New Salad, CT (Sisters are Doing It For Themselves)

"Art/Love is the desire to narrow the space between two people

To solve the only problem there has ever been

in the world:

That you are not me." 

-Aaron Jafferis, 'How to Break' (NY Hip Hop Theatre Fest, upcoming) 

Dear Mouse,

I often blithely tell people who ask about this blog that I'm what you might call the "field reporter". "I travel a lot for work," I'll say breezily, spilling coffee down my wrist. "The Mouse is the one who is doing most of the actual inventing and, oh, cooking. I'm the one who's usually posting about A Sandwich I Ate Once in Kentucky, or Best Vending Machine Snacks in DC."  I imagine they walk away either impressed with my self-deprecation or resolved to ... not to read this blog. Why don't I maybe stop doing that.

I have been thinking a lot about collaboration lately, and how important it is both to delegate clearly AND to be able to relax the roles. Right now, I'm composing songs for a show in the NY Hip Hop Theatre Festival... (here's where I usually pause for effect and then say "I know! and THEY called ME!") Composing, to me, usually means holing up in my Songwriting Cave and then delivering my Song Babies fully formed to the world.  Here it's sometimes taking place on my feet, guitar in hand, in the presence of a director, a singer, a lyricist, a loop machine and a guy holding a microphone against his neck. It's awesome. I'm The Composer... but I don't have to come up with all the answers alone.

Oh, and also, I went to New Haven.

                              

                               Admittedly terrible shot of Mashed Potato Pizza at Bar, New Haven

                                                                     I think I was eating with the other hand.

I spent a week up there workshopping a hilarious new play with these great people, and I was definitely looking forward to some blogworthy times. I already knew that The Have is a food lovers' town. (The Pizza! Oh my god. The adorable, competitive coffee shops! I tried four and was utterly charmed. The 'sweet cream' flavor at Ashley's Ice Cream! The menu at the bizarre, postmodern sushi joint everyone talks about! I planned to hit all of these up at least once in between rehearsals.) Oh, I'd find writing material for sure.

And I did... but not in any of those places. 

We had it all. The coffee at JoJo's  is reeeally good, though it didn't make me forget The Commons (or, for that matter, The Roasterie Kansas City... I'm just gonna have to order a case.) We had quirky rectangular pizza at Bar (tasty though it doesn't touch Modern), and Miya's Sushi ... ok, full points for creativity, but I don't want Havarti cheese anywhere near my fish. Ever. And, after we finished dinner there, my director turned to me and whispered "I ate here for lunch today too ... and I'm still hungry." Nuff said.

No, I'm proud and happy to say that the food experiences I'll really remember from this trip came from the folks around me. Proud because my 'collaboration' theme in this post is actually going to get followed through. Proud because what could be more A Mouse Bouche than artists thrown together by fate, eating with and teaching each other about food? And happy because now I know how to make this salad:

Watercress, pine nuts, red onion, clementine slices, oil, red wine vinegar, dried marjoram. Elegant, beautiful, easy, and tasting mysteriously somehow like there is bacon in it, though there is not. 

The awesome program directors took us - all - out to dinner at local haunts like Thai Taste AND brought Insomnia Cookies to our various rehearsal nights. My lovely Flatmate introduced me to 'broken-yolk' fried eggs and the concept of the Kale Smoothie (haven't tried it yet: almond milk, banana, kale, honey). But the definitive MouseBouche moment of the trip for me happened when The Dancer told me the Salad Story.  (The Dancer is not a dancer at all as far as I know, but her graceful presence and, I don't know, lithe - ness?, reminds me of a ballerina.)  We got to talking, I mentioned the blog, and somehow wound up telling her the story of your Husband making the Christmas Pork Roast for his family in Florida, a story I love because It Has Meaning On So Many Levels, blah blah blah. The Dancer totally 'got it' - "I might cry!" she said in her soft voice looking at me across the beer pitcher. And then she told me a similar story. One year around The Holidays it dawned on her that, as the Unmarried Sister in her family, there seemed to be a different set of expectations for her when it came to holiday meal prep. While her sister would get various cooking assignments, she said, "nothing was really expected of me." The Dancer didn't really consider herself a Person Who Cooks, but this didn't feel right. So she decided to get in the game. She would not wait to be asked, she would just pick a recipe, bring it, and see what happened. She chose a salad from Bon Appetit, and brought it to the party. And:  "I know it sounds silly," she said, "but my brother-in-law's mother asked me for the recipe. And it was So. Validating!" It rounded out the meal beautifully and got great reviews. Not only that, but the following year said mother-in-law's house burned down -!! - "not to be a downer here" - and she called and asked for the recipe again, having lost it in the fire. "So I know she really liked it", The Dancer said. "She told me she was only collecting the recipes she really wanted."

It's a great moment when you realize your voice counts, that you have something to offer, and that it is a valuable part of a whole. It's been said before, but we can do things in community that we can't - or won't -  do alone. For example: closing night of the workshop, the company threw a lovely party for us at a super-hip hotel in town. Beautiful nighttime views, open bar, and a TON of food. As the night wound down, we were staring at a mountain of untouched crudites, a basket of bread and crackers, another basket of prosciutto and huge chunks of cheese. One of the younger actors boldly asked for a to-go container and was denied - department of health regulations, blah blah blah. FlatMate and I locked eyes across the table. We knew what we had to do. We had napkins, bags, a guitar case, and each other. 

The next day we enjoyed a lovely picnic lunch on the Metro-North train home, which we were only too happy to share with our friends. 

Here's to collaboration, at and away from the table.  

Love,

The Boo

PS A shout-out to The Dancer for not batting an eyelash when I asked if I "could use butter instead". I thought she'd said "margarine" instead of "marjoram". She just suggested that olive oil would be better.

• WATERCRESS, ORANGE AND RED ONION SALAD
• via Bon Appetit
• 
  
• 4 Servings
• 2 bunches watercress, stemmed
• 3 clementines, peeled and sectioned
• 1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
• 1 tablespoon sherry wine vinegar (or 
• red wine vinegar) 
• (Note from The Boo: I used red wine, but I think it'd be better with sherry)
• 3 tablespoons olive oil
• 1/2 teaspoon dried marjoram
• Salt and pepper
• 1/3 cup pine nuts
• Combine stemmed watercress, orange slices and 
• sliced red onion in large bowl. Place sherry wine
• vinegar in small bowl. Gradually mix in olive oil.
• Add marjoram. Season dressing to taste with salt
• and pepper. (Can be prepared 3 hours ahead. Cover
• salad and refrigerate. Cover dressing and let stand
• at room temperature.) Pour dressing over
• salad and toss to coat thoroughly. Sprinkle with pine
• nuts and serve

  

The Great Outdoors

Dear Boo,

It's a well known fact that anything cooked or eaten out of doors tastes better. I'm not sure if it's the fresh air or the warm sun or the subconscious connection to our primitive roots, but whatever it is, it works.
I like to say that our family's two favorite things to talk about are food (what we're eating now and what we plan to eat next), and the quickest or shortest way to get from point A to point B. Both of these conversation points are really at a premium when you're spending any time in the Hamptons. Last weekend, we were lucky enough to get some uninterrupted time with our aunt and uncle and cousins in the relatively unspoiled splendor of East Hampton's back woods. The weather held out, the Mets won (mostly), and HO boy did we eat well.

We were greeted with cheeses, crudites and the all-american onion dip while the game played in the background and we sipped some prosecco. The grill was fired up and we bundled into our sweatshirts (it's always colder in the country, isn't it?), determined to chow down outside. Our cousin had made it clear that being the first bbq of the season, we required hamburgers and hot dogs, and I couldn't agree more. The burgers were juicy and perfect, the hot dogs charred with that satisfying snap, and the only vegetables present were covered in mayonnaise.
For dessert, s'mores on the grill and oh yeah--the aunt had a batch of cookie dough ready to go in the fridge. I stood in the kitchen and professed that I couldn't possibly eat another bite. By the time the warm cookies made it to the livingroom, I had already polished off a half.

We slept well that night. After weeks of running around, I was ready for bed by 10 and slept like a log. When I woke up the house was quiet except for our aunt, padding around in the kitchen, baking--BAKING, I TELL YOU--a black raspberry coffee cake for our breakfast. I should have known then what we were in for. Note from the Boo: It had CHOCOLATE in it, yo.

In an attempt to get food off of our minds for FIVE MINUTES, we piled into the car and headed out to the beach. It was lovely, wasn't it--lying under the blue skies, watching (but going nowhere near) the surf, smelling the salt and noodling our toes around in the hot sand? The beach was mostly empty for probably one of the last days of the impending summer before the masses descend in their marc jacobs sunglasses, malia mills bikinis, packing shrimp salad from the barefoot contessa...

There's something about the beach air that even if you've had eggs and toast and cheese and jam and coffeecake a few short hours before, makes you hungry. We had planned to hold out until dinner but after an hour on the sand our stomachs were grumbling and we just had to stop at the deli where they make the best italian hoagies this side of...wherever italian hoagies were born. We cut them up into little bite sized pieces (since everyone knows that releases the calories into the air) and nibbled out on the deck. Let me say that whoever thought to put artichokes on a roast beef sandwich is a genius and I'd like to shake his hand.
And then it was time to start dinner.
Ribs from Esposito's, perfectly done spice-rubbed chicken, all made by our uncle the Pit Master, salad with vinaigrette, roasted potatoes, and garlic bread. Oh, and one of the best blueberry crisps ever. Don't you agree?
After bagels and lox the next morning ('neath the sun, naturally), the Aunt announced we had to do SOME kind of activity lest we spend the entire weekend lying on the floor, groaning 'pass me just one more of those ribs'. So off we set to take a nature walk on a trail next to the duck pond we used to go to all the time when we were little. It took about fifteen seconds of watching the overfed birds paddle around before conversation turned to duck. As in--"How hard do you think it would be to catch that fat one over there?" and "I bet grilled duck would be good." "Peking duck is still my favorite." "I have this great recipe for duck with port sauce and sour cherries," "How about fried baby duckling? Nice and crispy...." It's an illness, Boo. And we have clearly inherited it.

Home we went to start the pizza process.

I don't want to go into too much detail since I think this deserves it's own entry in the near future, but suffice it to say that our cousin D, an honorary Italian after all the years he's spent living there, initiated a 24 hour process of dough-making and then grilling and topping like you wouldn't believe. Or you would, since you witnessed it.
There was mixing, and resting, and rising, then kneading (it's all in the wrist):
then this, to create air pockets:
Then the window pane test, to make sure the glutens have developed and the dough is elastic enough:
Then the grill was fired up and the tastebuds began to salivate. Unfortunately, we were aiming for 600 degrees but the grill refused to go above about 450. The oven might have been faster, but, as I mentioned, there's just something about cooking and eating outside, that we were willing to wait, wafting the charcoal scent, watching the sun make it's lazy arc, listening to the dog barking and the birds rustling in the trees.



A bowl of addictive corn salad, two focaccias with speck and arugula, 10--count em, TEN-- margherita pizzas with charred crispy crusts and creamy mozzarella, and a fluffy coconut cake later, fat-bellied and well-fed, we reluctantly packed up and headed for the train.

A beautiful weekend of good food, great family, fresh salt air, and precious sun. There really is nothing like it. I always laugh when I see New Yorkers, desperate for a little outdoor space, squeeze into tables under scaffolding, just feet away from idling cars and construction sites, eating their dinners. But you can't blame them for trying. Spring air makes jokes funnier, stories more exciting, your date better looking, and food, well, just BETTER.

Love,

The Mouse

Memorial Day Blueberry Crisp
(adapted from Martha Stewart by our gorgeous Aunt)

For the filling:

6 cups (3 pints) blueberries

1/2 cup sugar

1.5 tablespoon cornstarch

1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

1/4 teaspoon coarse salt

For the topping:
(This recipe yields 3 cups, enough for 2 crisps. Good to have extra on hand to turn any fruit into a crisp.)

1-1/4 cups flour

6 Tablespoons brown sugar

2 Tablespoons sugar

1/4 teaspoons salt

2/3 cup ground pecans

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

12 Tablespoons chilled butter

Directions:

Preheat oven to 375°. Make the filling: Mix blueberries, sugar, cornstarch, lemon juice, and salt in a bowl. Transfer to an 8-inch square baking dish.

Make the topping: Stir together flour, sugars, salt, cinnamon and pecans in a mixing bowl. Cut butter into small pieces and work into flour mixture with fingers, until crumbly.

Sprinkle topping evenly over filling. Bake until bubbling in center and brown on top, about 1 hour. Transfer to a wire rack, and let cool for 30 minutes before serving.

NOTE: If your brown sugar is hard as a rock, don't throw it out! Put in a bowl and lay a damp paper towel over the sugar. Cover the bowl tightly with plastic wrap and leave overnight. It'll soften up perfectly.

Top Ten (+1)

Dear Boo,

Aren't you kind of shocked that our mother didn't email this Times article about the 11 healthiest foods to us with the message:
GIRLS--BOUGHT YOU BOTH A CASE OF CANNED PUMPKIN. THEY SAY IS BEST WAY TO AVOID ALZHEIMERS!!! PS. WHAT ARE GOJI BERRIES? SOUNDS FUN. MAXOXO.?
Is it a sure sign that I'm turning into her that I'm the one doing the emailing instead? Maybe. How about the fact that I went out and made dinner with 3 of these ingredients the day I read this? Yep, thought so. Just call me Maxo.

While I shopped for my life-saving groceries, I got to thinking about my own personal 11 food list, which looks a little different. Here goes.

The foods that about 85% of the time, I would rather drop what I'm doing and eat:

1) Potato chips. I'm inclined towards salt and vinegar but I wouldn't kick a sour cream and onion or bbq out of bed either.

2) French Fries. I'm sensing a theme here. I like em salty, hot, and crispy, but honestly I'll eat them cold if it comes to that. I love the spicy curly fry, or anything with a multitude of dipping sauces is seductive. Ketchup remains my ultimate but sometimes I cheat on it with that hussy mayonnaise. I know, you hate it.

3) A really good caesar salad. The strong garlicky dressing with a good right hook of saltiness and tang from the anchovies, brightened up with a splash of lemon, all over crispy cold romaine. Unexpectedly, one of my favorite late night eats. Don't ask.

4) Pizza--I'm talking the good stuff here: Totonnos in Coney Island, the proscuitto/arugula pizza at Otto, or Highland Pizza in our hometown where they used to make my sad little childhood allergic self a cheeseless slice while I leaned over the counter and watched. OR if it's 3am and I'm slightly off balance, a slice from Crispy Pizza around the corner from me. Note from the Boo: Hello - Don Pepi's in Penn Station? and (hamana, hamana, whatever its name is) on 14th and 9th Av... perfeection.)

5) Crusty french bread (preferably warm) with butter. The stuff of the gods. Do you really need me to justify this one?

6) Tuna on a bagel. Talk about good for what ails you. I should have added this to the list of morning-after foods, but really, it's good any time. I like mine on an everything bagel. Remember when you worked at "The Bagel Dish" in our home town and you got fired for bad slicing technique? ha.

7) Nim Chow. Am I spelling this right? These vietnamese summer rolls were everywhere in Providence and during college I would often get a serving of 2 for lunch for something like $4. Today, the best I've found for my fix is at Nha Trang on Baxter Street (Get the salt and pepper shrimp while you're there. You'll thank me). Always eat them with a little chili sauce, and a lot of the nuoc cham sauce with crushed peanuts that's ubiquitous in Vietnamese cooking.

8) Pasta with Tomato Sauce. I know you're a serious fan of this one too. I'll go for any pasta, but spaghetti is really the most satisfying and reminds me of childhood. Plus you can twirl up on your fork all the flavors of tomato, garlic, basil, cheese and pasta all tangled together into one perfect steaming bite. ahhh.

9) Sushi. There's really nothing like a good spicy tuna roll from Yama where they use a big delicious slice of fish and just dab the spicy sauce on top--none of that mashed up day old crap. I'm really broken up about this whole mercury in tuna thing because as you can see it makes it onto my list twice. The thing about sushi is that it's the one food I can fully love without any guilt about it being not so great for me. So quit the shenanigans, Tuna, you're ruining my buzz.

10) Pretty much anything Grandma used to make. Roast chicken with apricot jam, corn fritters, minnie's rollups (a sort of crepe stuffed with leftover ground seasoned meat, lying in wait at the bottom of the freezer to be loaded into the trunk of any unsuspecting visiting relative), chicken soup, and chocolate chip cookies with just enough salt to make your mouth water with anticipation of the next melty chocolate bite.

11) Harry's Cupcakes. I hesitated including this on my list, but I DID stop right in my tracks to taste one of these. As you'll remember, we were walking (with two wheelie suitcases our mother had purchased and inexplicably foisted upon us for some unknown future trip we'll apparently be taking) up Broadway when on the corner of 9th street were stopped by the appeals of a woman with her small child (Harry) who were selling homemade cupcakes. Harry ran down the list of our options: chocolate/chocolate, chocolate/vanilla, vanilla/chocolate, and vanilla/vanilla. I ask you, how can you NOT drop whatever you're doing when a small cute boy NAMED HARRY offers you a cupcake he's made HIMSELF, and is selling ON THE STREET, to earn his ALLOWANCE. I challenge you not to. You heartless bitch. And by the way, they were DELICIOUS.

So, what's your list?

Love,
The Mouse

In an attempt to make up for all the swilling of alcohol and eating of copious amounts of pork and beef over the holiday weekend, I give you a
Sautee of Swiss Chard (1), Sweet Potatoes*, Red Onion, and Pumpkin Seeds(2) with soy sauce and a sprinkling of cinnamon (3).

*If you want to up the health score on this one you could sub beets for the potatoes, in which case I'd say use balsamic vinegar for the sauce instead of soy. disregard the whole eating beets raw thing. that's just crazy.

Here's how it went:

Peel and chop two sweet potatoes into cubes. Place in large sautee pan with enough water to just almost cover. Cook over high heat with lid on pot until potatoes become tender.
Drain water, add olive oil, 2 cloves of minced garlic, one very thinly sliced red onion, salt and pepper, and a good sprinkling of cinnamon. Sautee until potatoes are fully cooked and slightly browned.
Add chopped swiss chard, a bit more olive oil, a dash of rice vinegar, and a good dousing of soy sauce.
Toss ingredients and put lid on pot long enough to wilt/steam swiss chard. Taste and reseason. Just before serving, sprinkle with handful of pumpkin seeds. Feel virtuous.