Of Note

Confession: On Saturday night, I stayed in and listened to The Chambers Brothers Pandora while cooking black beans from scratch, then placing them in small square containers and on into my freezer—thereby ensuring that over the next week a semi-edible meal would always be in reach. I also chopped all the vegetables I own into big piles and roasted them in the oven until they were tender and sweet—thereby making me want to eat them anytime I felt like I wanted to eat something.

This was all by way of something satisfying to do while I was drinking red table wine and letting the wind of Jimi Hendrix's guitar blow over me. Also? Preparing good food ahead of time causes you to eat good food. And waste less. And spend less money. It's a simple notion I learned in this rad book by Tamar Adler.

Anyhow, the night before, I'd finished work, sat in traffic, kicked the soccer ball for the dog, and then skated the coolest backyard bowl as the light fell, talking at length with backyard friends and drinking one tall cold backyard beer. Jamie gapped to tail slide. Michael made front Smiths. Sasha caused the coping to chirp. This was all followed by a bounty of late-night drinks and grilled cheeses at a corner bar.

So, you know, it's not as if I didn't do anything of note all weekend.

Sasha, makin' that shit chirp! 

Pizza State Of The Union

Oh hi! I know I haven't been around here much. This is because I spent last week sailing on a sea of sneezing—every waking moment devoted to mucus management. New life development: I'M ALLERGIC TO SPRING.

On another note entirely, recent happenings have me thinking heavily about pizza. The source of its power. My relationship to it. Et cetera.

If you're a Portlander, then you know that "pizza as art" is kinda having a moment right now (see below). But I'm just talking pizza as sustenance here—a nearly perfect food that's at its best when you're gut is so empty it's about to digest itself. Hot, crunchy but also soft, comforting, a modest food of the common man.

Basically, pizza rules because it's fucking easy and good. I'm sad about trends in my town toward overly fancy pizza with trumped-up prices and ingredients. Ovens fired with special woods. Drizzles with oils of truffle. Farm-to-table sausage toppings. And so on.

This trend—it's driving me to only make pizza at home now, a decree I already passed on breakfast years ago cuz I can make a WAYYY better chive and cheese scramble than I could EVER get for $9 after waiting in line for an hour eating out. Similarly, I can grab a ball of dough for 2 bux at Trader Joe's and in no time have an entire steaming pie!

Anyway, at a certain point, everyone's gotta ask themselves, "What does pizza mean to me?"

For every hot slice topped with simple cheese or whatever else is on hand (I'm not opposed to a pile of fresh arugula, but please, no potatoes—potatoes don't belong on pizza), it's the easy comfort of your surroundings and the kindness and love of the people you are with that makes it all GOOD.

Okay, I'm done now.

Pizza-hawk tattoo, courtesy of Screedler.

Subversive pizza art, courtesy of Dave Banks.

Pizza-skull sticker for Daddies Board Shop, courtesy of Screedler.

Life-Affirming Soup

The term "March" turns up on your calendar. Your one spindly spring flower falls over in the rain. Your L.A. Instagram friends post on the excitement of getting to wear rain boots and watch movies. You think it's cute (but kinda sad!). Life unfolds.

So I'm getting ready to leave town tomorrow. But I wanted to tell you about this soup—because it's important. It's important if you've been cooped up all weekend and need something to give you courage. Spicy Sun Dried Tomato and White Bean with Chard, my friends, you should get on this.

I first slurped this stuff from a spoon at a holiday potluck I had at my house a few years back. The Coulons brought it over and served it up from a steaming vat.

I like how the title doesn't pull any punches with ingredients. But it also doesn't tell you how bright and warm it feels in your stomach—how thick and rib-sticking it is after you emulsify part of it in the blender and then stir that part into the rest for extra creaminess. This is a soup to fortify the spirit, if you believe in food being able to do that sort of thing—which I do.

*If I were you, I'd throw in twice as much red pepper flake—shit, maybe even three times! This is March and we NEED THAT HEAT.

• 2 Tbs. olive oil
• 3 cloves garlic, minced (1 Tbs.)
• ½ tsp. red pepper flakes
• 1 medium onion, chopped (1 ½ cups)
• 2 medium carrots, sliced (1 cup)
• 2 ribs celery, chopped (½ cup)
• 1 small zucchini, sliced (1 cup)
• ½ tsp. chopped fresh rosemary
• 2 cups low-sodium vegetable broth
• 2 15-oz. cans diced tomatoes
• 1 15-oz. can small white beans or cannellini beans, rinsed and drained
• ½ cup oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes, drained and chopped, plus 2 Tbs. oil from jar
• ½ bunch (6 oz.) Swiss chard, chopped
• ½ tsp. chopped fresh thyme
• 1 cup torn fresh basil

1. Heat oil in large saucepan over medium heat. Add garlic and red pepper flakes, and cook 1 minute, or until garlic is fragrant. Stir in onion, carrots, celery, zucchini, and rosemary, and cook 10 to 15 minutes, or until onions are soft.

2. Add broth, 1 can tomatoes, and beans. Scoop 1 cup mixture into food processor or blender, and add remaining can of tomatoes, sun-dried tomatoes, and sun-dried tomato oil. Purée until smooth, stir mixture into soup, and season with salt and pepper, if desired. Simmer 10 minutes.

3. Add Swiss chard and thyme; simmer 5 minutes more, or until chard is wilted. Remove pan from heat, and stir in basil.

Origins

Oh, hi! It's spring here, kinda. And this year, I'm forgoing buying vegetable starts and growing ’em all from seeds.

It's not that huge of deal. But honestly, I've tried it before, with little success. There were bunk seeds that didn't sprout, there were mysterious silvery mildews, there were slugs that put a smack down on my spindly starts within seconds of me stuffing them into the garden beds. It was a bloodbath. 

This year will be different! ’Cause I'm really for real serious about trying—not half-assy like in year's past.

Yes, yes, I like the idea that I can walk out into my yard and forage for food there. But this year, in particular, I'm interested in getting to the beginning of things. How much closer to the beginning of food (which is the stuff of life, right?) can you get than this?

Here's what I'm growing this year: lettuce (spring mix), herbs (cilantro, dill, basil, arugula), kale, tomatoes (yellow pear, red cherry, red beefsteak heirloom), pattypan yellow squash, sugar snap peas, cucumbers.

Who's got knowledge they wanna drop on me about growing any of the above stuff in the Northwest?! I'm here and I'm listening.

New beginnings, et cetera.

2014 To-Dos

  Be calm: Can I get my wasted-angst numbers down to almost zero? Despite life?

Rebuild my kitchen: Cut open. Tear down. Sand. Repaint. Install. Make new. Or at least a LITTLE more like the photo below.

Eat more vegetables: Got this cool cookbook from my mommy—a vegetable-based recipe for every single day of the year. Seasonal and stuff. No excuses now.

Portugal: As in, go there.