Gratitude, Day 4: Lettuce Soup, Or How I Realized I Was Rich

NOTE: I am a fan of 30-day challenges, and November is traditionally a time of two: National Novel Writing Month, and 30 Days of Thanks. As I am not a fiction writer, this year I have chosen to publish a daily blog for the entire month, expressing my gratitude. This may not be entirely food-focused, but expect recipes aplenty. Feel free to join me in the comments below. What are you thankful for today?

In 1996 when I moved to Seattle, I rolled into town with just $200 in cash (and no credit to speak of, plus one black cat and a car of dubious quality). Even back in 1996, before the construction boom that is currently overtaking the Pacific Northwest, this small change didn’t get me very far. I slept on the floor of a friend’s cousin’s house for a couple weeks, then moved quickly onto another floor of a stranger’s house in West Seattle after the cousin began to hit on me.

At that time, I had just a college degree, no idea what I wanted to do with my life, and about $75 left, so I applied at a local temp agency and quickly found work that paid every Friday.

Temp work was steady but didn’t pay well, and the end of the week often found me short of cash and hungry. Too proud at that point to apply for any kind of financial assistance from my new city, I solved the problem with what I had at hand: coffee.

Every morning I would drink a fortifying cup of coffee for the commute to work, then continue to drink copious amounts of coffee throughout the day, lightened with a considerable amount of milk and sugar. This got me through the day without lunch (except for the days when someone would bring in doughnuts or bagels), saved tons of money, and allowed me to pay my bills without applying for any kind of financial assistance (from the state or from my parents).

These days, I can still stretch a dollar until it screams, but as I look back on that time I realize how rich I actually was. I was educated and had a job and a safe place to sleep at night. These days in Baltimore, 20% of Baltimore’s children face food insecurity in that they have no idea where their next meal is coming from. They may not have a safe place to sleep, and their parents may not have the educational resources (or, let’s be real, the skin color) to easily secure even a temporary job.

A couple months ago, I learned about a local organization that helps remediate food insecurity and works to alleviate food deserts: Gather Baltimore. This organization uses volunteer labor in the fields and on the street to gather food that would otherwise rot or be thrown out. The food is sorted (with decomposing or inedible food going to compost) and packed into big blue Ikea bags to be sold for $7 to anyone who wants one.

These bags generally contain between 30 and 40 pounds of produce and are designed to feed a family of four for one week. Bags also often contain bread, crackers, and occasionally, chips.

While this amount of food can be a lifesaver, one considerable issue can arise: what do you do with ten pounds of lettuce? Or five pounds of jalapeños? Or that crazy, lumpy brown thing that you know is a vegetable but you have no idea how to actually cook it?

For people who lack basic cooking skills or too many extra ingredients, this can be a considerable challenge. I have used the Gather bag to make some delicious things I would not have otherwise made, including a spicy corn relish that I could eat my bodyweight in.

The lettuce thing actually happened once when I got a bag that contained not only two heads of butter lettuce but also a two-pound bag of shredded iceberg lettuce. From this, lettuce soup was born. Overall, this entire recipe cost me about $2, as I made the vegetable stock from peelings and vegetables from the previous Gather bag, and the spices were purchased from the bulk section at MOM’s in Hampden for less than a quarter.

It may sound crazy, but lettuce soup has French roots and is often a light course in a sumptuous French meal. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.

Ingredients

1 large onion, chopped (at least one cup)
2 cloves garlic, minced (about 2 teaspoons)
1 ½ teaspoons ground coriander
½ teaspoon allspice
1 large russet potato, peeled and diced
5 cups vegetable stock
8 cups of lettuce, any kind, but tender-leafed lettuce (e.g. butter lettuce) works best
4 tablespoons of butter
Optional garnish: Greek yogurt or sour cream, chopped cashews, mild white cheese

Method

Heat two tablespoons of butter in a stockpot over medium heat. Add onions and cook for two minutes, then add garlic and cook for one minute more.

Season with salt and pepper, then add coriander and allspice and cook for one minute more.

Add potato, lettuce, and stock. Bring to a low boil, then turn heat down and simmer. Cook until potato is tender.

Puree the soup in one of two ways:

1. Working in batches, use a blender or food processor and blend until smooth.

2. Use a handheld immersion blender and puree in the pot.

Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Serve with optional garnish.

Image source.

Gratitude, Day 1: Mushroom Galette For My Particular Friend

Last week I drove to Pennsylvania to visit my nearly-98-year-old grandmother. It was the day after a particularly difficult therapy session (yes, we can talk about this: it’s mental health, y’all), and the drive out of the city was a welcome escape.

There is something about sunny, crisp days when the trees are outlined in black against the clearest blue sky and golden-hued leaves fall like rain from the trees that fills me up with a complicated mix of emotions.

On this particular day, I had a very clear sense of myself and what it is I am trying to do.

Let go.

Give in.

Lean in.

(a phrase I hate but which is utterly appropriate here)

On a day like this, I feel like every step I take is a step towards the person I have always wanted to become in this lifetime and away from the person that I was becoming, the child who experienced trauma but had never looked it square in the eyes as an adult. It is difficult to imagine doing work like this on a clear, sunny day, and yet this is one of the few times when I feel at peace with myself.

I cannot always talk explicitly about the things I am dealing with; it’s not a fit for this blog, and it will be hurtful to some who are still on the earth. But it is important work for me, and as I drove the two hours to see Grandma, I kept returning to one person with whom I have been able to talk explicity, slowly unwinding the knotted threads of decades-old hurts and haunts.

In this endeavor, I have been supported this past (nearly) year by someone who has previously only been known as my “particular friend.”

I am 45. “Boyfriend” sounds dumb at my age.

“Partner” could be many different things.

“Lovin’ spoonful” is silly and applies but is often dismissed.

“Lover” just doesn’t work in mixed company.

In light of this, I will start my 30 Days of Thanks by introducing Khristian Weeks, my particular friend.

I introduce him here, this first day, because he has been in the 11 months I have known him a source of tremendous joy, love, and support.

Khristian is an artist. He loves children and has decided to love my dogs, even though he isn’t, himself, actually a dog person (and they love him sloppily back).

He brings me coffee in bed.

I cook for him, and he loves it.

We go for long walks.

We kiss in public, quite a lot (sorry, everyone in the freezer section of MOM’s in Hampden).

He talks to me about creative things and wants to collaborate with me, a first for me in all of my time as a writer (and with a host of other past artistic boyfriends who maybe never saw me as an artist).

Khristian has made me happy and given me hope for everything that is to come in this life.

So for all of this, I am making him a mushroom galette.

Khristian is a newly-minted pescatarian, and he loves all things vegetable.

Except mushrooms.

So why in hell would I decide to make a mushroom galette for this person who means so much to me? Isn’t that sort of shitty?

Well, here’s the thing.

I like a challenge. Khristian hates mushrooms; I want to make him something with mushrooms that he loves.

When my friend Laura posted that she had foraged some maitake mushrooms (also known as hen of the woods) from Druid Hill Park, I swapped her buttermilk mashed potatoes, two types of slaw, and a roasted chicken thigh for a huge bag of maitakes and a smaller bag of chicken of the woods mushrooms (which I am planning on frying like chicken and slathering in barbecue sauce. #Trust).

#GoodTrade

The recipe below uses my gluten-free galette crust from my butternut squash and caramelized onion galette. The filling is a combination of red chard harvested from The Friends School (where Khristian works), mushrooms from Druid Hill Park just two miles away, and ricotta cheese. This is the kind of hyper-local food that is bound to taste good.

Hopefully dedicating a recipe to someone isn’t like getting their named tattooed on your body (as in, that it pretty much instantly dooms the relationship).

Khristian, my love, on my first day of gratitude in November, this is for you.

galette

Maitake Mushroom and Swiss Chard Galette

Ingredients

1 1/4 cups gluten-free all-purpose flour (regular flour works, too)

pinch of salt

1 stick of very cold butter, cut into bits (or frozen and grated)

1/4 cup Greek yogurt (or sour cream, or regular yogurt)

1 teaspoon lemon juice

1/4 cup ice water (seriously. Ice water. Don’t skimp. Cold tap doesn’t work.)

1 cup ricotta cheese, seasoned to taste with salt and pepper

1 cup (ish) maitake mushrooms, torn, or crimini mushrooms, sliced

1 clove garlic, chopped

1 large bunch of red chard, cut into bite-sized pieces (I do not remove the ribs, but you can if you like)

1 egg, beaten

1 cup fresh mixed herbs (I used all parsley because that’s what was in the Friends School garden, but any combination of cilantro, chives, or dill would be lovely)

1 teaspoon lemon zest

1 teaspoon lemon juice

Method

Make pastry first, as it needs to chill. You can even make it the day before.

Method one: Combine flour and salt in the bowl of a food processor and pulse to mix. In a small bowl, combine sour cream and lemon juice. Add butter to flour and salt in food processor and pulse until the mixture resembles cornmeal. Add sour cream mixture and pulse to combine. Slowly add ice water until dough comes together.

Method two: Combine flour and salt in a large bowl. In a small bowl, combine sour cream and lemon juice. Using a pastry cutter or fingers, rub butter into flour until mixture resembles cornmeal. Add sour cream mixture and mix well. Add ice water and mix until dough comes together.

Turn dough out onto a sheet of plastic wrap and press together into a ball. Wrap tightly and chill for an hour.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

In a large pan to prevent overcrowding, heat oil and add mushrooms. Season with salt and pepper. If mushrooms are crowded in the pan, they will steam rather than crisp. If you only have a small pan, saute in batches. Crispy mushrooms take about five minutes over medium-high heat. Remove from pan and set aside.

Add garlic to the same pan and saute without burning, then add red chard. Season with salt and pepper, then cook until the chard begins to wilt. I like to keep mine slightly crispy, but it’s up to you. Four minutes and your chard will be completely wilted. I cook for about a minute less than that.

I use a piece of parchment paper to roll out my crust, as this makes for super easy transfer to a baking sheet.

Place chilled dough on parchment. Place plastic wrap on top of the dough (this keeps pastry from sticking to the rolling pin without adding extra flour, which can dry pastry out) and roll out into a circle roughly 12″ in diameter and no more than a 1/4″ thick.

Spread 3/4 cup of ricotta over the pastry, leaving about 1 1/2″ around the edge without filling. Top ricotta with chard, then pile mushrooms on top of that. Spoon remaining ricotta over vegetables. Season once more with salt and pepper.

Fold the edges of the pastry over and pinch to seal any gaps. I use a bench scraper to pick up the dough so that I am not warming it up by touching it more than I have to.

Brush edges of pastry with beaten egg.

Keeping galette on the parchment, transfer to a baking sheet and bake for about 40 minutes (check at 20) until the edges are golden brown.

Remove from oven and let stand for at least five minutes before serving. To serve, mix fresh herbs, lemon zest, lemon juice, and one tablespoon of olive oil together. Top galette with herb mixture and cut like a pizza.

Serves six.

Fall Food: Butternut Squash And Caramelized Onion Galette

I am familiar with the phenomenon of not knowing what you have until it’s gone.

See also: sudden accidental death of husband.

But I am also familiar with another phenomenon that is a result of that first, very common phenomenon.

Sometimes, just sometimes, I know EXACTLY what I have, exactly when I have it.

Take, for example, my yoga community.

If you have read this blog for any length of time, you may have gleaned that I am also a yoga teacher. I just earned my 500-hour yoga teacher training certificate, and after some delay at the end of the actual course in August, my cohort and teachers at Baltimore Yoga Village got together to discuss ethics, eat some food, and sit around a fire, looking up at the moon, this past Sunday night.

I have been on this journey to become a yoga teacher for two years; I got my first level of certification in 2015 and decided to dive deeper and keep going. Some of the people around the fire last night did the same.

I have shared my grief, openly, with these near strangers in the first year.

I have watched them change their lives – new job, lost loves, old job, sickness, new love.

I know what I have in these people. I appreciate and value them for their support, their beautiful spirits, and their vastly different paths. I realized from the very first weekend, two years ago, exactly what I have in this community, and I am very grateful to have it.

Spirituality is a tricky thing, though, and I won’t attempt to delve into it here. The language of it is mostly useless, and often it turns into so much chatter with no real meaning.

But suffice it to say, over the past two years, this group of people has helped turn in and tune in. To my vibration, if you want to use the vernacular (which I don’t, but #OM). And for that, I am deeply grateful. To a person, they are exceptional humans. and I am grateful to have spent such intense time with them.

But you can’t really talk about spirituality without a sense of humor. At least I can’t. If you get too serious then it gets a little douche-y and fundamentalist, which I cannot abide.

Thankfully, humor is abundant in this group also.

I met Elaine in 2015 when we started our second level of training. Like me, she is a writer and a teacher. She is a great lover of pie, the eating and the making, which one might think would translate for her into other forms of cooking.

Not so.

Around November of 2015, Elaine shared with me that she had in the trunk of her car a butternut squash that had been rolling around in there for several weeks.

She mentioned this squash again and posted the following picture on Facebook, FOUR MONTHS LATER.

She confessed that she had no idea what to do with a butternut squash. I urged her to bring it to teacher training the following month, and in April, she finally did. Minus the floppy hat.

We laughed, I told her I would make something, then I brought it to my house, stuck it in my kitchen, and mostly forgot about it. I said I would make something when teacher training ended, but then I missed the last weekend potluck. I thought the opportunity had passed.

Plus, at this point, the squash was over a year old. It was covered with a thin white-ish film, like dust but not dust. Its smiling face was fading along with the color of the peel.

But then the hunter’s moon rose, a get-together was planned, and I had to figure out a dish to bring.

So this happened.

I am not a big pastry maker. Gluten-free crust should be easy, but it’s not. Straight-up pie crust doesn’t generally require regular flour, as gluten is more of a hindrance, but for some reason, up until about a month ago my crust was always pitiful. Dry without being flaky. Flavorless.

So I approached this galette in the way I approach every uncertain baking situation: I made a recipe for the first time to take to a gathering, which is dumb, but I also made a back-up yellow squash casserole, just in case (I also just sort of made that recipe up, too, having never made a squash casserole. Also dumb).

Turns out, all you need is a little Greek yogurt (or sour cream) to make a crust that will make you weep (okay, maybe not weeping). This galette was delicious and easy and fed many people I love.

Sadly, not Elaine, who was unable to make it. But Elaine, this recipe is for you, with so much love and so many blessings upon you.

Butternut Squash And Caramelized Onion Galette

Ingredients

1 1/4 cups gluten-free all-purpose flour (regular flour works, too)

pinch of salt

1 stick of very cold butter, cut into bits (or frozen and grated)

1/4 cup Greek yogurt (or sour cream, or regular yogurt)

1 teaspoon lemon juice

1/4 cup ice water (seriously. Ice water. Don’t skimp. Cold tap doesn’t work.)

2 tablespoons butter

1 teaspoon of salt

pinch of sugar (OPTIONAL)

1 medium onion, sliced in half moons

cayenne to taste

2 cups butternut squash in 1/2″ dice (about one medium squash, peeled, seeded, and diced)

2 teaspoons dried sage

1 cup shredded provolone cheese

salt and pepper to taste

Method

Make pastry first, as it needs to chill. You can even make it the day before.

Turn dough out onto a sheet of plastic wrap and press together into a ball. Wrap tightly and chill for an hour.

Melt butter in a hot pan and add onions, salt, and sugar (if using). Turn heat down and slowly cook onions until caramelized, about 30 minutes. Once caramelized, sprinkle with cayenne and set aside.

Preheat oven to 375. Line a baking sheet with foil (for easier clean-up. #Trust).

Toss butternut squash with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Spread in a single layer on the baking sheet. Roast squash in oven until soft, stirring once. This will take about 30 minutes.

In a large bowl, combine squash, onions, cheese, and sage. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and set aside while you roll out the crust.

I use a piece of parchment paper to roll out my crust, as this makes for super easy transfer to a baking sheet.

Pile butternut squash mixture in the center, leaving about 1 1/2″ around the edge without filling. Fold the edges of the pastry over and pinch to seal any gaps. I use a bench scraper to pick up the dough so that I am not warming it up by touching it more than I have to.

Keeping galette on the parchment, transfer to a baking sheet and bake for about 40 minutes (check at 20) until the edges are golden brown.

Remove from oven and let stand for at least five minutes before serving.

Recipe notes

This pastry works for sweet fillings as well. Apple galette is in our future. Sprinkle the crust with turbinado sugar before baking.
If your edges rip (as mine did), just make a patch with some of the other pastry.
If you happen to be in the grocery store and happen to buy those pre-cut butternut squash cubes and decide to use those instead of peeling and dicing a whole squash, consider that a win. Butternut squash can be a bitch.
An alternate method of roasting a squash is to cut it in half and remove the seeds. Brush flesh with oil and place flesh-side-down on a foil-lined baking sheet. Roast in oven at 350 until skin is easily pierced with a fork. Scoop flesh out of the skin and proceed with onions and cheese.

Just Like Your Kid: Trouble But Worth It Cinnamon Rolls

Exactly five hours from now (or thereabouts, as these things go), I am taking my child to France.

Not France, exactly.

Worse: taking her to Boston to hand her over to a group of (hopefully kindly) strangers who will then shuffle her off to Anglet by way of Paris/Normandy in a mere 48 hours. She will be gone for ten months, and as these things sometimes go, I may not actually see her for any of those ten months.

If ever there was a time for comfort food, this is it.

This is when I start hunkering down, loading up the pantry with staples and filling the ‘fridge with things that are substantial and too much of them.

If we weren’t busy with frantic, last-minute packing, I would make these cinnamon rolls.

I call them Just Like Your Kid Cinnamon Rolls. They are a pain in the ass, but in the end oh so very worth it.

When I made these the first time, I held my breath. I have made gluten-free cinnamon rolls before, and they were tough, dry, awful things that were saved only by copious amounts of cinnamon and overly-sweet cream cheese icing and a burning need for a cinnamon roll.

These cinnamon rolls. Zoiks.

They are everything they should be. Soft and yielding and hot and sweet and pungent with the sharp smell and taste of cinnamon. They melt in your mouth. These cinnamon rolls are the thick, fluffy blanket I want to wrap myself in when I think of food that is comforting.

Bonus: they are gluten-free. My god. Could it get any better?

Side note: of course you can make them with regular flour. Whatever comforts you most.

If I had time on this morning where I am trying not to think too hard about sending my baby off to another country for nearly a year, I would go ahead and make a big batch of these. I would wake her up with one of these and a cup of coffee (with cream and just a little sugar but not too much anymore because she is using less these days) on a tray to her room.

I would spoil her in the way I do, with food delivered to her in the morning and the simple grace of allowing her to rise into this new day gently.

But since I can’t do that, and we don’t have any more time, you’ll just have to make these and let me know how they work out.

Just Like Your Kid Cinnamon Rolls

Note: Read the recipe through first. This is not a complicated recipe, but the butter that needs to be softened needs to be very, very soft for spreading.

Ingredients

Dough

2⁄3 cup milk, warmed (80 to 100 degrees)
1 tablespoon yeast

1/4 cup white sugar
2 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup canola oil
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 large egg (room temperature is best)
1 1/2 cups gluten-free all-purpose flour
1⁄4 teaspoon baking soda
2 1⁄2 teaspoons xanthan gum
2 teaspoons baking powder
1⁄2 teaspoon salt

Filling

1/2 cup packed brown sugar
2 tablespoons cinnamon
1⁄3 cup butter, very softened (spreadable)

Icing

3 tablespoons butter, softened
3/4 cups powdered sugar
1 cup cream cheese, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla
1⁄8 teaspoon salt

Method

Wake your yeast as you would your teen: gently. Place warmed milk into a large bowl; add yeast and allow to bubble for a few minutes.

Add sugar, butter, oil, and vanilla to milk/yeast mixture. Stir gently until completely combined.

Add egg and stir to combine.

In a smaller bowl, combine salt, gluten-free flour, baking soda, baking powder, and xanthan gum.

Add flour mixture to mixing bowl. Stir until well combined. This dough is somewhat sticky, but if it seems unworkable, add a little more flour, just a tablespoon at a time. You don’t want it too dry.

Place dough in a greased container and put in a warm place to rise for 45-60 minutes. I like to preheat my oven to 200 degrees and then turn it off. If you are using gluten-free flour, the dough will not double in size, but it will rise just a bit.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees and grease a square glass baking dish. 8″x8″ works great.

Get ready to roll.

Tear off a piece of plastic wrap, about 18″ long or so and lay it on your counter. Place the dough on this plastic wrap, then cover the dough with another piece of plastic wrap.

If you skip this and act like a teenager and think you just know everything (#RollsEyes) then you will wind up with a sticky mess and no cinnamon rolls and YOU SHOULD ALWAYS LISTEN TO YOUR MOTHER (or, in this case, this recipe. #Trust).

Roll dough to 1/4″ thick rectangle between the plastic wrap. I use a wine bottle if I don’t feel like digging out my rolling pin, and I have also used floured parchment paper instead of plastic wrap (when I am feeling uptown) or plain old waxed paper.

Your rectangle should be about 13″ or so long and nearly as wide as the plastic wrap.

Spread very softened butter on the dough.

Combine brown sugar and cinnamon together and sprinkle liberally onto the dough, leaving a 1″ edge clean (the long edge farthest away from you).

Now here’s the tricky part – rolling the dough into cinnamon rolls.

Use the bottom piece of plastic wrap to begin to roll the dough away from you. You are going for a tight log shape. The tighter, the better, but don’t sweat it. When you get to the naked part of the dough, the part with no filling, then you’re done and that naked edge will help seal the log shape.

Use a serrated knife to cut the log into eight pieces. Transfer these pieces to your greased baking dish. Leave a little breathing room between each roll.

You could let them rise a little longer here if you’d like. OR you could make them up to this point the night before, put them in the ‘fridge, and then bring them to room temperature in the morning before baking.

Bake for about 2o minutes until tops are golden brown. To check for sure that they are done, run a butter knife into the very center rolls. If dough sticks, bake a little longer.

Combine frosting ingredients while the cinnamon rolls bake, and frost the cinnamon rolls while they are piping hot. Don’t expect these to last long, but if you manage to have leftovers, cover and keep in the ‘fridge.

What’s your comfort food?

On Words, Love, And The (Im)Perfect Crabcake

So I have been avoiding words. Words like these ones right here.

And yes, I am aware that I just used the phrase “these ones.” #IBlameTheSouth

I don’t know what it is about words. I find them alternately an abiding comfort and a deep frustration. I have hurled them as invective, used them like a lover’s caress, and felt them/rolled them around in my mouth, through my heart, and on the page.

But sometimes of late words have [quite literally] failed me. I have said the wrong thing at the wrong time in the wrong way.

I have received hurtful words from someone I love, most recently unintentionally (but intentionally in the past).

Sidebar: They both feel bad.

It’s enough to make me clam up altogether, which I am getting especially good at. Seems easier to say nothing than to say something I don’t mean or that will leave a lasting wound.

And then a few weeks ago I ran across this from Thich Nhat Hanh, the Fourth Mindfulness Training Guide:

“I am committed to speaking truthfully using words that inspire confidence, joy, and hope. When anger is manifesting in me, I am determined not to speak. I will practice mindful breathing and walking in order to recognize and to look deeply into my anger. I know that the roots of anger can be found in my wrong perceptions and lack of understanding of the suffering in myself and in the other person. I will speak and listen in a way that can help myself and the other person to transform suffering and see the way out of difficult situations.”

The idea is to monitor yourself and your words so that they are not harmful or rooted in anger or misunderstanding that will make things worse.

In short, “Seek first to understand, then be understood.”

Excellent idea.

Except we are all of us only human beings, yes? And as I like to [gratefully] acknowledge, this is a practice, not a perfect. I am still at the grasshopper stage, keeping my mouth shut and walking away.

But this is patently unhelpful in some situations where silence would only serve to deepen the rift or misunderstanding or hurt others, especially those who have had silence wielded like a sword in their past.

Which brings me to my recent connection of wabi-sabi as it pertains to humans. My particular friend lent me a book recently called Wabi-Sabi For Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers. Wabi-sabi is the Japanese philosophy/practice/way of life focused on accepting and celebrating the beauty of impermanence and imperfection in everything. That’s a thumbnail, but it gets to the root in a nutshell.

Richard Powell sums it up as this:

“Wabi-sabi nurtures all that is authentic by acknowledging three simple realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.”

Certainly true for the wabi-sabi qualities in humans, human communication, and human relationships.

The trick here is to determine if you are willing to do the work anyway, to acknowledge the impermanence and imperfection and love (accept) all of that anyway.

According to Wabi-Sabi for Artists,

“The simplicity of wabi-sabi is probably described as the state of grace arrived at by a sober, modest, heartfelt intelligence.”

This is a far cry from the passionate, loud, and impulsive words being hurled around of late, in my house and in the rest of the world. Wabi-sabi requires more contemplation and reflection and acceptance, but the last is hard to come by. It seems that acceptance is the thing that allows the words or the art or the love to flow.

I have lost many words of late. I don’t know if that’s a reflection of my lack of acceptance, but it is certainly highlighting my imperfection. Wabi-sabi is the fine line between something starting and ending, that moment when there is a shift. Maybe that’s what is happening.

So what’s with the crabcakes? How is this wabi-sabi?

Well, to start, crabs don’t give a fuck about decay and imperfection; they are one of the few bottom feeders that I will actually eat, mopping up whatever’s rotten on the bottom of the Bay.

They accept whatever is lowered into the depths at the end of a piece of cotton twine. Throw a ripe chicken neck off a dock and you will invariably hoist a few crabs from the murky depths.

In this pairing, they are also a continuation of experimentation in my kitchen, which is a good thing, and they represent a foundational element in my life. I grew up in Maryland, crabbing off the docks at Assateague as a child and picking crabs in someone’s backyard at least once a summer every year. When I am feeling at loose ends, it is a great comfort to me to come back to these touchstones in my life when I can reliably remember feeling at peace and without struggle.

So along with these words, here is some food for you.

Maryland Crabcakes With Green Papaya, Carrot, and Jicama Slaw

With Pineapple Vinaigrette

Ingredients

Crabcake

2 tsp. Old Bay

1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

1 T Dijon mustard

2 slices bread without crusts, torn into bits

1 T mayonnaise

1 egg

Optional: 1/2 tsp Worchestershire (I am not convinced, but many would say this is essential.)

1 pound jumbo lump crab

Green Papaya, Jicama, and Carrot Slaw

1/2 cup green papaya, shredded

1/2 cup jicama, shredded

1/4 cup carrots, shredded

1 large jalapeno, finely sliced (keep some seeds for heat)

a handful of fresh pineapple, julienned

1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

juice of one lime

1 oz. pineapple vinegar (recipe below)

2 oz. vegetable oil (or other light oil)

1/4 tsp. ground cumin

small garlic clove, finely minced

1/2 tsp. celery seed

salt and pepper to taste

Method:

Crabcakes

Combine Old Bay, parsley, mustard, bread, mayonnaise, egg, and Worchestershire (if using) in a large bowl. Stir well to combine.

Add crabmeat and mix with your hands very, very gently. You want the crab to stay in big, fat, delicious chunks, barely held together.

Form into something resembling a cross between a meatball and a patty. For ease, I greased ramekins and packed the meat in there. Place in ‘fridge for 30 minutes while you make the slaw.

Heat a generous amount of butter (couple tablespoons) in a heavy frying pan. Place crabcakes gently in pan and fry until they have a nice crust and are warmed all the way through (about four minutes to a side.

Move to paper towels until serving.

Slaw

Combine the first six ingredients (green papaya, jicama, carrot, jalapeno, pineapple, parsley) in a medium bowl and squeeze the juice of one lime to coat the veg. In a small bowl, whisk together the last five ingredients (vinegar, oil, cumin, garlic, celery). Pour over vegetables and herbs, then season with salt and pepper.

Pineapple vinegar

In a saucepan, combine 8 oz. white vinegar, 8 oz. of fresh pineapple, and 1 tsp. of sugar. Bring to a rolling boil, mashing the pineapple a bit as it boils. Remove from heat and let cool, then strain to remove solids and place in ‘fridge.

Recipe notes

I used GF bread, but white bread is traditional, or Saltine crackers. If using Saltines, use about eight crackers.
JM Clayton crabmeat is the way to go if you are buying it. If you aren’t going to pick it yourself, don’t fuck around with crappy crabmeat in a can. This is an expensive recipe, to be sure, so save your money if you need to, but do it right. Or, do what I did and eat rice for a week for dinner so you can afford to test the recipe. #LifesFullOfTradeOffs
Fresh peaches make delicious vinegar as well. Swap the white vinegar for white balsamic and sub peeled, chopped peaches for the pineapple and proceed as above. Much more delicate flavor.
Turns out, I hate cabbage and cabbage hates me, so that’s why none is present. If cabbage loves you and vice versa feel free to add it in.
If you cannot find green papaya at your local Asian grocery store, feel free to use cabbage instead. It will change the flavors a bit, but using a lighter-flavored cabbage like Napa cabbage should keep things balanced.

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