Middle Eastern Feastern

Welp, I'm back on one of my Middle Eastern kicks. I thought I'd enjoy the journey with you and yours since I've been enjoying myself and am quite proud of the whole thing here to boot.

And, best of all, all of these recipes are available online for free due to the generosity and creativity of several geniuses listed below...

Now, I'll say first off that normally I'd make my own hummus. However, the store was out of tahini (or doesn't carry it anymore? I'd swear I've seen it there before). So, store-bought on that count. Otherwise, however, I'm partial to Mr. Smith's recipe, for the record. I just tend to up the garlic (yeah, because that's necessary, given the rest of this meal).

First up in actual cooking? The turnips. You should actually do these a few days in advance (not one day in advance, like me). They take a few days to get that excellent salt-vinegar tang to them. However, mine have finally achieved perfect color (get a big beet).



The recipe is in this thread, but I'm going to list it below as well in case Chowhound decides to archive their forums or some such.

Okay my recipe for pink turnip pickles is as follows

2 lbs of turnips
1 beet peeled and cut
3 1/2 cups of water
1/2 cup vinegar
2 Tbs salt
3/4 tsp of sugar

Chop vegetables into appropriately sized sticks. Mix liquids with seasonings until dissolved. Combine them, stir, leave covered approx five days. Once finished pickling, refrigerate.

The above makes an awful lot, so I've halved the liquids/salt/sugar and chopped up 2 turnips and a large beet to make the picture above.

Next up: Thoom (Garlic Sauce)




I'm going to tell you straight-up that I still haven't got the trick of this one. Basically, the idea is that if you emulsify enough oil with the garlic, you get this light, fluffy sauce. I've yet to get it as smooth or as creamy as other creators seem to and I've tried it a couple times. My only hints so far? Add oil very slowly and do not try this with a food processor. Too big.

In today's version, I tried this person's method after picking up and discarding several other recipes and websites. I haven't tried adding the egg white--that may be the next trick I give a shot. Also, while I'm going to tell you straight up that I used an immersion blender, you can also grind the garlic to a paste using a mortar and pestle and then emulsify with a whisk.




Next up: Tabouleh

I find tabouleh to be a critical part of my Middle Eastern Feastern because a) the parsley tone is critical, to my mind and b) tabouleh was one of the first Middle Eastern foods I ever fell in love with. Thank you, Mega Wraps Guy in conjunction with My Mom for getting me to try it all those years ago.



While the base is here, I've modified a bit in that picture. I knew I'd want some cucumber so that's in there; a little bit of garlic (a no-no in traditional circles); and I switched out the bulgur wheat entirely. I wanted some more protein, some more cals-per-bite since this is going to be my primary belly-stuffer. So, quinoa, that holy "complete food". I should add, however, that bulgur wheat does in fact have a good bit of protein in it and significantly less fat. I also just like quinoa and am trying to fill this sucker out.

Next up: Falafel

Here's where it gets ugly. Up until now, we've had thrilling colors, creamy consistencies, bright salads... Falafel is ugly. It crumbles, it's a funny shade of yellow-green and uncooked it's about as appetizing as any other mash.


Aren't you excited?

For my first real homemade falafel (read, not out of a box mix falafel), I used the lovely Mrs. Charmian's recipe. I followed her lead and soaked some chickpeas overnight. This meant I ended up with fewer peas than I'd meant to (I get very loose with my dried bean measurements).

I also, see above, did not have the called-for tahini. So. Some adjustments.

Double the spices. I'm telling you that now. I like the combination, but my first few patties were not that flavorful. This is just too much chickpea to flavor with individual teaspoons. And add some cayenne. I also had some zata'ar on hand so I added a couple heaping teaspoons of that.

What did I do instead of tahini? I improvised. I dumped in nearly a quarter cup of sesame seeds and added olive oil as I went for texture. I think with the lack of tahini, my mix was overall dryer, so I was easier on the breadcrumbs in the final step as well.

Next up: Pitas

Well, we gotta have something to put all this stuff in, don't we? Enter the humble pita.


These bad boys are thrilling to make since, when you make them right, they're a little show in your oven as they puff.

Now, I don't care what measurements this man's website gives you about rolling. Make them as thin as possible. Thin, thin, thin! This gives you the best puff for your buck.

This recipe gave me pitas with fluff and absolutely fantastic pockets. They came open so easily it was ridiculous. Lastly, I made mine with 2 cups all purpose flour and 1 cup whole wheat flour for some additional texture.

And that, my friend, is a Middle Eastern Feastern, vegetarian style. I have some plans in the making for a chicken shwarma recipe of my very own, but you all will just have to wait until we've at least gotten past Meatless Monday. Jeez.

Choc-a-block Chicken Soup

Mother Nature, if your intent with this wicked-bad non-spring-ish weather was to make me desire one last giant pot of soup, then you have succeeded. Frankly, if it wasn't, I don't know what the point is because I'm sure you don't like seeing us miserable. You wouldn't've made such fine and beautiful things come out later in spring if you liked miserable.

Or, and here's a theory, maybe you knew I had some cooked chicken meat that needed using up.



Chock-a-Block Chicken Soup

I cannot make a small soup. I am incapable. I thought, before starting this, "I'll just make enough for tonight, lunch tomorrow and maybe one more to freeze."

Hah. I should've never believed me.

This soup ends up being pretty thick with stuff (it's chock-a-block, duh), although I still wouldn't classify it as a stew--the broth's too thin, in my mind. As with all my soups, this one is a gigantaur. Feel free to adjust.

6.5 oz egg noodles (or 180 grams)
water
1 Tbsp oil
2 cups (1 large) leeks, thinly sliced
1 cup diced carrots
salt
5 cups broth
3 cups water
1 1/2 cup chopped, cooked chicken
2 cloves garlic, diced
1 medium zucchini, diced
5 mushrooms, quartered
1 cup frozen corn niblets
2 Tbsp fresh thyme, minced
1/2 Tbsp dried parsley
1 tsp red pepper flakes
salt & pepper
squeeze of lemon

Bring the water to a boil.

Meanwhile, heat the oil in a big ol' saucepot and add the leeks and the carrots. Salt them now, as it'll help them sweat a bit. I like leeks for a few reasons--they're mild, their smell evokes chicken soup to me like no other, and they're much prettier floating around in soup than their diced white counterparts. The measurement sounds like a lot. This was a big leek. Plus, they break apart and fluff the second you move those pretty rings. Stir occasionally over very low heat; the idea is not to brown, for once.

Stirred to softness? Good. Your water's probably boiled, so go dump the noodles in.

Add broth and water to your aromatics, then the chicken and garlic. Black pepper it. Stir, then bring this to a simmer for ten minutes or so.

Take your noodles out at about half that time, five minutes. They're a little al-dente at this stage but that's good--you'll cook them a little when they're added to the soup (don't add them straight in; you'll loose too much liquid) and probably cook them again when you rewarm the soup some later day.

Now that we've simmered, add the quick-cooking vegetables and the herbs: the zucchini, mushrooms, frozen corn, thyme, parsley (note fresh vs. dried amts!), red pepper flakes, and that squeeze of lemon. Fear not--the red pepper flakes are not enough to make a vat of soup this size truly spicy. Rather, they lend warmth. But you're gonna reduce them anyway, so whatever, go ahead.

Squeeze a wedge of lemon in. No, seriously. It'll be nice. I'm debating just adding some of my minced preserved lemons next time.

Add the noodles. Stir, let this all simmer five minutes more.

Serve with some sort of bread.

Decadence

Remember how I said I'm not lavish?

I said nothing at all about decadence.

My favorite thing about having guests over is cooking for them. Therefore, when two of our very good friends came over, I broke out all the stops for dessert.

I chose cheesecake, obviously because I'd never made it before and I was trying to impress people. Sounds logical, right?

Let me repeat something: I'd never made cheesecake before. And yes, this recipe is mine. I have discovered a so-far well-tested procedure for new recipes and thus far, it's working out pretty well. There is also the added benefit of being able to tell you what I screwed up because, as a first-timer, my mistakes were visceral and obvious.

For one thing, I started too late. The above picture was taken before the cake had properly set, accounting for it's slightly gooey appearance. But dinner was done and I wanted to try it so bad. (For the record, taste is unaffected at this point, but the finished texture of cheesecake is more appealing to me.)

Before we begin, I'd like to tell you about Christie's Corner in brief. That link will take you straight to her no-crack-cheesecake bible page, which I also studied extensively before undertaking this work. Christie, a fellow Cana-jun, eh, appears to be a fabulously lovely lady who runs a great food blog. Proof: My cake did not crack. She does a whole lot better than that, even, but that's for another post.

Chocolate Cheesecake with Decadent Accents

I'm going to be honest and tell you this should probably be a two day project of yours. The toppings are enough work for one day and the cake itself for another. It also feels like less of a crush this way. And trust me. This is so worth it.

You do, of course, have the option of not following the recipe and making your life a little easier by omitting complicated sauces and toppings and just getting to the damn cake. Just a thought. I won't be mad.

Crust

1 1/4 cup graham crumbs
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 unsalted butter, melted

Layer

4 oz dark chocolate

Filling

3 (250g or 8 oz) pkgs cream cheese
3/4 cup sugar
2 cups semi-sweet chocolate, melted
1/2 cup sour cream
1/2 cup milk
2 tsp extra-strong instant coffee*
1 tsp vanilla

For the crust, pour the graham and the sugar into a bowl and mix. Melt the butter and pour over the graham. Mix some more. Grease the pan, add your parchment paper layer at the bottom if you're going to, and then pack the graham into an even layer on the bottom of a 9" spring form pan. I left this in the fridge to give it some solidity while I was making the next layer.


For the filling, melt the chocolate. Go long and slow with it in a double-boiler. That sounds fancy. I melted this in a cheap, metal bowl sitting in the mouth of a just-simmering pot of water. Don't actually allow the bowl to get immersed in the water--good way to burn the chocolate. In my case, it probably took longer because my pieces were perhaps larger than some. I hate chopping chocolate--it's messy and flies everywhere and smears into things you didn't even think it was near. But I wanted that "snap" layer Christie's page mentioned, so goddamnit, I chopped chocolate. I then spread that over the graham layer as quickly as possible--it moves best when hot and you just poured it onto a cool if not cold surface. Try to make this a THIN layer--think about cutting a slice of cake through that solidified chocolate.

Throw these two layers in the fridge while you make the filling.

We're down to filling, people. This is an exciting moment. For some of you, this is the only moment, and I don't blame you a damn bit. I would've eaten this stuff out of the bowl. Happily.

Leave the cream cheese out a good long while. It needs to be room temperature if not warm to beat properly. Otherwise you do get little dots of unmixed cheese in your filling. I did, in fact. And I left those bricks out for hours. I'll flat-out warm them a touch next time.

Full disclosure: I beat this with a stand mixer. You can totally do it with the power of thine arm, though. It's just going to take longer.

Beat together the cream cheese and the sugar, starting with one chopped block of cheese and adding the rest gradually.

Add the second batch of melted chocolate. This is a labor of love. It takes a long time to melt this much chocolate. Read a book while you idly stir.

Slowly, gently, beat in the sour cream and the rest of the liquid ingredients. I believe that the science says that if you beat rapidly and fiercely, you'll add air to the batter and artificially inflate the cake. It's a heavy cake; it'll fall on itself when it cools and you'll be sad.

Pour that filling into the pan. Bake for approximately an hour at 300 degrees. Slow and steady.

I used the bain marie technique, and as I say, no cracks. It was a little fussy, though. I will probably try without next time, just to see.

Give it an hour or so to cool outside the bath once it's done baking. Then throw it in the fridge for at least four hours, preferably overnight.

Pomegrante Puree


Look at that colour!

I fixed this portion of the dessert up before the cake was a figment of my imagination. Originally, I intended for it to be a substitute for pomegranate molasses in one of Mrs. Rule's vinaigrettes but after tasting it, decided it should be an addition to, oh, just about everything.

2 cup pomegranate arils
1/2 cup water
2 Tbsp maple syrup

Throw arils (I found a regular-size pomegranate to be about 2 cup's worth) and water into a small pot. Bring to a boil and then reduce to simmer, covered, for about fifteen minutes.

Throw the contents of the pot into a blender. Blend until arils are pulverized, but do not expect a puree at this point. The seeds at the heart of the aril will studiously avoid your blender's blades. Pour the pomegranate back into the pot through a metal sieve. It's helpful to use a flexible spatula to mash the remaining seeds back and forth, scraping the bottom of the sieve to preserve as much of the aril's pureed flesh and juice as possible. Discard seeds.

Add maple syrup to the pot and stir well. Bring the mixture back to a simmer. Allow to simmer covered for five minutes to make sure the syrup and fruit is blended, then remove cover and reduce for approximately twenty minutes to half an hour, depending on your desired consistency. Remember the puree will thicken as it cools as well.


So, you're done? I congratulate you. I will tell you what I did to plate it, then. Though, I'll warn you, I'm no expert and it probably could have been presented much more beautifully.

I knew this would be heavy so I used the sauces (yes, multiple, as you'll see in a moment) as something to relieve the palette. Firstly, I poured a pool of the pomegranate puree beneath the cake. I set a slice of the cake down right in the middle of it. Then I drew an arc of creme anglais
around the side of the plate. I set a couple of mint leaves into the cream for color and a little infusion, if they sat there long enough. Then I pressed a finger-full of slivered almonds into the top of the slice for a peak.

And...there you have it. An absurdly decadent, ridiculously time-consuming chocolate cheesecake that will make you close your eyes and press your tongue through the chocolate just to feel it.

*Extra-Strong Instant Cofffe

2 1/2 Tbsp hot water
1/2 tsp instant coffee

Love a little coffee spark in my chocolate. Mix ingredients.

Apolopeas and Ham for Radio Silence

Now, I didn't figure this was going to be the active-est of blogs, but I didn't expect myself to tumble into THIS kind of silence. Oopie.

As penance, I hand you probably my favorite soup, during one of your last chances to make those really long-cook winter meals.

I give you, my Split Pea and Ham Soup.

Or as it is now known, my Apolopeas and Ham Soup.

My husband does not share my adoration for beans and lentils and peas, and I won't tell you what he thinks they look like cooked, so this recipe is for me alone. This means that I have made an enormous vat of soup all for myself. Luckily, soup always freezes. Now, I've never made split pea soup until now as most every recipe I've come across requests that I use a ham hock for flavor and meat. I had yet to ever see something in the grocery store which called itself a ham hock and therefore I never made it, feeling that boiling a hunk of cooked, smoked ham would be somehow inadequate.

(Though, now having made pea/bean soup with both a ham hock and a hunk of cooked ham, I can tell you that the hock does lend a certain smoky flavor and the shredded, unprocessed meat gives the soup a far more traditional mouth feel. A rustic feel, you might say. I think it’s lovely, but the more processed, pre-cooked hams are not awful by a long shot.)

So I pined after the perfect split-pea concoction from a can for years, never finding it, and wishing, strangely, that Tim Horton's would just sell me theirs. (I'm a salt junkie; I'm sorry.)

A few days after we moved to our new home in Toronto, I went visiting the Culinarium. Amongst their gorgeous products (and produce), I saw, in the bottom right corner of a freezer, a triangular shape wrapped in butcher's paper labeled 'ham hock'. I knew, immediately, what I had to do.



Now, I need to explain to you that I bought this enormous hunk of meat without thinking about any recipe. When I got it home and realized I'd purchased a 3 1/2 pound hock and that it was too big to even fully fit in my soup pot, I was a little daunted. That said, I managed, and I will tell you just how so based on my experience. But I might recommend you look at getting a bigger pot or a smaller piece of meat. As it is, I have a bunch of leftover meat and four cups of beautiful, rich ham stock.

So, without further ado...

Split Pea Soup with Ham

Now, you are being warned--this is one of those recipes that I did not measure as I went. I am guesstimating the amounts I think I used here. If something looks wrong to you, adjust as necessary.

This is a half-day recipe for sure, if not longer, depending on your belly's noise levels. It is, however, a half-day recipe that doesn't need a lot of tending, so you can probably do as I did and get on with household chores in the mean time.

3 1/2 lbs ham hock
2 cups split green peas
3 smallish carrots
1/2 large onion
3 cloves garlic
1 tbsp unsalted butter
3 bay leaves
splash of liquid smoke
ham stock
water
salt and pepper to taste

In the morning, start your stock. My hock stood up out of the pot by a few inches so I filled it with as much water as I dared and got it bubbling. Top off the water every couple of hours if necessary to get as much of the hock submerged as possible. Eventually, the meat at the bottom softens and you can push the whole thing down a little more (I never quite got the whole thing in, however). Let it simmer away, skimming occasionally, for approximately three hours or more. Remove hock from the stock and let it cool. Pour out the liquid into a separate container and reserve.

When the hock has cooled enough to handle, pull off and dice up 1 1/4 cups of meat. Reserve the rest of the meat for another use.

Dice the carrots, onion and garlic. Sautee in the butter for five minutes to soften. Please note I specify unsalted butter. The ham is already plenty salty. You probably don’t really need to add to it, and this is coming from a salt addict. Dump the rinsed split peas into the pot, the meat, the bay leaves and the smoke.

Pour in four and a half cups of stock and four cups of water. Stir everything up, cracking pepper over the whole lot. Resist adding salt until near the end so you can get an idea of how much the stock has flavored things. Bring to a boil and then reduce to simmer for approximately an hour or more, or until the peas have cooked and disintegrated to your desired consistency (I prefer the whole thing to be very soft and not highly textured, so I cook it for a long time).

This soup will thicken again as it cools; add water back in as necessary.

And, as always, the really awful picture to go with it.
















(Do you like my staging? How I didn't even think to try to get this oozing green mash out of the messy pot?)

A Salad Riffing Freshly

First, this was going to be a post about challah, which seemed timely, but since I haven't posted in ages, posting just a link (it's not my recipe) after all this time didn't seem right.

Then I was going to start it with, "Chicken breasts are difficult."

What I've decided on, after some thought, is to open by excusing my posting a salad recipe. See, I always feel like salad recipes are a little bit of a cop-out unless they're somehow unusual or a great break from tradition. Salads, much like soups, are a conglomerate of the stuff you have in your fridge and therefore have always been done before. I'm familiar with this sensation, however. As a writer, anything I put to paper has probably been done before; it's an on-going struggle. The result is, however, that I also feel somewhat secure in my ability to recognize a fresh riff.

I believe my salad riffs freshly.

Cajun Chicken and Mandarin Orange Salad

This salad contains a few extra steps beyond bowl, lettuce, dressing, fork. You could probably dump one or two if you really wanted to.

Second note--I used romaine hearts here. You could use whatever greenery pleases you because I'm of the feeling that lettuce is largely interchangeable unless you're looking for a very particular texture or flavor. In this case, the lettuce is just dressing vehicle. Use whatever you've got.

Lastly, I was originally going to measure ingredients for you. Then I decided against it. Much of this salad's beauty is its well-sprinkled toppings. Sprinkle as you see fit.

Serves twoish, depending on appetite

1 romaine heart, torn up
1/2 fennel bulb, sliced

2 chicken breasts
2 tsp Cajun spice (like this one?)
1/2 Tbsp butter
1 tsp olive oil

mandarin oranges
toasted walnuts (To toast a nut: Set oven to 425. Spread nuts in single layer over cookie sheet. Bake for 5 minutes, stir, bake five minutes more or until fragrant and browning.)
asiago cheese, shaved

2 Tbsp avocado oil
2 tsp white wine vinegar
salt & pepper to taste

Toss romain into a bowl. Top with fennel, sliced into matchsticks or rings or what have you.

For the chicken, mix butter and olive oil in a pan and add the chicken. Toss to coat. Sprinkle with the spice and sautee until chicken is crispy and browning all over.

Drop chicken on top of salad. Scatter oranges, walnuts and cheese over top. (Toasting the walnuts is one of those steps you could skip if you must.)

For the vineagarette, I chose avocado oil because I wanted something fruity to go with the oranges. You could do olive oil or walnut oil for that matter, though I think the walnut oil might OD the salad on walnut. Maybe you'd like that. Whisk the oil, vinegar and salt and pepper together. Drizzle over salad.

I vote a winner. I may be biased.

PS - Crappy photograph to come.

Lunch

I think my sister thinks I'm lavish.

It's simply not true. I enjoy good food as much as the next girl, but I don't usually go crazy. That's saved for guests. (Hint--There may be a post for this Friday's dessert, for instance.)

In this case, her feelings are guided by misunderstanding. I say her feelings, but I'm making assumptions here--this is an educated guess of mine based on the fact that she thinks I make fancy, over-priced apps as snack food. The issue is, I don't think most people know how simple really good food can be.

Which is why I love the following recipe, which is less a recipe and more a series of steps you can fill out, because it feels indulgent. And, you will learn, I really like indulging. The only thing that will suck is waiting an hour while the smell of roasting garlic invades your house.


Prosciutto, Roasted Garlic and Goat Cheese Crostini

makes 12 crostini

1 head garlic, roasted*
1/2 cup goat cheese
4 large slices prosciutto
baguette, cut into 12 thin rounds
spicy oil, optional
minced fresh chives, optional

Note: This recipe has been updated since the original posting.  Not only does it have a photo, the directions have changed a tich.  I thought I was being fancy by layering prosciutto in thinner cuts previously.  I've decided this is unnecessary because the little "blankets" scrunny up like the picture above displays.  Simpler, faster, equally pretty and delicious.

Start your broiler heating.  My gas oven allows me to set my broiler to "low".

Working over a cookie sheet, scoop out a clove with a butter knife and smear it over a round of baguette. If you have particularly large cloves, cut them in half.  Top with crumbled goat cheese, dividing evenly between the rounds.

If you want a little spice, this would be the time to lightly shake some hot oil over the crostini.  A pinch of red pepper flakes will work well too, but be sure your guests want that kind of thing!


Lay the prosciutto slices directly on top of each other.  With a flat, sharp knife, cut into thirds, width-wise.  This supposes you will end up with small slices that are just big enough to cover one of your crostini.  If your slices are larger or smaller (I've gotten up to 4 pieces out of really big prosciutto slices), adjust accordingly.  Layer prosciutto like a little blanket over the cheese. 

Place cookie sheet in the oven 3-4 inches away from the broiler. Cook them for just 3-5 minutes or until the edges of the crostini and meat are browning; the fat at the edges of the prosciutto should be starting to crisp and render.

Consume immediately, guiltlessly, lavishly.


*Roasting a head of garlic: You do this by cutting the top 1/3 of the head off (you're aiming to expose the tops of most, if not all, of the cloves) and drizzling a little olive oil on it. You could top with a little salt and pepper if you want.  I don't really see a need, though. Wrap it up in tin foil, set it in a 375 degree oven.  Check it after 45 minutes.  (One hour for two heads, which I would recommend, because who wants to turn on the oven for an hour for one bloody head of garlic?  They will also keep in the fridge for a while so no panic.)   The garlic is done when the tops are geennntly caramelizing (you don't need a deep brown like most "real" caramelizing - the outside cloves may burn first).  You should be able to feel the garlic is smooshy-soft through the skin.

Seriously, that's all there is to this five-dollar app they've served you at a restaurant.  A ten-cent head of garlic and time.

(Alternatively, you could get a similar flavor poaching a head of garlic and get yourself some garlic-oil for bread dipping and dressings and what have you at the same time.)

Achievement Unlocked: Roasted Garlic

Recommendation RRrrrrrrondays!

Okay, so there will never be a good day of the week to note a recommendation and make an alliteration of said note. I'm okay with that. Mostly.

I anticipated from the start that I would intersperse recommendations with my own recipe posts as a tribute to those bloggers and inventors who have inspired me. So see the Recommendations page for the list of linking posts I throw up here.

The first linkee of honour that I wanted to have here was one Cheryl Rule. Cheryl runs 5 Second Rule, a hilarious, smart, fun blog that I can't say enough good about. She was also the one who inadvertently introduced me to the world of food blogging. I don't remember what I'd been looking for, but long ago, I found her via Google and after reading about a million recipes straight (and totally just for her recipe introductions--I'd stopped caring about the food three posts in, but it's awesome too), I knew I was hooked.

I'd like you to take a look at a simple offering of hers, Bacon Green Beans with Crispy Sage. This recipe combines two of the best things in the world, bacon and fresh sage, so you can't go wrong.

Chai Tea Concentrate

For my very first recipe, foodie to foodie, I give you...

A drink.*

I was a huge fan of going out for drinks at a coffee house until I figured out how to make most of the drinks I like at home. Don't get me wrong--I don't have an espresso maker so lattes and foamed milk are out. But I never used to order those as a first choice anyway. What I did used to order, I now see as a waste. Why pay four bucks for that when I could do it at home? So I order some kind of latte and I enjoy it but I'm not possessed by its deliciousness.

My favorite has always--before and since the advent of my mild lactose intolerance--always been chai. Eventually, my mom and I scoured the internet for a recipe and I don't know if we were simple or the internet was simpler (but I have my guesses), but we didn't have a ton of luck. One recipe we did find called for peppercorns. Peppercorns? That just sounded too weird to us and we continued to satisfy our cravings by the overpriced cup.

It's only been in the last two years that I've figured out how to make my own chai. I like to use whole spices. It's a pain to go to a bulk store and find them sometimes, I know. However, it's easier, to my mind, to have a stock of these rather than carefully straining out your tea through a coffee filter so you don't have a quarter inch of grit at the bottom of your cup.

That being said, if you'd like to do it that way, go nuts. Just be careful with your translations of whole spices to ground.

Chai Tea Concentrate

Please note that this is a recipe for a concentrate, not a tea. Mix the results of this concentrate half and half or 3/4 concentrate to 1/4 milk, depending on your taste.

4 cups water
5 orange pekoe tea bags (I split these between caffeinated and decaf so I don't go to bed jittering)
1/2 cup honey
4 half-size cinnamon sticks or 2 regular size
15 cloves
8-10 peppercorns
5 cardamom pods
4 allspice berries
1/2 inch ginger root, smashed
2 medium pieces star anise
1 tsp vanilla

Bring your water to a boil and then add the tea bags. Turn the heat way down and allow the bags to steep for approximately five minutes. Bring the tea back to a boil and then add the honey. This will dampen your boil so get it going again.

Add the spices and the vanilla. Cover and reduce to simmer. Let the mixture simmer for five minutes with the tea bags, then remove them so the irony tea taste doesn't overwhelm the pot. Allow the spice to continue to simmer for the next twenty minutes or so. Strain out the spices. Serve hot or cold.

*I find two things hysterical about this photo. One, that the ingredients shown are not even, in fact, the ingredients I use as the nutmeg shouldn't be in there. When I took this picture long ago, though, I was. Too bad, so sad.

Two, I told you I was a shitty photographer. Only a photographer of my epic levels of mindlessness would frame their shot beside their dirty kitchen sink. I want you to know I photoshopped that picture, badly, to clean the sink up a bit. You're welcome.

Introducing, The Facts of Life

Hi. Welcome to my "new" blog!

New is in quotes for a reason. I've been blogging since 2005; somehow--and this is going to blow your mind so get ready--somewhere along the way prattling about my life got old. So this blog has waddled along toward its inevitable deletion for a few years now. Yet, I never quite got around to it. Then I got a new idea.

This blog has been polished, primped and prepped in anticipation of its reopening. It has been made faster, stronger...tastier?

It has become a food blog.

You're flabbergasted by my originality, I know, but please hold all applause for the end.

You see, I've had a burgeoning interest in cooking, baking and food for some time now. I've been taking pictures like a good little foodie (even though I am no photographer), reading other blogs, putting new cook books on my Amazon Wish List and feeding my husband all kinds of things he doesn't actually like. Then a few months ago, when I'd quit my day job in anticipation of a move, someone asked me what I'd do in the interim.

"Write," I answered. For some reason I assumed everyone in the office knew that I was a novelist, albeit an unpublished one.

"Oh!" they cooed. "A cookbook?"

(Through my Facebook updates, my meals had acquired some degree of status around the office.)

No, I thought, but not a bad idea.

While this is no cookbook, I felt it was time for me to start to share my ideas with the world. That's what I like best about writing--the sharing. Food is just one more good excuse.

I want to meditate a little on what this blog will be, then, and give you a feel for what I'm about.

This blog's meals will be cooked in a small space. This is a big part of the point of this blog. For the next few years, at least, I am damned to an apartment's kitchen that I can't, due to the fact that I don't actually own the space, change much about. I have very limited storage, limited counters and a fridge door which falls off (Landlord is STILL swearing he will fix it soon). None of this, however, is a deterrent to the determined!

This blog's meals will be small. I cook largely for my husband and I; there are no children and the cats sniff a lot but don't eat much. The single exception is my soups. I am incapable of making less than eighteen batches of soup.

This blog's meals can be made by hand. What I mean is, I will very rarely write about something that you can't do with a spoon, a whisk, a spatula and a metal bowl. While I've acquired things like stand mixers and food processors in the last year that make my life a lot easier, I have whisked meringue by hand. I (prefer to) make bread by hand. I anticipate someday making my first batch of ice cream this way as well. "By hand" can be slow, it certainly requires more effort, but if you really want to, you can do it.

This blog's meals will be made from scratch. I am actually famously bad at preparing pre-packaged products. I have turned rice into mush and Betty Crocker cakes into bricks. However, what this also means is that I advocate the whole-food, home-made movements going on. I am currently making an effort to know exactly what's in my food. I am steeping my own vanilla, brewing my own tea and preserving my own lemons. These things, you will find, are ridiculously easy.

This blog will talk about reusing. I am married to a man who more or less taught me to care about recycling. This attitude has changed me and my habits. Plus, the city of Toronto is aiming to force people into reducing their weekly garbage by accommodating a huge amount of recycling and green bin refuse. I appreciate the effort. Vegetable peels, ends and brown bits? Keep them for the stock pot.

This blog will take short cuts. Please forgive me. Sometimes I am just tired. Sometimes we will just order pizza. Sometimes I'd rather grab a damn high-sodium can of beans than cook some for two hours because I forgot to soak them overnight. I'm not a purist.

Settled? Good, then. Some things I won't do.

This blog will not be political. I enjoy reading other foodie bloggers' takes on the last Pollan article, the revelation of this or that practice, the reason for eating from a CSA rather than a Sobey's. While I have my own set of principles that will become clearer with time, I do not enjoy hashing such things out, particularly.

This blog will not be exact. You can blame me, here. I do not, for the most part, measure as I cook if I'm not using someone else's recipe. So take the measurements with a grain of salt and if you think the soup needs more water, give it more water.

This blog will not be simple, or at least, not all the time. I really enjoy a challenge. I get excited when I see a recipe with a long ingredient list. (Within reason, anyway. I recently read a cookbook where every third recipe had two half-page columns of ingredients. Aie.)

This blog will not, however, include impossible ingredients in these possibly-lengthy lists. I have a few blogs I love but despair of. They will describe a recipe that sounds incredible, only to inform me halfway through that I need tamarind paste. I will immediately realize that I didn't like the recipe well enough to hunt down an Asian grocer who might carry tamarind paste. On the contrary, while spelt flour always sounded obscure to me, I discovered you can get it at your local Bulk Barn. I'm likely to mention this, however.

This blog will not contain good photography. As I said, I'm no photographer. I hate a recipe without a picture, though, so I'll do what I can.

Can you tell that I also like the sound of my own voice? Or, at least the flow of my own print? Alas, it's true. I'm a writer; it's my fatal flaw. So, that all said, let's begin.