On Life As A Picky Foodie

Give 10 people the same recipe and you'll get 10 results. It's part of what I love about cooking. And in the hours I spend perusing food blogs, I am consistently struck by two paradoxical thoughts: how similar we all are and at the same time, I see and experience our differences. What an amazing time we live in that I can visit kitchens in Toronto, Hong Kong, NYC, Vancouver, Los Angeles and Buenos Aires in the space of a few minutes. 

The only things missing are the smells – although those are easily imagined with the help of some great writing -- and the tastes, which can be recreated in my own kitchen in my own way. 

If you read this blog, or are a part of the extended food-blogging community, you probably know about Jennifer Perillo who recently lost her husband.  Watching people from all walks of life and stretching the globe band together to help this woman and her little girls has been incredibly touching.  It has also gotten me thinking about that same paradox of cooking: how many of us felt touched by her story because we feel a similarity, and yet how different most of our lives are from hers. 

When you think about it, however, no matter where we live, who we are or what we do; no matter what our circumstances, after our basic needs are met, we all want the same thing: to be happy.  But it is exactly where our desires concur that we differ – as the meaning of happiness is so personal. 

So I have these cookies, right?  My Everyday Cookies that I blogged about a few weeks back.  As I said then, cooking is what I do when life gets complicated.  It's what I do when life is great, when it's hard, when I'm scared, when I'm happy. These days, cooking is oftentimes my main creative outlet.  

Originally these cookies were created as something that Vida Lev could enjoy on the go.  They weren't meant to do anything beyond that.  I needed something simple, quick, and, of course, healthy and delicious.    

One night, on a whim, I made them.  And my little girl loved them as did her Dad.  Then the neighbour enjoyed a few, and my mother and grandmother.  My brother took a box, my niece gobbled some.  These silly little cookies were a Picky Foodie hit.

Whenever someone confided that they were worried about giving their children processed food, or that they didn’t have much time (or desire) to cook, I would point them to my Everyday Cookies.

The responses have been wonderful.

“These are going to be a problem!” one friend emailed forty-five minutes after I’d sent her the recipe.

“Fantastic!” came another friend’s message, “we can’t stop eating them” (we meaning herself, her husband and her little one – you see, these cookies are inter-generational).

I actually make two batches at a time now – one for DW and one for Vida Lev.  The best part of these cookies is that the basic recipe remains the same:

1 ½ - 2 cups ground almonds
¼ cup melted coconut oil
¼ cup maple syrup
½ cup raisins
1 egg (optional and very much according to personal taste – including it will create a softer cookie.  For the record: Vida Lev likes the egg while DW prefers without.)

Preheat the oven to 175 Centigrade (347 Fahrenheit)

Using an ice cream scoop, drop the cookie batter on a non-stick baking sheet in even mounds.  Flatten lightly with a wet fork (optional). 

Bake for 9-11 minutes, depending on your oven.  The cookies should come out of the oven slightly browned around the edges but still soft.  Allow to cool completely before serving.

And when I run out of one ingredient, I substitute another without fuss: so far, we’ve done the plain version, a batch with honey, some with and some without vanilla, and one with banana and rosemary.  Sometimes I’ve blended the ingredients together, other times I’ve left the raisins intact.  These are low-maintenance cookies for sure.

They’re so insanely easy.  It makes me wonder why I bother with the more complicated stuff. 

But another, unexpected development has emerged: using the basic recipe as a template, the inhabitants of my virtual as well as my in-person world have started making these cookies and in doing so they have adapted this recipe in a myriad of ways.  People have been making it their own, changing things around to suit their unique palate and best of all, they’ve let me know about it.  It’s been wonderful to read about in emails and see the results in pictures.

So much so that I’ve been inspired to reach out to the larger community.

Here’s the idea: if you have or are interested in making your own version of my Everyday Cookies, I’d love to hear about it.  Please send me your additions, subtractions, changes and adaptations as well as any information you’d like me to include about you.  Photographs are welcome too. 

Please email your entry no later than October 12th, 2011 to: Gabriela at thepickyfoodie.com

In order to show my appreciation for our similarities and our diversity, participants will receive an e-copy of the collected recipes.

N.B. On a side-note, Jennifer Perillo needs our help.  Bloggers Without Borders have created #afundforjennie to help her and her children in this difficult time.  Please check out their site and bid or donate what you can.  

I had a post written and ready to put up.  Completed, done, signed, sealed, deli--- then I had a conversation with a woman about life insurance.  Because when you’re an adult, you need to talk about things like that.  Eesh.

So we talked about death, this woman and I, and how much DW would get, how much I would get in the event of.  Somehow every amount of money sounds ridiculous.  “We’re sorry for your loss, but here’s the cash we agreed to pay you.”

Now I know, rationally, as an adult, that this is a necessary step to take, but the rest of me was screaming about how wrong all of this was.

Still, I sat through the thirty-eight minutes of questions – do you have a terrible illness?  Have you had a terrible illness?  Have your parents had a terrible illness?  Do you envisage getting a terrible illness?  Is there any reason to suspect you will have a terrible illness at some point? 

Some questions made me laugh: do you regularly go potholing or bungee jumping? 

Other questions were downright terrifying: about alcoholism and drug abuse, about family histories and previous health problems.  I wondered how people who do suffer such afflictions feel having to divulge God knows what to the stranger reading the questionnaire on auto-pilot.

What does this have to do with food, health and general Picky Foodie themes, you ask? 

Well after this young lady had finished making sure my kidneys, liver, lungs and heart have no history of crapping out on me, after she had made sure that I don’t have any STDs, that I’m not HIV positive and that I don’t suffer from psychosis, neurosis or other psychiatric problems, she said “I’m very sorry but I’m going to have to ask you a sensitive question…” she hesitated.  Then she got the courage to continue: “What is your dress size?”

Uh, what? 

I couldn’t resist: “THAT is your sensitive question?”

I’ll let you come to your own conclusions on just how ridiculous that conversation was.  But in honour of my waistline and yours, I would like to share a lovely New Potato salad recipe.  It keeps well, travels well and fills you up regardless of your dress size.

Let me say this: I’m not a fan of the popular potato (I know, I don’t drink nor do I like potatoes.  And yet, I live in England.).  Last week, at the farmer’s market, however, DW mentioned how much he would enjoy some from time to time.  As fate would have it, a great looking spud salad was featured on one of my favourite mainstream recipe sites – Food52.  This is the second time I make this dish in as many weeks, and the second time it disappears remarkably quickly.    

New Potato Salad
(adapted from Food52)

The key to this recipe is to make it while the potatoes are still warm so they can soak up the lovely vinaigrette.  Prep time is around a half hour from start to finish.  It keeps well in the refrigerator for a few days and is hearty enough for grey summer days yet refreshing enough for sunny picnics. 

-  1 kg new potatoes, scrubbed and cut into large bite-sized pieces
-  1 T ume plum vinegar
-  100 gr rocket (arugula)
-  2 T fresh chives, finely chopped
-  2 spring onions, finely chopped
-  1 T mustard
-  1 T balsamic vinegar
-  1 T pomegranate vinegar (optional–replace with an additional T of balsamic)
-  2 T olive oil
-  ½ t salt or to taste

Bring the potatoes to a boil in a pot of water.  Cook for about 10 minutes, until soft but not mushy.  Drain and put in a large salad bowl.

Add the ume vinegar and salt to the potatoes and mix gently so the potatoes pieces stay more of less whole.  Then gently mix in the chives and spring onions.

For the vinaigrette:  whisk together the mustard, vinegar and olive oil.  Pour over the potatoes and mix in well. 

At this point, the mixture should still be relatively warm.  Now is the time to add the rocket (arugula). 

Serve warm or at room temperature. 

So I have a thing about textures.

I love watching my baby girl explore them with as much relish as I do. With "gentle hands," she timidly runs her fingers along rose petals, the patterns of our green sofa, my skin.  And so too with food.

In the beginning, I found it almost painful to feed her plain pieces of roasted sweet potato.  How plain, how goopy, how dull.  I want to scrape my tongue at the very thought.  But Vida Lev is still learning about the vast expanse of flavors, textures and food experiences there are to be had and she loves her sweet potato as is.  In fact, she is teaching me to simplify, enjoy, or at least taste things on their own before I add spices, herbs and other foods.

Textures and flavors - to me, both factors determine the quality of a dish.  When something really stands out, it is because a balance has been obtained between them.  Personally, I prefer stark contrasts – hot and cold, crunchy and chewy, sweet and savory, wet and dry.  Like fleur de sel on a good praline.  Or fruit in a salad.  

Next time you’re hungry and can’t figure out what you’re truly wanting, try closing your eyes and asking yourself what texture you desire.  Is it soft or hard?  Doughy or bitty?  Wet or dry?

When I was about thirteen, we spent a summer on Lake Muscoca up in Canada. And while I remember the trampoline and the rickety old diving board that felt as if it was going to topple every time one of us dared to scoot to the end of it, my most vivid memories have to do with food.

The popcorn my aunt would make, it's salty crunchiness that was unlike the kind we got at the movies back home (where they only sold it covered in sugar -- horrendous!).  A few moments after the inevitable bellow of the fire alarm, she would present the warm bowl of crisp, white kernels.  We would sit around grabbing handfuls as we looked up at the stars.  Being a city girl, it was the first time I had seen such the night sky so clearly.  And while I loved lying back on the recliner and calling out every time I glimpsed a shooting star, what I was most focused on was the popcorn in my mouth.  I loved dousing it in fake butter and popping each kernel into my mouth where I could maneuver it into the perfect position, with my teeth sunk in the cavity just below the sharper, popped edges and my tongue running along the rounder bit.

I remember the bacon, the likes of which I had never tasted before. It was fresh, crispier than potato chips and crackled vigorously in my mouth.

For years, I associated Canada with bacon, popcorn and beer coolers, which we stole sips of when the adults weren’t looking.

By far my favorite discovery, however, was the locally made Rocky Road ice cream.  The cottage my family had rented sat alone on a tiny island that was only accessible by boat.  Whenever groceries were needed someone would have to go to the mainland.

Even then, way before I had any interest in cooking or health, I loved supermarkets.  Especially that summer. Because tagging along with whomever's turn it was to shop meant a scoop of Rocky Road.

Growing up in Belgium meant that there was never a shortage of the highest quality sweet treats.  But this ice cream beat even the most prestigious chocolatiers.

Looking back now, I realize that what seduced me wasn't the sweetness or even wonderfully artificial flavors. It was the balance of textures: crunchy nuts, gooey marshmallows, sticky caramel, creamy ice cream.  Each one was present in just the right amount, and as a result, the flavors melded as if they weren’t meant to be enjoyed separately.

This past year, I really focused on nuts and seeds. Not because I love them (though I do), but rather because I craved their oily crunch.  Almost everything I made involved Nuts.

Then, when I decided to follow the Naturopath's suggestion and remove them from my diet, I panicked. That very night, I made a warm salad... Sans nuts. And it wasn't half bad.

Within about three days, I felt better than I had in months. I didn't feel as deprived as I had feared. In fact, I didn't feel deprived at all. The only thing I missed was the texture, the added kick in my mouth that balanced out chewy, stringy, dry or wet. But that too faded as I focused on creating and discovering new nut-free dishes instead. 

Textures have as much of an emotional component as flavours: like when I'm sad and crave doughy foods. I might want savoury - like bread - or sweet - like brownies. But really, it's the texture that I crave and find comfort in.

Way back when, before I could put words to these preferences, I sat on that dock many a time as the sun started to set, twirling my Tongue in my mouth like a dreamcatcher, angling for a taste of every sumtuous part of the magical combination.  Every bite had potential, and while I didn't know it yet, I had already embarked on my journey -- in search of that elusive perfect bite.

Coconut Squares & Jam (a raw recipe)
(adapted from the very awesome bonzaiaphrodite.com)

Been on a bit of a dessert kick lately – like for the past 30-something years!  When a couple of good friends had a baby this week, I figured it was the perfect opportunity to try these puppies out.  Of course, I couldn’t not tinker with it and add my personal touches.  As you can see from the name, however, in this house, food aside, we’ve got Dr. Seuss on the brain.   

This recipe is simple, quick and child-friendly.  Coconut oil is a thyroid booster, the dried fruit is sweet with a little tang.  Feel free to use any dried fruit, but make sure to adjust the amount of sweetener accordingly.

For the crust:
2 cups coconut flour
1 cup coconut water
1/3 x2 cup coconut oil
½   cup maple syrup
1 t vanilla powder
1/2 t cinnamon
pinch salt

Melt the coconut oil in a bain de Marie.  Sift the flour to remove any lumps.  Add the cinnamon, salt and vanilla.  Once the oil is melted, mix in along with the coconut water and maple syrup.  Use your hands to really create a beautiful robust dough. 

Line a cookie pan (8 ½ x 12 inch or 21.5 x 30 cm) with parchment paper.  Flatten the dough evenly.  Refrigerate.

For the jam topping:
2 cups dried, unsulphured apricots
1 cup dried sour cherries (unsweetened)
1/8 cup raisins
3+ cups water
juice of 1 orange
zest of 1 medium lemon

Combine the dried fruit in a bowl.  Cover with just enough water.  Allow to soak for as long as you have – fifteen minutes to make the crust, or overnight if you have the time. 

Once soft, put the fruit in the food processor, keeping the soak water to add as necessary.  Start with ½ cup of the water as well as the freshly squeezed orange juice and process until you’ve got the beginning of a jam-like texture.  Then add the fresh lemon zest and process until relatively but not completely smooth.

To make the squares:
Spread the jam evenly over the crust.  Refrigerate for a couple of hours at least.  Then cut into squares. 

Keep in an airtight container in the fridge.