Spring time in Denver can be a precarious time, especially if you happen to be a sensitive flower. If someone planted you within the last couple of weeks, during the recent tee-shirt and sandal spell, you would now be a wilted thing and sadly, out of luck: destined to be turned over and forked under the cold, soaked soil, because we just had a late mother of a snow storm. Continue reading “Mint pesto with Asparagus, parmigiano-reggiano and a poached egg…”→
They say the most long lived of the French are those lucky enough to live in Gascony in the south-west. There was a piece on Gascony in The New York Times recently, by David McAninch. His book, “Duck Season: Eating, Drinking and other Misadventures in Gascony, France’s Last Best Place,” just came out. In the article he wrote about what these folks eat and what they drink, which, along with a jovial approach to daily living, seems to affect their longevity. Continue reading “On Duck and Wine”→
We eat lots of cauliflower throughout the winter and into early spring. I’ll rub one with a few spices, coat it with olive oil and roast it whole, uncovered, until it has a nice, crunchy coating. This one is roasted in the tagine, so it turns out softer, because of the steam, and is less crunchy than an open roast, but it’s beautiful— fragrant and spicy like a Moroccan steam bath and it cuts like butter with a dull spoon. It barely takes fifteen minutes to prepare and about an hour to cook in the oven.
For the uninitiated, a tagine is a North African conical-shaped portable outdoor earthenware oven. Traditionally, they were placed upon charcoal braziers and slowly cooked by skilled nomadic Berbers.
My base ingredients for a tagine are onion, garlic, turmeric, ginger, cumin, a few cardamom pods, Aleppo pepper, a cinnamon stick, a generous spoon of coconut oil, a handful of prunes, half a preserved lemon, a dash of olive oil, a sprinkle of sea salt and a lashing of harissa paste. Sounds like a lot? On Sundays and holy days, I’ll add a pinch of saffron. Continue reading “A Cauliflower Tagine”→
It’s Sunday morning and I’m languishing in the carefree comfort zone of my bed. Ionah’s up and has bread in the oven and is en route to an impossibly early nine o clock yoga class. There’s a situation, she says; a favor to ask; a SNAFU: apparently I have thirty minutes and then — I have to get up. I gotta take the bread out of the oven. She pours me a cup of life affirming Assam tea, hands me the New York Times and leaves the flask. She sets the timer, places it by the bed, wishes me a loving goodbye and is out the door in a flash with her mat strung across her shoulder.
This could have ruined a lesser man’s day, but my cheery disposition got the better of me and as I looked at my options, I made a cold-hearted decision: I wrote off the review, the style section and the book review, and settled on the magazine for Sam Sifton’s one page take on a Jim Harrison recipe for a Caribbean stew — heavy on pork ribs, sausage and chicken thighs. I see myself hovering over an open fire cooking this concoction on the banks of the trout filled Gunnison river, perhaps within a few weeks — an over night trip, a mere five-hour drive from here. Continue reading “A Sunday Morning Omelet”→