After the Harvest

Here we are at the end of September, the first part of the second school year. After the wheat was harvested (and all the respective little towns went back to school the week following their own individual harvest schedule), everything went back to the same kind of grind. Rob in school 10 hours a day, the sunlight hours noticeably dwindling already. It's hard this time of year not to be extra homesick, when the feeling in the air changes and its easy to think about the bowls of hot, porky ramen we could be eating at Ippudo, the last of the outdoor concerts at Central Park, the mimosas at brunch we could be enjoying with friends. I don't know what it is about changing seasons that makes it so much harder to stay put here in the middle of nowhere, but it's hitting me hard this autumn.

But before I get all bummy and miserable, I do have to admit we had an awesome summer. We went to Portland about once a month to visit family, explore, shop, and dine in hipstery restaurants that reminded us of home. It was a great way to recharge.

On our last visit, we had a great early dinner at The Farm Cafe, sitting in their cute backyard and soaking up a few Northwest rays of sun. The salty, crispy trout with summer vegetables was enough to make up for many months of no fresh seafood in Pullman. 

The next morning, a tapas-style brunch at Tasty n Alder was literally all I could eat all day. I suppose we didn't really need to order four things when it's just the two of us. There was fried oysters with bacon and a cheddar biscuit. There was polenta with stringy fresh mozzarella and a sunny side up egg. Thinking of our favorite tapas spot Tia Pol in NYC, we gave in to the patatas bravas with aioli. And an egg. And then, just to try something sweet, we tore into some french toast with raspberry-apricot maple and whipped cream. 

It was great fuel for our touristy stop at Multnomah Falls on the way home. The waterfall is so high and the stream is so thin in comparison, it's hard to get a good picture of the whole sight. It's also hard to block out all the heads of the other tourists and their five million kids with ice cream cones that are dripping everywhere. 

By far, the best thing we did all summer (I mean aside from get married and the honeymoon and all that) is our camping trip to the Gorge. I know, I did not expect to do camping again anytime soon, and especially to enjoy it as much as I did. But the only way we'd be able to see the Arcade Fire at this glorious location was either to drive 40 minutes to an overpriced motel in Moses Lake, or just bite the bullet and set up camp. 

We don't know what we're doing when we show up to these places like everyone else does. All of a sudden there are sleeping tents and overhead tents and RVs and awnings and barbeques, there's a whole community to our little two-person tent with an aerobed inside and that's it. Luckily, we wound up next to a pretty awesome group of people that took us under their wing, fed us grilled sandwiches and gourmet cheese, showed us where to pick up the bus when the concert was ready to start.

I really don't think anything could have prepared me for the truly breathtaking setting. It's like I walked onto a painting. I couldn't make sense of the river far below or the size of the clifs. My brain literally could not comprehend all the beauty, and combined with phenomenal acoustics of our favorite band that reminded me of Brooklyn, I don't think it could have been a more perfect concert.

We left early the next morning and waved goodbye to the one or two friends that were awake already. I didn't want to ask their full names or try to keep in touch. It made me too sad to think about following them on Facebook and reading their posts about what they ate for breakfast that day and marring the real connection we had that made the night before. That's how things worked back at Woodstock, and with all the talk of Woodstock that inevitably came up that day, it seemed only right to respect experience in the time period this type of experience was born in. 

But I am hoping we see them again next summer. Next time, grilled brats are on us.

At the Grind: Meat & Coffee

Ok, so here's the deal with summertime in Pullman the second time around: It. is. Boring! Especially when our friends are on vacation and Rob's lab is closed and the gym is closed and shouldn't I be at a beach somewhere? (Answer: Yes, yes I should, but we are out of vacation time. Thanks a lot, wedding!)

It was nice back in May when all the college kids moved out off campus and left about 100 of us townies behind. Driving through frat row from work to school, I saw bro-hugs while Mom waited in the car, and couches being loaded into pickup trucks much too small for them and had these weird pangs of envy-disgust where I wanted to be those kids heading out of there but ugh! That couch looks so dirty and did they really just sit on that all year.

As usual, we've taken solace in the kitchen. There are lots of new toys to keep us occupied, and I think our new favorite is the meat grinder attachment. (Thanks a lot, wedding!)

We used this thing to grind up the chuck for burgers, and then again to make some killer sausage with a pork loin about the size of Rob's torso. We baked half of it for slicin' in the new meat slicer and ground up the rest with apples and garlic. 

It's fun to get the mise-en-place all set up before you push it through the first round. Who ever said you shouldn't watch them make the sausage?
 

Anyway, from what I understand about meat grinding, you're supposed to be a purist for the first two rounds, then you add on the salt and herbs after that. 

We like to make a mix of patties and meatballs, keep some refrigerated and freeze the rest. It's nice to have on hand for things like a quick pasta dish. Like this quick and easy spaghetti adapted from Cooking Light! (Can they just hire me to make their recipes better already?) See the original, not-as-good recipe here. 

Spaghetti with Parsley & Basil Pesto and Homemade Sausage

• 1 lb spaghetti 
• As much garlic-apple sausage that looks right
• 4 garlic cloves, crushed and coarsely chopped
• About 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 ounce fresh Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese
• 1 bunch flat-leaf parsley leaves
• Handful of basil leaves 
• Lemon juice 
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

Preparation

1. Bring 4 quarts of water to a boil in a large saucepan or Dutch oven. Add pasta to pan, and cook 8 minutes or until almost al dente. Drain pasta in a colander over a bowl, reserving 3/4 cup cooking liquid. Discard the remaining cooking liquid.
2. Heat a large heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Add Italian sausage to pan; sauté 6 minutes or until browned, stirring to crumble. Remove sausage from pan, reserving drippings; drain on paper towels. Add garlic to drippings in pan; sauté 1 minute, stirring constantly. Add 1/2 cup reserved cooking liquid to pan; bring to a boil, scraping pan to loosen browned bits. Stir in 2 tablespoons olive oil; cook 30 seconds, stirring constantly with a whisk. Add pasta to pan; cook 1 minute, tossing to combine. Remove from heat.
3. Combine about 2 tablespoons cheese (I just put in a whole hunk), parsley and basil leaves in a food processor; process until finely ground. With motor running, add remaining 1/4 cup cooking liquid, olive oil and lemon juice; process until smooth. Add parsley mixture and salt to pasta; toss well to coat. Divide pasta mixture evenly among 4 shallow bowls; top evenly with sausage. Serve with grated Parmesan.

Okay, so here's the other thing I'm working at perfecting, and I'm sorry about the double entendre title but its TRUE I'm fiddling with coffee these days. 

It's been in the 100s here every day and too hot for hot coffee anymore. Plus, it gets nasty in the thermos after awhile. So I've turned to cold brewing.

There are a few different variations online but you know how it pisses me off when recipes require strange measurements for a normal French press or weird filtering equipment. What's the point of these recipes? Why are we bothering to brew 1 cup of coffee overnight? It doesn't make sense.

On the other hand, I think it is important to use high-quality ingredients. Get good coffee and use cold, filtered water. It matters.

Here's what I've come up with:

Cold Brew Coffee in a Regular French Press Without Dumb Filtering Equipment

• 2/3 cup freshly ground coffee
• 3 cups filtered water
• 1 small can condensed milk
• Almond milk

Preparation

Grind up 2/3 cups of your favorite coffee. Cover with cold water. Let it sit at room temperature overnight.

Push down and pour the goods into a container. Save enough to fill ice cub tray about halfway. Finish the cubes with regular water. Trust me!! Now your iced coffee won't get too watery and it won't make you too jittery. 

Do this a few more times, if you can. You'll want to stock up.

Add a few spoonfuls of the condensed milk. I'm guessing the entire container would be good if you had maybe a gallon of coffee. Use a little at a time and shake it up. The coffee should be lightly brown and chocolatey looking.

Fill a reusable cup (you care about the environment, right?) with the half-coffee ice you made. Top with 3/4 of the condensed milk coffee and finish with enough almond milk to drape around the coffee luxuriously before you mix it together with your metal straw. Because you care about the environment! You said so.

 

It also tastes really good in Mason jars on the go. Perhaps on a Sunday going rock climbing at the Snake River? Because all those college kids will be back before ya know it, ruining it for the rest of us.

Dang lousy kids. 

I hope they get a better couch this year.

Brooklyn's Five Leaves Burger in Pullman

I'll be honest: I've been kind of homesick for the city lately. Maybe it's because I don't have the wedding to keep me occupied anymore and now here I am actually feeling present in the present moment and who wants to do that when you live in the boonies! I miss my friends and the subway and the artsy people and the random finds and the crazy connections. Woody Allen said it best about the country: there's no place to walk after dinner.

In my fit of NYC-homesickness this past weekend I dug out the old New Brooklyn Cookbook with recipes from some of my favorite haunts. In my old life as a Brooklyn restaurant blogger I made my favorite burger once and felt quite proud of myself. This time I felt inspired to do it again, but do it BETTER, with all my post-registry kitchen items. And so, ladies and gents, the post-wedding, Pullmanized Five Leaves Burger!

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The Five Leaves burger is known for its unique combination of sweet pineapple, pickled beet, creamy egg and spicy mayo. It's such a fabulous combination for a burger that you don't even realize there isn't cheese on it. 

We tried to make everything home made in this burger. I should have grabbed some of my coworkers' home grown eggs, but instead I bought a dozen. I should have tried to make my own rolls in the bread machine but that didn't happen either.

I did buy a whole pineapple -- not canned this time -- and marinaded the slices 48 hours in the boiled vinegar-honey solution.

The beets I bought whole and raw, baked for an hour, then marinaded in the pineapple solution with some lemon juice. It was the lazy person's pickling.

The meat was a chuck steak that we ground with the Kitchen Aid attachment, hand formed into patties, and grilled on our brand spankin' new grill out back.

I couldn't find harissa, so I made the sauce with mayo, Sriracha and juice from a whole lime.

The final product had that wobbly, amateur finish -- the pineapple slices still had coriander seeds stuck to it, the ciabatta roll was a little big for our little burger patties -- but man, if it didn't feel good to sink my teeth into a Five Leaves burger on a hot summer day.

Pretty good imitation, huh?

Want to try your hand at it? Find the full recipe here. 

What to do with Bum Watermelons

What's with watermelons this year? Every time I excitedly slice into a new green melon ball I am immediately disappointed with the dull color, the low sweetness and mealy texture.

 


It's a sad way to end my happy song of "My Own Personal Watermelon" sung to the tune of Depeche Mode's Personal Jesus but in Johnny Cash's version. Only Jesus instead of Watermelon.

Some fruit to hear your prayers,
some fruit that's not pears.

Anyway, if you are bogged down by the same sad fruity affliction, I have some ideas.

First, watermelon salsa! Full credit goes to Cooking Light for this great sweet-spicy-fresh recipe, that tastes awesome on steak tacos and revives dull melons ASAP. I changed the amounts a little because "2 cups of watermelon" is a stupid method of measurement.

Watermelon Salsa in Normal-Person Measurements
-Half a small (of your own... "personal"...) watermelon (see, much better)
-2 sprigs of fresh mint, chopped
-enough lime juice to coat the top
-same amount of olive oil
-1 chopped serrano chile 

If you think adding a spicy pepper to a watermelon is a good way to ruin it, I can understand that. If you're married to the idea of keeping it sweet, why not pulverize it with a little honey? I think watermelon smoothies are a little risky -- especially since we're already dealing with bum watermelons -- but I messed around with the measurements and ingredients and found one that's acceptable.

Watermelon Smoothie
-The other half of your own personal watermelon
-Tablespoon of honey
-The ice from about half an ice tray 
-Splash of lime juice
-Handful of hulled strawberries

Drink it fast, because it separates quick.


At least the cherries are good this summer.

Alone Time + How I'm Learning to Cook

When my new husband (!) left for Seattle for a few days this morning, I was kinda bummed. I was thinking The honeymoon is really over! and How is this fair for newlyweds to spend 3 whole days apart? But then I remembered I'm an INTROVERT and I haven't had alone time in WEEKS and how else am I going to regenerate my energy?

So after work I skipped merrily along to the farmer's market and came home with lots of fun goodies for my first solo night in a long time.

Now back in NYC I would head to the Union Square Market and pretty much shrug at everything because how am I supposed to cook that? And shouldn't I just let the experts do it and it's too hot to cook anyway but gee it sure looks pretty in that box and maybe I should just take a picture and then get a beer somewhere before I head back on the L train.

There are no such distractions here in Pullman, and no such luxuries as "someone else will cook it better" because they WON'T. I think it's this feeling of "it's me or no one" that has pushed me to actually start chopping things up and putting them in hot oil and then wow! Dinner!

My home cooking endeavors started off as finding a recipe, going out, buying all the ingredients, measuring everything, and carrying out all the tasks listed in the grease-splattered cookbook. But like any other craft, you start to get the hang of it. You read through a recipe and take the parts you like. You remember cooking techniques that work and apply it with different ingredients and flavors. And you stop measuring! Because unless you're baking then there's really no point. 1/4 teaspoon of salt should really be more, anyway, so why not just eyeball it? And then you save money because you're skilled at tailoring dinner towards what you have and not what's $10/lb at the grocery store. (See? I've learned to be frugal, too!)

Tonight I think I advanced a little more with a beet salad I made up with veggies from the market, a fried rice I tweaked from Cooking Light and a chicken I cooked on a memory and an instinct. I tried to match the dinner to the hot weather, to give me some cool relief with little nods to a fiery sun. I wanted something light and bright with little hints of earthy spiciness.

I call it Yogurt-Dill Chicken with Lemongrass Rice and Honey Beet Salad.

Whoooo-what! That sounds crazy. Like a real adult person's dinner and not what I used to do when Rob went away which was... um.. an excuse for a giant takeout pepperoni and ricotta calzone from a place on Manhattan Ave with lots of pictures of Italian people on the walls.

Oh, memories.

Well I'm not skilled at writing recipes yet (because again, I don't measure) but maybe you're an eyeball-er too and just want the highlights.

The chicken breast was marinated in plain yogurt, lots of fresh dill from the farmer's market, garam masala, lemon juice, garlic powder, curry powder, red pepper and cumin. Shook off the marinade. Sauteed about 4 minutes per side, then into the convection oven at 350 for about 15 minutes because its way too hot to turn on the actual oven. It didn't come out yogurt-y at all, just had lots of great aromatic Indian spices, and the creamy freshness from the yogurt adhered all those great flavors to the meat.

  
The white rice I cooked as usual, without salt or butter. Then I sauteed some onions in oil with lemongrass powder, added the rice in, turned the heat off and added lemon juice and lots of parsley.

The salad took a bit more creativity. I don't know if you're supposed to blanch beets or not, but I did. And as I was boiling them, the grassy smell made me think of peas, so I blanched some of the sugar snaps, too. Then I remembered I got cucumbers from the farmers market too, so I salted those and chopped them up. Fresh, green, crunch. Mixed everything together and chilled it. I made a vinagrette with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, honey and lemon juice. It tasted awful. I adjusted the amounts. It tasted better. I added more honey and a little orange peel. Perfect. Glazed it over the beet salad.

Then I set the table with new Crate & Barrell placemat and napkin from the registry and put the farmer's market snapdragons in water. And maybe I had a Topcutter IPA too. I'M ALLOWED!

Being a newlywedded introvert with a budding talent for fresh and local cooking is kind of awesome.

I still think about that calzone sometimes, though.

One Year Since Brooklyn

It was kind of funny timing that we flew back into Spokane from our honeymoon on June 30 -- a year to the day since we finished out our lease and hit the road towards Pullman. 

So much of it felt similar to last year. We came in late at night, kind of disoriented, back into the quiet town after a few weeks of craziness and disorder. When we got home, it had that smell of no-one-living-in-old-house. I felt sad things were changing, or rather, that things were over.

But the better part about coming home to Pullman was that feeling that we weren't completely alone this time.

Our well-fed and well-loved dog came to greet us after being taken care of by friends. People we didn't know existed a year ago and who we didn't think twice about handing our house keys to. And a list of dog instructions. 

Over the past few days, there has been welcome-home drinks and looking at wedding photos and reading guests books and dinner out and just general so-happy-for-yous that so genuinely match those of our long-time family and friends that its impossible not to feel proud of finding our way into a good crowd out here.

And while last summer it was kind of a lonely waiting game for September, with new job and new classes, now we're in a groove with what we have to do and try to juggle it with fun things -- trips to Portland, lunches out, drinks on porches, walks through parks.

It's kind of like being a townie, but in someone else's town. One minute you consider yourself a somewhat professional New Yorker and now you're cruising along the road to Idaho throwing snappers out the window. Because it's the Fourth of July and all.

Did I mention that it's my favorite holiday? Simple celebration of summer, patriotism and BBQ. No pressure, no presents. And no matter what we end up doing, it will be more fun than the hotel bar in Chicago we were stuck in last year.

Anyway, tonight I am feeling blessed, patriotic, town-ish and married. Finally, officially married. Things are feeling merged and settled and finalized and good.

It's been quite a year.

We Made it to May!

Here we are: We have made it to May! I can't believe that after this year, this super long year where I thought I felt every minute of every day, is just about a full notch in my belt. Rob finishes his finals next week and then he's on vacation. We are getting married next MONTH. I guess the most confusing part is that this has crept up on me. How could it creep, when I stared at the calendar every single day? But it did.

I've been too busy just getting through each day -- work, wedding planning, gym, yoga, cooking, cleaning, dog walking, sleeping -- that I haven't written in this blog in awhile, and I feel bad about it. That post about tofu was from March and I was too lazy to upload the pictures until now. That's how busy I've been! I think about blog writing and video game playing and novel reading and then I get to the end of the day and I'm too tired to do any of it. 

Now that the days are a lot longer -- it's light til 8pm! -- I feel like my brain is coming up from hibernation and my consciousness is slowly pouring back in. And with this big school-related milestone coming up next week, I gotta piggyback on the success that Rob has earned and pat myself on the back too, because we made it through year 1 of 4! This was the hard year, where we had to make friends and I had to find a job and we had to settle in and make a home in a remote town that was nothing like Brooklyn NY. And we did it! I am pretty proud of us, and so grateful for the family and friends that have helped us through it. Those that remembered us, flew out and visited us, sent us air-mail treats, wrote us postcards from home. Thank you guys. It means more than you'll know.

One of the things I've prided myself on was adjusting to the slow rhythm of the Palouse. My favorite part of New York was riding that energy wave, knowing what was open when, knowing which bus was coming next and the best path from A to B. It's harder out here with so few things to do and very few different ways to get there. But I've found a rhythm of sort. It's not the same, but it's mine.

Saturday mornings: Sage bakery is open. Only Fridays and Saturdays, but since I work Fridays, then Saturdays it is. If I'm headed to Lewiston, I stop for a soy latte. Or maybe I just go for the sake of it. It's 20 minutes down the road in the two-horse town of Unionville. You blink and you pass it. So it's almost like those bars that were hidden behind fake barbershop fronts. You had to be in the know. And I'm in the know! One of my favorites is the savory scone with pancetta and cheese and rosemary. Their sandwiches are fabulous -- roast beef with gorgonzola my favorite. Cinnamon buns. Macaroni salad. It's all amazing! No table service, just a nice lady or two behind the counter.

You would think that everyone would rave about a BBQ place that was just a few miles away over in Moscow, right? I mean, house-smoked meat! The stuff we would wait in line forever for back in Brooklyn! They have it here in Moscow and no one even freaking notices it. I don't get it. We'll head over on a Friday night and by the time we're done eating the place has cleared out and it's 8pm and they're ready to close up. I don't totally understand it but as long as they're open I don't really care. It's called CD's Smoke Pit and it's just a little tiny bit off the beaten path of Main St./6th St. Moscow. They have beer on tap that they serve in Mason jars. We always get the Animal Farm, which is like a big meat combo with chicken, ribs, brisket, 2 kinds of sausage links. The cole slaw is pretty fantastic too. The dinner rolls are terrible but they're free so I'll forgive it.

 

There aren't a lot of events out here. Pullman has the Lentil Festival and that's seriously it for Pullman. But if you know the right people, they know when worthy things are happening in the Lewiston/Clarkston area. There was this beer festival that, despite the complete lack of ambiance, had a pretty okay beer selection. I texted this to a friend and she asked if I was at a PTA meeting. It made me drink more beer than I was expecting to. Maybe this was part of the Lewiston brewmeister's mastermind plan all along.

Then last weekend was the Lewiston Dogwood Festival, with artisans on a green and food trucks! Actual food trucks. Sometimes doing things that remind me of home make me miss home more. Snoop Dogg last weekend and all the kids left before the encore so there was no encore and nobody knew it except me and Rob and like five other people. I get on the bus and I get a wave of nostalgia but only 3 other people are on the bus and it cost me a quarter. This is another example. I missed the quirky crafts and funky eats of Smorgasburg and only being in a place like this really reminded me of how much I missed it. But I bought some handmade soap from a girl with an Etsy shop and had a huckleberry lemonade because where else can you get huckleberry anything and I felt a little better about it.

And now we do it all over again. Summer will come and we'll hopefully get to play a little like last year: tennis and basketball and jogging, only with friends this time! Maybe we'll go camping, and fishing on the river, now that we know where to go. I'll show Rob around Lewiston because he's never been, and I'll take him to Sage Bakery, because he's never been there either. We'll hit the Lentil Festival to mark the start of a second year here and start all over again. I'll buy snow tires when winter comes and I'll go the back roads way to town on extra slippery days. I'll keep an eye out for robins in berry trees when spring comes and I'll celebrate at the dogwood festival that isn't anything like the cherry tree fest in Brooklyn and isn't supposed to be. 

All the locals love to tell me that I'll fall in love with the Palouse and will abandon my plan to move home and will never want to leave. They are wrong. But I am confident that we can ride out another three years out here, and I can entertain visitors or occupy myself for a few days when Rob has fallen into another Psychology book. It's a pretty good feeling. So even though I don't have final exams next week, I'm gonna celebrate with the best of them when they're over. One school year down, three to go. It's an accomplishment worth a pancetta scone and huckleberry ice cream, for sure.