Accidentally Delicious

It was the kind of evening when Twenty Minute "Rush Zumba" was simply out of the question. A week night in late October when the cold and the dark assembled, and schemed to bring in an early winter. The afghan practically unfolded itself and the teapot hissed at regular intervals throughout the eventing. 

The one pound of loose Hibiscus tea sitting on the counter arrived earlier that day, right in the nick of time. Tearing open the silver shiny air tight package,  Hibiscus bits poured into a tea canister and the two became fast friends. A multitude of pink and magenta hues popped through the glass, and Hibiscus aromas, now free to roam, made their way up my nostrils. The first floral whiff set off alarm bells.  I hadn't realized that what I ordered was a mix of floral and tropical. Being fruit tea adverse, I slowly regretted the purchase and wondered if it wasn't too late to reseal and order reliable Roobios, with its earthy flavor. But I closed the jar and put it on the shelf.

 So later than night when steam shot from the kettle, I scooped and bagged with curiosity. Now steeping in liquid, Hibiscus plumped like raisins. Water into wine I've often wondered about, but Hibiscus into water was a site of Biblical proportion. This was such a deep sea dive into pink that I wondered if, in drinking this warm elixir, I would become the true owner of the Elder Wand.

The first sip translated on the tongue as tart and tangy. Then it stuck to my cheeks. And socked me in the stomach. It was a true eye popper, with no tolerance for winter recoil. This drink, I thought, was really f**king good.

Soon thereafter, I craved a counterbalance to this aggressive tasting yet strangely comforting hot beverage. My mind roamed into the freezer, where another silver shiny bag awaited to be cracked open: a bag of Ghiradelli bitter sweet mini-chocolate chips. These lil' pups were sitting in the dugout for months, waiting for the day of chocolate chip cookies, and no such day had come. I unsealed the bag and a handful went in the hatch. The bitter and sweet bite brought comfort, as sugar injections often do. My tongue waded through a thick coat of intense chocolate, so dense it necessitated tongue movements akin to a self inflicted french kiss to come to a resolution. Bitter and bitter, bitter and sweet, sweet and sweet. ahhhh.

But a third mouthful of these mini devils on my tongue coupled with a big gulp of hibiscus, was when the whole thing unraveled. The chocolate abyss found its perk with a mouth puckering sip of tea.  And the tongue clicking flavor of the tea, when submissive to the domineering dark, took a more mouth friendly form.  All of these flavors folded together into one surprisingly perfect bite drink. Like a cheese course at the end of a meal, this was a full flavor experience and a satisfying night cap.

And such was the experience of the drink bite. It isn't for every night. But definitely for really cold ones. It was more than the pleasure of this experience, but the surprise. That night, it was a taste surprise in a cup that made life feel new. So may we welcome surprises, hibernate when we need to, and taste food that is truly good and accidentally delicious. 

Zoom In on Hunger

Today is Food Bloggers Against Hunger day.

I had the itch to post a healthy affordable recipe, talk about strategies to stretch food dollars, and to spotlight spring as the time to bring the spice cabinet outdoors and into herb containers.

But having worked 10 years in the hunger and food security arena as a community dietitian and cooking teacher, thoughts turned into reflection.  I recall listening to Leah Chase, owner of the legendary Dookey Chase restaurant in New Orleans, at a Share Our Strength conference about 7 years ago. One year post hurricane Katrina, she talked about hunger and offered wise words: when legislators, service providers, and communities all sit down together and eat around one table, we will find the solutions we need.

During this brief but powerful visit to New Orleans, when streets were boarded up and the farmer's market was just reopening for the first time,  there was a unity and a pulse around food that was palpable in the streets. I began to understand the vision of Leah Chase during that visit.

Today, I reflect on how hunger in the United States is a quiet catastrophe that requires collective solutions. From Congress to corporations to one's own  kitchen cabinet, there are support networks to weave and strengthen so hunger doesn't continue to happen in our own backyard.

So this is my sketch on hunger "zoomed in." Just a snapshot of  food, connectivity, the kitchen cabinet, and the table, where everyone sits together, eats together, and finds solutions together.

Finger Lickin Good Ya'll

Leaning over the stove and dipping a perfectly browned chicken thigh through oily and salty pan remains. Sucking on bones, ripping off meat, and licking my fingers. It was a truly rockin' Friday night.

 Truth is, I have been in a cooking rut lately. There have been small bursts of food inspiration over the past 4 months: homemade Pho and the accompanying excitement of soup condiments, waffle praise by my daughter, and Food Network inspired cran-choc cookies.

But the reality is that the mom and full time job combo have usurped my zest for cooking and I want it back.

 So, I am re-reading Julia Child's "My Life in France" (how many wonderful details I missed the first time 'round!), I scour Pinterest for "pin-spiration", and consult with an imaginary friend (who looks like Marcus Samuelson) to find out which condiments go well with meat and fish.

Really,  I very well know that wonderful food does not have to take hours to prepare. So Friday was when I remarried convenience with the culinary, and allowed myself to think outside of the box, while avoiding  a prepackaged meal from one.

A seven dollar jumbo pack of chicken thighs were grabbed during an impromptu Whole Foods trip and into the fridge they went. The cooking began during the evening hours, when my daughter was snuggled up with dad and her milk bottle. The rest of the story generally goes like this:

1910 Thighs into hot pan and upstairs for family time.
1930 Smells of chicken wafting- a good time for a status check. Thighs flipped and seasoning sprinkled (forgot to season beforehand, no time like any). Laundry folding time upstairs.
1940 Thigh check. Nicely browned. Check. 1/2 bottle of beer into pan,  put on lid, moist heat takes over.
1945 Failed attempt to put child to bed. Dad takes her, and i take cilantro, ginger, garlic, lime, salt, and oil and put in a mini processor. top chicken with the sauce, and lick fingers a lot.
1950 We eat, she plays, she goes to sleep, and we eat some more.

 True, I didn't get to savor the sizzles and smells as the chicken cooked,  but I did get my snuggle time in, as I leaned over that pan, savoring flavor and meat and salt, feeling like i made something good.

Here's a recipe-ish. I was not exact about this at all. That's why thighs are great.

Chicken
3 TBS oil
9 bone in chicken thighs (skinless or skin on, your pref)
salt and pepper
season blend that's been in the cabinet way too long (i used jerk)
1/2 bottle of beer, any kind
Over medium heat, heat oil in large skillet. Season chicken with salt, pepper, and seasoning, and add chicken to pan. allow to cook 20 min uncovered or until golden brown. Cook 10 more minutes on other side or until golden brown. Add 1/2 a bottle of beer allow alcohol to cook off then cover 15 more minutes. Meanwhile, make sauce.

Sauce
1 bunch cilantro
2 garlic cloves chopped
1 inch piece ginger juice
1 lime
4 TBS olive oil (an estimate)
salt

Spread sauce on each piece of chicken and enjoy.