quick! a bread recipe.

Last week, I was recipe testing a few quick breads, trying to find the right one for gift-giving (that's about all I can tell you before Christmas - and no photos). I made one batch, tasted it, was pleasantly surprised, and then quickly ushered it out of the house with Ryan to work so that I wouldn't be tempted to eat the whole loaf.

Some of our friends who got a taste of the bread have asked for the recipe - and since it makes such a great Christmas gift (pack the dry goods in a jar), I have to oblige.

I adapted it from this Sunset magazine recipe, and it's SO easy to make. *If you don't have any buttermilk in the fridge, simply mix 1 1/2 cups of regular milk with 1 1/2 tablespoons of white vinegar, and let sit while you prepare the other ingredients. Happy holiday baking!

Chocolate Chip & Pecan Oatmeal Quick Bread

Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Quick Bread

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup chopped pecans
1/2 cup chocolate chips
1 1/2 cups buttermilk (see note above)
2 large eggs
1/4 cup melted butter

1. Preheat the oven to 350. Grease a 9x5 loaf pan.

2. Mix the dry ingredients in a large mixing

2. In a small bowl, beat buttermilk, eggs, and butter.

3. Stir wet mixture into dry ingredients just until evenly moistened (batter will be lumpy).

4. Scrape into the ready pan, and bake in a 350° oven until a wooden skewer inserted in the center comes out clean, about 50 minutes.

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soup in a big, pretty pot.

Recently, with the holidays approaching, I've become obsessed with making everything pretty. And without giving too much of my holiday gift-giving away, I've become equally obsessed with the Japanese art of furoshiki, in which you wrap something in a reusable cloth (tea towels are perfect for this!) instead of gift wrap. It's so wabi-sabi, so ordinary but extraordinary all at once.

All that to say, I love tea towels. Somehow, tea towels make everything more beautiful. This amazingly gorgeous pot of mine is made more lovely just with the simple (and extremely useful) addition of a tea towel. Quick note: this trick is great for transporting any hot dish with handles! Just thread the towel through each handle, and you've got built-in heat protection with a touch of charm.

I had promised a homemade dinner to my grandmother, and when I told her I'd be bringing "super-healthy lentil soup," she may or may not have mentioned that she could order pizza.

Since we've recently converted to health nuts at our house, I decided to try this lentil soup recipe from Heidi Swanson over at 101 Cookbooks. Her recipes always incorporate whole eating, and as she says in her post about this particular soup, it's chock-full of veggie protein, a little dairy, healthy greens, and tomatoes. Indeed, super healthy. It was unbelievably easy to whip up on a weeknight and, with the tea towel lending a hand, made for safe travel over to my grandma's house.

This makes enough to feed 8; surprisingly, after doling out seconds and leftovers to my sister and aunt, the soup was all gone. I followed the recipe exactly, except that I had to use spinach as the green (forgot to buy kale or chard and the garden hasn't grown anything just yet) and served it with a little bit of sauteed butternut squash, which rounded it out for a lovely winter meal.

Yeah. Stay tuned next week when I tell you about the split pea soup extravaganza. I know you're excited! (And I promise to tell you about the season's best beer bread, too.)

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healthful eating

For quite some time, I have focused my cooking on completely natural ingredients; fresh, local, and organic vegetables; and seasonal eating. I've even been vegetarian for a year, which should just scream "healthiest eater around!!" right?

Wrong.

What I've recently learned is that while I cook fairly healthy, there's always room for improvement. A quick look at my most recent blog posts points to cheese, caramel apples, and a dinner without protein.

Don't worry, I'm not giving up the good stuff. But this weekend, we took a brave new approach to eating.

Nothing was covered in cheese, and we didn't skip meals. We ate only whole grains and looked at nutrition labels to figure out fiber and protein counts. Together, we constructed meals that included not just healthy vegetables and grains, but also legumes for a complete food experience.

Needless to say, we ate a lot of beans over the weekend.

But we might have just eaten healthier in the last four days than we ever have. I'm still learning about constructing meals, but whatever I learn I hope to pass along to you.

For starters, here's a recipe for our new favorite breakfast, only slightly adapted from the nutritionist. It's chock-full of wintry flavor, not to mention plenty of nutrients and fiber. And of course, we use organic everything to make it meet our strict house food policies.

It comes together in just a few minutes, but to speed things up in the morning (especially on work days), I like to have the dry ingredients and the pot sitting out overnight so there's nothing to hunt for in the wee hours of the morning.

Pumpkin Oatmeal

1 cup lowfat milk (or almond milk)

1 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp nutmeg

1 tsp vanilla

1 tsp - 1 tbls raw or brown sugar, to taste

1/3 cup canned pumpkin (or fresh pumpkin puree)

1 cup rolled oats (not the quick-cooking kind)

1 tbls ground flax seed

chopped pecans for garnish

In a small pot, bring the milk, spices, and pumpkin to a boil, stirring frequently. Add the oats, lower the heat, and cook for about 5 minutes or until tender. Serve in bowls with the flax seed and pecans sprinkled on top.

Serves 2.

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fall, can i keep you?

We've finally hit my official vegetarian anniversary, and I must say it's working out quite nicely. The connection between mind, body, spirit, and food is fascinating; I feel totally connected in many new ways as I've taken this vegetarian journey. I think I have opened up my cooking lexicon to experience new things because of it (cous cous still is not something I enjoy, but bring on the mole, curry, and miso!).

Here are a few things that we've been eating lately. Rainbow chard (topped with cheese), wine-laced caramel apples, roasted acorn squash with brown sugar and dijon mustard.

Fall is my absolute favorite.

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AP. Like the flour.

Well, it happened. I'm a married woman. And now my initials are AP, like the flour, as one friend pointed out. (The rest of the friends didn't get it right away. AP = All Purpose. Funny, right?)

We had an extraordinarily wonderful wedding, with handmade details at every turn, and it could not have been more perfect for us if it tried. Our family and friends made it that way - their outpouring of love and support humbled and amazed us.

And then we came home. Not a lot is different, but somehow it indeed better. Ryan resumed his normal activity of building fires in the backyard and I got back into the kitchen as quickly as I could. In a silly fit of embracing stereotypical gender roles of marriage, I had my husband open a stuck jar for me and in turn called him "My hero." He pointed out my cheese factor and life was back to normal. But the day did hold one small miracle that directly pertains to this here food blog.

The Sunday we returned from our honeymoon, I tried four (count 'em, FOUR) new recipes. Are you ready for this?

All of them turned out wonderfully.

There were no kitchen mishaps; when I started to burn some sugar, I caught my mistake before it became an error and saved my own sanity. I planned things out perfectly and had dinner on the table for our friends not too long after they arrived. There was even a snack to munch on before the salad was served. My dressing was just right, the soup was well-blended, and dessert? Well, it rocked.

Then we saw a pig fly past the window.

I won't tell you how long it took me to finish washing dishes from that night. It's not important.

But what is important is that it was such an affirmation of why I love cooking. Because once in a while, a new recipe can surprise and delight you. For me, it was more than just our now-we're-married-and-we-can-celebrate-fall-the-right-way meal; it was an invitation to spend uninterrupted time on my favorite hobby and have something to show for it. And then share that with my husband and friends - what could be better than that?

Not to mention, I got to use many new kitchen gadgets, most notably the beautiful Le Creuset dutch oven in Caribbean Blue given to us by my grandmother, aunt, and cousin. I remember opening it at one of my bridal showers and my first thought being, "POT ROAST. Aww." But let me tell you, it will make some incredible vegetarian dinners too.

Here's what was on the menu that night:

Bleu Cheese Bread (thanks to the bread machine)

Spinach Salad with Strawberries, Dijon Vinaigrette, Bleu Cheese, and Toasted Pumpkin Seeds

Butternut Squash Soup

Pumpkin Pie with Gingersnap Crust

Photos and recipes to come soon. Here's the link to the soup, though - it was served at Adelea's on Main in Salado for our rehearsal dinner, and everyone (seriously) remarked that it was the best soup they'd ever had. My version was close to perfect, but I'm no Chef Jennifer that's for sure. :)

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canned beans.

So the last, oh, two months haven't involved a lot of cooking for me. And what cooking does ensue usually involves frozen, albeit organic, vegetables and pasta. Or rice. But pasta cooks faster, so, you know. . . usually pasta.

In fact, last night I considered it an achievement beyond the greatest realms of possibility that I actually cooked a full, healthy, delicious meal. This meal was, as one of my friends puts it, "what the rest of the world eats every day." Rice and beans.

So why was it fancy? Because I busted out the cast iron skillet to heat up the canned beans, that's why. AND I sprinkled them with cumin and chili powder. Or maybe it was the other red spice in my cabinet, paprika. I'm not sure, because a long time ago I forgot to label the jars, thinking it would be really easy to tell what was what. I'm a food writer, after all. Not the case.

And then I made guacamole, meaning I chopped up one avocado and poured in some jarred salsa. And there might have been some pre-cut lettuce involved. But still, it was the fanciest homemade meal we've had in a while, and I plated it up on our beautiful new crisp white plates and we enjoyed it immensely.

All this to say that in a month, we'll be married, and then we won't have any crazy stuff to take care of and all we will have to do is sit around on our new front porch and drink wine in adirondack chairs.

And then I can cook. With my husband.

That's got a pretty nice ring to it, doesn't it?

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routine.

It's been one whirlwind of a month, and I may have come out of it a little worse for the wear. At least, that's how I feel at the moment.

There has been much soul searching and self investigating, not to mention planning, party throwing, appointment making, furniture assembly, moving, painting, eating out, shedding of tears, and not enough running, playing, relaxing, laundry, painting, and (as I'm sure you've noticed) cooking.

So I'm looking forward to finding a routine again soon. Two days into this week, and the mornings have had a little bit of structure; I've made it out the door both days with coffee (but one day without my computer). Not to mention, that picnic table is getting quite the workout because Ryan has been out grilling a couple times a week.

What a year this one has been, and continues to be.

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in the summer swing

The past few weeks in the kitchen have held preserving (I put up 25 pounds of figs on Wednesday night, by myself, without a dishwasher), one bad batch of sweet pickles (sorry that I gifted you a pint, Mom—they did indeed turn out terrible), one fantastic red cabbage stir fry (the photo is a sneak peak), a spelt muffin experiment that turned out great to me but was not a crowd-pleaser, and a whole lot of grilling thanks to the new charcoal appliance in our backyard.

This all to say that I've been too busy doing to do much writing about it.

But stay tuned! I have a few recipes to share, and will be doing a wine tasting (directly related to the wedding planning, so it counts as work) in the near future. In the meantime, stay cool and drink plenty of margaritas!

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the perfect summer gratin

Imagine being home alone on a warm summer night, the kitchen all to yourself, and six glorious ounces of fresh, local chevre burning a hole in your pocket. Pour yourself a glass of wine and settle in, folks. You are not going to want to miss this recipe.

My soon-to-be-husband was out for a work happy hour (or five), which meant that the kitchen was mine to do with what I pleased. Which ended up meaning I'd take my time making a dish that I knew I'd love. He's not the world's biggest fan of goat cheese, so I had put this recipe on the "make especially for myself" dockett. And wouldn't you know, I ate every single bite. (Over the course of three meals, that is!)

See this?

This is why I love my mandoline. Don't tell my 11-cup Cuisinart, but I love the mandoline (here's a fancy one) more than my super-charged Cuisinart. It slices and dices into the nicest of pieces, and uses no wattage whatsoever. It can be tucked easily away into a cabinet, no heavy lifting required. Using the mandoline, with its quick back-and-forth motion, lulls me into a near-zen state until I am urgently snapped back into real time as I realize my fingers are getting far too close to that gleaming blade.

So I started off with one fresh squash, picked from my mom's garden the weekend before. I had a good number of purple fingerling potatoes from a local CSA begging to be used, too. While I know their skin is dark purple, I'm always pleasantly surprised to see their vibrant inner patterns.

Enter some fresh, local goat cheese (basic chevre from Pure Luck, worth every penny at about $1 an ounce). Also, notice that beautiful cutting board in the background? My dad made it.

And then, layer it all together with copious amounts of extra-virgin olive oil, and top it off with freshly grated parmesan.

Follow the recipe below, and this is what you get. Don't be fooled; it may look like a mere gratin, but it is So. Much. More. The tang of the goat cheese is balanced nicely by a slight sweetness in the squash; the salty flavor of the parmesan plays off the potatoes just perfectly; the milk melts it all together and you've got a combination of crispy, tender, and smooth. And even though it's a hot dish, it spells out summer. The only thing I'll add next time? A sprig or two of fresh rosemary from the garden.

Potato, Squash, and Goat Cheese Gratin

adapted from the Kitchn

1 medium yellow squash
6 small to medium red potatoes
3 tablespoons olive oil
6 ounces goat cheese
salt and pepper
1/4 cup milk
1/3 cup freshly grated parmesan cheese

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Use a mandoline or chef's knife to slice the squash and potatoes into very, very thin slices, 1/8-inch or less. Toss the sliced vegetables with the olive oil in a large bowl.

Pour a small drizzle of olive oil in a casserole dish (around 8 or 9 inches square) or pie plate and spread it around the bottom and sides. Place 1/3 of the squash and potato slices in the bottom of the dish—no need to layer them squash-potato-squash-etc.—then season with salt and pepper. Top with half of the goat cheese, scattered evenly in large chunks. Repeat with another 1/3 of the vegetables, seasoning again with salt and pepper and topping with the other 1/2 of the goat cheese. Finish by layering on the final 1/3 of the vegetables and seasoning with salt and pepper.

Pour the milk over the entire dish. Top with the parmesan cheese. Bake, covered, for 30 minutes, then uncover and bake 15 more minutes, until the top browns.

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that's good enough.

For some folks, an afternoon of therapy involves a clinic, or maybe a shoe store. But for me, therapy is most often found in an afternoon cooking and conversing with my mother, in the kitchen of the home I grew up in.

Unlike standard therapeutic practice, I find myself wanting to share with you what happened during this particular session. Mainly because it resulted not just in me becoming much more at peace with the world in general . . . but because my mom and I just might need our own cooking show. Think, Julia Child meets the Three Stooges.

Thankfully, I now know that my aloof kitchen moments, while many of them happen because I have failed to follow directions, do indeed descend from my mother's genetic line.

Neither of us will ever follow a recipe dead-on. The other day, for instance, neither of us knew which recipe we were even attempting to follow; there were three out on the island and, for the most part, we were just looking for measurements. And even that was hairy. We went with three eggs, but didn't measure anything else. If a recipe calls for thyme, we'll throw in parsley. If it calls for squash, you can bet we'll throw in zucchini and—why not!—tomatoes. We kept hearing ourselves repeating one line during the course of the cooking session, whether we were forgetting to blind-bake the pie shell or dumping untold amounts of cheese into our quiche: "Well . . . That's good enough," followed by a hearty laugh.

Our afternoon in the kitchen included, but was not limited to, the following:

• a pastry too small for the pan we'd chosen

• the pouring in of sauteed veggies to the unbaked pie crust, only to ask once it was done, "Should we blind bake the crust?" ...and having the answer be, "Yep."

• the line, "Oh! You're walking around with your timer so you don't forget that the crust is in the oven!"

• the overflow of custard because said pastry was too small for the pan

• and, graciously, an absolutely marvelous end result.

I don't have a recipe for the quiche we made, but I can tell you that it included three sauteed garden squash, one sauteed onion (also from the garden), plenty of Swiss cheese, and a few eggs. I think there was a can of evaporated milk in there too, but I can't be sure.

On the side, we had a matchstick salad of fresh garden vegetables and herbs (squash, carrots, zucchini, bell peppers, and tarragon) with a simple vinaigrette.

It was one of the best afternoons I've spent with my mom, and though everything was just "good enough," it all felt perfect in the end. How very wabi-sabi of us!

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hello to a kitchen

Forget that dark old kitchen with particle board shelves and a smelly old pantry. Why did I even wax nostalgic about it at all?

I am in love. Head over heels. Our new kitchen is as charming as it could possibly be, and I don't even care about the dishwasher. We've even decided that the old fridge has a certain je ne sais quoi.

It's that window. The glorious window. Any time of day, it lets amazing amounts of natural light in and gives the whole kitchen, every square inch from the pantry to the recycling bin, a glow. That and the paint color. The galley kitchen may be small, but it's so fresh and open that it feels much bigger.

We moved in Saturday, got the kitchen unpacked Sunday, and cooked our first meal at home (with a guest!) on Monday. We whipped up dinner Tuesday and breakfast Wednesday, and to top it all off, Ryan and I shared dish duty. Heaven. I'm in heaven.

I'm even going to attempt blackberry freezer jam on day 4 in our house. Yeah. That's how together the kitchen feels already, even without cabinet doors attached.

It's such a wonderful feeling to walk into this place and immediately feel at home. Ideas to make the space more functional are already popping up, and the edits we've made thus far have all felt very natural. Once I get my act together, I'll post some before and after photos of our kitchen; you'll see that we totally revamped it (and on a budget to boot!).

Ryan and I are both looking forward to a summer full of cooking. We enjoyed a dinner of fresh garden veggies once already this week, and tonight I'm going to try a riff on two recipes I've been wanting to try. Stay tuned, because . . . Sustainable Diet is BACK!

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goodbye to a kitchen

We're moving tomorrow.

It's one of those momentous moves; we're leaving our apartment and moving into our first house. It's been a big year for us, to say the least; plenty of life changes (not the least of which was turning vegetarian, I'll add, just to keep this on a food track) have kept us on our toes. Hence the great swaths of time between blog posts here.

I really did not anticipate any feelings of nostalgia for my little windowless apartment kitchen. But this week, as I packed up a seemingly endless cupboard-full of kitchen supplies, I realized that this was the place where food came to mean more to me than so much else. Somehow, in about ten square feet of counter space, I discovered something very important: I love to cook. I went from being a mediocre-at-best home cook to a food blogger, all in this tiny galley kitchen. There, I learned how to caramelize sugar and make fig preserves; in that kitchen, I began to roll sushi for the first time and made some of the very best chicken stock I've ever tasted.Our apartment kitchen held my hand as I began a more natural foods journey. I made homemade yogurt, homemade pasta, homemade crackers, homemade tortillas, and even homemade caramels.

I did not, however, learn to make homemade bread.

But more than that, I discovered a deep connection to food and the way it is prepared. I journeyed from junk foods to food junkie. In this kitchen, I learned to respect food and what it can do to our bodies, minds, and spirits. I connected in exactly the way I had hoped when I started this blog: I found ways to weave sustainability through all these facets of life.

What, then, I have to wonder, is in store for our new kitchen? It's about the same size, and the very same layout, minus one very important appliance: the dishwasher. But I'll take it any day, because what it lacks in modern conveniences it makes up for with a full-size window and a gas stove.

I am so excited about the edible escpades that are going to take place in our home's kitchen. For one thing, this summer I plan on meeting our neighbors, becoming the beneficiary of their over-productive peach tree, and making homemade peach preserves. I also plan on trying my hand (again) at sprouts, to make loaves of sprouted grain breads.

Big plans are in store for this kitchen of mine, so please stay tuned for the ride. And in the meantime, help me bid adieu to my beloved apartment kitchen. It has been the backbone for this whole site, and I think we should all wish it well with its next family.

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the conflict continues: why i'm still a vegetarian

A few months ago, I gave a few of you the impression that I was rethinking my vegetarian ways.

I've moved on now from doing the "vegetarian thing" to calling myself a vegetarian. And being proud of it.

Admittedly, I have slipped up a couple of times; tried a bite of famous tuna salad here, accidentally taken a bite of baked potato with a bacon crumble there; but for all intents and purposes, I have been a vegetarian for a solid seven months.

Over the course of the last year (since ditching processed foods and eating mostly organics), the headaches I used to get frequently have completely dissipated. Overall, I feel better. Aside from the physical bonuses, though, there are the parts of vegetarianism that simply make me feel like a better person. No longer are my own habits directly causing animal pain or suffering. My food choices are healthy for my own body as well as the world around me: I am not directly contributing to environmental destruction due to factory farming.

I don't say any of this with an air of self-righteousness or a feeling that I'm "holier-than-thou;" instead, I say it to reaffirm all the reasons I've made this decision and continue to live this lifestyle. Because really, the only person I need to justify any of this to is myself.

A couple of months ago, I had every intention of going back to eating meat, or at least eating fish. But for now, I am sticking with this vegetarian thing. I'm going to give it a good year until I revisit the question. (Granted, I may take fish oil pills in the meantime to get more Omega 3 fatty acids, but... that's a step I feel that I can justify for the health of my brain.)

Not to mention, I just picked up a prereleased copy of "Some We Love, Some We Hate, Some We Eat: Why It's So Hard to Think Straight About Animals" (Herzog). Ten pages in and I'm feeling pretty confident about my meatless lifestyle.

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easy weeknight healthy and delicious lasagna

Oh, hello food blog! *

My mom brought by—and I do not exaggerate—5 or 6 pounds of swiss chard this weekend, not to mention our fridge is FULL of other fresh garden veggies (carrots, shallots, kale, collard greens, etc.). The chard wilts the fastest, though, so I needed to make a couple of recipes with it right away.

First up? A garden quiche with farm-raised eggs, home-grown shallots, and sauteed chard. It was wonderful but I don't have a photo to prove it. Then we put together a chard-based soup. Also delicious and unbelievably healthy.

But last night I threw together the easiest lasagna ever, jam-packed with healthy goodness. With a little planning (let's say I was putting together my game plan all day), my hands-on took only 15 minutes. And to top it off, I only used three dishes (cutting board, large pan, and the baking dish). And to top THAT off, this makes enough for delicious leftovers. In fact, it's just about lunchtime right now. . .

Weeknight Lasagna with Swiss Chard

1 clove garlic, minced

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 pound swiss chard, coarsely chopped (stems and all)

about 1/4 cup water

salt and pepper to taste

1 package whole-wheat lasagna noodles

1 15-ounce package ricotta

8 ounces mozarella, grated

1 jar spaghetti sauce (recommended: Central Market Organics Mushroom Lover's sauce)

3 ounces parmesan, grated

Preheat the oven to 375. Lightly oil a 9x13 baking dish (or for a deeper lasagna, choose a 9x9 dish). Coarsely chop the chard. (See the photo above: it's very easy to chop leafy greens if you lay the leaves on top of one another, roll together tightly, and chop into 1-inch sections.) In a large pan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and heat for just a minute, until it smells too good in the kitchen to stand it. Throw in the chard, along with about 1/4 cup water, and cook until the greens are wilted and tender. Season along the way with a little salt and pepper.

Meanwhile, pour about 1/4 of the jar of sauce into your prepared baking dish. Place a layer of uncooked lasagna noodles on top of the sauce. Top with 1/3 of the ricotta, 1/3 of the mozarella, and 1/2 of the chard (drain it as you remove from the pan). Layer again with pasta, sauce, ricotta, mozarella, and chard. For the third and final layer, use the rest of the pasta, sauce, ricotta and mozarella. Top with the grated parmesan. Remember: if your casserole is a little messy, that is NOT a problem! See the photo above. My lasagna is not beautiful. But it was scrumptious.

Bake for about 35-45 minutes or until cheese is browned on top and noodles are tender.

*Suzanne, this one's for you! :)

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caramel popcorn

Ryan has been on a popcorn kick for a really, really long time.

In the last year, though, he's discovered stovetop popcorn. The man whips up a mean batch of organic popcorn—which is infinitely healthier than the microwave stuff. I mean, it's perfect: never burned, always perfectly salty, light, airy, and full of flavor.

I'm craving some right now, thank you very much.

He's a bit of a purist when it comes to popcorn, though; a kosher salt and melted butter kind of guy. And that's fine, but then there's me... The experimentalist who has a soft spot for sweet-salty Kettle Corn (thanks, church camp) and the need to do things like this in the kitchen on a consistent basis.

For Valentine's Day, I got Ryan a Whirly Pop. Don't get me wrong, he's a pro manning the stock pot on the stove, but that requires a lot of lifting and shaking and results in quite a few unpopped kernels. The Whirly Pop, albeit a uni-tasker, eliminates all that.

Look at that marvel of kitchen wonderment! This is definitely a uni-tasker I don't mind having in the kitchen. Here it is at work. What'd I tell you? He's a pro!

So one night, I got ambitious (scratch that, I was just having a normal night), and asked him to save half of his batch for caramel popcorn. That's when I made the mess pictured in the post below.

Ahem.

I recouped, started over, and don't regret it one bit.

I based my caramel popcorn on this recipe over at Smitten Kitchen, but wasn't feeling brave enough to make it spicy. You can bet that next time I will. Everything else about the recipe was the same. So whether you want it sweet or spicy, I absolutely recommend those directions.

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mushrooms: the other white meat

Let's count the months, shall we, since I've had anything meat-related?

I have had a total of five bites of meat or fish since Thanksgiving, two of which were given to me by my grandmother (thanks for pushing that prime rib on me, Nan, it was the best I've had) and the other three, mussels in a saffron-infused white wine reduction from one of our favorite east Austin bistros. Of course, I'm excluding the organic salmon I had in NYC the night Ryan proposed.

So that brings us to a veggie-versary of... four months this week.

Adjusting really hasn't been that difficult; in fact, I have really enjoyed it. But I'm still not completely sold on "meat replacements."

Tofu? I only like it in some instances. These include, and are likely limited to: deep-fried (popcorn tofu po'boy at Wheatsville Coop), stir fried, and as a component to the always-popular hot-and-sour soup.

I wouldn't have made it this far without the help of veggie burgers, though (the best of which I had in NYC at some fun Irish pub near Times Square; my favorite here in Austin is the Veggie Ends Burger at Billy's on Burnet). Seitan and I have not yet come to speaking terms. I'll eat it (vegetarian chili comes to mind), but I am not a fan of the texture.

All this to say, mushrooms rock.

They pack a nutritional punch, with vitamin D, some B vitamins, potassium, riboflavin, selenium, and zinc among the naturally-occurring benefits.

And here's the real kicker: their flavor can come across as, well, meaty.

Grilled portobellos? Yes, please. Sauteed button mushrooms in red wine and butter? I'll melt. And this week: what can only be described as a very close replica to beef stroganoff. My first words upon tasting it were, "Tastes like Hamburger Helper." Which is actually a compliment, considering I LOVED Hamburger Helper growing up. Seriously. It was, like, my favorite junk food. That and Funyuns. Together.

I digress. Let's call this dinner...

Farfalle with Creamy Mushroom Sauce

1 tablespoon butter

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 medium onion, diced

3 cloves garlic, minced

2 ounces cream cheese

3/4 cup fresh parmesan, grated

8 ounces fresh mushrooms, sliced

1/4 to 1/2 cup vegetable broth or white wine

1-2 teaspoons dried herbs, to taste (rosemary, sage, parsley, thyme)

8 ounces farfalle pasta (rotini or linguini would also work)

salt and pepper to taste

Prepare onions, garlic, and mushrooms. Put a pot of water on to boil, and cook pasta according to package directions.

While the pasta is cooking, heat the butter and olive oil on medium- to medium-high heat in a large skillet. Add the onions and garlic, cooking until onions are translucent and soft.

Add the mushrooms and cook until they reach the desired tenderness (ours came out a little "al dente;" if you want very tender mushrooms, just keep cooking). Add stock and cook, stirring, until most of the liquid has evaporated.

Multitask: drain the pasta and set aside for a few moments while you finish the sauce.

Add the cream cheese and parmesan to the mushroom mixture, and stir until it is well incorporated. Once all the cheese has melted, add the spices and pasta and mix well.

Serve immediately, with a spinach salad on the side!

Note: I was going to make this recipe, but didn't have heavy cream on hand. Plus, I was hoping for a little healthier option. But that's where the general idea came from.

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inedible.

Folks, I've been upfront with you since the beginning.

I mess up. A lot. (Can we just run through a quick list of items—not meals—I have destroyed in the kitchen? Blender, countless wooden spoons, one enameled cast iron Dutch oven, several Mason jars, many glasses, one Pyrex measuring cup, two nonstick skillets, the juicer pitcher...) So today's post is less of a recipe and more of a word of encouragement. Because when you're just trying to make caramel popcorn and you wind up with this:

Well, it's just necessary to take a deep breath, step back, and believe your unbelievably patient fiance when he says, "It's all going to be fine."

With a lot of warm water and patience, the burnt-beyond-belief-formerly-sugar-and-water mixture allowed itself to be removed from the pan.

And last night, during what's quickly becoming routine sushi night (I'm getting better—and faster—at making maki veggie sushi rolls; once I'm a pro I'll post a recipe), I miraculously burned the rice. Did you even know this was possible? Burning of rice? Everyone in the world knows how to make rice. It's arguably the grain most commonly eaten by the human race, and do you know how many people have BURNED IT?

Just one. Me. I carry that proud distinction.

And I'm not just talking that it was slightly stuck to the pan. I'm talking, burned beyond belief, good thing we had the window open, even the visibly uncharred rice has the faint taste of smoke, it's taken 12 hours of soaking in baking soda and the pan is STILL not clean—that burned.

All this to say that in the end, we still have wonderful food. Yes, I mess up. A lot. We never have to intentionally test the smoke alarm; thanks to my cooking endeavors, we know it works. Fin and Ryan eat a lot of burnt bits and stomach a lot of sub-par dinners without complaint. (For this, among many other things, I am ever grateful!)

In the past, these mistakes have brought me to tears, throwing my hands in the air in unconsolable defeat and managing only to eek out the words, "Let's just go to Chick-fil-a." But the last few major mistakes have led me to resolve. That sticky, burnt mess up there? Well, I cleaned it out and started fresh. And we had some rockin' caramel popcorn. And last night's burnt rice? After lamenting that I might have ruined another enameled cast iron Dutch oven (and catching Ryan muttering something along the lines of, "This is why we can't have Le Creuset," only a day after I lobbied to put it on the wedding registry), I salvaged the unburned rice and made rolled my best sushi rolls to date in record time.

So, to all of you who timidly approach the kitchen counter, hands shaking as you tie on that apron, take heed! It's all going to be fine. If you ruin a pot, you ruin a pot. Life will go on.

Just try not to burn the house down.

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pantry-purging granola bars

I'm glad to know that I'm not the only one with a fondness for anything that comes out of the Smitten Kitchen. (Beware: clicking on either of those links will begin a new obsession for you!)

After an unexpected snow day in Austin, TX, I made it home from work a little early with just enough time to throw something fun together before preparing a heart- and hand-warming soup for dinner. These granola bars were just the thing. In fact, I didn't even take the time to read the entire recipe before tossing remnant trail mixes and such into a bowl. As I went along, thankfully, I had all the necessary ingredients to hold the bars together, but here's the fun part.

These granola bars (of the thick and chewy variety, I'm already a fan) can handle up to three cups of random goodies. We're talking dried fruits, seeds, nuts, wheat germ, and yes, chocolate chips. If you're anything like me, you can open your pantry at any given time to find five separate batches of different trail mixes (thank you, bulk bins).

I had everything from the Women's Organic Vitality Mix (cranberries, soy beans, sunflower seeds, and dark chocolate) to the Student Mix (almonds, peanuts, pumpkin seeds, raisins), and more. I wound up with two cups of goodies and 1/3 cup of all-natural peanut butter to help glue it all together.

The result? Tantalizingly delicious breakfast bars that stuck together perfectly. Seriously, my other forays into granola bar-making have not gone nearly as well; but this is a recipe that works.

Since this is Deb's recipe, which she adapted from another site, I'll just give you the link and offer you one good piece of advice: throw in everything but the kitchen sink.

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my conflicted food journey

This whole "vegetarian thing" began as a challenge to myself. In fact, I call it that because I don't feel that I've earned the merit badge to call myself a full-blown vegetarian yet. It's been a year of tackling physical things I didn't think I could: an 85-mile bike ride, a sprint triathlon, and this weekend, a half-marathon with my fiance (I realize I shouldn't go touting its completion when the day has yet to arrive; consider this self-motivation).

So it seemed to follow suit that this would be the year I took my diet to a new level. In the last couple of years, I've been phasing out things I knew were bad: fast food, preservatives, high fructose corn syrup, partially hydrogenated oils, etc. And since I've made those changes, I've noticed big differences in my physiology. Mainly, my formerly-debilitating headaches don't come around very often any more, if at all. I feel an absolute and measurable difference.

The more reading I did, the more food documentaries I watched, and the more I heard about the impact of meat-eating on the environment, I decided that maybe I could make a stand for all that was right in the world by becoming a vegetarian. It felt like the morally respectable thing to do. It's so cool to say, "I'm a vegetarian, for ethical, environmental, and health reasons." So... pious.

I gave up meat almost four months ago, deciding to herald in the holidays with a no-meat goal. I passed up the Thanksgiving turkey, but failed a little in New York with organic salmon the night we got engaged (and less impressively, with a bite of an authentic NYC hot dog from a street vendor). And then I had a bite, given to me by my concerned grandmother, of prime rib at Christmas.

But the fact that I can count on one hand the number of meat-eating instances in the last four months is pretty impressive, at least for a girl who grew up on a farm and knows what it means when a cow has gone missing from the herd. My dad has been supportive of this decision, but a few weeks in (when he realized it wasn't going away very quickly), asked incredulously, "You did grow up on a farm, right?" Yes. I was raised on the most delicious grass-fed, organic beef you could get your hands on. The cows ate grass and hay from the pastures in our backyard and were butchered at the shop a quarter-mile down the road.

And that's just the thing. I know how sustainable meat is farmed. It's delicious, and my siblings and I are all smart, healthy individuals; surely that's partly a result of the diet we were fed growing up. I can't decide if I'm being a vegetarian to make a point, or because it truly is better for my health, the environment, and ethics.

Sure, eating less meat is good for your body and the environment, especially if you cut out factory-farmed meat, eggs, and dairy. Like Michael Pollan says, ideally, we should, "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants." Our bodies, right down to the length of our digestive tracts and the shape of our incisors and molars, are created to enjoy an omnivorous diet.

Quite honestly, it's not the thought of eating flesh that bothers me, but as another author (Jonathan Safran Foer) puts it, the thought of ingesting "tormented flesh" that truly bothers me. If you saw Oscar-nominated Food, Inc., you know exactly what I mean: the cows and chickens and pigs raised in the despicable environment of a feed lot and fed a completely unnatural diet: that is the kind of flesh that disgusts me.

And now, I'm venturing into another food book: "Real Food" by Nina Planck. Thirty pages in, and she's got me worrying about my protein levels (when, after reading a book by the inventor of the Gardenburger, I wasn't worried in the least about getting enough protein--that's what beans are for). She's got me asking, "Why am I not, at least, a pescetarian?"

I haven't reached a conclusion yet, but I do feel that being educated about nutrition and food, for many reasons (nutritional, environmental, and ethical) is making me a more well-rounded person. For the first time this week, I tried quinoa. I made black bean "burgers" from scratch. I incorporated whole grains into homemade burger buns. But I also stared down a craving for bacon, and felt my mouth begin to water at the thought of baked salmon on a bed of fresh wilted spinach.

To say that one's body "craves meat" may not be the right phrase here; for one thing, it sounds so very carnal and caveman-like. But surely the healthiest cultures, those that have made it through the past and continue to thrive today, have something to show for their omnivorous, whole-foods habits.

I don't think vegetarianism will stick with me, but not because I'll give in to bacon temptation; it won't be that I give up because I'm tired of being teased (happening more than I'd expected, surprisingly), or because I've made my family accommodate me enough (even my younger siblings were sure to buy organic vegetarian refried beans for their Super Bowl party!).

When I do return to meat-eating, however, it's not going to be the willy-nilly meat-eating of my past. I plan on following extremely strict rules. If I don't know where the meat comes from, I won't be ingesting it. There's a fine line to walk between sustainability for earth and body, and ignorance of nutrition for body, soul, and mind.

I'm trying to find where that line lies for me.

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the year of the coupon

I could spend a paragraph or two telling you how much I've missed posting here, but... I'll save you the drama. Suffice it to say... It's been a whirlwind since the holidays and I've been turning to a lot of my staples in the kitchen. Mac and cheese, namely.

I do, however, have some money-saving tips to share. If you live in the Austin area, where natural foods stores have begun running rampant, these tips are for you. But that's not to say you can't adapt them for your area; the basic tenants are to identify what you like to eat, where you can get it, and then begin the search for the best prices and deals. And don't be afraid of clipping coupons!

In the last year, we've shifted all of our food-buying to follow strict guidelines. We no longer put anything that doesn't meet at least one, if not all of these requirements into our shopping basket.

We shop for SOLE foods:

Sustainable

Organic

Local

Ethical

First of all, we ask if we can get the food locally. We get food from my mom's garden when possible, and shop at the farmers' market when we can. But most of our weekly shopping is done at the grocery store, so we follow these ground rules.

1. If local produce is available (local onions, mushrooms, and citrus are widely available at supermarkets), that takes precedence over organic. The environmental impact of getting local food (grown within 150 miles) trumps that of buying organic, ever so slightly.

2. If no local option is available, buy organic. This goes even for things you can peel (i.e., bananas) and especially for leafy greens, etc. Check out this "Dirty Dozen" list for absolute MUST organics if you can't afford to buy all your produce organically.

3. Every product must be sustainable. This means cutting out excessive packaging (individually wrapped things), forgetting all processed items, and generally avoiding buying things you can make at home (bread, tortillas, etc.).

4. Ethical means that the product has been produced in such a way that it considers the environment: we count this as everything from biodegradable shampoo to cage-free eggs.

You may think that our grocery bills would be astronomical by eating this way, but that's where frugality and reality meet, shake hands, and decide to get along.

First of all, determine which stores are most convenient for you. There are five places I like to shop: my neighborhood HEB, Central Market, Sun Harvest, Wheatsville, and Whole Foods. In the last week, a Sprouts has opened in our 'hood, too. We have myriad options for buying all-natural products and foods.

All of the stores now offer bulk selections, and most of them have weekly coupon deals. Here's what I have learned:

• HEB has the best prices on things we still buy in a package, like Kashi brand cereals or crackers. They also carry a selection (albeit small) of locally-grown mushrooms, tomatoes, and grapefruit, and Texas-grown rice. They also carry the Central Market Organics brand, which is by far the best-priced (and best-tasting) organic brand we like for pastas, sauces, beans, milk, butter, and cage-free eggs. The CMO brand ranks high on the World Society for the Protection of Animals' list of "better" food products. Look for coupons throughout the store, and also check the coupons you're handed with your receipt: they're tailored to fit what you bought. Recently, we've been saving about $10 with each trip from HEB coupons alone.

• Sun Harvest offers unbeatable weekly deals on a lot of things, including organic produce, but the selection can be quite limited. Go on Wednesdays for double-coupon days. And the wine! Oh my gosh, the wine. There is always something on a 3 for $10 sale. They also carry a selection of natural herbs, vitamins, and alternative medicines.

• Central Market carries the widest bulk bin selection, including organics. We head there for our bread-baking needs, as well as coffee and trail mixes. Sign up for their e-mail list to get special deals on seafood, fresh meats, and more (often a great deal where you can save up to 20%)!

Happy shopping!

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