So, I went to an auction. It seems to be auction season in our part of the world, where people organize fabulous dinner events, with choice items to bid on, in the name of raising money. I wonder to myself if people are spending as much this year as they did last. The economy is a bit on edge: I went to the auction with a budget.

I spent my entire budget on one item. Well, 8 cases of one item.

I bought dry soda; it is a sexy soda based out of Seattle. It transcends corn syrup, sideswipes sweetness and ushers in unusual, savvy, urbanite flavors (lavender, kumquat, lemongrass and rhubarb). You might consider wearing shades while sipping from these clairvoyant bottles.

Their website is as hip as their sodas. I noticed they had a few cocktails on their site, many of which boasted a long list of ingredients. Never fear, my impatience is near. I just borrowed genius from a lemon drop and created a kumquat version:

Kumquat Drop
triple sec
vodka
fresh squeezed orange juice
Kumquat Dry Soda

Per drink: 1/5 fresh squeezed orange juice, 3/5 vodka, 1/5 triple sec, 1/5 kumquat soda. Shake with ice, strain into martini glass; pierce a few kumquats on an olive pick for garnish. Note: feel free to substitute fresh squeezed lemon juice for the orange, or a combination of the two… and skip the sugar rim. It isn’t necessary.

Orange you glad its a kumquat?

Kumquats are awesome; have you ever tried one? It is nature’s lemon drop candy; the candy that is so, so sweet yet makes you pucker straight to the back of your jaw. You can eat kumquats whole, though we usually slice them in half and remove the larger pits. I slice the halves and put them in my boys’ lunch. On my old site (didn’t have time to run two sites, though there is a chance I may resurrect it), Brown Bag Blues, I wrote a post on kumquats that you might find useful (click here).

Last summer was my first real fling with beets.

I am enthralled with these color-bleeding, edible and bursting-with-flavor globes. Beets tuck right into that whole ugly swan story, appearing ugly, or at least starting out ugly but later transformed into something breath-taking. Beets are that way: ugly ducklings waiting to be transformed into swan-form. Who would think these scary rooted, a bit hairy, little studded dirt balls could turn into charmers that steal your meal-time show?

I am still getting to know beets.

Beet Info (borrowed happily from world’s healthiest foods):

• The pigment that gives beets their rich, purple-crimson color is a powerful cancer-fighting agent.
• Beets are particularly rich in the B vitamin folate, which is essential for normal tissue growth. Eating folate-rich foods is especially important during pregnancy.
• Both beets and Swiss chard are different varieties within the same plant family
• Beets’ value grew in the 19th century when it was discovered that they were a concentrated source of sugar, and the first sugar factory was built in Poland.
• Store beets unwashed in the refrigerator crisper where they will keep for two to four weeks.
  • (Cut the majority of the greens and their stems from the roots, so they do not pull away moisture away from the root. Leave about two inches of the stem attached to prevent the roots from “bleeding.” Store the unwashed greens in a separate plastic bag where they will keep fresh for about four days).
• Raw beets do not freeze well since they tend to become soft upon thawing. Freezing cooked beets is fine; they’ll retain their flavor and texture.
• A Few Quick Serving Ideas:
  • Simply grate raw beets for a delicious and colorful addition to salads or decorative garnish for soups.
  • Add chunks of beet when roasting vegetables in the oven.
  • Serving homemade vegetable juice? A quarter of a beet will turn any green drink into a sweet pink concoction, pleasing both the eyes and the taste buds.
  • Healthy sauté beet greens with other braising greens such as chard and mustard greens.
  • Marinate steamed beets in fresh lemon juice, olive oil, and fresh herbs.

Last night, I made beets via my kitchen sink method (aka start pulling out ingredients, preparing them and then seeing how they fit together at the meal—a sometimes disastrous, yet sometimes brilliant maneuver). I decided to roast the beets, since I had a pile of them from my CSA box. And they grabbed worthy attention.

I took about 6 small beets, peeled them and quartered them (think 1/2 inch cubes). I blended 1 T olive oil, 1 T maple syrup, and 1/2 tsp coarse salt vigorously; then added oil mix to beets to lightly cover. I roasted them for 25 minutes at 400. Then, via the kitchen sink method instead of just eating them plain, we ended up putting them on top of our crisp green salad—with blue cheese dressing. It worked. Next time, I will PLAN to make the beets for the salad; with the air that I meant to do it all along.

More beet recipes? It beets me—but visit these kitchens:

• Loving this from Nami-Nami; she had the same idea as me—beetroot and blue cheese—but my salad is her tartlet
• Milk and Cookies makes beetroot dip, then places a colorful dollop atop crostini
• Brilynn from Jumbo Empanadas tosses a lovely roasted beet salad
• And for Farro Beet Risotto (gorgeous color); head over to Beyond Salmon

The truth is, I make a lot of default dinners.

We are a busy family, with school and extracurricular, sports, music and you name it pulling us in a million different directions. Though my pie in the sky would be to cook an elaborate meal with new recipes every evening, it just isn’t practical. Instead, I aim to add maybe 1-2 new recipes in a given week, hoping that one will be a ‘keeper.’

When I am not trying a new recipe, I am grabbing, tossing and otherwise throwing together a meal for my family. My priorities in the midst of fashioning a family meal are 1. well-balanced and 2. quick. So, with no room for thought I start making ‘the usual.’ Though if you know me, I take great pride in my list of usuals and have even given these fall-back recipes the token term Default Dinners. This week I leaned on some old favorites:

• Roasted Fennel
• Roasted Peppers and Sausages
• Sausage Cream Pasta
• Buttermilk Chicken
• …and for the kids’ lunches: Ginger Sugar Pecans

AND I have to admit, when time is screaming in my face, I even reach for meals from my freezer. Battered cod was baked this week; my contribution was tartar sauce. I confess it is hard for me to use jarred tartar sauce (or salad dressing for that matter). So while the oven bakes the ‘it’ll do’ meal in 18 minutes or so, I grab my little blender and make a nice tartar sauce from scratch.

This little recipe has traveled with me for years; I have almost lost it numerous times (which nearly caused me to panic). But alas, it is still lovingly tucked in my semi-organized but adequately disheveled recipe binder. And now, you too can have it to use and to lose:

Tartar Sauce
1 cup mayonnaise
2 tsp dijon mustard
1-2 tsp fresh lemon juice
1 T minced shallots
1/4 cup dill pickles
pinch cayenne pepper

I know: lose it? With this short ingredient list, you would think I had this one committed to memory. I figure I will memorize it right around the time my memory begins to slip. Timing is everything, right? The instructions, however, I can remember: place all in blender and blend. And this tartar sauce is also great on a salmon burger with big leaves of basil… yet another easy meal…

I am in heaven. I love fennel. In fact, I wish I had the wherewithal to eat fennel bulbs like apples; perhaps a 2008 New Year resolution?

Instead of eating them raw in my paws, I am finding creative ways to insert them into lunches… dinners… even breakfast.

This post is about ‘what to do when you have 2 fennel bulbs’ because there have been times when I had 2… and they went to waste based solely on my lack of inspiration. Fennel be saved: I now have some quick defaults for fennel: a bonafide back door to inspiration. All you need are 2 fennel bulbs, a few Tablespoons (or ‘gluggs’ of olive oil—that is how my kids and I measure olive oil amounts: “mom, how many gluggs of olive oil?”), and a large pinch of kosher/coarse salt. The last time I roasted fennel, I added a few Tablespoons of diced prosciutto. What? I couldn’t help it:

Roasted Fennel
2 fennel bulbs (stalks and stems removed)
3 T olive oil
1 large pinch kosher salt
optional: a couple grinds coarse pepper

Heat oven to 400. Slice fennel into 1/4-1/2 inch slices. Lube with oil, sprinkle with salt and pepper and roast for 25-30 minutes.

Now, if you are getting a tad more creative, and plan ahead with a slightly longer list of ingredients, you can make French Fennel Onion Soup or Potato Fennel Gratin. Both are well worth the effort. Yum.

I don’t know what it is about me and making food taste like ‘candy,’ but for some reason, while I am in the middle of consuming—usually some variation of roasted vegetable—I think of candy. Not candy from the candy shop, necessarily, nor the overwhelm of eye candy that I experience each time at the Farmer’s Market, but rather food candy, veggie candy, or simply the amazing sweetness of nature that is meant to mesmerize us.

Fennel does that to me. I look forward to a bite of fennel the way my kids look forward to a bite of candy. I loved it roasted; and tonight I tried it sauteed and it was equally to die for. And for our family of four, this was just one fennel bulb, 3 small parsnips and a T each of olive oil and butter. Peel parsnips, then mandoline both parsnips and fennel. Toss into skillet with olive oil and butter, sautee over medium low for 10-15 minutes until caramelized. Add big pinch of kosher salt and coarse pepper. Serve.

Simple is good.

More great input on fennel:

• from Fine Cooking (one of my fave magazines)
• Fennel overview from Gilded Fork
• Fennel recipes from Epicurious

And more fennel candy mezmirization on friendly food blogs:

• Elise at Simply Recipes also adores Roasted Fennel
• Alanna from Veggie Venture makes Fennel & Blood Orange Salad
• …and this sounds yummy: The Village Vegetable makes a Sage Fennel Tart

Amuse Bouche. Sounds amusing; no doubt hearing me pronounce is certainly worth a giggle. That token, one-bite taster that precedes even the starter or appetizer, the amuse bouche can be an elegant way to begin a meal. At the finest of restaurants—or newbie boutique restaurants smartly making a notable first impression—a server might put an amuse bouche in front of you. Often unordered, a food-wise nod of unexpected promise from the kitchen, these one-bite samplers are meant to tease the palate of the goodness to come.

Wikepedia defines it best: tiny bite-sized morsels served before the hors d’Å“uvre or first course of a meal. These, often accompanied by a proper complementing wine, are served as an excitement of taste buds to both prepare the guest for the meal and to offer a glimpse into the chef’s approach to cooking.

The word is French, literally translated to “mouth amuser” [for bouche = mouth; amuser = to amuse, to please]. The proper plural form is amuses-bouche.

The amuse-bouche as an identifiable course arose during the Nouvelle Cuisine movement, which emphasized smaller, more intensely flavored courses.^[1] It is distinguished from other kinds of hors d’Å“uvres by three characteristics. It is small, usually just one or two bites. It is the same for all of the guests at the table. And finally, it is not ordered by anyone; rather it is offered free of charge. The functional role of the amuse-bouche could be met by rather simple offerings–a plate of olives or a crock of tapenade. But the course often becomes a showcase for the artistry and showmanship of the chef as well as oneupmanship among restaurants.

I couldn’t resist, Wikepedia defines it so well.

I always find this question an amusing start to a conversation: ‘what reality tv shows do you watch?’ It is curious what different people watch; I confess, our family impatiently waits week after week to watch Top Chef. It is where I learned the definition of amuse bouche. Some of the competitions or challenges of the reality tv show focused on these dainty, yet power-packed pre-starters that quintessentially reflect the style of a given cook… what would be in your amuse bouche?

I have had a few experiences in restaurants where I have been happily surprised with a tiny, edible gift placed so thoughtfully in front of me. At Harvest Vine in Seattle sometime last summer, simple bites—one bite per patron—of lightly steamed then cooled golden beets, cut in perfect rectangular slivers, were drizzled with olive oil and the best Fleur de Sel. Each bite pierced with its own toothpick, these beets made an impression that still lingers a year later.

A more recent example was at Mona’s, a neighborhood restaurant that I frequent. Always divine food; and this once a teaser in the form of a perfectly ripened, farmer’s market cherry tomato gingerly squatting on a chiffonade of arugula and then, dressed with shards of the finest parmesan and the token drizzle of oil and coarse salt. Only one? Ah, the amusing amuse. It packs a punch.

Cherry Tomato Amuse Bouche
1 cherry tomato per person
1 T chopped arugula or basil per person
1 tsp olive oil per person/amuse bouche
scant pinch coarse salt
pinch Parmesan, preferably shaved, per person

Assemble: place pile of arugula on plate, slice off top and bottom 1/8 of tomato (stem and bottom, the latter just so it will stand upright and not roll around). Place tomato on greens, top with Parmesan, drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with salt and serve to an unsuspecting guest or loved one.