Kale! I haven’t always liked kale. In fact, I still don’t love it yet. It might take several lifetimes for me to get there but in the meantime, I figured out a way to use it that doesn’t particularly taste like kale. The best thing about this salad is you can’t really tell if you’re eating parsley, spinach, chard or another green. That’s the magic of lime juice, olive oil and mint. They do beautifully take over.
Now back to kale. Wise men say you should eat it regularly, preferably raw. It is one of the healthiest vegetables on the planet for you. It is greener than other greens and packed with antioxidants and vitamins, which means it keeps you young, beautiful and vibrant. That’s why I chose it for tabbouleh and that’s why I’m beginning to love it.
I take it you like a good rice salad. Everybody I know does. This one is the kind that fits in the meal category. It has so much going on: avocado, tuna, tomatoes, shallot, basil. You can add more tuna for more protein per serving, or replace it with quartered hard-boiled eggs if you’re not a fan or if you want to turn this into a vegetarian meal.
This salad is best eaten the same day—avocados and shallots are not good candidates for leftovers. But no worries, this salad is really easy. Making it at the last minute is very little trouble and should not take more than 20 minutes of your time.
I bought the juiciest, most beautiful Florida tomatoes the other day. I’m not diligent —though I should be— about buying local produce but when I do, I feel good about it. It just feels right. It fosters a sense of community that I find sooo lacking in Florida, more so in Orlando.
I marveled at my tomatoes for a while. They were red, plump, firm, juicy. They were perfect. Chopping, slicing or grating them would almost have felt criminal. I wanted to keep them whole; I wanted to see their full shape while eating them. I didn’t want to miss out on that sort of eye candy. I’m a visual eater.
Last week, we celebrated John’s birthday. When I asked him what kind of cake he wanted, he simply replied: “something on the healthier side.” I knew that meant something with less butter and sugar but wasn’t sure whether to make him one of his old favorites or create something new. I had been thinking of making blondies with nut butter and thought they would be to his taste.
John is even more health-conscious than I am and about three times more disciplined when it comes to eating (and everything else). He’s not as picky as I am but he is definitely better at portion control and resisting temptation. I admire him for that. No, I envy him for that. Okay, I admire and envy him at the same time.
These blondies are made with rice flour and have somewhat the texture of brownies, only they’re blonde and, well, more fun (!)… They are wonderful warm with a glass of milk for breakfast. You can make them with peanut butter for a more pronounced nut taste.
I have been making a lot of couscous dishes lately, mostly the traditional ones that are served as a main dish, rather than couscous salads I often make. You see, I’m feeling a bit homesick right now, and when that happens I crave authentic dishes more than anything else. I’m counting down the days until my visit and looking forward to (hopefully) good weather and a stay in the Ourika Valley at the foot of the Atlas Mountains possibly here or here.
Tfaya couscous is served with caramelized onions and raisins, and a flavorful, earthy sauce. It has always been one of my favorite ways to eat couscous. I simply love it. I encourage you to make it and take the time to savor spoonful after comforting spoonful.
Musical as I am, I have songs for when I’m happy, songs for when I’m sad, songs for when I’m in love and songs for when I’m so mad at somebody I want to punch them in the face. I even have songs to listen to when I’m craving couscous, making couscous or eating couscous.
I do love my couscous songs. They make the whole couscous experience more multi-dimensional.
Here are a few must-know couscous songs. They’re in a different language but the rhythmic Arabic melody is so pleasant it will set the perfect mood for your couscous dinner.
Song 1: Fais-moi du couscous chéri by Bob Azzam: literally “make me some couscous, honey” is about a man who loves his wife dearly but complains that she wakes up hungry in the middle of the night, rubs her stomach and asks him to make her couscous. Determined to discourage her, he makes her a bad couscous in the hope of getting her to stop disrupting his sleep.
We have all had times when we needed to substitute an ingredient for another either out of necessity or preference. Just recently, I found myself trying to figure out substitution possibilities and amounts for a dessert recipe I was making and I thought I’d document my findings. This is as much for me to refer back to as it is for you, reader, to use as a guide. The substitutions below are partly from my own experience and partly from this resourceful book.
A chilled rhubarb soup sets the perfect tone for a fresh, colorful spring meal. Yes it does. Nothing says spring quite like rhubarb.
Rhubarb is wonderfully tangy but otherwise bland (in my opinion) and has to be paired with other ingredients that have a stronger temperament. Rhubarb-strawberry is a classic combination that I love but I wanted to experiment with a different pairing this time.
My only regret upon tasting this soup was that I didn’t think of combining rhubarb and pear sooner; they tasted like they were made for each other.
I know I say this about every soup I make but this one too tastes better the next day. After the flavors have had time to mingle, the soup tastes more fragrant and the mint flavor, especially, gets to shine a little brighter.
Growing up, my mother didn’t cook dinner, and if she did, it was never more complicated than an omelet. Most of the time, dinner consisted of leftovers from her elaborate, well-labored over multi-course lunches (two or three different salads, a main meat dish with vegetables, bread and fruit or a homemade dessert of sorts). Tortillas, being slightly more complex than omelets, only made an occasional appearance on our dinner table; sometimes they were part of lunch.