Inspiration

Where do you find yours?

This week I've found inspiration in the changing seasons, new neighborhoods, coffee fueled conversations with friends, afternoons spent drinking rose, long lunches in Marin, the sound of literature being read aloud, and these photos -- taken during an Open Studio visit a few weeks ago.

To me, they're a useful reminder that even though the creative process is important, breaking away from routine can lead to beautiful things.

Peasant Beets

The other day, as I was canning some of the fifty-two pounds of tomatoes sitting in my kitchen, I heard the scream of an airplane so close it seemed like it could be right outside our second story window.

"The Blue Angels," I thought to myself as I stuffed slippery cold tomatoes into glass jars. And then it occurred to me: the first time I saw the Blue Angles whizzing over the San Francisco Bay was from the upper deck of the Bay Bridge, as I cruised into town with my jam packed Honda and a U-Haul full of stuff. Apparently, I've now lived in San Francisco for three years.

This got me thinking about this fall, and last fall, and the fall before that, and that very first fall in the city, which was a nice, ponderous thing to do with my hands swimming around in tomatoey juice and pulp. I watched the sun set and thought some more. I pulled on a sweater, poured myself a glass of wine, and wandered into the kitchen.

All the canning had delayed dinner. Sean was sick and I was feeling a tad uninspired. For once, I wished that dealing with food was the equivalent of eating it. Couldn't those tomatoes just feed me by osmosis?

But no. I wanted more. Tired of tomatoes, I turned to the Food52 Cookbook and our diminishing CSA vegetables. The recipe I picked -- peasant beets -- was chosen entirely out of necessity. We had beets. We had chard. We had shallots and butter. That was all.

Soon I found myself peeling beets and slicing them into jeweled discs. While the beets caramelized in butter and shallot and salt and pepper, I chopped the beet greens and chard, then tossed them in the pan and doused the whole thing with a bit of white wine. Within a few minutes, the greens had reduced to a tangle. The beets, now an even deeper ruby color, shone.

We ate late, in the semi-dark. The beets, now piled with the greens on a plate, were accented by soft triangles cut from a round of goat cheese. I scattered a few homemade croutons -- big, olive-oily, crunchy ones -- on top and prepared to take a bite.

I could tell you that the beets were good, that I may never oven-roast beets again, that it was an excellent reminder that beet stems and greens are just as good as their colorful companions.

But it was more than that. I can't really explain it, other than to say the beets reminded me of the person I was when I moved to San Francisco. It was the kind of dish I might have made for myself when I lived alone: sophisticated, French. The simple technique and complex flavor was reminiscent of the style of someone who used to cook for me a lot.

Some people describe fall as mournful. And I can see how it can be. Our social calendar slows down, the trees spill their leaves, the days grow shorter and the temperature drops.

But this meal embraced the sweet and bittersweet of the season. The beets reminded me of me: The old me and the new me.

It was a beautiful and necessary thing. 

Peasant Beets
Adapted slightly from the new Food52 Cookbook (I got an advance copy; it's coming out on 10/25)
3-4 large beets with greens
1 bunch Swiss chard, rinsed and dried
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 shallot, minced
salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons white wine
1/2 pound Boucheron or other fine goat cheese, at room temperature, cut into 4 wedges
Crusty peasant-style bread, toasted

Scrub and peel beets. Remove the greens, wash and dry them, and chop coarsely. Set the greens aside in a large prep bowl. Slice the beets into 1/4 inch slices.
Remove the ribs from the Swiss chard and coarsely chop the ribs. Toss the leaves and the ribs into the bowl with the beet greens.
In a large saute pan, melt the butter and saute the shallot over medium heat until softened. Add the beet rounds to the shallot-butter mixture. Toss in a pinch of salt and crack some pepper over the beets. Reduce heat and saute, turning to ensure even cooking, until the beets are beginning to glaze and become tender, about 15 minutes.
Add the beet greens, chard, and chard ribs and saute for about five minutes, then add the wine and cover. Cook until the greens are wilted, adding two tablespoons of water if necessary. Allow the liquid to be mostly absorbed into the greens. Taste and season, if necessary.
Scoop the greens and beets into a shallow bowl. Serve with a generous wedge of goat cheese and crusty, toasted bread.
Serves 2 people as an entree, 4 as a side dish.

Food to Go: Farro with Porcini and Arugula

What do you eat when things get busy?

Me, I like hefty salads like lentil, farro, or quinoa. I cook the legumes or grains, and toss them with vegetables, cheese, and a light dressing.

If a crazy week approaches, I make big batches on the weekend and pick at them all week. I add meat, fried egg, more vegetables, or nuts. I warm them up or eat them cold. They are easy to transport, but pretty and substantial enough that if you end up eating a bowl on the couch with a big glass of red wine and the New York Times Magazine, you don't feel deprived.

Lately I've been relying on meals like this to carry me. I'm teaching at Stanford one evening a week, which means I eat an early dinner on a bench, or tucked away in a hidden corner of the library before rushing off to class. It's very collegiate and my packed dinner (tuperware of leftovers, a piece of fruit or lara bar, a Halloween sized Snickers bar) remind me of the days when I was always on the go.

As busy as its been, there's something fun about the newness of the moment. It's autumn; it's back to school time. Last night I spent an hour in the library writing (with a pen! on a yellow pad!) and looking out the window. I saw a handsome guy with a leather portfolio case meet a girl in colored tights and a pea coat by a fountain. I watched them casually start to hold hands, and I watched him turn away ever so slightly as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

While strolling to class in the dark people whizzed by me on bikes, hurrying to the dining hall, or home for an extra layer of clothes. The wind tugged at my scarf and a few scattered leaves blew across the path.

I notice that my recent busyness is not only taking me new places, it's leading me to unexpected moments of joy and calm. I'm remembering how much I like teaching. I'm getting big urges to be creative: to observe, write, dig into old books, and look for new stories.

I need reliable food to help fuel these ventures, and this salad does it. I know that many have moved past the season of corn -- in California there's still ears to be found for 25 cents each. Use it fresh or canned if you want or sub in something else: baby tomatoes, roasted eggplant, even shaved brussel sprouts might be good.

The point is, this salad is a winner: easy to make, easy to double, easy to make substitutions, and very easy to munch at for days while life moves around you and your brain works to stretch big thoughts even bigger. Enjoy.

Farro Salad with Porcini and Arugula
From Good Food to Share by Sara-Kate Gillingham-Ryan
The original recipe calls for Israeli couscous, but Sara-Kate suggested substituting farro to make the salad even more wholesome. It's a great evolution from, though I'm sure the couscous would be good too.

1/2 cup dried porcini mushrooms
3 Tablespoons olive oil
1 cup farro
2 and 1/2 cups chicken or vegetable stock, warmed
2 ears corn, husks and silks removed
2 handfuls baby arugula, tough stems removed
1/4 pound smoked mozzarella cheese, cut into 1/4 inch dice
1 Tablespoon champagne vinaigrette
Sea salt and freshly ground pepper

Put the porcini mushrooms in a small heat proof bowl. In a kettle or saucepan, bring 1/2 cup water to a boil over high heat. Pour the boiling water over the mushrooms. Set aside and let steep until the mushrooms are soft and plump, about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a large saucepan, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil over medium-high heat. Add the farro and toast, stirring constantly, until lightly toasted and fragrant, about 5 minutes. Pour in the stock. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium, cover, and cook until done -- about 30 minutes for chewy farro or a little longer if you like it softer. Drain excess liquid, if any remains, and transfer farro to a large serving bowl.

Cut the kernels off the ears of the corn and add to the bowl with the farro. Drain the mushrooms and chop into bite-sized pieces before adding to the salad. Add the arugula and cheese.

In a small bowl whisk together the remaining ingredients: 2 tablespoons olive oil and champagne vinegar. Pour over the salad and toss until ingredients are well distributed and coated with the dressing. Season generously with salt and pepper and toss again gently. Serve right away.

Serves 4-6, easily doubled for a crowd.