Lemon (Almond) Cornmeal Cake

A Few Things I Loved About Traveling in Japan

1) The free “old man” pajamas provided by the hotels

The red kimono almost made it into my suitcase. Almost.

2) Springtime is like no other

The daffodils and crocuses popping up around Boston are cute, but they’re just not the same.

3) Excellent customer service

No matter if you pull into a gas station, buy an onigiri (rice ball) from a kiosk at the train station, or ask for directions for a hotel (at the competing brand’s concierge desk), the customer service is excellent. Sometimes I wish people would just say thank you in the States more often. It does make a difference.

4) Public transportation is on time.

Without fail, the trains pull up to the station a minute ahead of departure, allow people to hop into the cars, and leave, exactly on time.

5) There’s always time for tea. And with tea, there’s cake.

Like my jet lag, I have yet to shake the habit of daily tea and sweets.

Any downtime my mom and I had, we’d pop into a cafe – at the train station, in the hotel or down a random road from temple – and order a pot or two of green tea.  With tea came sweets (“Obviously,” my mom would say), and talk of what our plans would be for the remainder of the week.

The 13 hour flight home left me exhausted. But after I climbed the stairs up to the apartment, my stomach rumbled. And it wasn’t a meal I wanted.  It was tea and cake.

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Massaged Kale Salad with Mango, Avocado, Cranberries and Toasted Cashews

“I think you’re worried that I’m going to fall of the wagon while you’re in Japan.”

I looked up from my salad, mid-chew, mouth too full to reply.  Roo timed this intervention just right.

“You just seem stressed about leaving next week.”  Roo continued.

Swallowing the last bit of kale, “Well, I’m not worried.”

“You’re not.”

“No, you were never really on the wagon full-time anyway.”

“What are you talking about?  I’m eating this delicious kale salad; a sentence I never thought would ever leave my mouth.  I mean, I’m eating kale. And liking it.”

I put down my fork, “Burger King receipt.”

“What?”

“A Burger King receipt. You left it on the center console.”

“Oh that…that was just snack I got on the way to my mother’s house.”

“A Whopper is a snack?”

“Correction, it was a Whopper Jr.

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Lovely Lemon Cake

“Remember when you called me after your job interview and you said you were ‘so going to work there’ because it was next door to a Whole Foods and across the street from a Starbucks?”

“It was probably the best day ever.”

Roo stops washing the dishes, ”When was the last time you went to Starbucks?”  He looks over to see me hugging myself.  ”You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you hug yourself like those sad monkeys we saw on PBS.  You’re obviously upset.”

“Well, that’s the last time you’re watching Frontline with me. I am not a sad monkey.”

I am so a sad monkey.

Back when I was delusional and living beyond my means living in Cambridge, my apartment was across the street from a Starbucks.  I would go there so often (ie twice a day, everyday), they started making “my drink” as soon as they saw me walk in.

“Grande, skinny, two pump vanilla latte for Lys.”

Sometimes it got awkward when I wanted a different drink.  And by awkward, I mean awesome as they would just give me both drinks for the price of one.

It pays to be nice to the baristas.

“Why are you shaking?”

“I’m not shaking.Youcrazy.Oh!Side note. Igottwolattesforthepriceofone!”

“It’s 2 p.m.  You are shaking and talking like a college kid on ritalin during finals week.”

“Wha?”

“You should lay off the ten shots of espresso in the morning.”

Besides the obvious self-induced caffeine overdose, my love for Starbucks was a $40/week habit.

They’d always find a way to draw me in.

“Buy one beverage in the morning and get any drink for only $2 after 2 p.m.!”

“Starbucks Happy Hour (ie half off frappuccinos between 3 – 5 p.m.)”

And lemon cake.

Yes, lemon cake.

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Tunisian Soup

The house is strangely quiet tonight.

Roo left an hour ago to meet up with a friend from college at a local bar.

It’s just me, the cats and the sound of rain.

While it would be tempting to have dinner with the tv blaring, staring vacantly at whatever program I happen to come across, I’d rather just sit.

And listen.

Taste.

And enjoy the quiet company that I have.

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The Stone Fence: Bourbon With An Apple Cider Reduction

I’m a bit nervous about making the trek down to Scituate this weekend as it’s the first Christmas I’ll be spending with Roo’s family.  And, like all events I go to, my skin in typical fashion has a boulder-like spot; right on my chin.

I love how my face is always happy make a great impression whenever I try to leave my apartment.

Hoping to make up for it with heavy eye makeup (black eyeliner and I are besties), I know that at least I’ll have The Stone Fence to “wall me off” from any awkward situation.

Why did we miss Christmas mass? Sip from The Stone Fence.

Have I applied to grad school yet? My drink needs more ice.

Who gave lavender hand soap as a stocking stuffer? I think this drink would look pretty with some zest in it. Where’s the microplane?

Did I just greet Roo by slapping his butt because we only communicate by sexual harassment? I need another refill.

All kidding aside, while this isn’t your standard “Stone Fence,” I love that the apple cider reduction pairs well with bright citrus notes from the lemon and the sweet, almost earthy maple syrup.  And bourbon being a naturally sweeter liquor (more so than an Irish whiskey, in my opinion) it just sings (sings!) in this cocktail.

I honestly hope that I don’t offend anyone on Christmas, but if anything, I’ll at least have a tasty drink to sip from if it gets awkward.

Wish me luck!

Adapted from Sassy Radish

Makes Two Drinks (this recipe can be easily doubled, tripled, etc.)

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Ingredients

1 cup apple cider

Quarter cup to one third cup of bourbon, depending on how strong you want it (I used Crown Royal)

Two and a half tablespoons of freshly squeezed lemon juice

4 teaspoons of maple syrup

Half cup of seltzer

6 ice cubes

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Equipment

A small pot

A small bowl (that can hold near boiling liquid)/pyrex measuring cup (something to hold your reduced apple cider in as it cools in an ice bath)

An ice bath (a medium sized mixing bowl with cold water and a few ice cubes)

A small sized mixing bowl (can hold at least two cups)

A whisk

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Pour your apple cider into a small pot and place over a burner on medium high heat.  Bring the cider to a boil, then reduce the heat to low and allow it to simmer/low boil until it’s reduced in half (to a half cup).

When it’s reduced, pour into a pyrex measuring cup/small bowl and place that into your ice bath.  Allow it to cool until at room temperature (or colder).

Once the apple cider reduction is cool, add the cider, bourbon, lemon juice and maple syrup all into a small sized mixing bowl.  Whisk all the ingredients together, then divide it between two 8 ounce glasses.  Add three ice cubes to each glass.  Give each glass a splash of seltzer and serve immediately.

Double Ginger Lemon Cookies

If you’re anything like me, you’re probably going over to someone else’s house to eat today’s dinner.  Although I am helping my mother cook this year, I still feel pressured to bring a hostess gift.  It’s something that’s been ingrained since childhood.

These cookies are quite honestly, perfect.  They are packed with flavor; loads of lemon zest and freshly grated ginger, only to be finished off with a slight crunch from the sugar that they’re rolled in.  I also love the scalloped imprint that they have from the back of a fork.  I am a sucker for pretty cookies, and to me these are exactly that.

I hardly think anyone after a Thanksgiving feast wants to eat something super heavy around 8 at night.  My mother always made a pot of tea and had a cookie or two before getting ready for bed; a tradition that goes back to my first memorable Thanksgiving dinner.

There’s something comforting about seeing my mother go through the same motions, every year: tea towel wrapped around the kettle to keep it warm, a flowery piece of good china from the back of the cupboard, only to place a handful of cookies on, and always the same cup, because it was her favorite; tiny ivy leaves winding up the back of the handle.

While the dough needs to rest for an hour in the fridge, I’ll use that time to shower and get dressed.  Overall these cookies are quite easy and quick to make, with a baking time of about 15 minutes.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Adapted from Organic and Chic

Makes 60 – 70 cookies (For me, it made 67)

*Please note that before baking these, the dough requires at least an hour of chilling (up to 1 day).  So plan ahead!

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Ingredients

Dry

Three cups of white whole wheat flour

1 teaspoon of baking powder

Half teaspoon of baking soda

Quarter teaspoon of salt

Wet

Half cup of unsweetened applesauce (I used homemade)

Quarter cup of mild flavored olive oil (or any other mild flavored oil like canola)

2 tablespoons of ground flaxseed

1 cup of sugar

Quarter cup of freshly grated ginger (I know it seems like a lot, but it’s so worth it, especially with the amount of lemon you’re putting in. It’s a one-two punch of flavors.)

1 teaspoon of ground ginger

Grated lemon zest from 1 lemon, about a tablespoon (this is for an equal amount of lemon with ginger in flavoring, if you want the ginger to be more of a star, use half)

Juice from 1 lemon

Half teaspoon of vanilla extract

Half cup of sugar set aside, for rolling the dough balls in (optional, but really pretty!)

A handful of flour for your hands, to prevent the dough balls from sticking to your skin (I don’t mind, but some care)

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Equipment

One medium sized mixing bowl

One large sized mixing bowl

A whisk

A spatula

A cookie sheet (lined with parchment paper or greased) or two

Some plastic wrap or a tupperware container to let the dough rest and be chilled

A plate (to pour some sugar onto and roll the dough balls in)

A fork (to press into your cookies for a pretty scallop imprint, optional)

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In a medium mixing bowl add your dry ingredients: flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Whisk the ingredients together till well combined and no lumps are visible.

In a large mixing bowl add your wet ingredients: unsweetened applesauce, oil, ground flaxseed, sugar, lemon zest, lemon juice and vanilla extract.  Stir till well combined.

Add your dry ingredients into your wet, in increments.  Stir the two mixtures together until they are well incorporated.  At first, it’s going to look like a dry, chalky mess.  Keep going, it’ll come together.

Cover the dough with plastic wrap (or put it in a sealable/coverable container) and chill for at least an hour, up to 1 day.

When the dough is ready to go…

Place your oven racks in the upper middle and lower middle position in the oven.  If you’re using just one cookie sheet, then place one oven rack in the middle position in the oven.  Preheat the oven to 350F.

In a plate, pour the sugar set aside onto it, if using.  Dust your hands with flour, if you are keen on not getting the dough stuck to your hands (I don’t care, more snack for me!).

Form the dough into about 1 inch balls (I basically rolled the dough ball to match the length from the tip of my thumb to my first knuckle…I think that’s about an inch).  Roll the dough balls in the sugar, if using.

Place the dough balls onto a lined or greased cookie sheet, about a 2 inches apart. With a back of a fork, if using, press into the cookie so that it’s imprinted.

Bake the cookies for about 15 minutes (this is how long it took in my oven) to 18 minutes, until they’re very slightly browned and firm the to touch.  These cookies will not brown much so be careful not to leave them in the oven for too long.

Let the cookies cool before eating, but honestly, I’ve eaten them warm and they were delicious.

(Practically Unsweetened) Homemade Applesauce

There were some reasons why I didn’t want to write about my making applesauce.

One, I’m absolutely addicted to homemade applesauce.  I love it.

Which results in two, when it’s done and I need to remove ingredients like lemon peel and cinnamon stick, they find themselves in my mouth, sucking off what little remnants of sauce are on them.

And three, Roo never knew how much I love applesauce and caught me trying to get said lemon peel off the roof of my mouth and into the garbage.

I’m incredibly attractive.  What a winner.

But, there are a few recipes popping up soon in which apple sauce is an ingredient, so why not use homemade?  It’s tasty (as I’ve already established), easy to make (just toss into a pot and simmer), and makes your apartment smell like love.

Yeah, love smells like apples cooking in cinnamon and lemon.  What, doesn’t your’s?

Adapted from Simply Recipes

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Ingredients

3 pounds of peeled, cored and quartered apples (I used Macoun because that’s what I blindly grabbed at the market)

3 strips of lemon peel

1 lemon, juiced

1 cinnamon stick

One eighth cup of sugar (it’s two tablespoons, in case you don’t have a wee little one eighth measuring cup)

1 cup of water

One quarter teaspoon of salt

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Equipment

A large pot with lid

A sharp knife (and a vegetable peeler if you don’t feel comfortable peeling your apples with your knife)

A spatula

*Maybe a potato masher

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Throw all your ingredients into a pot and stir to combine.  Bring the ingredients to a boil, then lower the heat so bring it to a simmer.  Cover the pot and cook for about 20 – 30 minutes.

In my case, after some stirring around with a spatula at 20 minutes, the apples really broke down and gave me a mostly smooth sauce.

Remove the applesauce from heat.  Carefully (be sure it’s cooled down a bit), remove the lemon peel and cinnamon stick from the sauce and dispose.  Please refrain from putting them into your mouth as it leads to awkward conversation if you get caught.

Serve warm, or wait till it’s cooled and throw it in tupperware to chill for serving.

This also freezes great, so you can divide it into half cup portions (if you’re into things like list making and planning for things, like crazy me) and throw it in the freezer.

*You could use a potato masher and get all zealous on the stuff and break it down more (if your apples are stubborn and refuse to break apart).

Roasted Cabbage with Lemon

Who’s on a roasting vegetable kick?

Anyone?

C’mon, it’s nearly winter.  Surely you must love keeping the apartment warm by roasting whatever vegetable you can think of in the oven.

Wait, is that just me?

I never thought of roasting cabbage until Roo asked the other day if brussels sprouts were just mini-cabbages.  We typically enjoy roasted brussels sprouts so why not cabbage?  Thankfully an internet search confirmed that it was possible and not entirely crazy.

A lovely coating of olive oil and lemon, cabbage leaves kissing the cookie sheet at roasting temps, yielded crunchy, caramelized leaves and a sweet, soft center.  It was like eating roasted brussels sprouts, but not.  Yeah.

Adapted, just barely, from Eat.Repeat

Serves 4 to 6 as a side

Ingredients

A head of green cabbage

2 tablespoons of olive oil

3 tablespoons of lemon juice (just barely juice from an entire lemon)

Salt and Pepper to taste

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Equipment

A cookie sheet (lined with parchment paper if you’re lazy with clean up)

A sharp knife

A small bowl

A whisk or fork

A pastry brush, or just pour the sauce on

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Place the oven rack in the lower half of your oven.  Preheat your oven to 450F.

In a small bowl add the olive oil, lemon juice and salt.  Whisk together until the ingredients are combined.

Cut your green cabbage into eight wedges, leaving the core intact (it helps keep the leaves together when you have to turn them over in the oven).

Place the cabbage wedges onto a (lined) cookie sheet.  Brush the wedges with the lemon and olive oil mixture, turning over the wedges so that both sides are well coated.

Bake the cabbage for about fifteen to twenty minutes each side, until each side is well browned, leaving a lovely caramelized crunch that you can bite into.

Remove the cabbage from the cookie sheet and if desired, remove the cores with a knife (be careful! It’s very hot and the cabbage may be a bit slippery).  Otherwise, if you don’t mind eating around the core (we didn’t), season with more salt if necessary, and pepper if desired. Serve while still hot.

Lemon Ginger Soba Noodles with Spicy Pan Fried Tofu

My mother is a post-partum nurse.  When I was a kid, having a mom as a nurse was pretty nice in that she always took care of my “boo boos” and I grew accustomed to a never-ending supply of pharmacy-type items (bandaids, alcohol wipes, ibuprofen, etc) in our hallway closet.  My mother always shopped in fear that if there was ever a pain or ache she would not have the remedy for it.

There are hazards that come with her job though.  Hazards for a now thirty year old me.

My mother basically works with mothers and their babies.  All the time.  It’s not just a little reminder that she doesn’t have grandchildren yet, but a giant, hey, let’s rub it in your face for an eight hour shift Monday through Friday, and then maybe sometimes on weekends.

At first I didn’t put any weight in the way my mom commented about how cute other people’s infants were at random places like the mall, because she has always loved babies.  It was when I was approaching my 29th birthday that I realized she was actually starting to panic that she may never have grandchildren.

“Maybe you should get your eggs frozen.”

“WHAT?!  Ma I’m 28!”

“You’re turning 29 next month.”

“And what, next comes 30 and then I’m barren?”

“Well, maybe you should get your eggs frozen.”

I didn’t get my eggs frozen.

Soon after our conversation I started receiving random gifts from my mother that my friends were convinced were symbols for my “barren uterus.”

Like a tea strainer and a drain strainer.

Both, my friends said (in case you can’t connect the dots), seemed all too similar to the shape of a uterus.

I still haven’t frozen my eggs.

However, I did call my mother recently to catch up, and knowing that if we talked about food, it would be a good distraction to the whole “grandbaby debacle.”

I was happy that we were able to talk about dishes she used to make when I was younger.  Recipes that reminded me of home, when I lived there, wasn’t thirty and didn’t have the pressures of having a basketball sized belly from my mother (and Facebook).

While I can never promise my mother grandchildren, I can pay her a little honor by remaking her lemon and ginger soba noodles with pan fried spicy tofu.  While she didn’t give me specific measurements (my mother and Rachael Ray are kindred spirits, they never measure a thing while they cook), I used what she told me she threw in, and just added and tasted until it was “just right.”  I encourage you to do the same, as my love for bright lemon and spicy ginger may not be the same as your taste.

I realize that the soba noodles are served cold, but the lovely acid tones of the dish go so well with the spicy tofu on such a dreary, November day.  Even Roo, who has been adamant about hating tofu, slurped up the noodles with the red pepper flake and sesame oil infused fried bean curd.  I hope that you will give it a chance as well.

Recipe is from Mom

Serves 2 to 3

Ingredients

For the Noodles

Quarter cup of mild tasting olive oil, or a canola or vegetable oil will do

1 teaspoon sesame oil

1 teaspoon of mirin

2 teaspoons of sugar

Half teaspoon of fine sea salt

3 tablespoons of rice wine vinegar

Zest of one lemon

1 tablespoon freshly grated ginger (I used the my coarse microplane grater)

One bundle of dried soba noodles, when held together, about the diameter of a quarter

A large pinch of salt (for cooking the soba noodles)

For the tofu

2 teaspoons of sesame oil

2 tablespoons of soy sauce

1 teaspoons of red pepper flake

1 teaspoons of sugar

One green onion, diced

One fourteen ounce (if you have a larger size container, that’s also ok, it’ll work!) container of tofu

1 tablespoon of mild tasting olive oil, or a canola or vegetable oil will do (for frying the tofu)

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Equipment

A large pot

Two small sized mixing bowls

A whisk

A set of tongs or chopsticks (I love cooking with chopsticks)…a fork will also suffice

A large saute pan

A colander

A plate lined with one or two paper towels

A plate to serve with

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Fill your large pot three quarters of the way with water.  Place over a burner on high heat.  Make the sauce for the soba while you wait for the water to boil.

In a small sized mixing bowl, add the olive oil, sesame oil, mirin, sugar, fine sea salt, rice wine vinegar, lemon zest and grated ginger.  Whisk the ingredients together till well combined.  Taste.  I like this sauce full of punch from the lemon and ginger.  Too tart?  Add more sugar.  Too acidic?  Add a bit more olive oil.  Make this sauce yours.  Set aside.

In another small sized mixing bowl add the sesame oil, soy sauce, red pepper flake, sugar and green onion.  Whisk the ingredients till well combined.  Set aside.

By now hopefully the water has come to a boil.  Add the soba noodles and cook.  When done (I like them to have the same consistency as pasta), drain and rinse the noodles in cold water until the noodles are cold.  Drain again and set aside.

Pour the olive oil into a large saute pan and place on a burner over medium heat.  While the oil is warming, remove the tofu from its container and rinse under cold water.  Pat the tofu dry with paper towels. Cut the tofu into about quarter inch pieces.  For instance, cut the tofu in half, down the long ways.  Then, cut one of the halves again in half, down the short way.  Then cut that half into four pieces.  Repeat with the other half (and quarter) of tofu.  I got 16 slices.  If you get more or less, it’s ok!

By now the oil should be shimmering.  With a new paper towel, pat the individual slices of tofu dry before placing into the pan.  Lay out as many pieces of tofu into the pan, without touching.  If they touch, they will stick together in the cooking process.  (Thankfully I am able to lay out all 16 slices in my mega pan.)

Cook the tofu on low heat for about five minutes, until the side facing the pan gets golden brown.

While the tofu is cooking, take your soba noodles and put them on your serving plate.  Pour the half the soba sauce over the noodles.  Toss the noodles with your tongs.  Taste.  Does it need more?  Add more sauce.  Set aside.

Hopefully by now the tofu is golden brown on the side facing down on the pan.  Flip all pieces of tofu over with tongs, a fork, chopsticks, whatever.  Cook the tofu for about another five minutes.

When the tofu is golden brown on both sides, plate it and pour the sauce over the tofu.

Serve with the soba noodles immediately.

Butternut Squash Barley Risotto with Lemon and Toasted Almonds

I love that we as a people, all experience “firsts.”  While it’s great to finally flow comfortably into a yoga pose, like Warrior II, I also like to look back and remind myself of my first vinyasa class where I walked in thinking I was flexible, but oh no, I was not.  It was incredibly humbling as I, gasping for air and sitting on my mat, watched others do arm balances with ease.  I remember feeling how much I really wanted to be able to do those one day.

Other firsts may not have been quite as inspirational, but I do like to think about them once in a while, especially when I find myself in a “it really couldn’t be worse moment,” and need a good laugh.  Because really, it could be worse.

Junior year of high school, I went to a hair salon to get my eyebrows waxed for the first time, for prom.  I’ve never had hair ripped off of my face before, or even “shaped” my own eyebrows, so I was nervous, but looking forward to a “new and improved” me.  The beautician was extremely friendly, but creepily stared at my face for (what I thought) an unusually long time, as if studying every pore and freckle, before asking me to sit down.

As she was getting the wax warm, she wanted to double check what I was there for, “So you’re getting your upper lip and eyebrows done?”

“Uh, I thought I booked just the eyebrows.”

“Oh….ok.”

First time I found out that puberty gave me the gift of needing an upper lip wax? Junior year.

When I was 3 (oh yes, we’re going way back) my parents leased a house in a mostly white suburban town, about 20 minutes outside of Boston.  My mother would bring me to the neighborhood play group as the other housewives had children around the same age.  She admitted to me (when she told me the story) that she admired the housewives’ lifestyle (they were spouses of doctors and lawyers) and couldn’t help but compare herself to them. She even started copying their fashion sense in hopes of fitting in.

One day, she couldn’t help but compare me with the other babies. There was something different.  Why did I look so different?  Then, all of a sudden she realized it: I had some kind of developmental/chromosomal abnormality.  Absolutely distraught, she excused herself to the bathroom.  She washed herself up, and as she was at the sink, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.  That’s when she realized, (and I quote) “Oh, I’m Asian.”  That’s right, for the first time in her life, my mother forgot what her ethnicity was.  She forgot that I was a half-Asian baby and that’s why I didn’t have blonde hair or blue eyes.  Thanks mom.

For years I thought making risotto was something only reserved for “trained chefs.”  I absolutely love ordering it when I go out to eat, as nothing can be more comforting than a creamy, lush plate of arborio rice cooked to perfection.  Quite often eating it with my eyes closed, I was convinced I could never do it on my own.  The creaminess, I thought, was something too hard for me to attempt.  I’d probably botch it like over-mashing potatoes and make it a starchy mess.

But, dear reader, I can tell you, it’s not hard at all.  And last night was the first time I added butternut squash, what I thought was an unusual ingredient, for a meal in which I’ve only been served plain.

While arborio rice is what’s normally used for risotto, I’m a fan of cooking with pearled barley, as it’s incredibly forgiving (it’s a very hardy grain), and adds a complexity to the dish; nutty, with a slight chew, I far prefer it over arborio rice.  I love that it toasts up beautifully in the olive oil, enhancing its natural flavors, and that it’s practically impossible to overcook.

The butternut squash practically dissolves in the risotto, adding a welcomed creaminess.  Roo honestly thought I threw dairy in and was trying to pull a fast one on him.  However, the sweetness of the squash (that Roo claims to dislike in dishes that are supposed to be savory)  is cut with a bit of bright zest and freshly squeezed lemon juice.  I ended up plating it on a handful of peppery arugula (which I also think has very mild hints of lemon), but you can serve it with braised kale or as a side itself.

The toasted slivered almonds added a lovely crunch, something unexpected when eating a risotto.  Creamy, nutty, with a bit of a chew, swirled together with peppery arugula and slightly sweet almonds, make this a dish a proud first attempt of butternut squash risotto that won’t be the last.

Adapted from Melissa Clark’s Cook This Now

Ingredients

Half pound peeled butternut squash, grated (I used the ‘fine grate’ blade on my food processor)

5 cups of low sodium stock (I used homemade vegetable)

2 – 3 tablespoons of olive oil (enough to coat the bottom of the pot)

1 large onion, diced

1 garlic clove, minced

2 cups pearled barley

2 dried rosemary branches

1 cup of unsweetened unflavored almond milk (or any other non-dairy milk)

2 tablespoons of nutritional yeast

Zest from 1 lemon

Half teaspoon of freshly squeezed lemon juice, plus more to taste

Salt to taste

Quarter cup of almond slivers, toasted

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Equipment

A food processor

A small saucepan or a large measuring cup that can stand on its own (& microwave)

A large pot

A small saute pan

A spatula

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Take the peeled butternut squash and cut into pieces that will fit into your food processor.  Use the “fine grate” blade on your food processor and grate the squash.  If you don’t have a food processor, you can use a hand grater, though it will take longer.  And if you don’t have a hand grater, you can cut the squash into small cubes, but note that they won’t dissolve into the sauce.

Pour the stock into a small saucepan and place over medium heat.  Bring it to a simmer.  If using a large measuring cup, pour the stock into it (ie fill a 2 cup measuring cup) and microwave for one to two minutes till hot.  Keep repeating warming the stock as you go (ie when you run out, refill the cup and microwave a new batch).  Either way, get your stock hot so that when you add it to the big pot, it won’t bring down the temperature of the ingredients cooking.

Add the olive oil to your large pot.  Place the pot over a burner on medium high heat.  When the oil starts to shimmer, add the diced onions and cook, stirring occasionally.  When the onions become translucent, add the garlic and cook till fragrant (about a minute).  Add the barley and squash, and cook, stirring occasionally.  When the barley starts to brown (it’ll look toasted), add the rosemary.  Stir until the rosemary becomes fragrant (about a minute).

Pour half a cup of stock into your pan and cook, stirring constantly until nearly all the liquid has evaporated.  Make sure that while you’re stirring that you scrape down all the sides and bottom of the pan.

Continue adding stock, and continuously stirring (you can stop to get a drink of water, etc. but I wouldn’t leave the pot alone for five minutes), until the barley risotto has become creamy, thick, and has a slight chew.  For me, it took about five cups to get to this point.  Pour the cup of non-dairy milk in.  Stir till the liquid is nearly evaporated.

Remove the rosemary branches and stir in the nutritional yeast, lemon zest and lemon juice.  Season with salt to taste (we didn’t need any).  Set aside.

In a small saute pan, add the slivered almonds and place the pan on a burner over medium heat.  Toss the nuts until they are toasted (light to dark brown).

Serve the risotto over a handful of arugula, or with braised kale, or even as a side, but be sure to sprinkle the toasted almonds on top! Serve immediately.