morsels & sauces

I have a habit I cannot kick, and it is Ottolenghi's cookbooks.  This is the sixth recipe I have cooked from either Plenty (2011) or Jerusalem (2012), and for Valentine's Day, the husband bought me Ottolenghi (2013).  In the past three years, Ottolenghi's prolific cookbook writing has only fueled the fire. Now if only Ten Speed Press or Chronicle Books would recognize how much I love Ottolenghi and send me advance copies of the cookbooks gratis.  I wait patiently and without expectation. Here's what I have made from his cookbooks (and I'll have this one and even one more after this entry to add.  Clearly I have a serious problem.):  Multi-Vegetable Paella   Raw Artichoke and Herb Salad Roasted Cauliflower with Hazelnuts Salad   Salmon Steaks in Chraimeh Warm Glass Noodles and Edamame I love these cookbooks mostly for their vegetarian fare.  In fact, the only recipe that I have made that includes an animal is the salmon, which was divine.  Perhaps s

No one told me that allspice could do this to cauliflower.  Well, nobody until now.  And let me, via the wisdom of Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi, be the one to tell you that allspice can do this to cauliflower:  not only is it a surprisingly sharp burst of flavor, especially when paired with  said cauliflower, it is a remarkably good one, particularly when added to little vinegar and maple syrup. As detailed in my previous entry , I am spending my days holed up in a cabin in the woods, where I am reading, grading, running, gathering wood, doing yoga, grading, cooking, making fires, grading.  Thus far, I have graded 20 papers, which given that I average 3 an hour (I do wish I were a faster grader—I thought when I first entered teaching that the grading would somehow become quicker. It has not.), well, let’s not do the math.  Good news:  only 44 more to go.    When I am not reading about who is to blame for the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet , I am taking care of busines

This week, I am spending my time in Fort Bragg—or to be more precise, about four miles north of Fort Bragg—where I am watching sunsets, grading, and prepping for my spring classes.  This weekend came at just the right time, as I was feeling the perennial Funk of February.  For as long as I can remember, every February, I descend into The Funk.  The days feel too short for the too many things to do. Thankfully, I now teach in California, where most schools are granted what is often abysmally entitled Ski Week (I call it pedestrianly “February Break,” for I would never have been one of those students, nor am I truly one of those teachers, who could afford to take a week off just to ski). February Break not only coincides with The Funk, but it also marks the end of our second term, so I am often holed-up grading final papers and writing comments.  However, I get to perform such activities in my pajamas, and this week, in a cabin in the woods.  Two nights ago, the husband an