When Noah and I were on our honeymoon in Sayulita, Mexico, we had this daily salsa and margarita ritual. We spent our days surfing at nearby breaks, and would return to our little villa on the hill around happy hour. We would open the french doors onto the patio, put on some music, and come up with a salsa and a margarita almost every day. We played a lot of rummi and laptop scrabble during those very happy hours.

We love Mexico– the food, the people, the lifestyle, the surfing–and every time we go a big part of our vacation is gathering and cooking up local produce and seafood. We pull over at roadside produce stands, we scour side streets for the local tortillerias, we watch for the panga boats coming in with a loads of just-caught fish, and we run after pick up trucks full of fruits and vegetables, bumbling along in Spanglish with the farmers, and learning the names for things like cucumber (pepino), oranges (naranjas), and onions (cebollas).

That was six years ago, and life sure has changed. I think about our honeymoon often, and sometimes, like in the middle of another busy summer, I want to bring a piece of it to the here and now. So when the hot day is ending and the lowering sun paints the sky full of peaches, I make this salsa, whip up a batch of margaritas, and soon we can hear the mariachis strumming their ocean-side love songs again.

This post is a reprint from my previous food blog, Food-G.

SUNDAY MENU SUGGESTION

• Chips and Salsa Verde (recipe below)
• Tri Tip Tacos with Ancho Chipotle Wet Rub
• Tres Leches Cake

If you’re looking for a quick and easy dessert to add to your Fourth of July blowout, this is it. I almost feel silly posting a recipe for it, but hey, sometimes we need a simple, good idea more than we need a gussied-up production number.

As a born-and-raised Michigan girl there are certain things I can’t say no to, and ripe, dark, sweet cherries are one of them. For all my Michigan peeps, you know what I’m talking about. We are children raised on the fruit of the Cherry Capital: Traverse City, home of the National Cherry Festival.

As a kid, rolling “Up North” in the back of my mom’s behemoth Cadillac Eldorado, the highway was dashed and dotted with white-washed cherry stands. Their handpainted signs called out to passers-by, “Washed Black Cherries! Freshly Picked!” We almost always ended up with a bag of crisp and shiny, black sweet cherries by the time we reached Boyne Falls, and soon our fingers were cherry-stained and the pits were littered along the Mackinaw Trail Highway. They were so big and firm and ripe that the skins made an audible, juicy *pop* when bitten. The Saturday Night Fever soundtrack beat late-seventies rythms from the 8-track tape player, and as the sun lit the rolling, wildflower-covered hills in the most alluring shade of gold our cries of, “Are we there yet?” were finally answered with, “YES!”

Our old dog, Dock, who lived to be 18, knew the minute we hit the long and winding wooded drive to the cottage. A car door would open and he would hop out from the floor of the back seat and run ahead of the car, guiding us down the driveway. Soon we would be barefoot on the dock, ready for a dip in the clear blue waters of Walloon Lake. This was our family’s happy place, purchased with the money from my dad’s life insurance policy after he died suddenly and unexpectedly from Leukemia at 36 years old. A 1920’s white salt box with knotty pine walls and disco-daisy curtains (before my mom redecorated it sometime in the nineties)– this was where we kicked off summer, on the same waters Ernest Hemingway was reared on. My mom took a month-long hiatus from running my father’s company, and for 30 days we were a family unburdened, living in that soft, dreamlike place.

I don’t get to go there this summer, and it’s been on my mind so huge. Walloon always is this time of year, whether I am en route or just longing to be. As my fellow Northern-Michigan-born-Montana-transplants know, summer is beautiful here on the rivers and in the mountains, but nothing compares to the lakes of Northern Michigan. We are plagued with nostalgia for our summers spent in and upon them. So when I see the sacks of shiny sweet cherries show up at the market, even though they’re from Washington or the Flathead Valley, I buy them over and over until the season fades, and as I sit on our back stoop and spit the pits into the lilac trees, a little piece of me is 10 again, running straight off the end of the dock, carefree, airborne, and joyful as ever.

I can’t wait to share that place, and that feeling with James, but it will have to wait until next summer, when we’re done with another batch of renovations to The Ranchito. This summer however, for his very first Fourth of July, James and I will be visiting Dad at work, watching the fireworks over Missoula from the roof of the hospital. Sometimes, being a pilot’s wife has it’s perks. As we do, this is what I will be passing around: Cherry Bombs, dipped in dark chocolate, cloaked in almond-infused whipped cream, igniting the sweet taste of summer on our tongues.

If you want to step up your  barbecue game, Cedar Plank Salmon is a great way to do it. This recipe is an oldie but goodie, recycled from my old blog (Food-G). Have a great week and Bon Apetit!

Today I’m going to put on my instructor’s hat and talk technique. Restaurants charge top dollar for cedar-planked salmon, but it is very easy to do at home. Cedar planking is a great tool to have in your eat-more-fish tool chest, and when you bust this out for guests you’ll look like a culinary bad ass. Sweet!

Lots of proteins lend themselves well to cedar-planking: scallops, shrimp, chicken, pork, prime rib, trout; but salmon is by far the most popular passenger for this wooden magic carpet. Cedar cooking planks can be used in both oven and grill. After living in Alaska for four years, and cooking about a hundred cedar planked salmon dinners, Hubs and I can confidently say we both prefer the grill method, hands down. When wood meets open flame, the natural smoke flavor that infuses the fish gives it a subtle umami base note– that’s kind of the whole point.

Here's some Bristol Bay Sockeye I caught at the supermarket.

Ok, so you’ve got your salmon, and you’ve procured your cedar plank. Now what?

This flavor-infusing magic of flame means you must take measures to prevent the wood from catching fire. First, soak the plank in water for a minimum of 30 minutes before grilling. Longer is better.

Secondly, cook the fish over a lower temperature than you may be used to, and allow ample cooking time. We’ve found that a medium  to medium low flame on our propane Weber Q makes for a meltingly tender salmon filet, with a subtle smoked cedar aroma, and no pesky plank fires. Some grillers suggest keeping a spray bottle filled with water near the grill to squirt out flare-ups, but with proper soaking and low heat, fire is rarely an issue. Allow 2 to 3 times longer than you normally would to grill fish, as both the lower temp. and the heat-shield effect of the board will slow down cooking. Let’s review:

TIPS FOR CEDAR PLANKING FISH:

• Use untreated cedar cooking planks
• Soak planks at least 30 minutes before grilling
• Cook over a medium or medium low flame. High flame + cedar plank = FIRE!
• Allow ample cooking time
• Keep a spray bottle filled with water nearby to extinguish flare-ups

With some fresh fish and this technique, you don’t need much more than a brush of olive oil, a sprinkle of sea salt and a few grinds of pepper, but if you want to take it to the next level, try this recipe for Citrus Glazed Salmon (printable recipe below). Enjoy!

SUNDAY MENU SUGGESTION

• Cedar Plank Salmon with Citrus Glaze (printable recipe below)
• Short-grain rice or wild rice
• Steamed Broccoli, Asparagus or other seasonal vegetable
• Lime Chiffon Cake

When Noah accidentally promised someone he would fill in for them at work, not realizing the date fell on Mother’s Day, I told him it was no big deal.

“We can just celebrate the day before or the day after,” I said. But as the date neared, I came to realize how wrong I was. It was a big deal. Huge, even. My first real, official Mother’s Day. No adventure in my life thus far has been more spectacular. No love so profound. No challenge more great.

As it turned out, this day meant more to me than I ever expected. As I imagined myself spending the day without Noah, I tried to embrace the idea. I gave myself pep talks about how pure of a Mother’s Day it would be, engrossed in caring for James and Pablo. I had given Noah the green light, so there was no turning back, and no one to be mad at except myself. To be honest, I may have indulged in a moment or two of feeling sorry for myself. I mean, I’ve only been sleep deprived for eight and a half months. No big deal, right?

Oh Noah...they're beautiful.

Then, true to knight-in-shining-armor form, Noah surprised me. He had pulled a few strings, and undid his initial blunder. He got the day off. The forecast was a perfect sunny and 70, and we had the whole day to spend together as a family. HOORAYYYY!!!!!

“Whatever you want to do, the day is yours,” Noah said, “I can take James if you want to go for a bike ride, or we can sit on the shore while you fly fish, or we can go for a hike or a picnic or out to brunch together, or (and as he said it my mind was already sparking the same idea) I thought you might like to go mushroom hunting.”

Can't celebrate Mother's Day without my fur baby.

“Yes! Let’s do that!” I said, jumping for joy in my mama heart. So that’s what we did. We threw the pack in the car, loaded up James and Pablo, and off we went to wander around the woods in search of edible treasure.

Morels grow around these parts in mountainside burn areas, and also in riverbeds. Like any good ‘shroom hunter I can’t tell you exactly where we went, but it probably doesn’t matter much since we only found two yellow morels. No matter. It was a fun excuse to get off the beaten trail, and enjoy a day by the river. Later that night, Noah sauteed our loot for a succulent golden garnish to top my Mother’s Day filet– perfect. Pablo rested peacefully after a big swim, James slept angelically in his crib, and Noah filled my glass with Cabernet. It was a beautiful, wonderful, love-filled day. My heart and belly were full, and I fell into bed that night, reflecting on how one of the best parts of being James’s mother is sharing this experience with James’s father. I suppose, after all, that’s how this story began.

the end

But wait! There’s more. Since it’s still morel season (at least along the 45th parallel) I want to share with you my favorite way to cook morels. This is my go-to preparation for morels, the reason being because it elevates rather than masks their natural woodsy flavor. It’s a good idea to cook any wild-crafted mushrooms before eating them, and this versatile saute can be plugged in to just about any preparation you fancy. A few ideas:

• Grilled morel pizza or flat-bread with olive oil, shaved Parmesan, and toasted pine nuts
• Morel-filled breakfast crepes (from my old blog)
• Morel and Brie Bruschetta
• Morel-topped filet mignon
• This wild mushroom-topped Parmesan and pine nut crusted chicken (from my old blog)(just replace the chanterelles with morels)

Thanks for making me a mama, James.

Enjoy!

Ok, here’s a recipe I have been wanting to blog forever. Noah and I created this when we were in college and it is still a part of our regular repertoire. Tender green beans, toasty almonds and garlic coins, and the concentrated zing of sun dried tomatoes (I know, so nineties huh?). We named it after Green Beans Almondine plus my nickname: Ginzo (yes, we’re dorks). We have been eating this for well over a decade, and I’m sure it will be crossing our Sunday table for decades to come.

Here’s what I have to say about cooking green beans though: Green beans are best when blanched. That just means boiled in salted water. You can steam and steam and steam green beans until the cows come home, which I know is the healthier way to cook vegetables, but they will be tough. I assure you, the sacrifice of nutrients is worth it when it comes to green beans. One of my chefs at culinary school taught me that green beans are best when they are tender to the bite, and in order to cook a tender green bean, it needs to be submerged in boiling water. Cooking time will depend on the size and freshness of the beans. After about 3 minutes of cooking time in a bubbly hot water bath, start testing them occasionally the same way you do pasta– you’ll know when they’re done.  They will give way to the tooth with no trace of stringy toughness, nor mush factor (unless you overcook them).

With summer gardens growing, I thought this recipe (and the above bit of advice) might come in handy for those freshly picked pole beans. Green Beans Ginzadine pairs well with, oh…just about anything. Hope you enjoy it as much as we do.

SUNDAY MENU SUGGESTION

• Green Beans Ginzadine (printable recipe below)
• Cedar Plank Salmon with Citrus Glaze (from my old blog)
• Sweet Skillet Cornbread or fresh corn on the cob (in season)
• Fresh cherries or berries for dessert

As we collectively pull the covers off our grills and stock up on charcoal, wood chips, or propane, let’s take a moment to ponder one of the most beloved barbecue delights: Bratwurst. Ooooh yeeeeah…BRATS! There is nothing but nothing like a good brat, but true excellence comes from attention to detail. Ever since I moved West I have often wondered, What’s a fraulein gotta do to get a decent brat around here?! I’d like to share with you my family’s interpretation of the ultimate Brat. I consider myself a bit of a “Brat-thority” if you will, and here’s why:

• Bratwurst is a tradition in my family, along with Lebkuchen, Springerli, and other German delights.
• 3 out of 4 of my grandparents were of 100% German descent. The fourth was Irish (in case you were wondering).
• One of my mother’s many titles is “Queen of Brats”, which automatically makes me a Princess of Brats.
• We lived 30 minutes from the Bavarian hamlet of Frankenmuth, Michigan, home of Kern’s Sausages. This place has been around for over 60 years, and they don’t mess around when it comes to Bratwurst. No trip to Frankenmuth is complete without a stop at Kern’s for Brat’s, Bush’s Caraway Sauerkraut, and homemade buns. I was born and raised on those legendary dogs.
• I completed my Bratwurst Ph.D. as a language student in Berlin, where I lived for 4 months and existed primarily on wurst, hefeweizen and chocolate-covered lebkuchen.

Even though this menu would be so great for an OktoberFest party, I can’t say the word Bratwurst without thinking of the long knotty wood table at our family’s cottage, in summertime. At least twice a summer, the Queen of Brats and her five kids (and whoever else was within sniffing distance) packed in elbow to elbow around big platters of bratwurst, caraway sauerkraut, maybe some German potato salad, and always, always green beans. My mother always served brats with green beans. One of her favorite things about this pairing was that the extra sausages and green beans, put to bed on a pile of leftover caraway sauerkraut, made really good leftovers. That’s one of the best things about a Sunday Dinner, isn’t it? The leftovers. That, and those incredible memories.

First, get the best brats you can find. Kern’s does mail order, and I’ve not had a better, more authentic tasting brat, but our local Lolo Meats makes a pretty decent one. When we lived in Juneau our favorite market–Super Bear– made their own brats with Alaskan Amber. Those were nice. My brother swears by Johnsonville, which are easy to find and do have that quintessential Brat flavor. At any rate, it’s all about the brat, so get the “Best Wurst” you can find. Top it off with sauerkraut, coarse ground mustard, and buttery browned onions and mushrooms. If you can resist that, you are definitely not related to me.

Below, I outline our family’s method, complete with essential go-withs. I’m also adding a suggested menu to my recipe posts, for your Sunday Dinner inspiration. Enjoy!

SUNDAY MENU SUGGESTION

• Best Way Bratwurst (printable recipe below)
• Chive Potato Salad
• Green Beans
• Inside-Out German Chocolate Cake (Gourmet, March 2000)

This is a recipe of the highest order– a family recipe, passed down through the perfecting mechanism of multiple generations. I feel very lucky to have tasted it while living in Alaska, and honored to have been given the recipe. Well, not a recipe exactly, but a list of ingredients with which to attempt a re-creation of this beloved dish. It’s from our friend Christian. And if you know Christian, you probably know his adobo. When Christian cooks adobo, people show up. This is the kind of dish that brings people to the table, over and over again.

So what is adobo? While trying to figure out the origins of this Spanish-style adobo recipe from my half-Filipino friend, I found that there are so many answers to that question, adobo is quite possibly one of the most confusing words in culinaria. The Spanish word Adobo means seasoning or marinade. In Latin America, adobo often refers to a dry seasoning of garlic powder, salt, and oregano. Paprika and vinegar are also common to “adobo” preparations, either wet or dry. In regards to those little cans of “Chipotles in Adobo”, the word refers to a tomato-based sauce with paprika, garlic, vinegar, and other spices– similar components to the one in this adobo recipe.

The widespread and variable use of the word adobo lends a nod to the reach of the Spanish Conquistadores, who conquered, among other places (like Puerto Rico), the Philipines in the 16th century. While there, they came across a native dish of braised meat, poultry, or fish simmered in soy sauce and vinegar. This is the most common version of what they call adobo in the Phillipines. But it is my understanding that there are also tomato-based versions of this dish cooked in Filipino kitchens. Perhaps a marriage of Spanish and Filipino cuisine. . . those zany Conquistadores! If it’s any consolation, sitting in front of  a plate of this dish, you won’t care what adobo means or where it’s from. The only word on your tongue will be these three simple letters : YUM.

Introducing a new feature to The Sunday Dinner Revival: Table Talk, because life happens at the table. I wanted a way to cover topics that come up at our dinner table, with friends and family. A lot of change begins with fork and knife in hand, over casual conversation about life’s goings on. So here’s the first installment. Take a seat, and by all means, feel free to join the conversation.

I learned some stuff recently that completely re-ignited my commitment to cooking with organic food. I mentioned in my last post that James has some food sensitivities. I noticed right away when he was a newborn that he became uncomfortably gassy whenever I ate corn. At around 3 months of age my happy little guy began to grow more and more fussy, arching his back and crying out during and after feedings. Within a month he was spending nearly every day fussing, uncomfortable, moaning, grunting, etc. I thought it might be acid reflux, but as a last ditch effort before putting him on prescription drugs, I omitted cows milk from my diet. Within a week he was my happy little guy again. Most recently, he developed a mild, come-and-go eye rash that definitely went away when I stopped feeding him oatmeal. I guess this kind of thing is somewhat common, and most kids grow out of it as their digestive enzymes develop. I’m seeing a lot of improvement recently, as he nears his eighth month and eats more and more solid foods. Nonetheless, all the detective work and diet changes have taken up a lot of my mental real estate and I wanted to learn more about it.

I came across this TED talk (above) while I was looking at information on food sensitivities in children. Doesn’t it seem like there are so many kids with serious food allergies these days? Way more than I remember growing up. Well the fact is there are more food sensitivities and allergies, both in children and adults. So the obvious next question is: Why?

One theory is that Americans are too clean. Our anti-bacterial, germaphobic, antibiotic-riddled lifestyles may be diminishing the healthy flora that lives in our bodies, causing our immune systems to over-react to the mildest of toxins (which are found in many foods, both naturally occuring and synthetically introduced) in the form of allergies. At least, that’s what this CNN article suggests.

Another theory is that the rise in food allergies has paralleled the introduction and full-saturation of GMO’s (genetically modified organisms) into our every day foods. The US doesn’t require any special labeling for products containing genetically modified crops. Most of the rest of the developed word has outlawed them. Last I heard, something like 70% of what’s on the grocery store shelves in the U.S.  contains GMO’s. The US also didn’t conduct testing to make sure they were safe. The whole shenanigan has opened a Pandora’s box of potentially food-related illnesses, in the name of profiting big business, and supporting our heavily subsidized industrial agriculture model. The system is getting a lot of stink-eye from foodies and families and basically anyone who wants to be nourished vs. poisoned by food. I’m guessing you fall into that category.

If you want to know and understand more about this, watch Robyn O’Brien’s TED talk (above). She breaks it down in language we can all understand.

You can also read about it here:

The Organic Consumers Association: Genetically Engineered Foods May Cause Rising Food Allergies

Or here:

Mom’s for Safe Food

The whole business is very  upsetting, and the reason I get so grouchy at tax season. We should be protected by our government, not treated human guinea pigs in the name of profit. Period.

In terms of food, there is one ray of hope, or one simple solution. It’s not perfect, and we all know it costs more, but if you feel driven to action by what you learned here today it’s this: Eat ORGANIC.

Foods that are labeled organic cannot, by law, contain genetically modified ingredients. For now, it’s the only way of knowing you are protecting yourself from food that is quite possibly making us ill– and not necessarily just in the form of food allergies, but other auto-immune disorders, inflammatory disorders, digestive disorders, behavioral disorders, mood disorders, and who knows what else.

Spring is a great time of year to consider making a change– like growing your own salad greens in a container garden. Maybe you could join a CSA, or a local co-op. You could enjoy sunny weekends shopping at your local farmers’ market. Even if you don’t live in a crunchy place like Missoula where organics are abundant, there are things you can do. Even Costco has an impressive and growing selection of organic products. It really does start with what is on the plates in front of us.

I certainly can’t claim perfection or a 100% organic diet. And I know the issues raised here are more question marks than facts– oh how I would love for my worries to be proven wrong. But don’t you think it’s important to open our eyes and try to make the most-informed choices we can? At the very least, let’s talk about it, because idle talk is so rarely just that.

So, what are your thoughts on the matter? I’d love to hear. Please, have a seat and join me for a little Table Talk.

Um…hi. And happy Spring.

It’s been a little while. In terms of this little guy, it’s been a lifetime:

We have been learning so much. Like how to eat:

And how to sleep:

I have been flush with freelance and copywriting work. I even squeezed in a cooking class. But this beloved piece of my work puzzle has been neglected and for that I am sorry. So many balls to juggle these days, and some must simply be set aside while I tend to higher priorities. Like this:

And this:

Lately, my life and work have been coming back into focus as James has started napping more than 30 minutes at a stretch. Tonight, he batted my hand away as I tried to soothe him to sleep, and with a look, basically told me to stop singing so he could put himself to bed. Okay then. His fierce independence reminds me of someone else I know.

In the midst of the last months, a dear friend came to stay with us, and to finally fill the space over our mantle with one of her paintings. We gave her this photo for inspiration, taken from the deck of our last apartment in Alaska:

I told her I liked the duality of it’s composition. The light and the dark together, creating beauty in that sacred place between day and night.

This is her interpretation:

Oh how my heart goes pitter-pat every time I take it in. Brooke doesn’t name her pieces, so we did. To be more accurate, Noah did.

He called it. . .

TRANSITION

Brooke left this beautiful piece of herself here, and reminded me of all the pieces of myself that are still here, floating around amidst the blocks and board books and boppys. She 911’d my postpartum wardrobe, caught me up on all the Hollywood gossip, taught me how to use my iPhone, and brought some fresh recipes for us to cook together. This one is a keeper, and amazingly met my nutrition requirements. I’ve been corn and dairy-free for over four months now on account of my little one’s sensitivities, and am now on the verge of omitting oats. Not fun, but SO worth it. Doc says he’ll grow out of these sensitivities. I hope she’s right. That’s another story, but let’s focus on this hearty, healthy salad. A bullseye for your April menu. Fresh. Flavorful. Filling. It spans the gap between winter’s braises and summer’s leafy greens, but I can tell you we’ll be eating this year round. Enjoy!

In my last post I promised to offer more dishes that will hold, meaning meals that improve as they sit and wait to be eaten, rather than deteriorate. I am finding this is key to putting on a succesful dinner with an infant, so I’ve been making friends with my stock pots and crock pots again– welcome allies as I watch the first snowflakes float to the ground.

Soup may be the ultimate when it comes to meals that age gracefully, and this is one of my favorites. What intrigued me about this soup is that it’s thickened with a roux made from ground corn tortillas, adding both substance and flavor. With the addition of a little grated Jack cheese, this is a bowl you can really tuck in to on a cold November night. Creamy, sweet, and a touch smokey, this soup makes a rich and warming meal or first course.