a winter salad

A week indoors, sitting fireside and watching the white-washed landscape for any little change - the re-appearance of a driveway, let's say, allows for plenty of time to make a grocery list.
And when one finally returns to that much-missed produce aisle - well, that grocery list suddenly seems laughably inadequate.
Even in deep winter, without the lure of sun-ripened tomatoes or blush-colored peaches, there is a jubilation in seeing fresh greens, perfect oranges, or the wispy fronds that top the crisp white fennel bulbs. The basket fills with all of the above and more - already satisfying a deep hunger, a real craving, for something more than sustenance - we need nourishment.
A cool, crisp salad always feels regenerative, and this salad, in particular, incites a reawakening, crunching under tooth like those first ice-crusted snowy steps out the door.

A Winter Salad

1/2 a bulb of fennel, a few fronds reserved
1 stalk celery
2 radishes
juice of 1/4 lemon
drizzle of olive oil
1 blood orange
a scattering of parsley leaves
a pinch of good sea salt
freshly ground pepper
a few slivers of shaved Parmesan

Using the very thinnest setting of a mandoline, slice the fennel, celery and radishes into a medium bowl. Toss with the lemon juice and a good drizzle of olive oil. Slice the top and bottom from the blood orange, and following the curve of the fruit, slice away the remaining pith and peel. Using a very sharp paring knife, liberate the segments by making a cut alongside each membrane that separates the segments. Add the orange segments to the salad along with the reserved fennel fronds and parsley leaves. Season with a pinch of salt and some fresh pepper. Divide the salad between to plates and top each serving with a few slivers of the Parmesan.

a little holiday

Snow is a beautiful thing. Soft and quiet - it turns the night sky a pale pinkish gray and makes me feel a little giddy. We haven't had a winter like this in years, and I can't remember ever having two such massive storms fall back to back such as we've had this past week.
I'm lucky to be watching the flakes fall from inside my home, wood stove roaring, and tea warming on the stove top - keeping fingers crossed that the power does not go out (again).
Curiously, being house-bound in waist-high snow has the feel of childhood slumber parties, and the urge to spend more time than I care to admit in front of the television watching movies and indulging in ice cream (brrrrrr!) and other snackish bites is hard to ignore. It's a little holiday.

26 and counting...

At last count - 26 inches.
And it's still coming.
Plenty of time for making a pot of soup.
(barley simmered with bay, steeped sun-dried tomatoes, collards, and a healthy dose of chilies)

comfy

There is a 'new' comfy chair and ottoman in the corner. Next to the wood stove. Deep and cushiony. I can scoot back in and dangle my feet, transforming into a doll-sized version of myself, or sit sideways - toes on the arm, warming by the stove. But best of all is the ottoman because when put to use, it turns the big, comfy chair into the big, comfy lounge. And it's impossible not to tuck in with a little stack of beautiful books for a bit of armchair traveling (and tasting).

Lots of inspiring stuff in those books; plenty to keep busy with, but in the meantime a simple bowl of tomato soup is suiting me just fine...
Tomato Soup
(adapted for the winter pantry from the recipe for 'Cream of Fresh Tomato Soup' in the Barefoot Contessa: Back to Basics)

Saute together 1 diced yellow onion and 1 peeled and diced carrot in 2 Tb. olive oil in a soup pot for about 10 minutes, or until very soft. Add to this 3 cloves of garlic (minced) and 3 oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes (chopped finely) and cook another minute. Add 1 (28 ounce) can of whole, peeled tomatoes (broken with your fingers) and their juices, 2 tsp. sea salt, a few grinds of black pepper, 3 cups of chicken or vegetable stock (or water), and a small handful of chopped fennel fronds (or herb of your choice). Bring the soup to a boil, reduce the heat and simmer for about half an hour. Remove the pot from the stove and run it through, a bit at a time, a food mill fitted with the medium sized disk set atop a large bowl or second soup pot. Discard the solids left in the mill and return the soup to its pot. Add 1/4 cup of whole milk (or cream, or nothing at all) and gently reheat and adjust seasonings, if necessary.

a little birthday

Over the weekend, I had a little birthday.
Monica Bhide's Chile Pea Puffs (courtesy of Heidi's page) were rolled into tiny wonton-wrapper bundles (doubling the paneer and substituting smoked paprika for chile powder)...
...And served with her Mango Chutney Dipping Sauce (found in here).

Also pilfered, was the recipe for Baked Sweet Potato Falafel.
Which was dolloped with a thick and tangy, mint, cilantro and garlic yogurt sauce (found in here).

Both were served alongside so many other tasty bites made by some of the best cooks (and greatest folks) I know. Thanks to you all for making it such a great time!