Pesto-list-ious

I am the kind of weirdo who makes to-do lists for her weekends. Why do I, a normally sane person, do this? Well. Personally, I find that seeing things written down makes me feel pressure to do them. I tell myself I make them so I won't forget things--but of course that's not true. I make them because there is only one thing better than seeing every item on a neatly scribed list checked off, and that's making a new list. Should anyone who reads this know of someone specializing in the psychology of list-making, send 'em my name. They need look no further for their next subject. My dad has a saying that has had, it seems, an outsize effect on me; "If it's not on the list, it doesn't get done."  Looking at a list, checked or unchecked, is the sign of someone with things to do, and that's the kind of person I tend to respect.

While this is all well and good for being organized and responsible, I'm starting to learn that you cannot make a list for your life. Part of being alive is forgetting things, being impulsive, making it up as you go. I used my Fourth of July weekend to return to humanity. I'd lost sight, you see, over the past week or two, of what it means to be a person. Being "busy" doesn't mean you have a life--it means you have a job. And telling people you haven't cleaned, read a book, called your college friends, or cooked a meal for yourself because you're too "busy" is no excuse. Making lists can also be an excuse--at least it is for me. After two weeks of not really reading any books, two weeks of an empty fridge and too much takeout/scrounging for food, I'd had enough. I gorged myself this weekend on grocery shopping and books, new and used and borrowed (the books, not the groceries!). You can hunger for a lot of things--for food, for knowledge, for that high, electric note of pure aliveness that you feel when you're about to do something reckless and unplanned. These cannot be sated by listing--only by doing. 

Applying this philosophy to cooking is one of the best things you can do. Instead of being guided by a list, or even a recipe, step on back and just feel. It's what led me to summer's best condiment--pesto.

Shrimply Delicious Chickpea Pancakes

In March, my roommate and I threw our first big dinner party. I'd always wanted to throw a dinner party, and we may have gone a little overboard, seeing as there were twenty people in our large-but-not-really-that-large Brooklyn apartment. It was everything I thought adult life would be; lovely people having witty conversation, delicious food, and of course copious amounts of alcohol.  I fretted for at least two weeks over what kind of food we should serve. For someone who reluctantly acknowledges herself a perfectionist when it comes to these things (hem hem), there is nothing simultaneously more exciting and more nerve-wracking than a dinner party. I think my unhealthy obsession with them stems from my wish to have everyone in my life that I love meet everyone else in my life that I love. To feed them food they will like, to see them meet other people who are just as amazing as they are and just enjoy being, to drink with them...Dinner parties are my version of hedonism. 

When it came time to choose a menu for these twenty lovelies, my roommate wisely encouraged something that would be easy to make in large batches, like lasagna. Instead we went with something only slightly more involved--daal and rice, and chickpea pancakes with cucumber raita. Being hella neurotic (or maybe just a good planner if I'm not being hard on myself), I did a test run of the chickpea pancakes since I'd never made them before, using raw chickpea flour. They were unspeakably delicious, and were inspired by a Mark Bittman recipe (naturally). I had a feeling they would be a dinner party success.

Of course after the test run of dreams, I created a nightmare for myself when I realized 10 minutes into the dinner party that I had bought an insane amount of the wrong kind of chickpea flour. It was toasted, not raw, and so absorbed less of the water and made a flatter, less crispy pancake....fortunately, I was assured they were still pretty damn good. This is me setting things right...and in the process creating a fairly delicious Dara dish. 

Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring, Banana Muffins!

Do you know the game two truths and a lie? It's a game that is often played as an icebreaker--but I think it is way more fun to play with people you know really well. The short version is that each person has to say three statements about themselves, two true and one false. The other participants have to guess which statement is the lie. Let's play this game D-Dishes style.

1. I did my spring cleaning months ago, and this recipe is just something I forgot to post until today. 
2. These muffins are adapted from a recipe I once found on the website of a geek magician who calls himself Zoltan the Adequate.
3. These banana muffins are out-of-control delicious.

If you guessed #1, congratulations! I did my spring cleaning yesterday...on June 11th. While I would normally be embarrassed about sharing this fact, today I don't mind because a) my apartment looks amazing and b) while cleaning out my freezer, I discovered these insanely large, sure-to-be-deliciously-mushy-once-they-thawed bananas. When life gives you bad bananas, do not make lemonade (gross!)--make banana muffins! Before we get into the recipe, I am sure you are just dying to know about Zoltan. I was in charge of bringing guacamole to my 8th grade end of year party at our English teacher's house, and for some reason this recipe was one of the first to pop up. It resides on the website of Andy Blau, aka the Geek Magician, aka Zoltan the Adequate. I made the guacamole and it was damn delicious. Magical, even. So I figured, why not try this guy's banana muffin recipe? Let me tell you, that was definitely the best party of 8th grade--maybe even of my whole life. There were so many people in the hot tub that it broke (sorry Ms. Powers).  As soon as people clambered out of the hot tub, the previously cloudless sky turned a nasty shade of grey-green and a massive downpour had around 90 8th graders tracking mud and pool water into the house (sorry again!) I remember playing a moderately successful game of Taboo, and maybe even a round or two of two truths and a lie. So trust me when I say if you want to party, make these muffins. 

Fridgettata

Maybe you also have a really clear memory of the first time you cooked for yourself. I certainly do--the summer after my first year of college, I went to Chicago for an internship, knowing no one, having no place to live. Probably the boldest thing I have ever done. Going to the grocery store to buy food for no one but myself was daunting. Of course, being a weirdo, I had a very solid vision of what my cooking style would look like once I was living on my own, with neither my parents nor college dining hall staff to cook for me--so it was also pretty exciting. I was so sure I would know what I was doing, and would be able to cook smartly and cheaply, and would have a beautifully stocked pantry and a well thought out freezer. What those articles, with their beautiful photography, forget to mention is that this is sort of a difficult method of cooking to accomplish when cooking for one--especially one who didn't really know what she was doing. I didn't buy too much stuff for the grocery store, but I also didn't buy the right things. I had thought I would make a vegetable frittata---supposedly simple, right? And for the most part, it was...right down until the cooking time. A new oven, my first frittata...I had overcooked the vegetables initially, a problem that was not helped by the fact that I proceeded to cook the heck out of the frittata in the oven--it must have been in there, slowly drying out, at 500 degrees for about 40 minutes. Not a good scene. It came out of the oven, I remember, looking like puffy, speckled leather and tasting much the same. Over the course of the next few days, I ate all of it, not feeling comfortable enough to acknowledge my first try (and failure) and move on. There were a lot of questions that I asked myself, like "why did I have the oven on in 70 degree weather?" and "why did I use wintry vegetables like celery and carrots in June?" and "what the hell was I thinking?"

Luckily, the rest of that summer was colored by my first culinary successes--fresh cherry pies, gazpacho, guacamole-stuffed cherry tomatoes, and eventually a decent frittata. As with all things, it took some time to come into my own style of cooking; a style based on three equally important pillars of what I want to eat, what's in season, and what I have lying around the house that should be used up. I find this leads to an off-the-cuff style that makes me happy, because I feel thrifty and inventive at the same time. And, in this case, really satisfied. I hope you also make a frittata with whatever you've got lying around, using some good sense in choosing vegetables and just relaxing into the inventiveness of cooking on a weekend morning without leaving your apartment. And if it turns out terribly, think highly enough of yourself not to eat it, and to try again. 

Spiced Lentils with Veggie Sausage

Those of us who eat, specifically those who cook at home, do so for different reasons. To nourish ourselves, for a start. To feed our families, or use up some vegetable languishing in the fridge, or to practice our skills in the hope of becoming the next Master Chef. All of these are admirable reasons to cook. But I would argue that the most powerful urge to cook something is brought on by a different kind of necessity--to recreate a memory. Whether it's making a grandmother's beloved cream puffs, carefully piping out the pate a choux and turning the old, flour-coated pages of Joy of Cooking with newly floury hands, or attempting the Chinese pork dumplings your host family taught you abroad and cautiously prodding the bobbing dumplings across a sea of bubbling water, nothing compares to cooking when you have a specific, personal memory in mind. 

Which is why it was absolutely necessary that I cook these spiced lentils tonight. While the old jar of brown lentils stonily waiting in the pantry urged me on, I truthfully made this because I miss my friend, Dave. He is in Israel, which I imagine is dry and summery now. It's a cold and rainy night in New York, and I know that David would be soldiering on on the Upper West Side with his smart coat and scarf and hat if he were here, probably on his way home to make something warm and delicious and comforting. This was the first vegetarian recipe I ever learned how to make, and it was Dave who taught me. Spiced lentils are cheap, fast, easy and delicious. Make them immediately, eat in a large bowl while reclining on a couch, and think about those dear to you. Cheers, Dave. 

Carrot Apple Muffins, Failures, and Inspirations

I like muffins because they are, at their core, socially acceptable breakfast cupcakes. That was the thought behind these Carrot Apple Muffins, which were intended to be a healthy, New Year's Resolution-appropriate morning nosh. Thing did not turn out well, as can be seen in the picture above, where the muffins look like astronaut food, or, generously, something you would buy at an overpriced vegan bakery in Park Slope. These are not vegan muffins. Don't get me wrong, they're not horrible tasting. They just don't have any sugar. Which, as it turned out, made them not sweet. Who knew?! Apparently the natural sugars in carrots and apples are not powerful enough to counterbalance the crazy amounts of healthfulness in these muffins. There's whole wheat flour and whole steel cut oats and almond milk and tahini and maple syrup...I know, I had you at "healthfulness" in the previous sentence, but I wanted to see how far I could go to horrify you. 

This, my friends, is what happens when you try to combine three recipes together. 

Roasted Red Pepper and Corn Polenta "Pizza"

There are some things a typical food blogger can take for granted these days. For example, I can rest assured that you know what quinoa is. And probably kale. And you have heard of and maybe even practice Meatless Mondays. One thing I can't take for granted, though, is that you'll go for something like cashew cheese, especially on a blog that has waxed poetic on the deliciousness of bacon and all things porcine. If you kept reading after "cashew cheese," well done! This dish is delicious and amazing. Here is how I plan to convince you:

• This recipe was inspired by a super hip pizza place in a super hip city called Portland, Oregon. Dove Vivi's cornmeal crust pizza is divine, and since Brooklyn and Portland are hipster soul mates, I was pretty sure I could replicate it on the East Coast. This recipe is pretending to be a pizza--that's why there's "cheese" and toppings.
• This probably one of the tastiest and easiest things you can make from all-pantry ingredients. 
• Cashew cheese is basically hummus. Trust me, if you like hummus, you will like cashew cheese. You can even call it cashew hummus if that will help you get over it. 

Porbably the best recommendation I can give is this; I, who truly appreciate all things meaty and bready and non-vegan-y, made this for myself. And I loved it. I promise you will, too.