To some, the word “delicious” is overused, but not to me. Delicious perfectly encapsulates a feeling that all of us want and deserve-and not only when describing something we’ve just swallowed. Whether triggered by an aroma, a sight, a sound or a touch, delicious is a feeling that stirs us at our core-We suddenly become awake to something valuable, however transient.   

When a parent nuzzles a baby’s neck, there is NO better word than delicious.

When a grandparent watches their child nurture their own baby, the beauty of that sight is profoundly delicious.

When we breathe in nature, whether walking on a beach, hiking in a forest or up a mountain, the scent of wind, the penetrating warmth of sunshine and the sounds that tangle solitude with coexistence can, in a word, be defined as delicious.

When we listen to music and, for a brief time, travel to a place where there’s nothing but inspiration and clarity, those moments are delicious.

Cuddling a puppy is, of course, crazy delicious but kissing the graying face of an elderly dog that you’ve raised since infancy seems to provide an even deeper understanding of the word.

Watching happy chickens run toward you like you’re a favorite relative-OMG that feels delicious.

The moment when we appreciate being appreciated, the feeling of mutual respect and gratitude connects us in such a delicious way.

When we have a dream, make a plan and then walk in that direction, each step accomplished registers, internally, as delicious.

When confronted with a limiting belief and we choose to take an action that supports belief-in-self, that new-found power feels oh-so-delicious.

The Point: There are so many ways to connect to the feeling of deliciousness, why limit our awareness to only how we experience food? By slowing down and purposely being more present to the physical beauty around us, the blessings of our loving relationships and to the power we all have to change and grow, we can, ultimately, come to the table feeling less starved and needy, which is good for more than our waistline!    

What does it mean to be “enough?” Does it mean we stop trying? Stop being curious and wanting to learn? Does being enough mean we no longer have hopes, wishes, and dreams? Do our inner and outer goals simply fade away when we assert, “I, as I am, am enough!”

No. No, no, no, no….

Being enough doesn’t mean we no longer want to lose that pesky pounds-Being enough isn’t the issue at all (just like those pesky pounds aren’t the actual issue)-it’s “feeling” good enough that’s at the core.

Why do we really want what we want? The answer to that question is what tells the story of those hopes, wishes, and dreams—and, ultimately, shines a bright light on whether or not we feel good enough.

When we walk into a room, do we need others to look our way so we feel attractive, Do we need a teacher, employer or coworker to pat us on the head in order to feel intelligent and able to contribute, Is the root of our career paths and goals in order to make someone else feel proud of us?, Do we hesitate to share our truth, because we’re afraid of being alone -of losing love…

The truth: When we feel good enough, we don’t measure our worth, our success or our strengths based on the opinions or acceptance of others. But, that doesn’t mean we’re done growing, learning—or even yearning. Being good enough means we allow ourselves to feel sad, to get frustrated, to dig deep to examine old feelings from past events that have been allowed to limit today’s moves. When we truly feel that we’re enough, we can be satisfied with who we are, as committed caring, curious and awake humans -but that doesn’t mean we aren’t aware that, until we take our last breaths, will be in a process called life-that will forever challenge us to keep reaching upward.

When we can let go of wanting the approval of others, and can genuinely deem who we are to be  “good enough” -that’s when the concept of growing beyond our current level suddenly opens up-and becomes trustable, less transient-and more attainable.

The Point: You are and will always be “enough.” In order to feel that, you’ll need to give up wanting to satisfy perceived opinions and judgments of others because it’s a never-ending dead-end. The road that leads to self-acceptance begins right where you are, right now. It’s a process that’s between You and You-When you can embrace “your” unique road for the sole purpose of reaching upward, that’s when the magic happens.

People aren’t the only ones that appreciate kindness-Just look at my sourdough starter, only one day after concocting!  (Granted, this is highly unusual but, these days, my kitchen seems to be extremely hospitable!)Typically, a starter takes anywhere between one week and ten days to reliably rise and fall, at room temperature.

What’s in my starter(s)?

I use only organic flour: I usually use a 50/50 mixture of unbleached all purpose flour with whole wheat flour.  I also make other starters, using a mixture of other flours. I use a scale to weigh each flour, as I add to my container.

My 50/50 starter (below), first thing in the morning, 24 hours after a feeding.

Here (below) is my high-gluten starter.

Now, about the liquid. On an everyday basis, after removing 2/3 cup (I use a dry measure, as a scoop) of starter, I use weighed filtered water (4 ounces), and an equal weight of flour, to feed my starters.  But, (and this is what most people are wanting to learn): to start a starter from scratch, I like to use homemade fermented fruit water.

It’s easy to do. You want to use raisins and only organic ones. Nonorganic raisins (or anything else that’s not organic), that’s been treated with pesticides, herbicides, etc. to prevent the growth of bacteria, also removes the ability to allow the good bacteria (the kind that’s needed in sourdough bread) to grow and thrive. So, organic is the way to go-So either use the link provided above or look for them in the supermarket.

Anyway, fill a quart jar half full with organic raisins and cover (by an inch or so) with filtered water. Apply the lid loosely and stick in a dark place (I cover my jar with a towel and keep it in my pantry.) Every day, twice a day, uncover, screw on a bit tighter, and tilt the jar back and forth a couple of times, to rotate things. Uncover the jar and wave back and forth twice, to encourage air to enter. Recover the jar loosely and put back in its spot. Do this every day for a week or more until you see the signs of fermentation (little bubbles will rise from the bottom and you’ll see some bubbles surrounding the raisins, which will have risen to the top, now swollen with liquid.)

Then, pour the contents of the jar into a sieve, positioned over a bowl.

Although you don’t need to use fruit water to “start” your starter, doing so creates a very vibrant one, indeed! And, occasionally using this to feed your starter (mixed with filtered water) will help keep it robust and happy to perform for you. Keep whatever you don’t use initially, in a clean jar, in the refrigerator and use, for up to two weeks. (Don’t do it everyday-just like with children, this is a special treat-You don’t want your starters thinking this is their regular diet!)

Each time the story replays in our head, our mood gets darker because we just can’t understand why this person that we think should know us, should understand us and should be better than whatever it is that they did or didn’t do-We think: “Why can’t they just own it?” –So we can stop feeling consumed by disappointment!

Well, another word for disappointment is disillusionment and buried in that word is at the heart of the issue. “Illusion” is what makes us believe that our soft spots are as visible as the text on a billboard-and that others are supposed to not only be awake to our sensitivities but also to always understand how to navigate around them so we can feel heard, loved and valued.

Not so.

Our perceptions of current situations are usually seen through habitual, murky lenses that keep historic wounds alive. So, today’s incident isn’t usually only about today. Our reactions/conclusions are often an internal “I told you so” by a part of us that sits waiting to pounce on our self-esteem, on our worth, on our lovability. Oddly, although we cast the distraction of blame outward, the feeling of distress festers on the inside, because we’re not being truthful about what we’re asking for, which is: “Why can’t/won’t that person, this job, that scene finally validate who I want to be?!!”

The Truth: Our soft spots are not supposed to be fixed by the behavior of others. Regardless of how the world treats us, our job is to love ourselves anyway! It’s why we get to experience disappointment-first, in order to be presented with our current level of powerlessness-and then to move through that in a way where we’ve pushed beyond the usual response. It’s the only way to feel the weight of, and then share a better, stronger and, ultimately, happier version of ourselves.

The Point: If we choose to shift out of old perceptions and, instead, see the initial pain as the way to true-gain, we can view the person or event that triggers our discontent as the actual catalyst for positive change! Instead of creating a “story” that takes us to a place of anger, resentment and mistrust in someone else, we can choose to use a disappointing event as an opportunity to shine a light on our own fragility and, ultimately, on the work we need to do to grow.

Anyone can be “religious” without a calendar dictating their moves. Every day, we can establish and revisit our core values. Every day, we can get out of bed with a sense of purpose and then do things to support that purpose.  Every day gives us the opportunity to practice how to be what we want to see in the world. Being religious is when we do things to push through those pesky, limiting beliefs even when it feels really hard-Because nothing short of the bigger picture will suffice.

To me, holidays are here to help us to stop- and to examine how religious we are in life, in general. This year, since the week of Passover begins on Good Friday, it’s a particularly great time to begin. Sending love to you.

You can watch the video of me roasting peppers in the “Learn the Basics” section of this website.

I also replenished a big bag of cleaned and cut up aromatics (leeks, onions, celery and carrots) in a doubled freezer bag (I use a 2 gallon size) and store this in the freezer so I can quickly flavor the liquid used to poach ribs, chicken, potatoes, etc.

Remember to dry your vegetables as well as possible to help prevent the formation of ice crystals.

Here (above) is a large batch of my balsamic vinaigrette. It’s fabulous as a marinade for boneless chicken, hanger (or skirt) steaks, whole fish-the list goes on.

Here is a mixture that’s just indispensable and it’s ridiculously easy. Extra virgin olive oil, minced garlic, freshly ground black pepper and lots of chopped flat-leaf Italian parsley. You can add other herbs–thyme, rosemary, fresh (or dried) oregano. I also usually add some crushed red pepper flakes.  I use it all week long. on foods like duck breasts.

Here the top fat is closely scored just down to the meat (not through it). The fat is rubbed with salt and pepper.

The other side (the meat side) is brushed with this garlic-parsley mixture. So the fat-side gets slowly cooked over a low-medium flame (in a cast-iron skillet), occasionally dumping out excess fat. When all the fat has rendered and the skin is perfectly crisp, turn the breasts over and stick the pan under a hot broiler to cook the meat-side just until seared. Make sure to keep the meat medium rare.

Below are grape tomatoes tossed with some of the garlic-parsley oil. Then they’ll get roasted at 450F for 20 to 25 minutes, or until blistered, tender but still maintaining their shape. Toss with some slivered basil leaves and, if you have them, dot the top with some small (halved) balls of fresh mozzarella cheese.

And then there’s garlic toast–(swab slices of bread on one or both sides with the garlic-parsley mixture, then sprinkle one side only with freshly grated best-quality parmesan cheese. Broil on the cheese side, turn and broil on the second side. Turn back over so the cheese sides are facing up.

These are just a few of the things I do in the kitchen, on a rotating basic, all for the purpose of being able to create delicious meals, at whim.

All I do is drain chick peas and fold throughout some extra-virgin olive oil with minced fresh garlic, black pepper and minced flat-leaf Italian parsley.

There is not a recipe for this–it’s just an eyeball thing. Trust yourself and feel free to add things like olives, chopped roasted peppers, minced jalapenos, poached or grilled shrimp. You can change the parsley to cilantro and add corn kernels (blanched briefly if fresh, drained if canned). You can also swap black beans for the chick peas–or mix them. Just play and go where your taste buds lead.

Marinated chick peas:

• 1 or more cans of chick peas (also called garbanzo beans) drained in a sieve and rinsed and drained well again
• Garlic-parsley oil, to taste (mix minced or pressed garlic into a bowl and add enough extra-virgin olive oil to cover generously. Stir in some chopped parsley, black pepper and, if desired, some crushed chili flakes).
• Extra virgin olive oil, to taste
• Freshly ground black pepper and Kosher salt, to taste

The beginning of this chapter was marked by something called “the staging process;” professionally defined as the time people get their home “in shape” to go on the market for sale-although I personally describe this as the step-by-step process of being literally erased from one’s home…

Anyway, our 100 year old house was, as instructed by our chosen team of realtors, swiftly wiped pretty clean of our family’s essence (personal photos taken away, valences and all shades and draperies carted off (to showcase the beauty of the original decorative windows), ceilings repainted (to feature the specialness of the molding) and some carpets ripped out (to boast the untouched hard-wood floors)– not to mention having to go through over 25 years worth of accumulated “stuff” from 5 people.

But, to me, what happened to my small but perfect kitchen was the hardest to bare. My natural wood cabinets were painted nurse-shoe white, the pot racks with all my tools were removed (to reveal more of the hand-painted tiles on the walls), my butcher-block island, which was on wheels, was “wheeled” away in order for things seem more spacious AND my fully equipped “workshop, ” built on our lower level (which had been in full swing for my most recent TV series) had to be completely disassembled because, apparently, having two kitchens in one home (in NY) would deem the house to be a “two-family residence.” (Wouldn’t you be depressed??)

Anyway, I’m here to report that today Jon and I are in a new house that we love, in a completely new area that we love and we’re now eyeball-deep in building my dream kitchen. Although still living within the enormous chaos of a major kitchen renovation we have become closer as a couple and more resilient and resourceful individuals. And, through it all, my determination to cook and bake, through all of the challenges, has deepened my awareness of how, for me, “home” is wherever my pots are.

In my upcoming blog posts I will be sharing with you my cooking and baking journey– from times both “then” and “now” (like these muffins below that I used both then (for the slew of brokers that came for our open house) and also now (for the team of men building our new “indoor” wood-burning oven).

The point: Cooking and baking have, throughout my life (and continues to) help me to cope, to heal and to (no matter what) reaffirm that this IS Lauren Groveman’s Kitchen. I’m back!!

Now that I’ve hopefully peaked your curiosity, here’s what a fresh citron looks like…

They can grow to be ridiculously large–but are most often sold like above, the size of a very large pebbley looking lemon that’s the size of a grapefruit–This (above) or a bit smaller is the size I’m talking about and is what you should use to make candied citron.

The interior of citron is not at all the prize–the flesh is dry (like an over-the-hill orange) and a bit leathery–It’s the outer rind that you want. Fresh citron has a hard, thick outer rind and the fruit looks like this when cut open. (The “rind” is considered everything above the interior fruit-flesh.)

See how thick the rind is?? After a series of blanching, draining and then long, slow cooking in a thick sugar syrup, the thick, initially intensly bitter layer of white pith is rendered much less bossy– retaining just enough bite to spar playfully with the candy.

See how little fruit there is in comparison to the rind?

After cutting citron into wedges, you need to remove the inner fruit. You can use a grapefruit spoon. I just use my fingers to pry it out.

Boil the peel 2 times (uncovered), over high heat, in two separate batches of rapidly boiling water, for 10 minutes each time. (8 minutes each for thick-skinned oranges, lemons and grapefruit). As a time saver, I bring two pots to a boil, then after blanching the first time, I just drain the peel and then dump the pieces into the second pot. If you use one pot, rinse the interior after draining and fill with fresh water–bring to a boil and proceed.

Here (below) is the citron after the first blanching. Although initially very rigid, the rind starts to soften.

Here is what they look like after the second blanching. Much more bendable.

For 1 or 2 citron (or 2 oranges and 2 lemons and 1 grapefruit): After draining the blanched citron strips, I make a sugar syrup in a 12-inch, deep-sided skillet with 3 cups water, 3 1/2 cups granulated sugar and 1/2 cup light corn syrup. The syrup is important to keep the citron supple, after cooking.

After whisking together the syrup ingredients, bring the mixture to a boil. Add the blanched citron to the boiling syrup.

Place a sheet of parchment paper directly over the top (actually sitting on the fruit and syrup).

Place a heat-proof bowl on top of the paper, to help weight it down.

This set up (above) helps to prevent excess condensation from forming and diluting the syrup. The goal is to reduce the syrup slowly–keeping the peel submerged.

Turn the heat to low and simmer the citron rind at a slow but bouncy bubble for between 1 3/4 to 2 hours (about 1 hour for oranges, lemons and grapefruit).  After each 30 minutes, lift the paper and check how things are doing.

The point is to simmer until the syrup completely penetrates (permiates) the white pith. Once very tender, remove the paper and raise the heat, only to medium.—Now you’ll cook the liquid a bit more briskly in order to evaporate some of the water in the already reduced syrup. The syrup will seem very foamy on top and will bubble quite furiously.

As the liquid reduces, lower the heat. At this point, let your nose be your guide. Don’t allow the liquid to color beyond a very light amber. You will smell the syrup turn–this is when it becomes candy–if you let this go too far, the syrup will be too flavorful and will overwhelm the citron with an overly cooked taste.

Here is how the citron should look when you remove it from the syrup. It should be perfectly tender and the syrup should hug the rind.

Spray a wire cooling rack with flavorless vegetable spray and lay the candied citron on the rack in a single layer. If planning to sugar-coat the pieces, only allow them to settle until just warm. If allowed to sit too long, the outside will lose it’s sticky quality, which is what the sugar needs to adhere to.

After rolling in sugar, place back on the rack and allow them to dry for a few hours. Cover and store at room temperature.

Below is a combination of candied and sugared orange and lemon rind.

(Be forwarned, all types of sugared-candied citrus rind are, for me, a real weakness. When it’s in the house, it haunts me until every last strip is gone!)

If not planning to sugar-coat, then allow the pieces to dry on the rack for a few hours or overnight. Use an oiled chef’s knife to cut into small pieces …

Chopped candied citron…

Chopped candied orange and lemon rind…

Isn’t it amazing how you can almost experience the vibrancy of flavor just by looking? Just delicious!!

Oh–and if wondering what you might do with the candied chopped up citron, lemon and orange rind. How about some Panettone!

And how about…

Hot cross buns! (Recipe coming…)

The Point: Although, because of lack of availablity (and or timing constraints) we will, at times, need to use store-bought candied citron as well as other kinds of rind. But, since oranges, lemons and grapefruits are always available and since the eating experience with the homemade version is so elevated, I wanted to show you how do it yourself. I promise–the taste and texture is worth every second!