Home Sweet (New) Home

After moving away from New York City last spring, and a long summer in beautiful Vancouver, we have finally settled down in our new home - a small town outside San Jose, Costa Rica. It has only been seven days, but we're already smitten with the natural beauty and the warmth of the people we are meeting. And don't even get me started on the fruits and vegetables. The words "avocado heaven" flash into my mind at least three times a day.

Perhaps we're just in the honeymoon period, but so far the monsoon rains, exceptionally large spiders and constant muddy paw prints of one particular member of our family have done little to dampen our enthusiasm.

Can you blame us?

Here's the Question...

What does it take to draw a blogger out of a long winter hibernation? The arrival of spring? With the all the warm weather, improved lighting and flowery photo-ops that the season brings? Eh. I don't know if that's quite enough.

A sweet face like this one? Maybe, just maybe...

Back to Programming As Usual

Now that travel photos have been shared, I can return to posting about the mundane, and occasionally wonderful, details of daily life. As winter has deepened, as the snow has fallen, the icicles have lengthened and the days have gotten ever shorter, here's what's been going on:

Plenty of cappuccino drinking. Can't do winter without it.


Most definitely some baking.Wintertime just cries out for warm pies, crumbles, and New York Times chocolate chip cookies.


Intense board gaming. Specifically Settlers of Catan. Who wants to go out when you can build an empire while sitting at your dining room table?


Holiday-light appreciating. They are almost enough to make one forget how chilly and dreary the weather is.


Guest blogging. I have been taking photos every morning and evening this week to contribute to Amy's photo blog, Every Morn and Eve. (Needless to say, I am in talented company, so the pressure is on!)

And finally, that coziest of winter activities, knitting. Latest off the needles is this cowl, knitted with some soft and fuzzy Malabrigo chunky yarn in the appropriately-titled color of Polar Morn. (A big thank you to Parikha at sixoneseven for the pattern!) This cozy wonder is already warming the neck of a good friend, and there is a second cowl now in the works. (A bit of cowl obsession has developed over here at Under Consideration this season, so you will surely see more of them in the coming months.)

What wintery activities have you been up to? How do you pass the time when it's cold outside?

Attempts at "Gardening"

Growing one's own herbs is a wonderful thing, not least because it resolves that age-old dilemma all cooks have faced at one time or another:

should I buy a whole big bunch of parsely at my expensive New York City grocery store
for $1.99 just for the 2 tsp my recipe requires, or should I omit it altogether?

When you're growing your own, you can just snip off the amount you want! With that principle of frugality and avoiding waste in mind, I am trying to grow some herbs at home this summer.

Unfortunately, in my eagerness to get started on the project right away, I did not employ the most successful strategy. While all aspiring herb growers in their right minds go to the farmer's market and get promising-looking little seedlings, I decided it would be a good idea to plant seeds in the dirt and watch them grow. Not for any philosophical reason, mind you, I just forgot that if I waited a few weeks, the markets would be awash with little parsely, basil, and sage plants--already looking hardy, smelling fragrant, and destined for long-term survival.

As soon as I saw the little starter plants in the green market a few weekends ago, looking far healthier than my wispy little stalks ever could, I knew that I had made a mistake. And then I remembered how I did this very same thing last year and, when my stunted basil never produced enough for a single respectable batch of pesto, I vowed I would remember to start with seedlings rather than seeds the next time. (Fortunately last year we were saved when our neighbors--so green-thumbed that they have been known to grow watermelons on their fire escape--gave us a healthy basil plant that did last the summer.)

Well, I can report that we have had two losses this year already: rosemary (never even sprouted) and thyme (sudden death due to causes unknown). The dill looked promising early on but has since progressed very little. Could it be because I dropped all the herbs on the floor twice in the process of repotting them? I suspect they were not ready for quite such a shake-up. (And that's the bedroom floor I'm referring to--yes, gardening in a little apartment has its risks.)


The surviving little plants are looking so forlorn on our windowsill that I despair of them ever becoming substantial enough to actually cook with. Should I start over with the seedlings I should have used from the outset? Or should I have faith that with enough sun and water, these little plants will eventually come around? It's an either/or decision here because windowsill space is limited. Any suggestions?

Hiding in the Utensil Drawer

Like I said in my last post, we've been finding surprises in unlikely places.

In the Name of Art

Sometimes photographers go to dangerous lengths to capture a photograph, perhaps even putting personal safety at risk to bring to light scenes that might otherwise go undocumented. Today was my first foray into such "danger zone" photography.

Okay, so I wasn't embedded with the U.S. forces in Iraq or tracking Maoist rebels in the mountains of Nepal like a certain friend of mine who is a for-real photographer, but today was as close as I have come to risking life and limb for a photo.

I was shooting on the fire escape.

On the fourth floor.

Only three levels of these rusty metal bars between me and a very unpleasant landing.

Why brave such dangers in the name of photography? Well, The Noticing Project has invited their readers to share photographs of things they notice this week, and as a New Yorker in a comparatively small apartment sometimes I just feel I have "noticed" (and photographed) every little thing there is to notice. I wanted a different angle.

I thought to shoot a photo of something on the windowsill, but by the time I got home from work the sunlight had already left the sill and migrated onto the fire escape. I just followed the light. It wasn't until I had two feet out the window and was shifting my weight onto the suddenly quite shifty fire escape that I thought perhaps I'd better make this a quick shoot.

All right, in reality a heart-stopping second or two does not equate to any real risk to life and limb, but I know now that if there is a fire in the building I am going to start making a rope out of my sheets. 40 neighbors fleeing the building down that rickety structure is definitely not a good idea.

A Perfect Weekend

It is a truth universally acknowledged (or pretty much so) that the best weekends begin with a leisurely cup of coffee while sitting in the sunshine, perhaps with a freshly baked banana-coconut muffin. If you can share those morning moments with an awesome cousin and her husband visiting from Chicago, your weekend is already well on its way to perfect.

Following coffee, the perfect weekend might include a walk through the neighborhood to enjoy some lovely spring weather (on perfect weekends the temperature is 60 degrees at least) and to admire the trees and flowers that suddenly seem to be blooming everywhere.

After that a visit to the neighborhood farmers' market might be in order. And if you enjoy photography, and you happen to have just replaced your polarizing filter recently, that might be just the place to test it out on a crate of apples.

Any truly perfect weekend is not complete without some activity. And if one is not inclined to be particularly active oneself (for example, if you have pretty much avoided the gym since running the marathon last November), being a spectator is a very satisfying alternative.

After a couple of hours sitting under the trees watching the soccer game and the children zooming by on their scooters, you might enjoy some lunch and then head into Manhattan to walk the city streets, see a few sights, and catch up with your out-of-town guests.


Now if you're really going for a 10 out of 10 weekend (and this basically hardly ever happens) you will get to enjoy some of your very favorite foods for dinner, and will top that off with a hot fudge sundae from the Shake Shack for dessert. That would be followed by an enjoyable movie (or episode of BBC's Planet Earth) and yet more excellent conversation.

And that's only Day 1 of the perfect weekend!

Day 2 might be a trip to Brooklyn Flea--especially exciting if it's something you have been anticipating for a while. After browsing the work of local designers and craftsmen and looking for diamonds in the flea market rough (and finding some) , you might enjoy a cappuccino at a local cafe with some friends, both old and new.


Now, people in the know may differ on this point, but I firmly feel no weekend is really perfect without getting at least something constructive accomplished. But if it is a perfect weekend, that constructive thing will not be doing the laundry or vacuuming, because those things are not enjoyable at all. Enjoyable constructive accomplishments suited to a perfect weekend are things like organizing your spice cabinet or, even better, clearing out and reorganizing your closet (perhaps putting the lovely hat boxes you found at Brooklyn Flea to good use by using them to store purses, belts, scarves and the like).

The only imperfect thing is that weekends that perfect come around so rarely. That is why it is important to finish off such a weekend with a blog post to remind yourself to enjoy weekends like those more often.

Seeking Inspiration in the Kitchen

Usually when I'm seeking inspiration in the kitchen, it means I have the fridge open and I'm trying to decide what I should have for a snack. I'm happy to say that today for once that was not the case. Today I was looking for something to photograph.


It has been a while since I last took my camera out for a walk to take pictures of the neighborhood, or experiment with some new technique I have been reading about, and I was feeling an itch to hear that satisfying sound of the shutter clicking. Since I have been lying low with a cold and sore throat the past few days, I was not about to venture outside where it is still winter.

I never cease to be impressed at the many bloggers out there who are able to bring out the beauty and personality of their homes through a picture of a chair here, a stack of books there, a pair of shoes forgotten on the floor... If only I were a photographer who could make the pile of unfolded laundry in the living room look casually beautiful!



Anyway, inspired by that idea of finding some prettiness in the everyday (and stuck in the kitchen anyway because I was making strawberry sauce), I decided to snap a few photos of some corners of my kitchen. In doing so, I think I found a new appreciation for the kitchen I so often sigh over (so small, so old, so little counter space). Really, it's quite a nice place to pass some time.

Portraits of Tea

Rose tea.




Clockwise from top: Grandma's Garden fruit tisane; Persian black tea; chamomile; Turkish apple tea.

Jasmine Tea

Dawn

Light seeps through our shutters this morning at dawn.

Pickled Pink

Dorky, I know. Couldn't help myself. Tickled pink is what I am in light of my new discovery--making pickles!

I am a worshipful devotee of pickles of all varieties. My grandparents literally stock extra pickles in their fridge when they know I am coming to town. Now that I have begun experimenting in the kitchen, with a long term goal of learning to make from scratch all the food items that I love and adore, pickles had to come up eventually.

I have already experimented with pickling of the international variety. This time, spurred on by encouraging posts from Smitten Kitchen and Orangette, I tackled the standard dill flavoured pickles we know and love in the United States.

It took about 20 minutes. Less even. I boiled up a cup of cider vinegar and 1 1/2 cups of water, added a tablespoon of sugar, a few cloves of minced garlic, dill weed, and salt, and then decided to get creative and tossed in a few other items I thought might spice things up a little--mustard seed, peppercorns, cloves, and maybe some other stuff I don't remember. I let the spiced liquid simmer for a few minutes and then poured it over my carrots (the easiest thing I could find in the house to practice on). I let them cool and they went into the fridge overnight.

All in all, a good showing on the pickle front. Nice crunch, nice acidity level. Perhaps I tossed in those extra spices with a tad too much abandon; I would have liked the dill flavor to dominate a little more, but hey, that is what experimenting is for.

There are many more pickles to be attempted, both foreign and domestic (bread and butter, sweet, Japanese oshinko, Indian mango pickle, the list is endless...) Surely I'll get to them all eventually. Stay tuned.

Note: Those who have heard me lament previously about the fact that my kitchen is lopsided, have a look at the level of the brine in the pickle jar--there's the proof!

Our Little Bundle of Joy

Yes it's true. There has been a new addition to the family. It's a bonsai tree! And I have decided that he is a boy. He is a cascading juniper, age 6, and has already received 2 years of training. Ash and I are thrilled to welcome him into our home. He was a gift from my brother, who departed yesterday after three happy weeks of visiting.

Like all young things, the little fellow is going to need some care. Baths every couple of days (no kidding), regular spritzing with a mister (to encourage good behavior), feeding (with fertilizer) between the months of April and October, and pruning twice a year (so that he can grow and develop into the lovely grown-up bonsai we know he can be).

The first line of business is picking a name for our bonsai. And it needs to be a good one, because he is going to be part of the family for a long time. Bonsais can live to be 400 to 600 years old, and if all goes well, we will be able to pass him on to our grandchildren some day! So I'm taking suggestions. Bonsai names.... Any thoughts?

Spice Market

So often I feel as if I don't get much accomplished in the evenings. Not tonight. I arrived home feeling inspired to tackle a task I've been thinking about for a while now--reorganization of the spices, oils, vinegars, sauces, and other sundry items in our cabinets.

The inspiration was the result of a trip to Patel Brothers, an Indian grocery in Jackson Heights, Queens, near where I happened to be working this afternoon. After spending yesterday afternoon making a list of "Spices I Must Buy" while browsing through The Soul of a New Cuisine: A Discovery of the Foods and Flavors of Africa (a much-loved cookbook by Marcus Samuelsson that I actually bought by mistake on Amazon.com last spring--darn that one-click ordering!), I couldn't pass up a trip to Patel Brothers when I was right in the neighborhood. I had to go elsewhere for the berbere, but they had just about everything else. Whole cloves, star anise, coriander seeds, crushed fenugreek seeds, cumin seeds, cinnamon sticks (For 1/4 the price of our local grocery! Hot apple cider anyone?), and much more. How could I help but be inspired to reorganize when I had such exciting acquisitions to accommodate?

Reorganizing the spices doesn't sound like much, but it took a fair bit of time and brought me an amazing peace of mind when all was arranged (and inventoried, of course, with a list of everything on each shelf taped to the inside of the cabinet door). Now I feel I can rightfully reward myself by relaxing on the couch for an hour and watching Law & Order.

Is This Becoming a Cooking Blog?

The other day I Googled "how to use egg yolks." I had 10 egg yolks in a bowl in the fridge, having used the whites the night before to make a no-wheat/no-soy/no-sugar/no-gluten party snack for a friend's birthday celebration (spicy potato pancakes--quite decent actually). I couldn't let all those yolks go to waste. Google did not let me down. The very first search result told me I could use 8 of those 10 yolks by making creme brulee. Coincidentally we were given a creme brulee set as a wedding gift (complete with blow torch and ramekins), and had yet to use it. Thus began an afternoon of kitchen firsts:

1. First vanilla bean.
2. First blow torch experience.
3. First flash of understanding that there is something truly wrong with our oven.

Who could have guessed that 4 tiny inches of vanilla bean could fill the apartment with such a heady aroma. I scraped out the seeds and simmered them in heavy cream, then mixed the cream into the whipped egg yolks (tempering it, so as to avoid making vanilla scrambled eggs). I filled the ramekins and into the oven they went for the suggested 35 minutes at 275 degrees. An hour later, it still looked more like soup than creme. I upped the temperature. Another 55 minutes at 350 degrees. STILL soupy. It was supposed to "jiggle slightly in the middle." I turned it up to 450 degrees. 40 minutes later I had the consistency I was looking for. What the heck? Clearly our oven is way off (the recipe could not possibly be that wrong). Well, that could certainly explain a number of past cooking problems. How can I figure out how hot it really gets in there? Oven thermometer? What would Alton do?

Moving on. After the 3 hours of baking came the fun part:

It actually worked! I might have gotten a little carried away and burned the first one, but I was pleased as punch when the spoon cracked the hardened sugar just the way it's supposed to. Sadly, I do not like creme brulee, so poor Ashkon had to eat all four of them.

Part Three: Banana Bread and "Gourmet" Sabzi

This is the last in my series of weekend cooking posts. I will have to move onto something different for my next few posts as I won't be cooking for a bit. Now I'm on a mission to clear the fridge of leftovers!

Monday was a Baha'i Holy Day, and fortuitously it was a work holiday as well. In celebration of the Holy Day a friend hosted brunch at her home. I baked a quick banana bread in the morning to take over. I have made banana bread a few time before and invariably it comes out of the oven looking lovely, but concealed in the middle is a little spot of doughy not-quite-done-ness that I can't get rid of. Why? I always thought it was because the bananas congregated in the middle, but this time I pureed the bananas into a banana soup, rather than just mashing them with a fork, so I know for a fact they were evenly distributed! If I leave it in the oven longer, the whole rest of the loaf dries out. This loaf was no exception. See below...

The outer slices deceptively look just right. But cut in a little further and look:
Is it my pan? (A non-stick 9-inch loaf pan.) Is it my oven? (A non-descript ancient clunker.) Is it the recipe? If anyone has thoughts, or better recipes to share, I am open to suggestions.

I had much greater success on Monday afternoon, which I spent making a famous Persian stew called qormeh sabzi (قرمه ‌سبزی ). Personally, I like to refer to it as gourmet sabzi, or "gourmet greens." It's an herb stew made with meat, dark red kidney beans, and lime. The name comes from the selection of green herbs that go into it--mountains of parsley, cilantro, chives, scallions, and fenugreek (I had to use dried for that last one). I snapped a photo mid-process of the herbs ready to go into the pot.

Sadly I did not have the presence of mind to photograph the finished product. By the time it was finished cooking (after 3 hours of slow simmering), we were so eager to eat that pictures were the last thing on our minds.