Summer Ratatouille

When my mom came to town the Ferry Plaza Farmer's Market was our first stop after the airport. After putting close to five dollars in quarters into the meter, we were on our way, along with throngs of other people. Ten o'clock in the morning on a lovely Saturday in June is actually not the perfect time to descend on the market. Unless you have The List.

The List was my plan for combating the hundreds of sample gobbling, chit-chatting, stroller pushing crowds of people wandering aimlessly, dazed by the first look at the season's first perfect cherries. With a list you have focus. With a list you also have dinner. Ratatouille seemed the perfect choice. It allowed us to buy all sorts of beautiful produce and produce a meal with minimal effort. We found three different kinds of summer squash, grey zucchini, and italian heirloom tomatoes that were far too fine for cooking down but too good to pass on (the charm of the old Italian fellow selling them to us didn't hurt either). We found fresh parsley and peppers and even an eggplant. The only things that would come from my pantry were the olive oil, salt, pepper and the goat cheese from the fridge.

The next night we chopped everything up and then went to sit in the garden with a glass of rose while it all cooked. It was the first day of summer, the longest day of the year. We enjoyed our feast as the sun went down and the views (of the plate and of the sky) were amazing.

The recipe I used is from one of my secret weapon cookbooks, Savor the Memories by Marguerite Marceau Henderson. Everything I make from this cookbook is so so good. The spine is broken and the pages are a little messy but I love it.

I put our ratatouille on top of big slices of toasted walnut bread and sprinkled everything with fresh goat cheese. It was a light supper but perfect since we'd had a large lunch, complete with two desserts.

Good produce, good wine, and good conversation made for a perfect Sunday meal.

Ratatouille
Dressing:
1 bunch fresh parsley, coarsely chopped
1 red onion, thinly sliced
4 cloves garlic, slivered
1 tbl. kosher salt
1 tsp. ground pepper
1/2 cup olive oil

Vegetable layer
1/4 cup olive oil
1 medium eggplant cut into one inch cubes
2 yellow squash, diced into one inch cubes
2 zucchini, diced into one inch cubes
1 red bell pepper, diced into one inch cubes
1 yellow pepper, diced into one inch cubes
3 large ripe tomatoes, coarsely chopped

Topping
1/2 cup chopped fresh basil leaves
8 ounce log of goat cheese or 1 cup of grated parmesan cheese.

In a small bowl combine parsley, red onion, garlic, kosher salt, pepper and olive oil.
In a medium skillet, heat oil. Saute eggplant until soft, about 2 minutes, stirring often. Transfer eggplant and oil from pan to decorative 4 quart baking dish. Layer vegetables in order given, with a little of the dressing mixture in between each layer. Finish with tomatoes on top. Cover with foil. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes. Remove foil and top with basil and cheese. Bake, uncovered for an additional five minutes to melt cheese.
Serves 8, at least.

What to do in NY in the summertime?

(I don't think the Lower East Side will look like this in two and a half weeks.)

I booked a ticket to NYC yesterday: July 16-20th.
I am sure this is the most pleasant time of all to be in "the city." Not hot or sweaty or humid or stinky, oh no. Mid-July would probably not be my preferred time for a visit to New York, but I am going to do some book editing with my agent which I am very excited about.

Here is my problem -- My last four visits to New York have been in February. I know just how to pack for winter trips and what to do when it is cold and slushy outside. But summer in the city -- I am clueless.

Any tips, ideas, quintessential summer in New York things to do?
Help me make my list, please!

Holy Focaccia

In the past few years I have gotten pretty jaded about eating and drinking. I am extremely fortunate to have lived in fantastic big cities with talked about restaurants. I am even luckier to get to go to these restaurants, not just read the reviews or longingly stand outside looking into fogged up restaurant windows. Because of this is is becoming increasingly rare that I have a "food moment."

What is a food moment? By my definition it is when you taste something so good you are dumbfounded. There aren't words to describe it. You go to bed thinking about it, you wake up wondering, "was it really that good?"

These are the meals or dishes that years later you still think about: the duck and fig salad at Chez Panisse, the summer farro salad at Higgins, the pork belly at Gotham Tavern... These are food moments. Yum.

And guess what? I had three food moments in nearly as many weeks in San Francisco. And all from the same food! This is almost unheard of -- how often do you get to go back somewhere and have it be just as good as it was before? Rarely.

And this is why I am so excited about our newest discovery: a restaurant in the mission called Farina.

The first time we went we ordered a green salad, the focaccia, and the handkerchief pasta with pesto. The second time we went we ordered the green salad, the focaccia, and the handkerchief pasta. The third time we went we ordered the green salad, the focaccia, and the handkerchief pasta. Are you sensing a pattern?

I have not been to Italy anytime recently but these dishes are to die for. The focaccia is unlike anything I've ever eaten: extremely thin and crackling hot, the light layers are filled with a slippery cream sauce and lots of rich melted cheese. Piled on top is a bit of arugula and prosciutto. You can cut it or rip it or tear it but eat it fast. This won't be hard.

It is a rich dish. If the dreamy pasta were not on the menu I would probably stop there. But the dreamy pasta is so amazing: layers of squares of pasta loosely piled on a plate and topped with the thinnest, creamiest, pesto sauce. It is out of this world, wake up in the middle of the night thinking about it good.

It is a trip to Italy, but much cheaper, and you still get to sleep in your own bed. A staycation, if you will, for the economy ravaged West Coast set. Bon appetito!!

Eating Cake Outside

I have been MIA for a week. What, pray tell, was I doing? Not writing a book, that's for sure.

I have been eating outside.

The sun shone for five straight days in San Francisco. That is a rare thing, they tell me. I was lucky enough to have my mom in town which meant there was a string of warm summer days and nights spent running around the city. It required lots of fortification from various spots.

We ate sandwiches outside at the Ferry Plaza.
We ate cupcakes from Miette and drank Blue Bottle Coffee outside in Hayes Valley.
We drank Big Fire Dry Rose wine in the back yard alongside baby radishes, butter, and maldon salt.
We ate muesli and zucchini apricot bread outside at Tartine.
We ate more sandwiches and Bouchon chocolate corks outside in the park in St. Helena.
We ate hummingbird cupcakes and chocolate mocha cupcakes outside under a little umbrella in front of Love at First Bite Bakery in Berkeley.

Are you seeing the trend? Eat outside! Eat cake outside! And then go walk around a whole bunch so you can burn those calories and get hungry for yet another to-die-for alfresco meal.

There's nothing like wind whipping your hair into 7 minute frosting: sticky, messy, fun.

Berry Olive Oil Polenta Cake

I love having dinner parties because it gives me an excuse to make dessert. If I haven't mentioned it before, my boyfriend claims to not like sweets. I gently overlook this pronouncement when I watch him dig into a bag of black licorice or have a cookie -- or two -- after dinner. We all have our little demons we fight.

My demon is cake. Thank goodness, really, that there isn't another sweet lover in this house cause there would be cakes and icing galore in our little kitchen. It's better that I make the cake when I know his mother is coming over. She'll ohh and ahh and happily accept a chunk wrapped in foil to take home with her.

This cake recipe is a keeper, if you can bear to give up that 3/4 cup of olive oil and a pound of fresh berries. Do the math, it isn't an inexpensive cake. But it is a good one. It is off sweet, which I love, which means it might be just as good for breakfast, tea, or in the middle of the night when you stayed up so late after drinking a bit too much wine and watching a very funny movie you need a little snack before bed. Then it really hits the spot.

Berry Olive Oil Polenta Cake
Based on a recipe by Robert Reynolds and Vitaly Paley. They made theirs with a bunch of cherries. I was drawn to the big juicy blackberries... Whatever calls to you, but use a bunch of them!

3 large eggs
1 and 1/2 cup sugar
1 Tbl. vanilla extract
3/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
finely grated zest and juice of one lemon
3 cups all purpose flour
3/4 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp salt
1/3 cup polenta or cornmeal
2 and 1/2 cups fresh cherries, about 1 pound, pitted and halved
Creme fraiche for serving
1. Preheat oven to 350. Spray a ten inch round cake pan with nonstick vegetable spray, or lightly coat with butter or oil.
Combine eggs and sugar. Beat on medium high speed until light in color, about 4 minutes. Add vanilla, olive oil, lemon zest and lemon juice.
In a separate bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, and salt. Add to egg mixture, along with polenta. Mix until combined.
Pour two thirds of batter into prepared pan and completely cover it with cherries. Spoon remaining batter over berries, allowing fruit to peek through in spots. Bake until top and edges are lightly golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, about an hour to one hour and fifteen minutes. Remove from oven and cool on wire rack for ten minutes. Remove from cake pan and cool.
Serve with a scoop of creme fraiche.

Weekend Still Life

Summer Days Make Me Feel Fine

It was so sunny, warm, and gorgeous in SF yesterday that I made M. take me out for ice cream twice! That last part is a bit of an exaggeration. We did go out for ice cream twice, but I only ate one ice cream cone. Here's what happened:

It is warm and lovely outside. We eat lunch in the backyard (broccoli salad, ice tea, cherries...) and discuss the growing plants. We decide to head to the nursery for stuff to combat the bugs munching on the roses and rhubarb and for those wire things to prop up the tomato plants. I begin to picture an afternoon reading in the garden in my big sun hat and go inside to pour strawberry kefir into my popsicle molds so I can have a nice afternoon treat.

Return home from nursery. Popsicles are not done. They are not even close to being done. I get disgruntled. We decide to go to Bi-Rite in the Mission for ice cream. But first we go to TJ Maxx in search of a new suitcase for M.'s trip to NY. We get lost inside TJ Maxx for awhile. Then we go to Farnsworth's, a mid-century modern furniture store we love. There is a dresser in the window for $1500 that I covet. I make the lady write down the dimensions, believing, somehow, that we really might purchase this piece of insanely beautiful and expensive furniture.

By this point it is 5PM and it seems like ice cream might ruin my dinner. We are planning to eat early, since M. has to go to the airport to catch the red eye to the east coast. We drive past Bi-Rite, as usual the line links around the corner. We don't stop.

Instead we go home and make dinner: braised kale with chorizo and a poached egg on top. Walnut toast on the side and a hefty glass of rose. We eat outside and it is beautiful!!

But then, shortly after dinner my craving returns. And this time I am not in the mood for my refreshing, fruity, kefir pops (despite the fact they're now done). I want ice cream. Real, full fat, chocolate, nutty, caramel rich ice cream. M. looks at me like I am crazy. And then he takes me to Mitchell's.

A SF establishment, Mitchell's is a little ice cream shop all done up in black and white subway tile. The people behind the counter still wear those funny paper hats. You take a number and wait and wait, peering over someone's shoulders to get a look at the toasted almond, the cantelope, the sweet coconut, the rocky road. It reminded me of being a little kid. I wanted a scoop of every flavor!

We got two cones: sweet & salty peanut and chocolate caramel crunch. Alone the peanut was too salty, the chocolate-caramel too sweet. But together? Oh my how it hit the spot.

Hot Ride

Tina sent me this photo from New Zealand and I love it! How I wish I was going to be tooling around SF this weekend in this hot ride.

I am leaving in just a few minutes for a full evening: an art show in the Marina, drinks and tapas with my cousin and her new husband who are in town from Denver, and then maybe a late showing of "The Hangover."

Hopefully tomorrow will be a bit more quiet, but I doubt it. My love is off to NY on the red-eye Sunday night so we have to pack as much fun in as possible!

Happy Weekend.
PS Did you look closely at the make on that automobile? What a sweet afternoon treat!

Gougeres: Lumps of Love

I have been wanting to make gougeres for a long, long time but I have been seriously intimidated by pate a choux. I can't even begin to pronounce it (in spite of years of French lessons) so making it could not be any easier. But the other day I decided to try. It was another gray day and we were having a big green salad of baby arugula, asparagus, roasted onions, toasted walnuts and pickled beets for dinner. I wanted little gougeres as an accompaniment, dammit!

So I made some choux. And guess what? It wasn't nearly as challenging as I thought it would be. My little gougeres were stuffed with gruyere and fresh ground pepper and they were so small and good (though I do wish they had been a tad smaller and more bite sized, but I'll know for next time, right?)

The only problem, as M. was kind enough to point out, was that they were not exceedingly puffy. He said this in a way that was nice and complementary, "They aren't as puffy as I'm used to." But I know that what he was really meant was, "These aren't huge and puffy and airy like the gougers at Tartine Bakery. What gives?"

I was a little miffed. After all, I made gougers. From scratch! To serve for dinner after you returned home from another country tired and a tad hungover! But then, miracles up on miracles, I read this Culinate article yesterday: PAC MAN
It is all about making pate a choux and the myriad of things that can happen that make it not puff. If you don't have the time to read the article, the upshot is my gougers did not puff because I am not, as of yet, a choux wizard and thus don't know how to fiddle with the egg to gluten ratio, fiddle with the temperature of the oven, etc. etc.

Despite the criticism, I loved my little gougers and will make them again. Really, they are too easy. So heat up that oven -- is it hot where you are? And get bakin'.

Classic Gougeres
makes about 2 dozen gougeres
1 cup water
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, diced
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup unbleached all purpose flour
4 large eggs, chilled
1 cup (packed) gruyere cheese (4 ounces)
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Position one rack in the top third and another in the bottom third of the oven and pre-heat to 400. Line two rimmed baking sheets with parchment paper.

Bring one cup water, butter, and salt to simmer in heavy medium saucepan over medium heat, whisking until butter melts. Add flour, stir rapidly with wooden spoon until four absorbs liquid and forms ball, pulling away from sides of pan. Stir vigorously until film forms on bottom of pan and dough is no longer sticky, one to two minutes longer. Remove pan from heat, cool dough two to three minutes. Using electric mixer, beat in eggs one at a time. Stir in cheese and pepper.
Drop rounded tablespoons full of batter onto baking sheets, spacing about three inches apart.
Bake gougeres until golden brown, about 30 minutes, reversing position of pans halfway though baking. You can use a small, sharp knife to pry open a gougere to check for doneness. The center should be eggy and moist. Serve hot or warm.
Can be made three hours ahead. Transfer to racks. Cool. Re-warm in 350 degree oven for 5 to 10 minutes.

Strawberry Ginger Jam

For me, June = Jam. Early summer brings beautiful berries and the weather is usually mild enough that I don't mind spending a few hours standing over a hot stove, stirring and testing. It is a small price to pay to have jams and other canned goods to stock away and give as gifts (and eat!) throughout the rest of the year.

My favorite is always strawberry. I know, this is like admitting your favorite ice cream flavor is chocolate. But it is true. I absolutely adore a good, sweet and tart strawberry jam. For the past several years I have loved making my jam from small, deep red Oregon strawberries. I would buy them from the Sweet Oregon Berry Produce stand on the side of Highway 99 in wine country. It isn't a fancy, dolled up market, it is a real working farm's fruit stand. The prices were great and the fruit was beautiful.

I wasn't sure about the California strawberry. Last week at the Castro Farmer's Market the strawberries were huge -- the Arnold Swarchenegger of strawberries. But then I got some advice, "go to the market and follow your nose."

So on Saturday morning, this is what I did. I headed down Market to the Ferry Plaza and searched around a bit, finally finding smaller, deeper, sweeter, red organic strawberries.

My jam is close to perfect. I love staring at the little jars all lined up in a row on the kitchen counter, waiting...

Make jam this June. It's easy! Here's how:

Small Batch Strawberry Jam
3 cups fresh strawberries (about 1 and 1/2 pint baskets, or four cups whole berries)
1 cup sugar
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
Optional -- 1 to 2 tablespoons diced candied ginger

Wash fruit and slice in quarters. Put in bowl and cover with sugar. Macerate for at least a couple of hours -- up to a day. I learned in a jam making class that the sugar essentially begins the "cooking" process. The fruit starts to preserve and buys you some time if you need it.

In a medium sized pot bring fruit/ sugar mix, lemon juice, and ginger to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally. Reduce heat to medium and cook, stirring constantly, and skimming foam as needed. Cook about 10 minutes, until the mixture has thickened and looks syrupy.

Continue to cook and test for doneness by dipping a spoon into the jam. If the jam coats the back of the spoon and doesn't drip you are getting close. Use your senses here. You are making jam, so once it starts to look "jammy" you are getting close!

Wash jars with hot water, dry with clean cloth and place in 200 degree oven until ready to use -- you want them hot and sterile. Wash and carefully dry rims and set aside on clean cloth. Wash lids in hot water and place in a small pot of simmering water on the stove (don't boil!) Again, you want them hot and sterile. I usually do most of this in the early stages of jam making so when the jam is ready, I am too.

When jam is done, remove jars from oven (careful, hot!) and ladle jam into jars. Moving quickly, place one dry lid on top of jar and finish with a rim, sealing tightly. Then invert jar for 5 minutes before turning upright. After a few hours, check lids for seals. The lid should not flex up and down when the center is pressed. If the jar has not sealed, reprocess or put in fridge for immediate consumption.

You can also process your jam using the water bath method!

I doubled this recipe and got 4 jars of jam plus some extra that is hanging out in the fridge, just waiting for me. It is really really good.

On the docket for this jam making season: apricot, strawberry-ginger, and maybe blueberry or raspberry. If you have a jam that makes your heart sing, let me know and maybe, just maybe, you'll find it in your stocking come December!

PS This recipe is based on one from PRESERVE by Marjorie Braker

Better Than Take Out!

Oh summertime in San Francisco, how I love you. It can be hot -- or not. There may be fog, wind, rain, even a thunderstorm or two.

What is a girl to do?

I visited the farmer's market in the Castro on Wednesday just to remind myself what is in season. Most mornings the weather tells me it is still time to bundle up a bit and sip big mugs of hot tea while I work on the book. But at the market there were apricots and pluots and berries in addition to tons of fresh lettuce, favas, and asparagus.

Getting used to the seasons in my new home has made me be a bit inventive at times. Earlier this week we had beautiful asparagus to use. I was imagining it roasted with a green salad and poached egg -- one of my very favorite early summer meals. But then it was cold and gray and windy and a salad seemed cold and unsatisfying. So I made this. It was good and quick and green and healthy.

The leftovers were pretty awesome too, especially since the boyfriend is gone all week and I have been hunkered down in writing mode.

Green Curry in a Hurry
Adapted from 101 Cookbooks
4 teaspoons green curry paste*
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 (14 ounce) can coconut milk -- light milk is ok
1 large onion, sliced
14 ounces vegetable broth
6 ounces of firm tofu, cut into cubes
1 cup peas, fresh or frozen
2 cups asparagus, fresh or frozen, cut into 1/2 inch pieces
juice of one lime
1/4 cup cilantro
2 cups cooked rice

In a large pot over medium heat whisk the curry paste with salt and a small bit of the coconut milk. Simmer for just a minute. Add the onion and saute until it softens up, just a minute or so. Add the rest of the coconut milk and broth and simmer for another five minutes. Taste and adjust for flavor -- you can add more green curry paste at this point if you like it stronger.

Stir in the tofu and just before serving, the peas and asparagus. Simmer for a minute or two, just long enough for the vegetables to cook a bit. Finish the pot with the lime juice and the cilantro.
Serve alone, like soup, or over rice for a heartier dish.

*About that curry -- Heidi recommended starting with two teaspoons of green paste and going up from there. I found two teaspoons was not close to enough, so I upped the amount to start with and actually used five teaspoons when I made it. But each curry paste is different, I imagine, so go with your taste buds. You can always add more. If you do, mix the paste with a tiny bit of water before putting it into the pot. This prevents clumping.
Serves 4+

The Things I've Learned from Ice Cream

Admittedly, I like the writing part of blogging a lot more than the picture taking. I think photography is a lot of fun, but I thought it was more fun when I could wander through a city snapping away before delivering the tight roll of film to the photo shop and returning for a roll of surprises. Digital photography still kind of gets me down. And having to photograph my food before I eat it so I can put something on this little, mostly unfrequented site, really irks me. But nothing compares to having to photograph ice cream which is contained in a bowl which makes the angles funny, is mushy to start with, and melting by the moment. And it's ice cream, which means I really don't want to be taking photos, I want to be eating it.

And so, I decided there will be no photos of ice cream on this site. At least none taken by me. For now I will be in the business of making ice cream. And by ice cream I often mean sorbet or frozen yogurt (just you wait, you will love it), since I often find these mediums even more intriguing than more full flavored, milk fat driven, super sweet concoctions.

Today, I give you my prized recipe for lemon-buttermilk sorbet. People ask me about this one. It's great. Does it really matter that there's no photo? Trust me, its beautiful AND delicious.

Lemon Buttermilk Sorbet
1 and 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons grated lemon peel
4 cups buttermilk
pinch of salt

Stir sugar, lemon juice, and peel in medium bowl. Add buttermilk and stir until sugar dissolves. Chill until cold, about 4 hours (essential! Don't rush this part!)
Process mix in ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions.
Transfer to container and freeze... sorbet will harden more in the freezer.

Everyday Brown Bread

I looked in the fridge yesterday and it was practically bursting: yogurt, kefir, eggs, several kids of cheese, leftovers, beer, wine, beets, greens, bags of rainier cherries and more. It is more food than we can possibly eat in the next few days, a fact made complicated by the fact that M. left this morning for Canada. Yet somehow we had no bread, milk, or coffee -- three staples of my diet. This is what happens when he does the shopping and I do the paying. I'm broke with tons of food but missing the things I can't live without.

In lieu of walking to the market for our usual five dollar loaf of Acme walnut bread, I decided to get creative and try to use up some of the stuff in the fridge while baking something that we needed: bread for toast for breakfast, an absolute necessity in our home.

I came up with a recipe for brown bread that I modified based on the things we had in the cupboard and the fact that yesterday was June 1. Despite the fact that it was chilly in the city, hunks of dried apricots and pecans in my breakfast bread seemed so much more seasonally appropriate than currants and walnuts.

The results of kitchen adventures are often interesting -- palatable, but not something you'd choose to make again. This recipe, (I'm calling it Everyday Bread) is different. It is healthy with next to no fat or sugar. The color is a lovely brown from the addition of molasses, and mildly sweet and crunchy from the apricots and the pecans. It was so good toasted this morning and reminded me of the brown cranberry bread I ate for breakfast at Cafe Gitane in New York City this winter.

It was the perfect slice for a morning I was up very early, eating breakfast while staring out at the grey, misty fog of San Francisco.

I will make this bread again and again, I'm sure. I can already imagine the manipulations -- other dried fruits (dried blueberries?), banana, maybe even just plain brown bread. Not everything has to be gussied up. Besides, isn't that what honeys and jams are for?

Everyday Brown Bread
2 cups whole wheat flour
1 cup all purpose flour (you can use all 3 cups all purpose if that's what you've got)
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
5 tablespoons brown sugar
1/4 cup unsulfured molasses
1 and 1/2 cups buttermilk
1/2 cup plain yogurt
nuts and dried fruits added to your liking.

Preparation:
Preheat oven to 350 and grease and flour a loaf pan.
In a large bowl stir together dry ingredients. Stir in remaining ingredients until just combined.
Pour batter into prepared pan (it will be quite thick!) and bake in the middle of the oven until a tester comes out clean, about 1 hour. Cool bread in pan on a rack for five minutes. Turn loaf out onto rack and cool completely before slicing.

Tuna Salad Sans Mayo

Here are a couple things to know about me: one, I hate condiments. Yes, this means nearly every condiment. I don't like mayo or mustard or tartar sauce or fry sauce or special sauce. I am ok with ketchup and pesto, though I hardly think pesto is a condiment. What do I put on my sandwiches? Nothing besides meat, cheese, lettuce, and a slice of tomato. What do I dip calamari in? Admittedly, I was flummoxed when someone asked me this last week. Sometimes I dip my fried squid in sauce (a potential loop hole, yes!) but I don't eat too much of that fried stuff anyway. So to me it is a moot point.

I also don't really like lunch. If I could, I would happily go from breakfast to afternoon snack to dinner. When I do eat lunch it is often "brunchy" in nature -- toast with cheese, toast with peanut butter, scrambled eggs with toast... Basically if I can arrange for toast to be on my lunch plate all is well. If I can't, things get more complicated.

But I am trying to be better about not only eating lunch but eating a REAL lunch so I am not hungry mid-afternoon or deeply cranky and unsatisfied at 4PM. This is why I was intrigued by a recipe in Bon Appetit for tuna salad that used plain yogurt instead of mayo.

I whipped up my own version of the recipe for lunch today and thought it was delightful. So good, in fact, I just might have lunch again tomorrow. And maybe even the day after that.

Tuna Salad (HOLD THE MAYO!)
1/4 cup plain non fat yogurt
2 teaspoons whole grain dijon mustard (you could up this amount if you like mustard. I don't -- remember?)
1 (6 ounce) can tuna packed in water, drained.
1 shallot, chopped fine
1/4 cup fresh cilantro, chopped
salt and pepper
Bread and fixins' of your choice. I stuffed mine into a whole wheat tj's pita with a bunch of lettuce and found it deeply satisfying.

Mix yogurt, mustard, tuna, shallot, and cilantro well. Add salt and pepper. Chill for at least thirty minutes. Enjoy!