Roasted butternut, kale, black bean and goat cheese enchiladas with a roasted red pepper/pecan sauce

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Kale and butternut enchiladas

Kale and butternut enchiladas

Here at The Ordinary we have an institute entirely devoted to the study of time passing. We had thought, up until a few months ago, that we were mere moments away from complete understanding. Lately, however, our grasp is slipping, we are perplexed. We are, in point of fact, reeling. Surely it was August, only yesterday, the boys were home all the long day, and our greatest concern was finding a place for them to swim? Surely these mornings that we wake up and it’s dark and cold, and before you know it, it’s dark and cold and dusky, with just the winking suggestion of a pale wintery day in between, surely these days are just a dream, or a memory. Surely it’s not the middle of December. Did we have autumn? Did we have glorious fall colors and crisp, clear days? If so, we didn’t notice, which breaks our heart, because, here at The Ordinary Institute for the Study of the Passing of Time, noticing is our business! It’s what we do. We study each passing, perfect, irreplaceable moment, and then we capture it, and we put it in a glass jar with a filmy lid of wax. We study it and label it. We used to store all the jars on shelves in a darkened room, so that you could see how they glow, but this year we’re giving them away for christmas, because everybody is gifting with ball jars this year! Just everybody. We’ve known for some time, of course, that time travels at different rates for different people depending on the time of day. It goes quickest in the morning, when you’re lying in a warm bed, with the sun struggling weakly to light up the cold day, and all of your chores and worries swirling around your head. This time of year it travels faster for an adult, who has so much to take care of before Christmas, than for a seven-year-old, because no matter how many times he asks, each and every day, how many days are left until Christmas, it’s always the same answer, each day, all day long. Sigh. Time is running and passing, and I can’t keep up, so here I am by the side of the tracks, holding my baggage by my feet, watching it rattle and whoosh as it crashes by.

You know the seasons are changing because I just composted the last of my CSA produce. They’ve been in the vegetable drawer for a few weeks now. They seemed very precious, because they were pretty golden and peppermint striped beets. I had something very special planned for them. But never quite special enough, so I kept waiting and waiting. Until they were unusable. I have fun keeping up with the CSA veg, but there’s something liberating about buying whatever sort of vegetables you please in the grocery store. I try to stay mostly seasonable, but, let’s face it…nothing is growing in NJ in winter. I try to keep with a wintery mix of butternut squash, cauliflower, greens, mushrooms, fennel, things like this. And then I combine them all in a big beautiful enchilada!! These enchiladas have a lot of flavors, but they all go very nicely together. It’s not as complicated to make as it might sound, because you can roast squash, boil kale, and make a sauce all at the same time. I used goat cheese inside the enchiladas, because I love the flavor with butternut squash, and because I thought it might make for a lighter texture than wads of melted cheddar or jack. There’s melted cheddar on top, though! Wouldn’t feel like enchiladas without some type of melty cheese! I apologize for the picture, I know it’s not one of the best, but it’s really hard to take an attractive picture of an enchilada!!

Here’s Tom Waits with Time. I think I’ve probably posted it before, but it’s just that good!

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Honey rosemary goat cheese bread

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Honey rosemary goat cheese bread

Honey rosemary goat cheese bread

So I’m on the facebook. I’m a bit lazy and telephonobhobic, and I like the fact that I can keep in touch with old friends from every point in my disjointed life with very little effort. And I like the vagaries of the facebook shuffle. I like the fact that disparate friends of mine will post status updates that echo each other very closely, even though they have no actual connection to each other. And I like the odd contrasts. The other day, one friend posted a meme (I believe it’s called) of an embroidered message that said, “Fuck your fascist beauty standards,” (or something close to that). And another friend posted lots of shots of half-naked conventionally beautiful young women. It struck me as very funny! Of course, at this time, I could go on and on about the objectification of women, and body image…and I probably will some day. But for now…let’s have a playlist!! A playlist of songs celebrating unconventional beauty. If you know me at all, you’ll know that I love songs on this subject, and I’ve been mentally compiling just such a playlist for years. And yet somehow, today, all I can come up with is four (brilliant) versions of My Funny Valentine, plus a handful of other songs. It will come to me eventually!! I’ve made the playlist collaborative, so add what you like!!

This bread turned out really well! I wanted something to go with a soup, but I didn’t even think of it till 5 pm, so it had to be quick. It had to be a quick bread! This bread has a bit of olive oil, a bit of honey, some rosemary and some goat cheese. It’s pleasantly ambiguous – it could be sweet or savory, however you’d like to use it! Nice with soup at dinner, nice with coffee in the morning.

Here’s that playlist! Add what you’d like!!

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French cake a week – les sables de caen (with clementine zest)

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Les sables au caen

Les sables au caen

In which Claire, who doesn’t speak French bakes her way through the cake section of a French cookbook from 1962. Here at The Ordinary, we’ve fallen way behind in our French-cake-a-week series. O! The angry uproar from our cake-eating fans! Our mailbox is crammed with notes that say, “merde!” and “zut alors!!” Where is our cake?!? Well, fear not! Here it is! We mark our triumphal return with the spectacular … well, the spectacularly simple sables de caen. As you will recall, if you can remember that far back, we had gotten into the custom of writing about films by french women to accompany our french cake a week. This week, the film I’d like to tell you about isn’t really french, and isn’t by a woman. But it takes place in France, and it does concern a woman. It is, in fact, the very last five-minute segment of Paris, Je T’aime, a film comprised of many such segments directed by many different directors, including such notables as the Coen brothers and Gus Van Sant. The film as a whole is very entertaining. Each segment is different, and some are light-hearted and amusing, some are stylish, some romantic, some heavy and dramatic, and one even involves a sexy french vampire. The last section, directed by Alexander Payne seemed completely different from all of these, and held a mysterious power – it felt like a gentle but powerful punch. It was very moving! In music and poetry, they speak of something called a “feminine ending” or a “feminine cadence,” in which a line, phrase or movement ends on an unstressed or “weak” syllable or note. Though it is called “weak,” the effect of such an ending is usually quite powerful, because it is unexpected and unresolved, it leaves you questioning and wanting more. Payne’s tiny movie felt like just such an ending. It was simple, sweet, thoughtful, a little sad, but ultimately uplifting. It was a story told by a seemingly very ordinary woman – a letter carrier from Denver – for her French class. She recounts her trip to Paris in a horrible french accent, and though it’s a very short narrative, and though nothing happens, by the end I was nearly in tears, I liked her so much, and I wanted to go to Paris more than ever. (The link above includes the whole narrative, which works on its own, but is probably better as part of the film as a whole.)

These little cakes are very simple, but quite delicious. They’re more like cookies, honestly, and I think they’d make nice Christmas cookies. They have a lot of butter, and precious little else! The recipe calls for orange zest or any flavoring you’d like, but I opted for clementine zest, because it’s a lovely mysterious flavor, and because that’s what I had! The recipe called for a large, round fluted punch, to cut the cookies. I happened to have ja tiny tart pan (about 8 inches) that I thought would work, but if you don’t have such a thing, you could use any cookie cutter you like, or even a juice glass of any size you like.

Here’s Clementine, by the Decemberists. I love this song!

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Red bean and tarragon stew with fennel and artichoke hearts, and rosemary cornmeal bread

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Red bean and tarragon stew

Red bean and tarragon stew

Yesterday was a bright, cold day, with a ripple of agitation as the unseasonable warmth from the beginning of the week was blown away by the cold damp air of today. The sky was white blue, and the late afternoon produced the sort of slanting golden light that tricks you into thinking it’s warmer than it is. And on this late-fall afternoon, you could find me riding all over town, wearing Isaac’s backpack, on Malcolm’s BMX bike. Malcolm’s been home from school all week, and I wanted to pick up his homework and prescription, but I didn’t want to leave him alone too long, and I felt too lazy to haul my bike out of winter hibernation in the basement. So here I was, wheeling around town on a small, bright Tintin-blue BMX wearing a small bright serpent-green backpack. It felt good – the cold air in my lungs harsh but cleansing, the cold air washing through my stale, lack-of-sleep addled brain clearing off the cobwebs. I had this strange sensation – hard to place, familiar, but remote – something I hadn’t experienced in a while. And then it came to me…I felt cool. I felt like a cool kid. I nearly laughed, but that wouldn’t have been cool. I realized that I didn’t feel, for a moment, like a tired and anxious 43-year-old on her son’s BMX. And, of course, that realization brought it all crashing around me, because I was a tired 43-year-old on her son’s BMX. Malcolm’s back in school today, and he told me they’re having an assembly with a BMX ramp and, I assume, skillful young BMXers doing tricks. Wouldn’t it be funny if I came flying down the ramp at the assembly? Waving and shouting, “Yoo hoo, Malcolm! Yoo hoo! It’s mommy!” Heh heh. So Malcolm and I have had a nice week, it’s cold and rainy today, and I miss having him around, though, of course, I’m glad he’s glad to be back in school.

Red bean and tarragon stew

Red bean and tarragon stew

While he was sick he craved brothy foods, and this was just such a meal. It’s quite substantial and has a lot of strong flavors, but they’re all flavors that I love, that work well together. It has a bit of zing to it, which transcends the potential (pleasant) stodginess of beans and potatoes. It’s a good meal for any time of year, really…in the winter I tend to stock up on jars of artichoke hearts and roasted red peppers to relive some of that summery flavor that you can capture fresh in other seasons. I like a nice crusty bread with my stew, so I decided to make one myself. I wanted it to be chewy and dense, but not with a fine crumb. So I added some cornmeal to the mix. And I kept the dough very wet – I had to use the food processor rather than my hands to knead it. I baked it in a bowl that I’d lightly greased, and it got stuck, so I had some trouble getting it out, but it was still delicious. Just a little messy, so you had to pull it apart with your hands, but that’s not such a bad thing!! I guess you could try a non-stick loaf pan, or just mound the dough onto a greased baking sheet. I’ll try it and let you know how it goes!!

Here’s Loch Lomond’s strange and beautiful Wax and Wire, in a video showing the most amazing BMX riding courtesy of Danny MacAskill, and the most beautiful landscapes, courtesy of Scotland.

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Nutella cookies

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Nutella cookies

Nutella cookies

We saw such an interesting movie the other night. Female, starring Ruth Chatterton, is a pre-code movie. This means that it’s shocking, sassy and salacious! This, in fact, means that it was made before the enforcement of the “Hays Code,” a set of strict rules imposed upon the film industry in the early 1930s. These rules determined what you could show in a film and what you could say in a film, of course, but I find it fascinating that they also controlled the plot of a film. You could get away with showing a “bad girl” or a “fallen woman” if she was punished by the plot – if her immoral actions resulted in death or redemption (and marriage). I love to watch post-code movies and see the way that humanity, in all of its imbalance and immorality, seeps through the cracks in the plot, to watch for moments when it’s obvious that the outcome of the film has nothing to do with the characters in the film, with their desires or fears. (Watch Some Like it Hot, and remember that “the code” discouraged the depiction of gay characters.) Female (1933) is something of a cusp film – the code had been introduced, but not yet strictly enforced. It tells the story of Alison Drake, the boss of a large auto plant, who long ago decided to “travel the same open road that men travel,” and to treat men exactly as they’ve treated women all of these years. And so she does! She has brief affairs with any young thing that catches her eye at the office, and she forms no emotional attachment and expects that they’ll do the same. In the end, of course, she’s tamed by a strong “alpha male” who looks alarmingly like Ronald Reagan. And so, in a sense, it could be a post-code movie, despite all of the innuendo and her shocking behavior throughout, because she’s redeemed by marriage. But the film struggles against this tidy ending. For one thing, it’s very funny throughout, and when she declares her decision to leave her company to her future husband and to have at least nine children, it comes across almost as another joke. And the humor is so clever and satirical. The show Mad Men got a lot of attention for showing how degradingly women were treated at a certain time, especially in the work place. Alison Drake turns that world on its head, but with such honesty and good nature that we almost take her side, though she’s using and abusing all the handsome boys at the office. The film raises questions, but it doesn’t make simple judgments about the characters or their actions. For instance, throughout the film it becomes obvious that Alison Drake’s servants like her very much. They talk to her like an equal, and they take an interest in her life – the chauffeur goes so far as to fight for her honor in response to a slur on her character. This makes her seem like a real, human character, and one who cannot be penned in by a simplistic Hollywood ending. She’s told to be softer and more feminine to snag her man, and she tries this approach, but with an unmistakable smile on her face the whole time. Oh those naive days of yore, when women thought it would be clever to pretend to be something they’re not to get themselves married. Thank heavens we’ve grown beyond that, as a society. But wait, what’s this? On the Fox news website recently, and written by a woman! Advice that women should be softer and more feminine if they’d like to get themselves married! I won’t give it any more attention than it deserves, especially since Stephen Colbert has pretty much said all that there is to say.

So…nutella cookies!! They’re like nutella because they’re made with cocoa powder and hazelnuts, and they have nutella mixed into the batter! They’re like nutella because they’re delicious and addictive! They’re crispy-outside-soft-inside-chocolatey-nutty-melty-pleasantly-plump-and-weighty. And they’re fun and easy to make.

Here’s The Carter Family with Single Girl, Married Girl. Surely one of the first feminist anthems, and from such an unlikely source.
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Butternut squash steaks with port wine/portobella/sage sauce and Hash browns with pistachios

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Butternut steaks

Butternut steaks

Malcolm is home sick from school, and I’m not feeling 100% myself. We’re having such a nice day! We had a lot of big plans, but we’re not doing any of them. Mostly, we’re sitting on the couch, glad to be together, and reminiscing about the time Clio sneezed 6 times in a row.

I thought this was such a nice meal. It started as a mistake, almost, so it’s an example of taking a culinary wrong turn and finding yourself on an even better road! I had the idea of roasting “steaks” of butternut squash. I thought I’d try marinating them. I know they wouldn’t absorb as much marinade as, say, eggplant or mushrooms, but I thought they might absorb some. So I cut them about 1/3 to 1/2 inch thick. Then I made a marinade of rosemary, sage, garlic, port wine, balsamic and olive oil. I let them sit for more than an hour, turning them once. They did take on some of the color and flavor! Then I had the bright idea of trying to dip them in egg and bread them, in the manner that I make eggplant. This didn’t work at all! I think if I’d steamed them first, they would have absorbed more of the marinade, and been better able to hold onto their crust. As it was, the crust turned crispy and delicious, and then came right off the steaks. Did I panic? I did not. I scraped the crust (made from bread crumbs and pistachio kernels) right off of the steaks, and I mixed it in with my mashed potatoes! I’d been planning to make hash browns with some leftover mashed potatoes, because Malcolm likes them. I didn’t know he did, but he told me at the reader’s breakfast at school he ate all of his hash browns, and Isaac’s and some other friends, too!! It’s funny when you learn something new about someone you know so well! They’re a bit like croquettes, I guess with the crumbs and nuts added in. I suppose if you put some cheese in, you’d have a meal! Anyway…the butternut steaks roasted up nicely without the breading – they were soft on the inside, and just browned and a little crispy and caramelized on the outside. And I used the marinade sauce, combined with some roasted mushrooms, to make a sort of gravy for the steaks. Everything was very nice together – a real meat and potatoes meal!

Leftovers tacos

Leftovers tacos

The next day, after work, I combined leftover hash browns, leftover mushroom sauce, and diced leftover roasted squash with black beans to make a filling for tacos. We ate it with warm tortillas, crisp romaine lettuce, basmati rice and some grated extra sharp cheddar. Also very delicious!! It was so good it would be worth making from scratch! It would make a good filling for a savory pie!

Here’s The Joe Morello Quintet ft. Art Pepper with Pepper Steak
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Chickpea, artichoke, olive and goat cheese dip

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artichoke goat cheese dip

artichoke goat cheese dip

Skip James is one of my favorites. His voice is so haunting and plaintive, and his playing so sweet. I love his song Look Down the Road, and it’s been in my head a lot lately. Here’s a sample of the wonderful lyrics…

Look down the road
‘Fer as my eyes could see
Hey-hey, yeah
‘Fer as my eyes could see
And I couldn’t see nothin’
Looked like mine, to me

…

I don’t want no woman
Got hair like drops a-rain
Hey-hey-hey
Got hair like drops a-rain
Boy, you know this a shame
It’s a pity an a cryin’ shame

Beautiful!! In honor of this song, today’s playlist subject is songs about “The Road.” They don’t need to have “the road” in the title, but all of mine do, because I’m lazy and late for work. I’ve made the playlist collaborative, so you should be able to add your own suggestions!!

This dip is a miracle of last-minute deliciousness. If you have a can of chickpeas and a can of artichoke hearts, a tub of olives and a bit of goat cheese, you’re ready to entertain! Or make a nice dinner with good bread and a salad.

Here’s my THE ROAD playlist! Feel free to add your own songs.

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Chard dumplings with olives, raisins and pistachios

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chard dumplings

chard dumplings

Here at The Ordinary, we’ve had a…well, it’s been a rough week in some ways. Not horrible, but emotional. One night, probably the night of our greatest stress, the boys were calling out….”Everybody! Everybody! Everybody!” Familiar, but I couldn’t quite remember what it was. And then it clicked…it was this moment from Blues Brothers…

It happens to be one of my favorite cinematic moments! It’s the pinnacle of this film, which is zany, yes, and over-the-top, yes, but is also so full of honesty, warmth, humanity and soul, that it becomes unforgettable. When Elwood says …

And remember, people, that no matter who you are and what you do to live, thrive and survive, there’re still some things that makes us all the same.

… he speaks the truth! He’s talking, of course, about needing someone to love, but I’ve always thought that he’s also talking about needing music, and the joy of making music with other people, or just dancing to music made by other people. And this is some of the most joyful dancing I’ve ever seen!!

Yeah. I made these dumplings like asian steamed dumplings (or my interpretation of asian steamed dumplings.) In this house they’re also called “kung fu panda dumplings.” But the filling was inspired by two things…first of all, my world-renowned love of chard, raisins and nuts. And second of all, my fascination with the Latin American practice of combining raisins and olives. I’ve read about this quite a bit! It’s a filling for empanadas and pies, amongst other things. It shouldn’t work, but it does, Oh yes it does!!! So those were the principles behind these little dumplings. I made them a day ahead, and then we toasted them so that they got a little brown on their soft tops.

Here’s Wilson Pickett with Everybody Needs Someone to Love.
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Roasted brussels sprouts with castelvetrano olives and walnuts

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Brussel sprouts and castelvetrano olives

Brussel sprouts and castelvetrano olives

If The Ordinary had a poetical patron saint, it might be William Carlos Williams. I love so many of his poems and his ideas about poetry and art (as I’ve read and understood them) that I wish I could sit down and talk with him. Or maybe make a meal for him. I wonder if he likes brussels sprouts? I’d certainly serve plum tart for dessert! Williams was from New Jersey, home of The Ordinary. He was a pediatrician as well as a poet, and I’ve spoken in the past about how I like the idea of an artist having a grounding, regular job, and about how serving people as a profession seems to make one’s art more honest, warm, and resonant. Williams believed that poetry was important – necessary, even – to understand the chaos of life, and I’d agree that some form of creative outlet (as an artist or as an appreciator of art) is essential for a life well-lived. He chose as his subjects the ordinary and the every day, the regular people that he encountered as he moved through life. His language celebrates the rhythms of real speech as he heard it all around him, spoken by Americans, who were so close to the cadences and patterns of their words that they almost didn’t notice them. He was an innovator, not only in championing this entirely new, fresh form of American poetry, but also in introducing a variable foot and a triadic line break, based on his observations of the sound of the world around him – of his world. He was generous – he was a mentor to many younger poets, including Allen Ginsberg (also a Jersey boy!). He stressed the importance of the local – of appreciating and understanding your home and the ways that it shaped you – but he was not provincial. He studied and travelled abroad, and was fascinated by new ideas and new forms of art. I love poetry that seems simple, effortless and formless, but which is revealed, upon closer examination to be carefully, lovingly crafted, with attention to every small detail. I love the picture of Williams that I conjure as I read about him and read his poetry. He seemed a passionate, creative, warm and generous spirit. I love the fact that, in an era during which many artists thought of themselves as a superior, supersensitive class, he spoke about “common” people, and not in a deprecating, patronizing fashion, but as such a person himself, sharing his voice and his observations. His poems are spare and beautiful – frequently he describes a moment using images (not ideas but things) and odd particular details that convey far more meaning and emotion because we make the connections for ourselves.

Between Walls

the back wings
of the

hospital where
nothing

will grow lie
cinders

In which shine
the broken

pieces of a green
bottle

Salad of warm brussel sprouts

Salad of warm brussel sprouts

Speaking of bottle green, have you ever seen such a pretty salad? We bought a giant alien-looking sprig of brussels sprouts. I cut half of them from the stalk, roasted them, and tossed them with walnuts, arugula and castelvetrano olives, to make a sort of warm salad, or vegetable side dish. I dressed it with melted butter and balsamic. That’s right! A butter dressing for a salad. I thought it was ridiculously tasty – salty, juicy, and crunchy all at once. Even Isaac liked the brussel sprouts! I think they get a bad name, like many brassica, because they’re stinky if you broil them. But they’re lovely if you roast them!

Instead of a song, today, I’ll leave you with Williams reading his most famous poem.

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Roasted parsnip, spinach and walnut kofta (with secret melty cheese!)

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Parsnip and spinach kofta

Today’s recipe goes with yesterday’s recipe in much the same way that today’s meandering ramble continues the fine tradition of yesterday’s meandering ramble, and of the day’s before that. Think of it as a three part series on gratitude, annoyance, and regret, if you like. I apologize for talking about my boys so much, lately, but, mama, they’ve been on my mind. I promise to talk about something more universally interesting tomorrow. Like Lindsay Lohan. And her childhood. Before bed, David reads with Isaac, and I read with Malcolm, and then I cuddle with Isaac for a few minutes before I get on with my life. I used to fall asleep nearly every night, and wake up an hour later feeling trampled and discombobulated and with my whole evening shot. So I only stay for a few minutes now (super intense concentrated cuddles). Last night Isaac gently ran a finger down my cheek three times, slowly, and then touched my lips. It seemed like such a mysterious and beautiful gesture, so I asked him why he’d done it. He said, with a serious smile, “Because I just love you.” And I just love him, too, so I repeated the gesture on his incredibly soft cheek. He giggled and traced a more complicated pattern on my chin and nose and eyelids, and I tried to repeat that, too. And so it went, until he was laughing with his ridiculously lovely belly laugh, which I wish I could bottle, along with the rest of this moment. My first thought was that he touched my cheek because I look old, because he could tell that I was aging. But I think that children rarely notice that their parents are growing older. And Isaac frequently tells me, “You don’t look old at all, to me,” prompting the suspicion that everyone else in town is talking about how old I look. And then I thought about how I keep telling him that he’s getting older, that he’s growing so big, that he’s a big seven-year-old and should be able to keep up or get to sleep all by himself. I thought that I hadn’t heard him laugh like that in some time. I thought about his school picture, in which he’s not smiling at all. He is, in fact, frowning, and there’s a bit of a challenge in his eye. It’s as if he just told the photographer, “don’t you tell me to smile!!” His whole life, Isaac has been a glowing smiler. He used to beam at people from his bjorn. His whole face lights up in a delightful and infectious way. I thought about how cranky I’d been, lately, not for any particular reason, it’s just a pattern one gets into. And how it must have seemed to him like I’m always annoyed, because he walks slowly or spills his juice or won’t get to sleep. Ugh. I thought about how Malcolm’s teachers sounded annoyed when they said his name, and feared that I might do that, too. We only get one chance at this! Phew. Did you hear about that Lindsay Lohan? She got arrested again! I read about it on the front page of the Guardian!

We ate these kofta with the white bean tomato bisque, almost as a sauce. David dunked his right in, and I ate mine with lettuce and tomatoes, all wrapped up in a warm tortilla, and the soup on the side. (It probably would have been better in pita, but I didn’t have time to make any!) I thought they turned out really good. I was quite proud of myself. Parsnips obviously have such a nice flavor, and they go well with earthy spinach, and the walnuts added just a bit of crunch. And then there’s the secret melty cheeeeeeeese!!

Here’s You Only Live Once by SJob movement. I just love it!!
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