Tag Archives: fennel

Cover-up

October 15, 2015 By in Recipes Tags: , , , , , , 1 Comment

Wine-Baked Apples with Fennel, Peanut, and Pecorino Filling


While summer is about shedding layers, uncovering patios, and pointing our faces toward the sun, fall, this devastatingly short transition period, is about covering things up in preparation for the hell that’s to come.

We cover things up, literally, by adding layers and sealing windows. Multicolored leaves litter the streets and walkways, obscuring the cold concrete beneath. We paint walls and exteriors now that summer’s dewy humidity is largely broken and we can air out our homes; whatever drab color that was previously there is just a memory. We burrow ourselves in fleece blankets and fluffy comforters since we resist turning on the heat. “It’s only October,” we say. “We have a long winter ahead of us.” And at the end of October, costumed trick-or-treaters come knocking, their true character hidden behind constructed whimsy.

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Transition

March 20, 2013 By in Recipes Tags: , , , , , 8 Comments

gingered carrots and fennel with orange yogurt sauce

Fennel Fronds
I feel no need to bring in spring with fanfare this year. For me, spring is nothing more than a necessary but damp and awkward passageway of sore throats, watery eyes, and frizzled locks to what I’m waiting for: the real sun and the real heat of summer.

But I will admit that the strain of plucking a single flower, even a bunch, from the roots is far lighter than that of shoveling heavy, damp, packed snow; trekking through untamed city streets; and drying off cold, wet feet. It beats the clenching of knuckles and fists on the steering wheel, as they fight against sheer ice, and thick ice, and black ice, and wipeout-inducing ice. The warm scent of rain wins over that of the stagnant air inside the house. And the excited chirps of birdies back from vacation outweigh the grating sounds of the early morning plow trucks, signaling that is was not a good night.

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Thank You

February 7, 2013 By in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , 7 Comments

color, flavor, light

Cover Muttabaq2
2010. It was the year I knew I needed a change of course. Research into the complexities of our government was my everyday and it would be for the rest of my life. Publishing works on presidential leadership while dreaming of going home and playing with my food. That was my fate. I wanted the opposite: I wanted my work to become my hobby again and my hobby to become my life. For several years, my free time was consumed by books on food. I’d read and learn and file the information away in a mental folder labeled “culinary” (and in another one labeled “pastry,” of course) that rested on the shelf, sandwiched between the one labeled “Calvinism” and the other labeled ”democracy.” And 2010 was the year I learned about Yotam Ottolenghi and his business partner Sami Tamimi — their backgrounds and their popularity in London.

I thought I had found my culinary cousin — a wiser, more creative, more experienced cousin. This is how I like to eat. Ottolenghi gets me, I thought. Persian father, American mother, I grew up with no real food story. I eat and love everything, but it is the freshness of the Mediterranean and the boldness of the Middle East, no region’s unique cuisine excluded, that will always be my favorites.

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What, No Cookies? (or, the worst photos I’ve ever posted…)

December 13, 2012 By in Recipes Tags: , , , , , 4 Comments

holiday endive and fennel salad…and more!

salad
It’s hard to love something but only be able to take part in it once a week, It’s distracting, longing for something that’s not within reach. It’s unfortunate that a particular passion can’t be pursued everyday.

When people ask what my weekend plans are, I typically have little to say. Working, sleeping, and running errands don’t qualify as “special plans.” They’re constants. Every Saturday, I try to squeeze in a couple of hours for myself. I’ll usually bake something in the morning and cook up a nice meal at night. And really, as someone who loves to cook, experiment, and just breathe in the kitchen, I’m only going through the motions one day a week. The kitchen will always be the center of my life, but on every other day, there’s little fun, little creativity in the kitchen—every act in the kitchen is necessary. It’s preparing. It’s putting together office lunches. It’s roasting vegetables for train dinners. It’s stuffing things in bags for snacks. Sunday is the batch-cooking day. I cook what works, what keeps, what will sustain me on long work days.

This isn’t a problem unique to me. You won’t hear me complaining. The world has changed, our lives spin fast, we don’t rest, we don’t stop.

So that leaves me with that one day. That one day to be in my own little world. It’s the reason why I rarely eat out anymore or why I still haven’t found a proper pair of winter boots. If I do those things one day, I’ll miss out. There will be no kitchen that week. I’ll have to wait an entire week. An eternity.

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