beets and leeks

I'm packing.
I have that strange feeling that I get when I'm about to go on a trip. Like everything is different already, exciting and ungrounded at the same time.
I'm going to San Francisco.
First, to be honest, I'm going south of San Francisco, to Carmel, so that I can be there to watch my friends start their marriage. I'm excited for that. Joey will be with me then, and after that he flies back home and basically changes places with my mother. She meets me on Monday in San Francisco.
We'll be there for the week. We have some family business there (that's the short story), and it's been a long time since we've taken a trip together. Since I was little, really. I'm excited for that, too.
It's also been a long time since I've seen that city, and I'm ready to go back. I was born there in a little house on Willard Street, and I've gone back for long stretches a few times in my life. I've somehow felt like I've failed San Francisco in the past. I've lived there at times when I wasn't so happy, and wasn't so...well, the only way I can think to say it is, I wasn't so me, and I've blamed it on the place, on the fog, on so many things. But at the same time, I think so longingly of it, and I can't wait to be there. It's been 10 years since I've been there, and I'm very me now.

I wanted to leave you with a little something, and so we come to beets and leeks. Nice to say, isn't it?
Kind of like as if Dr. Seuss got going about his farm share. 

Years back, I had a friend, Emily, and she was in town and came to cook for us right after Sadie was born. She's an opera singer now. She made us beets and leeks, and many other wonderful things I'm sure, but those beets and leeks had lasting power for for me. I've done it so many times, and it always feels special. It's the leeks, I think. Magical.

This is a roasting the beets recipe, and I know everyone has their own method. As much as I hate using all that tin foil, this is how I do it:

Cut the greens off the beets, leaving about 1 inch of stem. Leave the tail on. Wrap each beet individually in tin foil, putting a touch of olive oil and a dash of salt and pepper on each one before sealing the foil up. Roast in a 375 degree oven for and hour or so for medium sized beets, or more or less for big or small ones. Then take them out of the foil, and let them cool for a bit so that you can touch them. Slide them right out of their skins. Your hands will turn red. But I like that.

Cut the beets in bite-sized pieces and put them into a bowl.

And then, there are the leeks. For a bunch of about 5 beets, I use 2 leeks, but one would do if that's all you have.  Cut the bottom root and the very top off the leek. Slice the whole thing in half lengthwise, and then slice both halves into 1-inch pieces.  Transfer them to a bowl, add a touch of white or apple cider vinegar, and swish them around. This will release the dirt. Lift them out of the water into a colander.

Melt a few tablespoons of butter or olive oil in a skillet.  Add the leeks and cook, stirring often, until they are just starting to brown and your house smells like heaven. Pour the leeks over the beets, and add a glug or two of the best olive oil you've got. Then salt, then lots of pepper. Then it's ready.

I'll keep you with me in my travels, if that's good with you. I've got my camera, and I'll be looking for new things. New things! Aren't they wonderful? I'll let you know what I find.

wild rice and leek soup

Lately, dinnertime has been a little, well I don't know- let's see how I could frame it. It's all in the way you look at at, right?
Lately, dinner time has been a little...loud.....tear-filled......almost humorous (and I say almost!) in the regularity of the crying......challenging........did I say loud?
I haven't quite figured it out, except to remind myself that these things come in waves. Yes, life's been a little busy, and the girls respond to that of course, and maybe dinner's been coming out a bit later. Maybe they're tired, and they're definitely hungry. But it never fails to surprise me. They come home in good cheer, and I gloat to myself, "aren't these girls just so happy!" They put on their adventure backpacks and go draw some flowers in the yard, or Sadie reads to Rosie on the couch, or on maybe there's some time on PBS kids. We pat ourselves on the backs and feel like such good parents! But whether it's five minutes before dinner or when we sit down or when I bring the food out, I end up holding my hands over my ears.
Usually it's complaints about the food or who had to set the table or some random thing. But I don't think we've had a dinner without at least a teeny weeny bit of screaming in weeks.
It doesn't dominate- it passes and the night goes on. Girls are tucked into beds and kissed and sang to. The ringing in our ears fades. We try to figure out what we're doing and what we should do tomorrow. This will pass, I know. But I've got to tell you... I'm not tasting my food.

I am a dinner table advocate. I love family dinner- it is what we do! But these last few weeks, I'm really enjoying eating the food the next day, alone. I made this soup the other night, and it went down like a quick shot of energy and warmth. In the midst of the noise, I thought, hmm, decent soup.

But the next day, alone on my bench in the back yard with nothing but the birds and someone else's hollering kid down the street, the soup was divine. Simple, with a whole lot of soul and even more nurture. It's so easy that you could put it together with a screaming kid on your leg in the kitchen- but I'd suggest you take a bowl outside and eat it in silence.

Wild Rice and Leek Soup

8 cups chicken stock, or a combination of stock and water
2 large leeks, sliced in ribbons (all of the white and about 1/2 of the green)
1 1/2 cups wild rice
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 bay leaves
2 dried chiles
2 large ribs celery
2 tablespoons butter
salt and pepper, to taste

In a large saucepan, melt the butter. Add the leeks and cook, stirring often, until the leeks soften and shine, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and celery and cook for 3 minutes. Add the stock, rice, bay leaves and chiles. Cover and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for about 1 hour. Add salt and pepper to your taste.

fried green tomatoes with leeks and goat cheese

Sometimes when I'm really lucky, there is an excess of something left from the market, and when I'm even luckier, it's a combination of ingredients that helps me to think of exciting things.
Yesterday, buried under the perfect red tomatoes Elizabeth had brought from the greenhouse, there were a few green, I mean brilliant pea green tomatoes. No one at the market was interested in these beauties, and I must admit I've never made them. I don't have a remotely southern bone in my body, and I've never had enough tomatoes to pick any before they were ready.
But yesterday, the green tomatoes went home with me, along with the most beautiful bunch of baby leeks. And so, because I wasn't patient enough to wait to cook either of my treasures, I put them together. The sourness of the tomatoes and the sweetness of the leeks- oh lucky lucky me.
I have to admit, this morning everyone is a mess. No one wants their smoothie, the bagels are the wrong flavor. The eggs that are omelets should have been scrambled- there are tearful demands flying everywhere. So I'm sneaking away from the table with my coffee to remember dinner last night, when everyone quietly and contentedly asked for one more tomato, please.

Fried Green Tomatoes with Leeks and Goat Cheese
serves 4-6

6 medium green tomatoes, cut into 1 1/2 inch slices
2 eggs, beaten
2 cups bread crumbs, fresh if you can do it
1 cup chopped flat leaf parsley
1/2 cup chopped basil
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. chili powder
4-6 baby leeks, all the white, most of the greens, chopped
4 oz. goat cheese
salt and pepper
canola oil, for frying the tomatoes
olive oil, for the leeks

In a wide bowl, combine the bread crumbs, salt, chili powder, parsley and basil. Cover the base of a large skillet with canola oil and heat until almost smoking. Dip each tomato slice in the egg, then the bread crumb mixture, and lay it gently in the skillet. Do not crowd the pan. Cook the tomatoes a couple of minutes on each side, or until they are golden. Drain on a paper towel. In a separate skillet or sautee pan, heat the olive oil. Cook the leeks over medium heat until they start to caramelize, about 10 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.
Lay the fried tomatoes on a platter. Heap the leeks on top, and finish with the crumbled goat cheese. If needed, sprinkle additional salt. Then add lots of fresh ground pepper.