Spicy Pumpkin Seeds: A Halloween Treat

homemade pumpkin seeds -
the delicious byproduct of a carved pumpkin

Among my fondest Halloween memories (aside from the embarassing disaster that was dressing up like uncle fester) I cherish moments of gorging myself on delicious treats that only come at that time of year: copious amounts of orange, yellow, brown and black candy in a plastic jack-o-lantern with a handle on it, bottomless bowls of candy corn, impossibly sticky caramel apples with peanuts all over, and freshly baked pumpkin seeds, fresh from the pumpkin.

The latter are probably my favorite (despite having a professed weakness for almond joy and three musketeer bars) because they are something that not only conjure spooky Halloween memories, but also the flavors of Mexico. (image credit)

Pumpkin seeds or "pepitas" are an unofficial national snack in Mexico**. As a child I was known to constantly carry a bag of them in my backpack, snacking on them secretly during class, recess or after school. You can buy them in tiny home-made bags on any corner in Mexico City, perfectly toasted and heavily salted. Maybe it's the salt I crave more than the actual seeds, or maybe it's the special un-shelling technique I developed over time (look mom, no hands!) that I take so much joy in, but either way, there's something about "pepitas" that still inspires childish glee in me.

This year's pumpkin; inspired by Roman's big brown eyes :)

But back to Halloween. I am a devout pumpkin carver (partly because of the hidden snack inside) and this year was no exception. After I wooed Matt one year with my (not-so) secret "pepita" recipe, which converted him from a pumpkin-seed-ambivalent to a bonafide pepita-lover, he has harassed me to make it every year and last night as I carved the Roman-o-lantern, insisted I write a blog about it (flattering, yes).

Here is my recipe so you too can enjoy pumpkin seeds with a kick. It's not Mexican, but it sure is Halloween for me.

* * *

Las Pepitas de Brenda
(Brenda's Pumpkin Seeds)


Serves 4 mere mortals
but only 2 greedy-pepita-eating-monsters

I like this recipe because it involves a couple of my favorite flavors, is quick, easy and also aesthetically appealing. The Paprika gives the pumpkin seeds an orange Halloweeny look, and the lemon juice balances out the salt. And after they're baked, they leave a lovely orange-black Halloween residue on the foil. :D

You can eat them whole or peel the shell off (after you suck all the tastiness off of it, of course). Feel free to adjust spices to your liking. I love sour, spicy things - you've been warned. Amazingly, these seeds are probably the healthiest thing you'll eat the whole 31st. :)

* * *

Ingredients
Pumpkin seeds from 1 large pumpkin
1 tbsp salt
2 tsps paprika (or cayenne pepper if you're brave :) ), plus extra for sprinkling
1 lemon (not lime, mom!), juiced
a sprinkle of pepper (optional)

Method
1. Preheat your oven to 375F / 175C. Once you have removed the seeds from inside the pumpkin, put them in a bowl and rinse them thoroughly with cold water until all the pumpkin membranes come off.

2. Pat the seeds dry with paper towels and transfer to a small bowl. Add all the ingredients and mix until all seeds are thoroughly coated.

3. Transfer the seeds to a cookie sheet lined with foil. Make sure the seeds are in a single layer and not overlapping each other. Sprinkle with extra paprika for more color.

4. Bake in the oven for about 10 minutes, or until dry and toasty. The seeds should be somewhat crunchy. Allow them to cool and transfer to an air-tight container for storage or eat immediately!

These make a great Halloween party snack. :)




Happy Halloween!

**Not to be confused with Argentinian "pepitas" which are cookies, Pepitas are also used in widely in Mexican cooking in dishes such as Pipian, or Papadzul, and they are used to make a variety of desserts as well as ground up to thicken or make sauces or garnish dishes.

My Very Own Homesick Texan Chili

Chili, our Chili, God Bless the mighty stew!

We're back from Malta! And posts on the delightful Maltese culture and food (or lack thereof in the latter case) are forthcoming. But for now, a post I was inspired to write shortly before leaving for our little autumnal vacation on a subject near and dear to my little Texan heart: chili.

* * *

One of the first food blogs that inspired me to start writing my own is a wonderful site written by a fellow Texan who is also homesick. Having once been a "Homesick Texan living in NYC" myself, I immediately identified with Lisa. Her recipes are authentic, interesting and generally pretty darn delicious.

The dreary fall weather in London has been getting me down, and so I figured it was high time I finally got around to trying one of the many recipes I'd bookmarked on Homesick Texan: Seven-Chile Chili.

chiles de arbol - my stash

Rather a purists' Texan, the above recipe involves a huge variety of spices and chiles - stuff that probably most people would not have regularly in their pantries. A lot of it, despite being familiar to me through my own Mexican heritage, was not typical chili fair for me. I grew up with a fairly clear sense of what chili is and what it's not, and after perusing many recipes, I realized I had a rather boring and somewhat tame recipe.

So it was tough for me, at first, to alter that holy-chili-image in any way, but I made some tweaks and came up with my own recipe based on my own tastes and my own pantry or "bodega" as I like to call it. The moment I tasted my very own Homesick Texan chili recipe I realized that for once, and in the famous words of country-pop-whatever singer Sheryl Crow, some change had done me good.

* * *

What Chili is and is not.
In my humble opinion, as usual.

4. It is the Texas state food.
Among the many indoctrinating facts and songs I was taught as a young child living in the Lone Star State is this gem. I can also tell you that the Texas state tree is the Pecan tree, the bird is the mocking bird, the flower the bluebonnet (which is illegal to pick), that we have the right to fly our flag at the same height as that of the US, and I can sing entirely from memory the "Yellow Rose of Texas" and "Texas our Texas." (Yes, I am proud of all of this. :) )

Chili is in every Texan's veins. Everyone has their two cents on what should be in it or not and how hot or tomato-ey or not it should be. The variety and individual character of every family's chili is part of the charm of having it as the official state food. It reflects the diverse nature of a state so big and full of good food. :)


3. It is NOT Mexican.
But it is Mexican-inspired. Whether you make it with actual chiles or you just use good old Gebhardt's Chili Powder, the reason you're making chili at all has a lot more to do with authentic Mexican and Native American food than the cliched name might imply. This guy can tell you a whole lot more than that about Chili's Mexican (and otherwise) origins right here.


2. It is a labor of food love.
Chili is not something that can be whipped up in a few minutes. It is a stew, which by nature, takes time to, well, stew (no matter what Rachael Ray and her "stoups" have to say about it). A short-version chili will take you a good 45 minutes to an hour to make. Anything less zips right past the conditional and into the present affirmative case: it IS uncivilized. Chili is evocative of years of people on the range melding flavors, combining comforting, hearty ingredients to make a fulfilling meal for family and friends. It is worth choosing right and letting it simmer.


1. It is NOT one clear-cut thing.
Chili is as varied as the cowboys who first cooked it. I bet you didn't know that there are actually "technical" definitions for chili out there - well, there are. How can you really define chili?

The Brits like to call it "chili con carne" (and yes, they do nauseatingly pronounce it "carn-EE" as if it had small hands and smelled like cabbage), but actually it's anything but "chile con carne" which is a Mexican dish and very different.

There's white chili, vegetarian chili, chili made with every kind of chili pepper, tomato and type of bean out there. People in Cincinatti eat their chili served over spaghetti (won't even get into the Italian-sacrilege that is), and the guys at Sonic (America's Drive-in!) serve their chili over a giant American hot dog, put cheese on it and call it a "coney dog."

Who is right? What is authentic and real? Tomatoes or no tomatoes? Kidney beans or pinto? The intricacies of the chili purity are many and complex, but in my book I think it's worth overlooking these differences in the name of chilian unity. After all, I did just take the liberty to make up a brand new (for me) chili recipe today after years of eating my mom's chili, and if that's not sacrilege and yet exciting in one way or another, then I don't know what is.

* * *

My Very Own "Homesick Texan" Chili
Serves 4

Chiles Mexicanos
left to right: guajillo, morita, ancho, arbol

I'd never made chili with real chiles before, but having just returned from our trip to Mexico with bags (literally) of delicious, smokey Mexican chiles fresh from the mercadito, I just couldn't resist the mouth-watering temptation.

Rehydrating chiles and making a simple salsa from them is a typically Mexican way to start a guizado (roughly translated: stew) which usually involves a tomato base. In this recipe, the deliciously unadulaterated salsa is combined with other Mexican flavors (coffee, cinnamon, chocolate) to create a Tex-Mex delish. The addition of crushed coriander seeds evokes the Mexican predeliction for cilantro. The tomato paste gives the chili more substance and the flour thickens what would otherwise be a complex but runny beef soup.


Ingredients

Chiles:
- 2 anchos
- 4 chiles de arbol
- 2 chiles morita
- 2 guajillo
- 2 pasilla
- 2 chipotles en adobo

1 lb ground chuck (lean meat will not do!)
1 large onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, crushed and roughly chopped
1 can kidney beans, drained
3 or 4 tbsps tomato paste
1 cup brewed coffee
1 bottle or can of beer (preferably darker)
2 cups water
1 tbsp vegetable oil
2 tbsps flour, mixed into 1/4 cup water

Spices (more or less to taste):
- 1/2 tsp cinnamon
- 2 tsp cumin
- 1 tsp crushed coriander seeds
- 1 tbsp cayenne pepper / chili powder
- 2 tbsp ground Mexican chocolate
- salt & pepper to taste


Method
1. Bring water to boil in a small pot (approx. 3-4 cups) then turn off the heat and add the dried chiles. Cover and allow to sit for 20 minutes. When chiles are rehydrated, put into the blender with approximately 1/2 to 1 cup of the chile-water and blend until smooth. Set salsa aside.

2. Heat oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pot. Brown meat and then add the garlic and onion and sweat until translucent. Add the tomato paste and salsa and mix for 1 minute.

3. Add the coffee, beer, water, spices and beans then cover and simmer over low heat for 1 hour.

4. After one hour, correct seasoning and add the flour-water mixture. Mix thoroughly, cover and allow to simmer for another hour.

5. Serve sprinkled with grated cheddar cheese and tortilla chips.

Amor a la Mexicana: my love affair with Huevos Rancheros

A typical Mexican breakfast: big on color and flavor

As a tribute to my recent visit to Mexico, here's a post I wrote a while back, which has been simmering in my food-obsessed mind and deals with a dish that goes back to the earliest of my fond food memories.

* * *

When I first met Matt, he (unknowingly) taunted me with stories of his family's dedication to something highly valued by little old me - homemade breakfasts. Every night his mom boiled the potatoes ahead of time for homemade hash browns. In the morning, it was as if a fairy had magically and effortlessly done the work. The table brimmed with a veritable cornucopia of goodies: a pot of steamy American coffee, eggs any-style, toast with real butter, homemade jam, sometimes (and probably often) delicious homemade scones. The list goes on.

Suddenly, 22 year-old-unmarried-me started to panic. Should I learn to make scones?! Was this a deal breaker?! (That is what I get for getting involved with a gringo!) My sister and I had grown up eating cereal for breakfast every day during the week. It was only on the weekends that my parents had the time to go "all out" (and "all out" they went!) with the breakfast thing. Besides, up until the ripe age of sixteen, I had never even heard of a scone (and the only reason I found out what it was, was because a quirky viola player made some for the high school orchestra bake sale and I, of course, stole one).

When I thought of delicious breakfasts I couldn't escape my roots: Mexico.
My thoughts were of delicious corn tortillas underneath freshly fried eggs, with homemade refried beans and my dad's salsa roja smothering the entire plate. I thought of tongue-numbing chile con queso (the real Mccoy, not that orange stuff you get at the local Tex-Mex joint) made with fresh queso Oaxaca and charred tortillas warmed on the comal. My mother's molletes came to mind - bolillos (Mexican white, French-style rolls) smothered in butter, beans and cheese and then baked, to later be topped with homemade salsa or pico de gallo. Migas, chilaquiles, Machaca, Huaraches, a fresh papaya salad and fresh squeezed orange juice...the list goes on. I wasn't going to bake scones for my kids (well, unless Matt really insisted)!
Since then, we've come a long way in melding our early morning tastes. Matt eats tortillas and loves refried beans (as long as they have plenty of cheese on them), and I learned to make pancakes from scratch and even put a little butter on my toast. Still haven't made scones, but with two men in the house, my guess is that will come soon too. :)

But of all the Mexican breakfasts I treasure (and let's be honest, there are many), there is one that still and always will stand out in my mind as the proverbial "holy grail" of Mexican breakfasts. It is the only thing I can say I've consistently eaten without fail my entire life, and will probably continue to do so as long as there is breath in me. It is the first thing I learned to order on my own in a restaurant (at the age of 2) and, to this day, is enough reason to make me get up and cook on a weekend: Huevos Rancheros.

I can't tell you how many times this dish has been butchered unnecessarily at even the most reputable of breakfast and brunch restaurants (including "Mexican" ones). It's enough to make me shake my fists at the sky.

*much shakeage of little angry Brenda fists*

When it comes to Huevos Rancheros, it's three strikes you're out in my book of Mexican authenticity. A sample list of possible strikes:
Strike 1: Flour tortillas
Strike 2: Marinara-like salsa
Strike 3: any form of chili powder
Strike 4: Orange cheese (e.g. cheddar-jack cheese medley)
Strike 5: Cumin in ANY quantity

Yuck. And worse still is, all the ignoramuses (ignorami?) assuming that's actually what people in Mexico eat for breakfast and either turning their noses up at it or believing the Mexican palate is that much like theirs! There is a time and place for Tex-Mex and I will be the first to admit it. But that time and place is not at my breakfast table when there are good corn tortillas in the fridge just begging to be eaten.
Here's my (Mexican!) family's way of making Huevos Rancheros. While the dish can be labor intensive because it requires making of beans and salsa ahead of time, once you have all the components, it's a breeze to make. And if you're pressed for time, there's NOTHING wrong with most canned pinto beans which you can then mash and refry.

* * *

Huevos Rancheros
the real deal, my friends

Serves 2


Breakfast at my house.

Even as a two or three year old (who, of course, learned to talk WAY before she learned to walk), I was an early riser with only one thing on her mind: food. I would toddle my way to my mom's bedroom and gently - but persistently - shake her awake demanding "mi huevito." To her credit, my mother, was good enough then to always get up and make me the following delicious little meal to start the day right. She still does the same thing when I'm home even now. For the grown ups, either red or green salsa will do. Just don't forget to make it fresh!
Some people like to garnish the dish with sliced avocado. We also sometimes add a side of warm Mexican rice from the night before. You can also substitute scrambled eggs if you don't like fried (sunny-side up), but I think part of the greatness of this dish is how the yolk runs into the salsa, runs into the beans, runs into the eggs. It's a melding of flavors uniquely Mexican and its heartiness is guaranteed to tie you over until the next culinary dalliance strikes.

Ingredients
4 tbsps corn oil
4 large eggs
4 corn tortillas
1/2 cup shredded Queso Oaxaca (substitute: shredded mozzarella)
or crumbled Cotija (substitute: feta)
1 batch homemade red or green salsa
1 batch homemade refried beans
salt & pepper to taste

Procedure

1. Heat half the oil in a medium non-stick pan over medium heat. Fry 1 or 2 of the tortillas (depending on the size of the pan), allowing them to heat through with oil (flimsy) but not allowing them to become crisp. Repeat for the second batch of tortillas, laying them on the serving plate as shown here:

Tortillas should be slightly flaccid, but start to firm up on the edges.

2. Add the remaining oil to the pan and crack the first two eggs into it. Fry the eggs without breaking the yolk and without turning them over. Using a spatula or spoon, gently splash some of the hot oil onto the eggs while they cook so that the top area gets cooked too. Season with salt and pepper. Once the whites are opaque and slightly golden-y crispy and the yolks look firm (but NOT opaque) serve onto the tortillas (one egg per tortilla). Repeat for second batch of eggs.

Not quite done. The whites are still too translucent and not golden.

3. Reheat your refried beans in a separate small pan. Add a dash of water if necessary and bring them to a rapid boil, seasoning as you see fit with salt and pepper. Do not allow the beans to thicken too much - Mexican refried beans tend to be a little runny.

4. Once the eggs have been cooked, pour the red salsa into the hot pan and fry it, bringing it to a quick boil and adding salt if necessary.
5. Pour the hot salsa over the eggs on the plates. Serve a helping of beans on the opposite side of the plate and scatter the fresh cheese (I prefer the stringy Oaxaca, but the salty, feta-like Cotija is also a great choice if you can get it!) allowing it to melt from the heat of the beans.

Serve and consume immediately and greedily.

¡Buen Provecho!

Breakfast at mom's house

The Beauty of being a Mexican.

Life is like a piñata (Mercado de la Cruz, Queretaro).

We're back from Mexico! Mexico! Mexico! and even after two weeks of settling back in to the quiet, predictable and very autumnal life here in London, I'm not quite ready to relinquish the feeling of aestival, gluttonous enjoyment I experienced while back in the land of my birth for the first time in four years.

Four years. An interesting number. Namely because I was about that age when I left the world of Nopales, Limones, Piñatas, Aguacates and Papaya - nearly 25 years ago now. For me, Mexico has always and always will be intrinsically linked with vivid, synesthetic memories of food and gaiety - friendly family meals and get-togethers void of that stereotypically WASP-y awkwardness and forced propriety I've had to adjust to on many an occasion at friend's houses or other family's houses in my life living as an American.

Awkward to say it - "Living As An American." I am American. I have the Passport and lack of accent to prove it and so many of my friends who know I was "technically born in Mexico" often say to me (as if this should make me feel proud): "You're not Mexican!" "You're not Latin!" Mexican is, after all, kind of a dirty word to most people, it seems.

Also, I guess to them the transformation is just that complete - and I must admit that sometimes it is to me as well. And yet, something inside me simply cringes at their "kind" disassociation of me with the dark-skinned delivery boys on bikes in NYC, or the desperate illegals crossing the Rio Grande, or the short, fat, black-haired kid in English class who brings tortillas with his lunch and speaks Spanglish. I can't say it is really entirely flattering or a point of pride for me; in fact, it flat-out bothers me. I am - shockingly enough, to some - as Mexican as all of them.

But I always forget why this bothers me until I go back to Mexico. Until I see my family, see my country, eat the food, and smell the air. It's like breathing in the smell of your childhood blanket. An oddly familiar, oddly comforting sensation that leaves you feeling like you've reconnected with a part of yourself you thought was forever lost. And it's a joy. A joy I get every single time I go back to my country - well, my first country -, even after all this time.

I've complained, preached and even ranted on many an occasion to the proverbial choir (my husband and family) and every other person who will listen (maybe I should grab a soap box and hang at Hyde Corner? :)) about unfair prejudices, racism and stereotypes I've encountered and proven wrong. I've made it my goal to "show them by example" as my mother always told me was my responsibility as an immigrant, and in my own way, I've had success. But it's difficult to live in one country, have grown up in another, and been born in still another - your identity becomes something like a piñata. Every time life hits you with something, you're not quite sure what will come out of you in return: candy, fruit, confetti or rotten nuts. :) I suppose sometimes the confusion and bittersweet nostalgia that comes with being different is one of the loveliest treats - however unpredictable it makes it - in life. I'm glad to be able to some day share it with Romanorum Master Forum.

Here are some images from our recent trip that, to me, encapsulate just a tiny speckle of the beauty that is being a Mexican - yes, a Mexican. :)

Aguas Frescas: Mango, Jamaica y Limon

Buganvileas, everywhere


unapologetic Catholicism


breathtaking, human-scaled architecture


fresh produce & amazing markets as far as the eye can see


unabashed color


fresh corn tortillas on every corner


fresh fruit paletas made with real fruit


a zillion chiles, for flavor not just heat


taco stands - cheap and delicious every time


a certain aesthetic that I just love

My Past Life.

Why not while away the (hopefully) last pregnant hours
by searching for absurd pictures of bards?
Image credit.

Thank you Krista and your most recent blog post for one of the only amusing distractions I've found lately.

The Past Life Analysis is not only an entirely frivolous and bizarre thing to do - it is strangely accurate, as I think I was definitely a bard in a previous life, though I don't know how happy I am that I was born in Wales.

Matt, on the other hand, was some kind of ritual sacrificer in Latin America. Pontifex Maximus indeed. Dead sexy.

Ditto for semi-humorous pictures of fake but very intense
Aztec priests who look weirdly like distant relatives of mine.
Image credit.

* * *

My Past Life Analysis:

I don't know how you feel about it, but you were male in your last earthly incarnation.You were born somewhere in the territory of modern Wales around the year 725. Your profession was that of a dramatist, director, musician or bard.

---

Your brief psychological profile in your past life: You always liked to travel and to investigate. You could have been a detective or spy.

---

The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation: Your lesson is to conquer jealousy and anger in yourself and then in those who will select you as their guide. You should understand that these weaknesses are caused by fear and self-regret.

In Hopes of Spring Day 2: Lovely Lettuce & Corn Salad

Crisp, delightful Round, Butterhead, Bibb, or Boston lettuce; a British staple

Lettuce is, without a doubt, one of the loveliest of things. Every time I get a nice crisp head of Boston Lettuce or Romaine, or even the under-appreciated Iceberg, I can't help but feel a little bit thrilled at the basic, unadulterated beauty of it.

Yes, admittedly, my love of lettuce does have something to do with my love of all (well, most) things green. But, personal obsessions aside, I think green is a theme to cling to on the subject of Springtime. It is a symbol and sign of rebirth and renewal to me (despite some associating less pleasant emotions with it), and the types of greens you get in lettuce are the kind that make you want to run in the hills, rather than for them.

This explains why I could not resist making myself the simplest of lunches the other day when I discovered two very fresh, very yummy heads of Boston, or Butterhead here in UK, lettuce in my refrigerator. But more on that later.

While lettuce tends to have more of a summer-fall growing season here in the UK, where it is lettuce's ideal wet, cool and mild growing weather even at those times, it can be started as early as April. Having no yard or garden in my flat, sadly, I cannot dabble in the growing of lettuce the way this lucky person has, despite having actually managed to cultivate zucchini, tomatoes, bell peppers, and red chillies in pots in my sun room last year. But I wish I could, because I believe lettuce has all the admirable qualities of a beautiful flower with the added perk of being entirely edible. And trust me, if I had the space and time, I'd make sure I had the loveliest of rows for the loveliest of leaves.

* * *

My Make-Believe Lettuce Garden
what it would include and why

just plucked and just washed butterhead lettuce;
lettuce in the UK usually arrives to the stores within 24 hours of picking

The Heads

Butterhead Lettuce: I buy this lettuce most often here in the UK, it being the British staple, but first came across it in Texan supermarkets under the name of "Boston Lettuce" and in those amazingly complex plastic containers which provide a mini-greenhouse for the lettuce.
I would include rows of this flower-like lettuce in my garden because of its vibrant green color and delicate leaves. Much softer than iceberg and more alive-looking too, it would provide fullness and bouncy leafiness in the form of a head.


Romaine: I grew up eating Romaine lettuce several times a week during my childhood in Texas, usually in the form of my dad's Caesar salad, which was, incidentally and appropriately, invented in Mexico, not Italy. I would include it in my garden because of its firm, crunchy leaves,which are much longer and grow much higher than the Butterhead, providing both texture, and a stronger flavor. Romaine Photo Credit.




Radicchio: (pronounced ra-dik-ee-o) I hated radicchio (a chicory, technically) the first time I tasted it in my Insalatona in Italy, despite it being drenched in vinaigrette and covered in tuna fish and fresh mozzarella. But as a more-mature adult, I've come to love it for its beautiful red color and heartiness. You can eat it served hot (grilled, sauteed, wilted) or cold in a traditional salad. Either way, it packs a mean, bitter punch that most lettuces cannot even approach.

I would include it in my garden because of its dainty roundness and surprising redness, a much needed diversion from my green-only philosophy so far. Radicchio Photo Credit.


Frisee: I love everything about this lettuce, despite the fact that I almost never use it. It's the kind of thing I usually get at restaurants and vow to buy for myself, which is exactly why I love it: it has a luxurious oddness to it that makes it less mundane and more exciting than the others. It's like the Marie Antoinette of lettuces, with its frilly, lacy leaves, and beautiful greenish-red or greenish-yellow color.
I would include it in my garden for the effect of its delicious but frivolous look. It's a head that wants to be a leaf, and I can totally dig that kind of individuality in a lettuce. Frisee Photo credit.


The Leaves

Arugula: Not only do I think this leaf lettuce is aesthetically pleasing, it carries many fond memories of first flavors in Italy, arguments over nomenclature upon my arrival to the UK (arugula vs. rocket), and provides an ingredient with a million different uses (including garnish for a great hamburger).

I would include Arugula in my garden because of its delicacy. It bruises and breaks easily, has to be picked one leaf at a time (if you're dainty like me) and provides the pepperiest and strongest of flavors out there (maybe besides radicchio). Arugula Photo Credit.


Lamb's Lettuce: I discovered Lamb's Lettuce (what a great, pastoral name, huh?) one otherwise uneventful day of shopping at my local Waitrose (the pre-credit crunch supermarket). It's the kind of diminuitive piece of greenery that makes you want to run home and throw some olive oil and garlic in the pan immediately. But is also makes the most delicious of salads despite not having a particularly distinct flavor. What I like about it is that I feel like a little lamb chewing on some lettuce whenever I eat it - it's small and fits perfectly in your mouth in the little leafy bunches it naturally creates.
Lamb's Lettuce Photo Credit.

That's reason enough to include it, no?

Some Final Historical & Technical points of interest:

- Lettuce is native to Central Asia (who knew?)

- Lettuce is a member of the Asteraceae or "Daisy" family, linking it to Artichokes and Sunflowers

- Lettuce, the word, comes from the Latin Lactuca sativa: "lac" meaning "milk" based on the sometimes milky substance that comes from lettuce when squeezed

- Rumor has it that the Roman emperor Augustus Caesar once erected a monument to Romaine lettuce, believing it had healed him of an ailment

* * *

Lovely Lettuce & Corn Salad

Serves 2

It is almost laughable to me to try to give a recipe for this salad because it is so ridiculously simple and based almost entirely upon whim and random availability. I think fresh corn and lettuce make a delightful combination, and have thought so since one beautiful summer afternoon in the Danish countryside when I was served a similar salad with small pieces of chopped ham and cheese in it.

This is my take on that salad, ostensibly leaving the ham out but, in true omnivore style, throwing it back in when I serve the salad with my cheddar and bacon scones. :) And if the avocados here were generally decent, I'd probably add one of those in too.


Ingredients

1/2 small can corn drained, or fresh corn kernels, lightly blanched and cooled
1 head Boston (or Round) Lettuce
1 ripe avocado, roughly chopped (optional)
juice of 1/2 lemon
1-2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
salt & freshly ground pepper to taste


Procedure

1. Wash, spin or dry, and tear (not chop!) the lettuce and place in a salad bowl and add the corn and avocado.

2. Mix the lemon juice and olive oil until well-combined in a ramekin. Just before serving, pour over the salad and toss lightly, seasoning with salt and black pepper.

NB:If you have included the avocado, do not over-mix as the salad will become soggy and covered in avocado-y stuff.

Lovely Things Day 1: Chocolate

Trust me, nothing says 'I love you' like a champagne truffle...

* * *

Beast: I want to do something for her...but what?

Cogsworth: Well, there are the usual things...flowers...chocolates...promises you don't intend to keep...

Unlike Cogsworth, for better or worse, I'm just not one of those people who considers Valentine's Day an entirely trite and media-motivated holiday created by the greeting card companies. Call me crazy, but I willingly choose to focus on all the lovely opportunities a day singled out - without real reason other than a primordial impetus I believe we all have - to simply celebrate love, can bring. Whether everyone does that or not is an entirely different story, and one I'm not particularly inclined to explore. (Come on, if there's one day to look at the world through rose colored glasses, this has to be it.)

Consequently, this week you'll be bombarded with six things, six lovely things, (in my book anyway) to celebrate February 14th. Hey, you do read this blog voluntarily don't you?

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Lovely thing #1 is *fiendish bugle ditty* CHOCOLATE.

In my humble opinion, chocolate is highly underrated as a Valentine's Day gift. This could partly be because, as many close to me have long theorized, I was born with a birth defect which located my heart in my stomach, but actually, I think it has more to do with chocolate, simply put, being one of the few, unadulterated gifts sent directly down from the Gods to us mere mortals. One of the last, few, and true Ambrosias, if you will.

I think the trend of outlandishly expensive Valentine's gifts coupled with males and females abandoning traditional roles and therefore always attempting to outdo each other with said outlandishly expensive gifts has something to do with chocolate's loss of popularity in the V-day sphere. I mean, how clichéd is it to get someone a box of chocolates these days? Unless they are covered in gold leaf or come in the form of a chocolatey (inevitably freakish) sculpture, it would seem you'd been unimaginative and thoughtless. Well, I'm here to tell you that I, for one, would not be upset to receive a box of (nice) chocolates (sorry Ferrero Rocher) this Valentine's Day. Hint, hint. :)

Here are my two cents on the subject of everyone's favorite aphrodisiac:

Top Five Reasons (or places) You Should Buy Someone Chocolate this Valentine's Day
Or, Why Chocolate = Ambrosia

5. It came from Mexico (kinda)!
Nope, you can't escape my usual shout out to Mexico on this one either. Believe it or not, chocolate is actually thought to date back originally to Mexico and Central America. The word Chocolate itself comes from a Spanish bastardization of the Nahuatl (Aztec language) word xocolatl. The cacao bean was used throughout Central and South America for hundreds of years as currency, for medicinal purposes and to make a delicious drink. In fact, it wasn't until the 16th Century that the Europeans got a hold of it - quickly elevating it to the status of regal delicacy at their courts. If you're into dallying with regal delicacies of any sort - chocolate and its rich history is the gift of choice for you. And by "you," I mean "me."


4. Cool Chocolate Shop #1
Last year Matt surprised me with a delectable little box of treats from what is now one of my favorite chocolate shops in London: L'Artisan du Chocolat Their website isn't the most aesthetically pleasing, but their miniature shop in Chelsea, just down the street from Sloane Square, more than makes up for it. Warning though, it is like Pandora's box. Once you open that door, all sorts of crazy stuff can happen. I once walked out with a Mexican Mole Chocolate Bar from that place - and I liked it. They also make the most amazing champagne truffles (yes, you read right). Not only are they chocolatey, they are champagne-y. (And the owner being French, you know it's the real stuff.) Chocolate and Champagne? Enough said.


3. Super-Cool Chocolate Shop #2
In honor of the Spanish being the first to introduce chocolate to the European continent, I thought I should mention an amazing place I visited during my last trip to Barcelona last April (once upon a time, in another life, when I had a job...) on food-related business. At a trade fair, I met one of the founders of Xocoa who then escorted me and my boss on a tour of their magical-other-world stores. My first experience of their products was a life-size chocolate Converse High Top. Then a life-size chocolate baseball cap. Then a cell phone and then a body part I can't quite recall...they sell numerous other (more romantic) things too. This gift always gets extra points for creativity and sheer one-of-a-kind-ness.


2. Super-Cool and Sophisticated Chocolate Shop #3
If only we all had a little shop and chocolatier like Juliette Binoche and her magical cafe in the highly aesthetically pleasing Chocolat down the street from us, perfect chocolatey-love-match awaiting, the choice would be much simpler. Lucky for you, I think I actually might have found a similar place also right here in London Town. And it's on the King's road (how cool does that sound?).

awesome packaging at Rococo Chocolates

Rococo Chocolates offers the most exquisite little chocolates (and delicately packaged!) in amazing flavors like rose, violet or geranium (me = big fan of flower-flavored things), or exotic lashings of ginger and chili. But they don't skimp on the good traditional stuff either and the husband-wife ownership team really takes their chocolate seriously. Interestingly, I sat next to one of the owners at dinner during the aforementioned food-related business trip to Barcelona on the day that happened to be Rococo's 25th anniversary. As luck would also have it, over tapas and clandestine chocolate tasting, I found out that the chocolate-loving British man next to me did his study abroad in Mexico during university. Reason #2. Period.

1. It's a love thang.
My last reason for pushing chocolate as lovely thing #1 is that it provides a sticky and delicious medium through which to "feel the (proverbial) love." Whoever you give it to, and whether they're gnawing on a chocolate flip flop or delicately nibbling on a dark Valrhona truffle, it's guaranteed they'll react with that instantaneous and utterly satisfying feeling of happiness that comes from knowing that someone likes them enough to go out and get them a chocolate. I think it's just that simple.

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Today's lovely thing is brought to you by Carla Bruni's "L'Amour." It's thick and delicious, just like chocolate. Plus, 'love' just sounds great in French, even when it's depressing.