over the world to share their stories, eat great food, and take that happiness back home with them.

Over the next for days/weeks/months, certain changes will be happening, both to the blog as well as the blogger. In the meantime, to all you fellow bloggers and readers out there, I’d love to hear from you:

• What are your thoughts of me editing old posts, particularly recipes and photos?
• Where did following your dreams in the culinary arts (or whatever it is you are passionate about) take you?
• Would you continue to follow Meals with Morri if: it changed its blog host, its domain name, or if less than satisfactory food photos disappeared from old posts?
• How can Meals with Morri be taken more seriously?

Feel free to email me or to comment on this post directly.

As always, I want to thank you so much for being part of my life. 

To stop myself from getting too mopey, I thought I’d share with you a recipe. It’s one that a Morri, in sickness and in health, can make in less than forty-five minutes, is dense in nutrients as it is with flavor, and is easier to make than you know. Tom yum is a clear spicy soup that hails from Laos and Thailand. Along with the Peruvian pollo a la brasa restaurants that are popular in northern Virginia, Thai food is another cuisine that’s trendy in the area and also very near and dear to my heart. I can remember drinking Thai iced tea until my mouth was coated in the sweetened condensed milk and sugar and getting brain freezes while I waited for my order.

Mama Dazz, the Burt-man, and I usually shared an entrée such as the Pad Thai or the drunken noodles, and we each had an appetizer of soup of some kind. Depending if the Pad Thai was made with chicken, I ordered tom (soup) yum (spicy/sour salad) goong, or tom yum with shrimp. And if the entrée had shrimp, I had tom yum gai, or tom yum with chicken. Chili infused sesame seed oil droplets scattered along the surface, and the spices were perfectly balanced. The spicier it was, thought Mama Dazz and the younger me, the better. Then I had tom yam nam khon, similar to the previous soups only the broth is opaque from the coconut milk, and it became on of my favorite soups of all time.

This particular recipe is similar to my beloved tom yum nam khon, though it should not be confused with tom khai gai, or chicken galangal soup, simply because it has chicken as the main protein. Looking back, I’m surprised I didn’t use galangal for this recipe. We still have a vial of the powdered stuff we purchased from Penzeys Spices way back when and I think it would have brought a nice peppery fragrance to the broth.

What I love most about this soup is how simple and forgiving it is if you don’t have all of the ingredients. Since we frequent the international market every week, we typically have ingredients on hand for Asian, Hispanic, and Indian dishes that is typical in our household (concentrated fish extract or “fish sauce”, curry leaves, organ meats and pork belly, and more spices than you would believe). So if you don’t have particular ingredients on hand, that’s okay. The only thing you really need to consider is balancing hot with sour. If you don’t have kaffir lime leaves or tamarind paste, you can substitute it with lime juice, curry leaves, and apple cider vinegar, as I did. Any kind of dark and fleshy mushroom will work, but I’d recommend a species that has a meaty cap, minimal gills, and a slender stalk.

The only ingredient I was unsure about was how to prepare the lemongrass. I simply removed the outer layer of two stalks and thinly sliced the yellow bulbs, thinking it would soften. It added remarkable flavor… but I wouldn’t recommend trying to eat it unless you know how to cook it correctly. I didn't; and let me tell you, it’s extremely fibrous if you don’t.

All in all, it’s a taste-as-you-go kind of soup, and goes well with sticky rice, cellophane noodles, and a spicy marinated salad. Next time I'll make it just as any respectable lover of Thai food would, and I'll post the results.  

Tom Yum Nam Khan with Chicken

1 qt./946 ml Veggie stock or water
240 ml Coconut milk
5 ml Sand lance fish extract
15 ml Unrefined apple cider vinegar
Juice of 1/2 lime (save the remaining half for later)
2 Stalks Lemongrass, washed with outer layer and lower part of bulbs removed, then halved vertically
1 White onion, finely chopped
6 Curry leaves (or kaffir lime leaves)
82 g Maitake mushrooms, gently pulled apart and left whole
1 Jalapeño, seeded and finely chopped
1 lb Boneless and skinless chicken breast, cut into small slivers
16 Frozen shrimp, thawed
1 tsp. Red chili pepper flakes
1/4 tsp. Galangal, optional (but suggested)

Combine all of the ingredients into a large pot (except for the shrimp) and cook on medium heat until the chicken is fully cooked.
Remove the lemongrass stocks from the soup and discard.
Even pour out four servings into bowls and top with four shrimp, a quarter wedge from the remaining lime half, and carefully sprinkle the chili-infused sesame oil onto the surface. (The curry leaves are edible, but you can set them aside on the edges of the bowl if you wish.)

 Makes 4 servings.

The New Year so far

Nine days. That’s how long my hiatus has been from this blog. A little over a week, but it has felt like an eternity. After we came back from Timberline, I finally caught the bug everyone had in the last week of the old year, so I’ve spent the first two weeks of the new year with a terrible cough, a persistent off again and on again fever, a weird eating and sleeping pattern, and napping throughout the day in between enthusiastically reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes mysteries via my Kindle Touch.

Even with my borderline delirium – because lack of decent REM sleep and persistent fevers can do that to a person – I was often in the kitchen, cooking up new breakfast bakes and thinking of innovative recipes I would like to make when I’m feeling better. With my new oven-safe soup bowls and my consistent socca breakfast bake success while at Timberline, I’ve been trying out different flours and gluten free grains, fruits, and spreads. Most of them have been delicious, though I think I would have preferred using a tad more stevia for sweetness. I would like to experiment with savory ingredients, so for those who are big on savory breakfasts, feel free to give me some ideas.

One of my new oven-safe soup bowls: perfect for breakfast bakes!

As for my 6-Week fitness plan, it could’ve been better. It’s clear that I started at the wrong time to get any benefit out of it. Three of the six weeks I was either dealing with school or sick, though I did enjoy having a plan and trying something new. At Timberline I felt so calm and at peace with myself. Even after the injury (which is doing A-Okay at present, thank you for asking) and lazing around the cabin, I was sleeping until nine or ten in the morning, never before eight, feeling well rested and enjoying the quietness of the surrounding mountains. Even if I couldn’t ski for the remainder of my stay in Davis, West Virginia, I can’t remember a time I was so relaxed. Not only was I not hungry at odd hours, I was content after every meal, and I learned the deliciousness that is Russian cuisine. 

After a few days, I decided to throw caution to the wind and try out the dinner laid out for the others. I was told what was gluten free (as well as sugar and soy free) and what wasn’t (essentially, the bread, beer, and crackers), and I gobbled it down with gusto. Russian cuisine varies from family to family, but I knew I had a new favorite type of food. Each dinner was balanced in flavor and nourishment, and there was a satisfying tang of vinegar in many of the dishes that brought out a new depth entirely new to my taste buds.

Yours Truly with the boyfriend's brother, the adorable Mr. "Button".

Besides making amazing food, the Russian family I spent the last week of 2011 with opened my eyes to a culture that the boyfriend still holds onto in very particular ways. Like the Swedes I met the year before, they were reserved but open, shy until they get to know you, and can converse until the early morning. They are competitive, enjoy philosophical and logical forms of debate, and love the complexities, the beauty, and the sheer largeness of nature, various sciences, the universe, etc. They warmed up to my larger than life affectionate ways, my bear hugs, and my willingness to listen to their opinions, whether it was in English or not. Personally, I find Russian to be a soothing language, one I’d like to learn by next year’s ski trip. I learned quite a different way of celebrating this time of year, and we drove home on New Years in time for another traditional meal. By Tuesday the 3nd, I traded my limp for a cough, and have been trying to stay afloat ever since.

Kale, Hearty Beef Stew, & Green Beans with Black-Eyed Peas

It is clear that I have to reconsider New Year resolutions. In the past I’d write pages of resolutions, varying from the very detailed to the very vague. Truthfully I focused on my health in a very vain fashion, and I had rather unreasonable goals pertaining to my weight and the things I wanted to do in life. If I wasn’t a certain way, no matter how hard I tried, I would feel like a complete failure. In reality, I just wasn’t aiming for the right goals and, thankfully, I think 2012 is going to be an amazing year.

So what are my “resolutions”? Stress management, mostly, and going where life takes me. I’m a young, recently graduated BA student, with a fairly successful food blog and have plenty of things to keep me mentally and physically busy. It is very likely I’ll do another fitness plan after I recover, but I’d really like to do atypical things outside the gym. I want to hike, boulder, swim, kayak, ski, and learn some form of martial arts. I also want to write, continue cooking and working towards the evolution of this blog for the better, hang out with the people I’ve sorely neglected, volunteer, and simply enjoy every moment that I experience. And this isn’t just for 2012. These are resolutions for life.

My grain-free, one fruit a day, and stevia-only diet has come to an end, though it shines through for days at a time. As you may recall, it was to help the healing process of my tummy after simultaneously getting glutened and fluey. Now that my stomach has clearly healed itself, I’m integrating root veggies and gluten free grains back into meals (though buckwheat, groats and flour, has become a Morri favorite), and am not afraid to have an additional serving of fruit or one to two teaspoons of honey in my afternoon tea. Oh, and I've finally perfected a recipe that has been the bane of Morri's everywhere, and it's a perfect side dish to chili...

... can you guess what it is? :)

   

Even though it is clearly belated, I wish you a Happy New Year all the same, with plenty of recipes ahead.