Love is Dinner for Two, Part 5

This is the last and final part of a short series of entries using food to document my most significant romantic relationships to date. Start from the beginning here.

Boyfriend 4, Mr. V. Nguyen:

As my food obsession has grown exponentially over the past few years, it is no wonder that my primoridal mating radar finally found me the talented chef and restaurant owner that I deserve. My hope is that this boyfriend will at some point train to become a masseuse. Then all of my romantic dreams will have been fulfilled.

Until then, my primordial mating radar has some evolving to do! Call me naive, but I thought dating a chef meant breakfast in bed (daily!), 3AM distractions from deep slumber due to the sweet aromas of the chocolate souffle he is trying to perfect (weekly), and clandestine trips to the backalleys of chinatown in order to procure illegal fruits and unusual cuts of meats, just to create the Ultimate Anniversary Dish (monthly). Instead, it means that by the time Boyfriend gets home from work, he is tired, hungry, and doesn't feel like creating and cleaning another mess in the kitchen. This is usual.

But that's okay! Mr. Nguyen and I love to cook, we love each other, and cooking for each other is how we show our love! In our relationship, there are no expensive Italian leather shoes or lacy negligees to surprise and delight the other (a situation we need to reexamine...). Rather, it means he cooks when I'm cranky and hungry, and I cook when he'd otherwise stumble to the bodega across the street for a BLT, extra jalapenos (to which I grieve). And although I beat him in terms of frequency, he's usually the one to bust out the labor-intensive, "fancy" meals. This means he defrosts, prepares, stove-cooks and oven-finishes juicy slabs of meat, while I, on the otherhand, throw 3 or 4 CSA veggies into a pot and call it a meal. (Am I the only one in this household who feels obligated to use up the CSA share before we pick up a new one?)

So what is my alimento de Novia #4? MEAT. Because nothing shows lovin like sexy-time grubbin! On meat!



THIS IS sliced rib-eye steak topped with mushroom and jalapeno sauce; roasted potatoes; and perfectly sauteed CSA kale, made by Boyfriend #4 for an anniversary meal.

Love is Dinner for Two, Part 4

This is part 4 of a short series of entries using food to document my most significant romantic relationships to date. Start from the beginning here.

Boyfriend 3, Mister M. Bauer:

2004-2006. Mr. Bauer was always full of good intention. That was what I admired most about him- his sincerity, his honesty, and his patience. For someone so talented, this boy didn't have a drop of ego or pretention. In some ways, you could even say he was a simple man. Sometimes he even referred to himself as "Old Man Bauer." Was it the multiple pairs of velcro shoes? Was it the obsession with second-hand goods? Maybe it was the way everything he owned slowly found its way into the backseat and trunk of his car. Whatever it was, my memories with him are all positive. They are full of cheap, tasty meals, after dinner walks in our Little Ethiopia neighborhood, driving around LA, and bringing an unreasonably bulky, old boombox with us on many a car rides so he could record and interview our conversations.

There are two Mr. Bauer meals that stand out the most to me. This first was this: It was his turn to make dinner for the short-lived but incredibly exciting "Food Cult" dinner parties I started to have, and his theme was off-the-wall. I had made an African-themed meal, Melissa had made French. And what did Mr. Bauer make? A meal of stuffed things. There was a salad of tomato stuffed with chickpeas, onions, peppers, and basil; appetizers of potato stuffed with potato, avocoado, and sour cream, and chinese dumplings stuffed with veggies; an entree of eggplant stuffed with stuffing, and so on... That's a lot of stuff.

The other meal that I thought exemplified Mr. Bauer was his homemade vegetarian meatballs. These meatballs, however, were totally unconventional. Mr. Bauer used every single item in our fridge to construct these growingly massive balls. This included condiments such as dijon mustard and veganaise, to tofu, cottage cheese, and veggies. Yes, cottage cheese! I watched in horror as he made the meatballls, trying with all my might to keep "Kitchen Ellen" under control and exhibit Ellen Ellen, the Ellen that he liked having around and that didn't became a scary witch when it came time to turn on the stove. I had to learn to keep my mouth shut and trust him, as to not inhibit his own creativity. Even though the ride was rough, in the end the meatballs were edible, even tasty, and we can still be friends.

THIS IS egg scramble with collard greens, pine nuts, garlic, and shaved parmesan cheese; homemade whole wheat blueberry, banana, walnut muffin; sliced fuji apple. Breakfast for Mr. Bauer one December morning.

Love is Dinner for Two, Part 3

This is part 3 of a short series of entries using food to document my most significant romantic relationships to date. Start from the beginning here.

Boyfriend 2.5, Mister E. Danielson:

2003. I fell hard for Mr. Danielson. Maybe it was because we were always stoned, but we never had a bad time together. We only dated for a couple of months, but those months were marked by sweetness and pleasure. We drank Jack Daniel's, we scouraged for cheap, vegetarian eats in the greater LA area, he helped me paint my room orange. But let's keep it short, just like my relationship with Mr. Danielson. We ate lots of fake meat together. It tasted good in the beginning, so good you believed it was real and not "fake," and then you learned how dangerous it is to overconsume soy products and how processed Texturized Vegetable and Texurized Soy Protein is and all of a sudden he's "confused" and back together with his ex-girlfriend. To this day I try to be realistic about fake meat, and am careful about my intake of soy.



THIS IS me about to eat the House "Chicken" at Happy Family Vegetarian Restaurant in Monterey Park, CA. Sometimes fake meat is too good to resist.

Love is Dinner for Two, Part 2

This is part 2 of a short series of entries using food to document my most significant romantic relationships to date. Start from the beginning here.

Boyfriend 2, Mister S. Tam:
2001-2002. My first "real" boyfriend. The first boyfriend I daydreamed about marrying and growing old with.

Mr. Tam was a huge geek. He was a science geek, a music geek, and a roller hockey geek. A talented geek at that, he had the kind of personality to get really really into something. I guess when you pursue a PhD, that kind of quality is necessary. My friends still describe him as the boyfriend that was "so in love" with me. This was all very heavy for a 20 year-old like myself. It's not that I didn't reciprocate his feelings, or feel flattered by his sweet attention, I mean I did move to Berkeley to be with him, but that was the year I became vegetarian and was intent on keeping things light and open. I might have even used that exact word, "open," to describe where I wanted our relationship to head. I was taking Cal's infamous Female Sexuality class at the time and all of a sudden feeling very suffocated by this heterosexual, monogamous relationship. Did I mention I was only 20 years old? He argued against it, considered it, resisted it, and finally, for his own good, we both rejected it. No open relationship for us. But before all of this happened, he made me two dishes I will always remember: Linguini Clam Pasta made from canned clams, bell peppers, garlic, basil, and tomatoes, and a 2000 calorie cheesecake his father used to make, a recipe that calls for something like four boxes of Philadelphia cream cheese. My mom and I froze the majority of the cheesecake, which would probably still be sitting in our freezer had we not moved houses in 2003.

So nothing between Mr. Tam and I could ever be light, open, or forever, and therefore I entered my last term at UCLA as a single serving.

(to be continued)

THIS IS broccoli stem salad in sesame oil and soy sauce dressing with quinoa and black sesame seeds, pan-fried cajun-spiced mahi mahi fish and roasted potatoes and sweet potatoes. From February, a perfect lunch for one.

Love is Dinner for Two, Part 1

This is part 1 of a short series of entries using food to document my most significant romantic relationships to date.

My friend Zoe just lent me Rob Sheffield's Love is a Mix Tape. I started reading it at JFK airport yesterday morning en route to LA, a week stay before my big trip to Taiwan. I read a short 30 pages before I opted to listen to a podcast of This American Life. It was just too Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking, and what I was really in the mood for was US Weekly's What was Britney Thinking?! What I did get though was that this Rob Sheffield man, who is apparently very famous, is a music geek. And I love geeks. Geeks are cool as long as there is an adjective to qualify the word "geek." And what makes a geek a geek? Compulsion. Expertise. Passion. An obession that forces one to only be able to think and interact through the lens of that obsession.

So Music geek? Cool. Basketball geek? Sexy. Computer geek? Wealthy. And of course there's my favorite, The Food Geek. Whether you obsess over regional Italian olive oils or have never actually cooked anything yourself but are exchanging death threats on Eater.com to HungreeMan38, who repeatedly gives negative reviews because of "bad serivce" (This is New York people! You aren't dining at Commander's Palace in New Orleans!), a food geek will forget names, dates, and locations, but always remember the food. So as Rob Sheffield immortalizes his lost, dead wife by revisiting the scores of mixtapes the lovers once exchanged, unable to sever tunes and lyrics with image and memory, I similarly link boyfriends with food, restaurants, and what we ate and cooked.

Boyfriend 1, Mister C. Louie:

I was 17 years old, weeks away from graduating high school. I had never kissed a boy and was a late-bloomer on all accounts. I had recently discovered the art of flirting and was effortlessly perfecting this when Mr. Louie sent his first Instant Message. Hours of IMing came and went, days (in post high school language: months) passed before we finally made plans to interact as real people. No longer would I be just a screenname, and no longer would he try to seduce me through smiley faces and and loud, roaring LOLs.

There are a few things I remember most about Mr. Louie. He was really skinny. This seemed to set the mold for all of my boyfriends thereafter, but he was really skinny, possibly the skinniest of them all. I'm guessing he weighed no more than 10 pounds more than me even though he was 5 inches taller, and I was thin thin thin. He also took diet pills he got at the mall and carried this weird designer purse which he refused to call a purse but looked eerily similar to um, a purse. Mr. Louie wanted to be a model and was always watching what he ate. Even in my high school naivete I excused this dream of his as misled, pathetic even, although who's the one in the Mercedes commercial now? Naturally, this Mary-Kate behavior bothered me; I had always eaten unhibited and unobstructed. So what is my culinary memory of Mister Louie, which is so appropriately symbolic? Microwaved boca burger patties scantily covered in Heinz ketchup.

THIS IS not microwaved boca burgers, but pork chops and homemade tomato sauce over a bed of white rice. Served with afternoon champagne one Winter afternoon by my love, Boyfriend 4.

Mommy, my Darling Dumpling

I have memories of sitting at the kitchen table wrapping suai jiao with the women of the house. That usually meant just me and my mom, sometimes my sister (although she for some reason always seemed to be relievedof domestic duty), and sometimes my grandma or aunts.

I took great delight in learning what seemed a skill of pure womanly feat. I asked my 8-year old self, "What would qualify me to participate? Longer fingers? Greater agility? A menstrual cycle?"

I did not know, but it was a rite of passage that I did not take lightly.

I began by first taking the dumpling skins out of the wrappers and laying them on a plate, waiting for my mom to fill, wrap, and seal. Later I was allowed to scoop spoonfuls of filling onto the pi, or dumpling skin. I remained at this stage for some time as this requires cognitive, volume perception, something one develops only with good intent and regular practice. Once a reliable filling-scooper, I was ready to proceed to the art of wrapping. And this came with its own set of challenges- too wet, not sealed, holey, too ugly, not enough creases for my mom's approval.

But with years of practice I am now our household's dumpling queen! Yes, I am the household's only woman, and the household's only dumpling maker, but to no matter. I am finally a long, agile fingered, menstruating woman thatcan make her own dumplings, minus the pi which I have yet to attempt, from start to finish. All thanks to my mommy, whom I wish were here to help wrap, especially as she is twice as fast.

THIS IS pan-fried pork, napa cabbage, scallion, and ginger dumplings topped with chopped cilantro served with soy sauce, sesame oil, vinegar, minced garlic and pepper dipping sauce; julienned carrots, green beans, shiitake mushrooms, and ginger. Homemade filling, store bought wrappers.

(Making vegetarian suai jiao in 2001.)

What's in a loaf?

Because baking is a science and science is not my forte, I always follow the directions. I know nothing about baking except sometimes it turns out and sometimes it doesn't. It never turns out when it's too cold in the house, or the water for the yeast too tepid. Nothing can be "almost" or "too" in baking, it's a science goshdarnit-- precise, logical, tried, tested, and true!

I learned this about two years ago when I returned to Los Angeles after a six-month stay in Taiwan, and decided that I couldn't live the same lifestyle I lived before. I wanted to start making everything myself. I wanted to be more aware of where things came from and what impact I was making on the environment, my body, and the people around me. I hung dry my clothes. I had great plans to make shampoo, candles, and bar soap. I discovered the joy of physical activity, connected to my need to be in nature, began noticing (and disliking) the noise of cars. Somewhere in this, it also meant I would have to learn to bake my own bread.

What I learned was an appreciation for fresh-baked breads, since I also learned baking was hard for me. It felt like once you measured, mixed, kneaded, waited, and baked, there was no turning back. At least with cooking you can add extra salt if too bland, cilantro or basil if too dull, or even scramble an egg and transform any unappetizing leftover into a hearty breakfast.

Two years later in NYC with no bar soap of my own creating, all I really know is when I feel the desire to bake, change is a'comin! And as the first day of autumn quickly approaches, I present my first bread of the season.

THIS IS whole wheat banana walnut coconut and carob bread, sugar-free. Sweetened with honey, enjoyed by my honey.

Look.

Look. My week in eats, all homemade. Some by me, some not (and made by Vinh).

THIS IS: 1) Lunch for one: Bok choi, tofu, julienned carrots, green onions and fresh cilantro cooked with quinoa cooked in homemade fish stock. 2) Vinh's Monday morning breakfast: Julienned carrots, green peppers, green beans, and jalapeno peppers; and red cabbage slaw with pepitos, garlic, green onions in sesame-soy sauce dressing. 3) 4PM Snack: Baguette; sliced heirloom tomatoes topped with cut basil and garlic in olive oil and balsamic vinegar; served with culatello biellese from Bedford Cheese Shop.

BFF, Breakfast Friends Forever

Breakfast for breakfast, breakfast for lunch, or breakfast for dinner, you are my best friend and my favorite meal.

Not only because I love any excuse to eat an egg, I think breakfast is the most well-rounded of all the meals. Let me count the ways.

1. Nutritionally, it's the most important. Without the Big B, what's going to provide you with energy for the rest of your long, arduous day?

2. Practically, it's my favorite meal to cook. It's easy. It simple. It never tastes bad.

3. Socially, it's a privilege to eat this meal with friends, family, or lover. Most of us are usually in a rush in the mornings, so to sit down and share this meal means two joyful things: 1) that you aren't late; and 2) that you aren't alone. It allows friends to reconvene hungover and post-partying, potential lovers to solidify the prior night fling, and families to act healthy and wholesome. Win, Win, and Win!

4. Emotionally, it is my comfort food. Some of my fondest memories of the short year and a half my mother, sister and I lived in New Jersey include the egg and cheese omelette my mom made for us every single morning. Breakfast = safety.

5. Morally, it teaches the virtue of patience. When else in the restaurant world do people willing oblige to hour long waits with such grace and good esteem?

6. Intellectually, it is the time I both ponder and answer all of life's burning questions. Like the chicken or the egg. This one is always easy over breakfast. (or should I say, over easy...)


THIS IS toasted Old Poland Bakery baguette; Garden of Eve eggs with chopped basil; thinly sliced red onions, heirloom tomatoes, and jalapeno peppers; and sliced apple. Just a lil Saturday afternoon brunch for zo + nance.

Simple & Satisfying

It's been a while since I've enjoyed cooking for myself. Up until the past few days, my home-cooked meals had been rather disappointing. But I guess that is the cycle of all things; without having the occasional lull, it would be difficult to appreciate the fun, the tasty, the juicy, the sweet, the luxurious, the comfortable, the simple. As I did Thursday lunch.

Sometimes I walk into the kitchen with total confidence and no agenda. My mind is clear and my stomach is patient. It's times like these that the only task is to create something sustaining and satisfying, if not the usual quick and easy.

I started with some rice that I had presoaked, something I do if I am thinking ahead and making whole grains. Over the past couple of years I've started to experiment with different grain mixes. Most recently I've been making short sweet brown rice, wild rice, and quinoa cooked with seaweed. For a while I added green lentils. Then I tried nuts, as inspired by Afghan and Indian cooking - cashews, pistachios, or walnuts, sometimes even pepitos and sunflower seeds.

THIS IS tuscan kale sauteed with ginger, sea salt, and white pepper; Garden of Eve egg cooked over-easy and topped with fresh homegrown Vietnamese coriander; purple eggplant cooked slowly and lovingly with red onions, jalapeno peppers, mustard seeds, white pepper, a dash of Braggs in a veggie (store-bought) broth, topped with fresh scallions; Served over a bed of 5 grain rice.

For the sick

Food can be so many things. It can be a way to satisfy your senses. To console yourself after a bad day. To celebrate a special occasion. To occupy you when you are anxious or stressed. To come together with friends and family. And for my boyfriend and me this week, to heal and comfort.

This week we were both struck with debilitating colds. I suppose most colds are, but when you are obligated to work 90 hours a week (as my boyfriend is), or to work and study 15 hours a day like I am, speedy recovery is essential.

But what is it that we actually crave when our appetite is diminished and energy lost? What are the foods that will help us get well but will also feel good to consume? Of course you can down a bottle of cold medicine, but where is the love in that?

Yesterday's gan mao yao was Vinh's Chicken noodle soup, Vietnamese style. There is something so nourishing and comforting about soup when you're sick, especially when it is prepared for you with the best of intentions, by the best of the chefs!

THIS IS chicken noodle soup with chicken, rice noodles, bean sprouts, bok choi, lime juice, andd touch of fish sauce, garlic, and chilis.

Floral Fever

My CSA share is in full swing! My farmers of Garden of Eve farm deliver local, organic vegetables, fruit, eggs, and flowers to McCarren Park in Williamsburg, Brooklyn every Saturday morning, where I pick up my share of tasty, beautiful bounty for the week. This week we got heirloom tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, eggplant, basil, spinach, sweet corn, leeks, string beans, cayenne peppers and jalapeno peppers. Usually I go to an early morning yoga class but since I started my teacher training, I decided that I was going to save my weekends to do things I can't do during the rest of the week.

It has become my perfect Saturday morning ritual. Wake up, ride my bike to the park, pick up my vegetables, fruit, eggs, and flowers, and then come home to cook cook cook! I have no photos to post of my recent creations, but here is our flower share from last week.

(NYers, contact Just Food if you want to find a CSA in your neighborhood)

Ode to the Egg, My Shining Sun

Hard-boiled, soft-boiled, poached, fried, scrambled, over-easy, sunny side up, steamed, or baked, I love eggs in all its glorious forms. Eggs are the perfect food. The creamy, silky, runny, gooey yolk is so good, you could even say they're eggsellen.

But all eggs are not created equal.

Recently I stumbled upon a vendor at the Union Square Farmer's Market that sells Peruvian eggs. These yolks are not only bright with brilliance but are bursting with flavor. At $4 for a half dozen, they better be; I made the vendor promise they would be worth every penny. And they were! Every subsequent trip to the market I've made it my mission to obtain more Peruvian eggs, justifying my pricey purchase as a way to express gratitude to farmers committed to biodiversity.

The only other eggs that were better than this were from the Garden of Happiness community garden in the Bronx. There they have a chicken coop with two or three hens that produce the most delicious eggs I have ever tasted. Although the eggs were small in size, the yolk was grand and gorgeous. It was the thickest, brightest yolk I have ever seen. I close my eyes in delight just remembering those eggs, with yolks like the shining sun. And because of those six little eggs, my mission once I get a some outdoor space is to raise chickens for egg production. Yes it's legal here in NYC, and possibly better than having a dog. You can eat their eggs! (Learn all about raising chickens in The City Chickens guide from Just Food, the organization I currently work with and spent my AmeriCorps service with in their Community Supported Agriculture program.)

THIS IS my afternoon snack: a soft-boiled Peruvian egg served with fresh baked bread (which I dipped into the runny yolk). Below are Garden of Happiness eggs and the chickens in which these eggs came, and the coop in which the chickens dwell (notice Bronx housing projects in the background). Happy birds make tasty eggs.

Risotto that Makes You Glow

What is the best thing to do at 2PM on a Tuesday afternoon? Make an Edamame and Shiitake Mushroom Risotto with Elizabeth Johnson, a food, cooking and wellness role model for anyone doing anything with food education, natural foods, and sustainable cooking.

When it comes to food and taste, I trust Elizabeth completely. If she wants to add more lemon juice, as she always does, I say go for it. If she wants to use bay leaves when the recipe is Japanese in nature, I nod my head YES! I respect her and her way of moving around a kitchen so much that when we cooked together earlier this week, I found myself stepping back and observing as she led the orchestra. And since people have said that as soon as I step into a kitchen I make it mine, this was a new experience for me. I found myself washing and stirring while she tasted and flavored. Only twice did she assume the tiresome task of stirring the risotto. I told her I was sick of stirring so she took the spoon and said, "I'll stir, I don't want your bad energy to ruin the food."

And the food turned out perfectly. (How can something dairy- and cheese-free be so creamy!?) While the risotto and nicely dressed salad (olive oil, balsalmic, honey, lemon juice, salt, and pepper) were both delicious, this meal was not just about the pleasures of eating. Sometimes a meal is an experience, making it impossible to separate the food from the farmers from the chefs from the company from the conversation from of course the wine. Elizabeth, being who she is, acknowledged this when she took my hands into her hands and asked me to share a few words before the meal. Sadly it was a first for me. While each meal with my mother involves putting our hands in prayer position and saying a few words to ourselves to thank the Buddha (yes, we do this even at Soup Plantation), it is rare I take the time to appreciate and give thanks when I am with my friends. Somewhat unprepared I said to Elizabeth, hands in hands, "I'm happy you're here, and I'm so excited to eat!" Elizabeth, who has more experience in the art of public grace, thanked everyone and everything who had a part in the meal, from the farmers to the cooks to the earth and soil that grew the food.

Afterwards we both sat around smiling and glowing. This is when you know you have had a good meal.

THIS IS Edamame and Shiitake Mushroom Risotto with dried, wild mushrooms, minced garlic, apple cider vinegar, lemon juice, tarragon, and parsley.

Deep-Fried Chinese New Year!

Xin Nian Kuai Le!

Chinese New Year is about spending time with your family and friends and celebrating another year. And if you're a kid (which is defined as unmarried) then it's also about collecting some cold, hard, cash in a hong bao, little red envelopes that in recent years are adorned with not only gold embossed lotus flowers, but advertisements for HSBC bank and Cognac Hennessy. But it's not all about the money. It's also about eating. A lot. And if you spend it with Liana's family like I did, this entails comparing how much fried food you ate and whether you have the capacity to eat more, all while wearing red clothing.

This is my second year spending the holiday with Liana's family, my surrogate family here in NYC. These dishes are made by Liana's grandmother who moved to Chinatown many decades ago. Last year when I hadn't yet reintroduced animal into my diet, she graciously made vegetarian tang yuan using water instead of chicken broth, even though she said it was both impossible and absurd.

THIS IS tang yuan, a pasta-like ball made from rice flour and water, with shrimp, daikon radish, and homemade shrimp and fish balls. The fried crescent moons are gauk. The white gauk is savory with ground pork and shrimp while the sweet is stuffed with red beans and sprinkled with sesame seeds. Both are deep fried and both are really tasty. I had two savories and three sweets, a comparable amount to the rest of the clanswomen.

Ellen's Banana Larabar Bash

About two months ago I became a bar junkie. Larabar that is! Larbars are raw, gluten free, wheat free, sugar free, dairy free, vegan, kosher snack bars made from only two or three ingredients, usually dates and nuts with another unsweeted dried fruit. Sounds boring and bland, but they're actually very good. My favorites are Cashew Cookie, Chocolate Coconut, and Cherry Pie, although Cocoa Mole and Ginger Snap aren't bad either. Their sister brand, the Maya bar, isn't as promising. (Why would they say they're as good as brownies? Why go there?) However, an insider with the company, no joke, told me those are being phased out.

So, bar addiction + habit of eating spoonfuls of creamy peanut butter + food intolerance of sugar cane and fruit within eight hours of each other + lactose intolerance, and you'll understand why I didn't just go to Veniero's for one of their ultra sweet, heavenly canolis or buy a bag of Uncle Eddie's vegan peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (a former addiction). Now this is how I must satisfy my sweet tooth.

And it's exciting! Dietary restrictions never feel restrictive -- they just encourage me to think more creatively. South Beach Diet? No problem! Raw foodist? Sounds fun! Diabetic? High Five!

THIS IS sliced banana topped with creamy peanut butter, Massachusettes honey, and sheep's milk yogurt with ground flax meal and sliced chocolate coconut Larabar.

Kombu Ginger Noodle Soup & Mahi Mahi Galore

For me, meals are brief. I can slave away all day in the kitchen julienning carrots and wrapping dumplings, but once everything is cooked and served, ingestion is quick. There are a few people I admire solely for their ability to eat slowly. My cousin Bonny takes about two and a half times as long as I do to finish the same bowl of fried rice, which means I either end up helping myself to seconds (or thirds...) or just watching her eat. With chopsticks, she assembles each bite with delicate, pale hands. But unlike me, she never talks as she chews her food. Bonny can tell an entire story about how a young gentleman she met at the Phoenix airport on a brief layover called her ceaselessy for a week straight and, seeking advice (or simply bored), she shared this story with her aunt (my mother), who suggested why don't we invite him over for dinner and I'll tell you whether you should date him... all while her food patiently waits for her attention and I give it mine.

This is probably why for the second year in a row my new year's resolution is "chew more and eat slower." Change is slow but I've accepted this 412 days after resoluting to eat mindfully.

It goes like this: sometimes I get so excited after the shopping, planning, washing, cutting, preparing, cooking, plating and of course photographing that when I finally do eat, I shovel it in, burn my tongue (I heal quick), and stop talking. A frequent dinner companion and eater of my home cooking laughs when I put my fork down to say to her with complete sincerity, "I need to breathe." Laugh if you like Melissa B. Smith, but I suspect by the pace of your own eating (akin to mine), you too could benefit from taking a few, slow, deep breaths. That goes for most of my eating companions, and dare I say in this world of microwaves and drive thrus, and especially in NYC (fried chicken on the subway?), we could all stand to chew more and eat slower.

One reason I enjoy wheat and gluten free bread is because the texture forces you to chew thoroughly. From the first chew to the last swallow of the same bite, I can experience a range of flavors and textures, from crunchy and toasty to chewy and sticky; from nutty and fragrant to sweet and subtle. Allowing yourself to chew until food is thoroughly masticated is not only healthier, but tastier; it can be an entirely new culinary experience. Please remind me I think this come dinner.


THIS IS Coriander Seed encrusted Mahi Mahi with fresh scallions and cilantro served with a warm, fresh noodle soup in kombu seaweed and ginger broth with dandelion greens, daikon radish, carrots, and shiitake mushrooms. I admit that I burnt my tongue with the first bite.

Rosemary Chicken Bliss

I always thought I should have a food blog, and now I do.

The first dish I'd like to present is Tuesday's lunch. On my days off I like to really get into my cooking. There are two things that allow my mind to stop wandering and to focus on the present moment: yoga and cooking. Both are my meditation, and both make me very hungry.

THIS IS potato, onion and garlic clove roasted with a rosemary chicken, stuffed with a pierced lemon and seasoned with sea salt, ground black pepper and a dash of truffle salt. I served it with a side of broccoli raab and white mushroom cooked with sweet onion and homemade sun-dried tomato and garlic infused olive oil. I accompanied it with quinoa and chopped fresh basil.

I call this Rosemary Chicken Bliss, because it is.