It turns out shopping for wedding dresses is nothing like they make it appear in the movies. Or at least it hasn’t been for me. Angels don’t sing. Stars don’t explode. Relatives don’t cry. There isn’t a sudden heart-stopping moment that this is, in fact, “the one.” To be honest, I always knew that I wasn’t the kind of gal for whom angels would sing or stars would explode but I did think I’d have some kind of moment where I could tell I’d found the best dress. Instead, my mom flew into town and we spent three (yes, three!!) days shopping for dresses, and since then I’ve been back to the stores we visited — and I’m more undecided than ever. Tomorrow morning I’ll return with my friend Keena to try and tie this business up once and for all. Cross your fingers.
The one thing I have been pleasantly surprised with is that I actually like many of the dresses — a much better problem to have than not finding anything at all. And I’m finding myself drawn to dresses I never would’ve thought were much like “me.” I went in saying only simple, streamlined dresses would do and I’ve been getting kind of into some train action — even a little beading here and there. Who knew? Also, I’m in LOVE with the accessories! Bring on the sashes! In fact, I’d like to start wearing those silky wedding sashes to my yoga classes — why aren’t we all wearing more sashes? Fake camellias in my hair? Bring it.
But really, if I had to sum the whole thing up, I feel like this is a way harder decision than I thought it would be and I know in the big picture of things it really doesn’t matter. That we will get married in September with all of our friends close by, and our families will meet for the first time and there will be pretty flowers and champagne and ice cream and I won’t be thinking for a second about the dress. I’m trying to look ahead and remember all of that this week, trying not to get bogged down in the little details and remembering the great party we’ll have.
The recipe I decided to share with you today is appropriate for a few reasons. It’s all about looking ahead — to the colors of spring and the act of preserving which always reminds me of warmer weather and planning for future meals, moments and days. It’s a recipe for Quick Pickled Strawberries from Marisa McClellan’s newest book Preserving by the Pint and it’s given me the full, forceful nudge I’ve needed to get excited about spring. (Sam would like me to mention here that “quickled” would be a more apt, if not fun, term. I’m on the fence.) I’ve said it here before: I’m not much of a canner. There are a lot of things I’m good at but finessing hot water baths, rubber gloves, and dozens of jars is just not one of them. One of the things that’s long frustrated me about canning is the scale the recipes are written in. I don’t actually want 12 jars of peach jam; I want a few jars to enjoy using a handful of peaches I picked up from the farmers market. So I was truly delighted to receive Marisa’s book in the mail last week. I think it’s going to change things around here this season.
Most of the recipes in Preserving by the Pint are designed to yield just a few jars. In the introduction, Marissa notes that “Preserving on this scale means that I get to explore different flavor combinations without ever committing massive amounts of produce to an idea that might not work out. It also allows me to have three or four dozen different kinds of jams, conserves, and sauces in my pantry.” On my list in the spring chapter alone: Honey-Sweetened Strawberry Jam, Mustardy Rhubarb Chuntney, Sorrel Pesto.
Now what does one do with strawberry pickles? I have really fallen in love with these little ruby gems. They’re snappy and slightly acidic and bright. They’re really wonderful on salads or as a garnish in your favorite cocktail. Perhaps best of all, they’re super quick and don’t require any processing: you simply put your jar in the refrigerator overnight and the next day you’ve got beautiful strawberry pickles! If only choosing a wedding dress were so easy.
The only little tweak I made to Marisa’s recipe was in the amount of sugar — she calls for 1 tablespoon and I used just a touch less. I’ve been using my berries in a salad made of simple greens, shaved goat feta and a lemony vinaigrette. It’s been deemed the salad of the season around here. I’d love to hear what you do with yours. Please note that the strawberries must sit for at least 24 hours in the refrigerator before enjoying and that time isn’t factored into the breakdown above.
Recipe from: Preserving by the Pint
Wash the strawberries, remove the stems and leaves, and cut into halves or quarters, depending on size.
In a medium saucepan, combine the vinegar with 1/3 cup / 80ml water, the sugar, salt and peppercorns. Set over high heat and bring to a boil.
Place the tarragon in a wide-mouth 1-quart/1-liter jar and add the chopped berries. Once the brine has boiled pour it over the strawberries. Let the pickles cool until room temperature, and then place a lid on the jar and refrigerate.
Allow the pickles to rest for at least 24 hours before eating.
Winter Comfort Food
I intended on baking holiday cookies to share with you today, but when I sat down to brainstorm all I could think about, truly, was the morning porridge I've been making and how that's really what I wanted to send you away with. The holiday season always seems to zoom on by at its own clip with little regard for how most of us wish it would just slow down, and this year feels like no exception. We got our tree last week and I've been making a point to sit in the living room and admire the twinkle as much as possible. I have lofty goals of snowflakes and gingerbread men and stringing cranberries and popcorn, but I'm also trying to get comfortable with the fact that everything may not get done, and that sitting amongst the twinkle is really the most important. That and a warm breakfast before the day spins into gear. This multi-grain porridge has proved to be a saving grace on busy weekday mornings, and it reheats beautifully so I've been making a big pot and bringing it to work with some extra chopped almonds and fresh pomegranate seeds. While cookies are certainly on the horizon, I think I'll have this recipe to thank for getting us through the busy days ahead.
We returned home from San Francisco on New Years Eve just in time for dinner, and craving greens -- or anything other than baked goods and pizza (ohhhh San Francisco, how I love your bakeries. And citrus. And winter sunshine). Instead of driving straight home, we stopped at our co-op where I ran in for some arugula, an avocado, a bottle of Prosecco, and for the checkout guys to not-so-subtly mock the outlook of our New Years Eve: rousing party, eh? They looked to be in their mid-twenties and I figured I probably looked ancient to them, sad even. But really, there wasn't much sad (or rousing, to be fair) about our evening: putting Oliver to bed, opening up holiday cards and hanging them in the kitchen, and toasting the New Year with arugula, half a quesadilla and sparkling wine. It wasn't lavish. But it's what we both needed. (Or at least what we had to work with.) Since then, I've been more inspired to cook lots of "real" food versus all of the treats and appetizers and snacks the holidays always bring on. I made Julia Turshen's curried red lentils for the millionth time, a wintry whole grain salad with tuna and fennel, roasted potatoes, and this simple green minestrone that I've taken for lunch this week. Determined to fit as many seasonal vegetables into a bowl as humanly possible, I spooned a colorful pesto on top, as much for the reminder of warmer days to come as for the accent in the soup (and for the enjoyment later of slathering the leftover pesto on crusty bread).
If I asked you about what you like to cook at home when the week gets busy, I'm willing to bet it might be something simple. While there are countless websites and blogs and innumerable resources to find any kind of recipe we may crave, it's often the simple, repetitive dishes that we've either grown up with or come to love that call to us when cooking (or life in general) seems overwhelming or when we're feeling depleted. While my go-to is typically breakfast burritos or whole grain bowls, this Curried Cauliflower Couscous with Chickpeas and Chard would make one very fine, very doable house meal on rotation. The adaptations are endless, and its made from largely pantry ingredients. I never thought I'd hop on the cauliflower "rice" bandwagon, but I have to say after making it a few times, I get the hype.
People describe raising young kids as a particular season in life. I hadn't heard this until we had a baby, but it brought me a lot of comfort when I'd start to let my mind wander, late at night between feedings, to fears that we'd never travel internationally again or have a sit-down meal in our dining room. Would I ever eat a cardamom bun in Sweden? Soak in Iceland? I loved the heck out of our tiny Oliver, but man what had we done?! Friends would swoop in and reassure us that this was just a season, a blip in the big picture of it all. They promised we'd likely not even remember walking around the house in circles singing made-up songs while eating freezer burritos at odd hours of the day (or night). And it's true.
Oliver is turning two next month, and those all-encompassing baby days feel like a different time, a different Us. In many ways, dare I say it, Toddlerhood actually feels a bit harder. Lately Oliver has become extremely opinionated about what he will and will not wear -- and he enforces these opinions with fervor. Don't get near the kid with a button-down shirt. This week at least. He's obsessed with his rain boots and if it were up to him, he'd keep them on at all times, especially during meals. He insists on ketchup with everything (I created a damn monster), has learned the word "trash" and insists on throwing found items away on his own that really, truly are not trash. I came to pick him up from daycare the other day and he was randomly wearing a bike helmet -- his teacher mentioned he'd had it on most of the day and really, really didn't want to take it off. The kid has FEELINGS. I love that about him, and wouldn't want it any other way. But, man it's also exhausting.
It's been a uniformly gray and rainy week in Seattle, and I'd planned on making a big pot of salmon chowder to have for the weekend, but then the new issue of Bon Appetit landed on my doorstep with that inviting "Pies for Dinner" cover, and I started to think about how long it's been since I made my very favorite recipe from my cookbook, Whole Grain Mornings. I'm often asked at book events which recipe I love most, and it's a tough one to answer because I have favorites for different moods or occasions, but I'd say that this savory tart is right up there. The cornmeal millet crust is one of my party tricks; when we need a quick brunch recipe, this is what I pull out of my back pocket because it's so simple and delicious. This is a no-roll, no fuss crust with a slightly sandy, crumbly texture thanks to the cornmeal, and a delightful crunch from the millet. In the past, I've used the crust and custard recipe as the base for any number of fillings: on The Kitchn last year, I did a version with greens and gruyere, and I teach cooking classes that often include a version heavy on local mushrooms and shallot. So if you are not keen on salmon or have some vegetables you're looking to use up this week, feel free to fold in whatever is inspiring you right now. Sometimes at this point in winter that can be hard, so hopefully this recipe may help a little.