I've just come in from the garden. The weather is so glorious, sparkling fresh after Sunday's long, steady downpour. Hummingbirds zipped around me as I weeded the beds. Chipmunks chased each other around the rocky borders. The peony bushes are weighed down with tight buds about to burst open. Late-blooming lilacs perfume the silky air. June is busting out all over! Our farmers market is already offering us many delights: radishes galore, feathery fronds of tarragon, hardy stalks of green garlic, tart sorrel leaves and sweet little carrots with bushy greens still attached. From my own garden, the lovage, rhubarb and mint are faithful first responders, and tender greens—mustard, spinach, kale, lettuce—are ready for picking. I wake early to the complex melodies and syncopations of what sounds like a thousand birds and am filled with energy for the day ahead. Which is good because these days are coming at me fast and furious, requiring all my focus and creativity and determination.

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It's day five of my 21-day vegan cleanse. It's not really going to be a big deal for me, I told my health coach (discover her wisdom here). I basically eat like this all the time. Plus I'm not an emotional eater. Right.

My coach told me to use the advent of spring and the inevitable awakening and clean-up of the garden as a metaphor for my own self. And on Sunday, as I knelt on the still-frozen earth, hacking away at dried twigs and grasses, pushing aside sodden and broken-down leaves and pine needles, I saw that I, too, was badly in need of a refurbishing. It became clear that the extra pounds I have acquired over the last 5 years may well have helped buffer me against the particular pains and hardships of that time. Though I may not be the kind of emotional eater that relies on chocolate to mask a feeling of vulnerability, I am no stranger to taking comfort in food. But things have changed: my husband is healing; spring is here; I am reconnecting with a kind of movement and wholeness that I had begun to forget. Oh, and the cleanse? It's also meant a renewed commitment to daily meditation, which is good since my mind has been racing a lot. Could be that no sugar, no cheese and no alcohol really does have an impact on me. I've been falling asleep early, sleeping for 9+ hours and having vivid dreams. Tectonic shifts. I fear many things, but change is not one of them.

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The time between when the turkey goes in the oven and when you actually sit down to eat it stretches before you like a yawning chasm of temptation. It's virtually impossible not to ruin your appetite with all the snacks there just to "tide you over." A crudité platter with some sort of dip doesn't have to be a vain attempt to steer people away from the cheese (this is a great option), as anything that crunches tends to appeal greatly. That said, you might want to offer a big, healthy and very satisfying bowl of kale chips that even the kids and your very picky father-in-law will enjoy. And a recent post on this lovely blog reminded me of the joys of popcorn, especially when spiced with something as intriguing as shichimi togarashi, the piquant Japanese spice blend. You can find it in Asian markets and sometimes Whole Foods, and here's a recipe for making your own. Of course you can season your popcorn any way you like: sea salt and malt vinegar; rosemary and lemon zest; chile salt; cinnamon sugar; cumin and coriander, etc etc. The point is it's quick, easy and cheap but still quite delicious and it won't weigh you down (unless you wind up eating the whole bowl).
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Mark Bittman posted one of his great roundups of recipes in the Times Magazine this weekend, featuring less-expected ways to eat apples. I'm particularly taken with the cheesy apple fritters and that apple tempura! I'm prone to tossing diced apple into lots of salads—with oil-cured tuna, with walnuts and blue cheese, with all kinds of herbs. And when I make oatmeal, I always grate an apple into the pot. This really supports good digestion. We have a big old apple tree on our property at the lake, and it's covered with mottled green fruit that looks dubious but tastes great. Our friend Julia up the road has an orchard of craggy old trees that produce a lot of fruit, including some of the most flavorful red apples ever and a few pears, too. I've already eaten some super-crunchy and juicy Honey Crisps this year, and I'm a big fan of the Pink Lady with its wonderfully tangy sweetness. There are so many things to be made with all these apples, from pies, crumbles, betties and cakes to butter, fritters, cider...and, pedestrian as it may sound, applesauce.
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In the summer of 1976, I was allowed to fly out to New York by myself to visit my aunt, uncle and cousins in Long Island. It was the bicentennial year, and I vividly recall the red-&-white-striped pantsuit my mother made me for this occasion, embroidered with navy blue stars. I was taken into the city to have lunch at Maxwell's Plum, and we drove through the caverns of Wall Street where the skyscrapers soared dizzyingly up into the wild blue yonder. It was at Bloomingdale's, though, where I was most intoxicated by the glamour, the excitement, the sheer abundance. For a thirteen-year old girl with a head full of frizzy curls and a mouthful of metal, the enormous caramel apple they sold there—a kitschy symbol of the Big Apple—was unattainably enticing. As volputuous as a Botero sculpture, one glistening end dipped in chopped nuts, it's remained forever a fantasy.
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I never was much into wings. My friend Busby always sang their praises when she wasn't going on about California Pizza Kitchen or Popeye's fried chicken. They just never seemed meaty enough to me, and I hadn't yet developed a fondness for eating things off the bone. But G has a passion for wings, and in learning to make them for him, I fell for them. That happens sometimes, doesn't it? Indifference turns to pleasure and life just gets that much better. Now I understand how succulent, how crispy yet gooey, how caramelized and packed with flavor are these little wings. No wonder they make such great stock. Did you ever sample David Chang's wings at Momofuku Noodle Bar? I'm not sure he still serves them but they were insane. I think they were poached, then smoked and then finished on the grill. (Here's an adapted recipe which I may try sometime.) The point is, don't just throw your wings under the broiler and expect them to be great. They have a fair amount of fat, so one great technique is to poach them first and then finish them in a very hot oven. Marinating them overnight or even for a few hours does wonders. They pair beautifully with strong flavors like garlic, ginger and chile, and a little something to help them caramelize like soy sauce, honey or maple syrup.
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Much has been said already about Heidi Swanson, a talented writer, photographer and designer with a popular blog, 101 Cookbooks, and cookbook, Super Natural Cooking. With its gorgeous visuals and original approach to healthy eating, her blog really inspired me to create my own. It helped me realize that there is an audience out there of people eager to forgo fast foods and trendy diets in favor of sophisticated cooking with whole foods. Heidi’s got a great aesthetic, an earthy NoCal sensibility and a soulful approach to living. She’s vegetarian but not in a preachy way, and many of her recipes are easily adapted to include meat (or chicken or fish). She likes bright flavors, seasonal produce and ethnic cuisines. In short, a girl after my own heart. So it was with great pleasure that I received a review copy of her new cookbook, Super Natural Every Day: Well-Loved Recipes from My Natural Foods Kitchen, already highly acclaimed in the blogosphere and climbing the ranks at Amazon and on The New York Times' bestseller list. It's a beautifully photographed compendium of her favorite everyday preparations, most of them pretty quick and easy. 
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There's no place like home. It may be true that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but returning to a world rendered lush by endless spring rains, to lilacs in bloom, chipmunks underfoot and jubilant birdsong, turned this into an especially sweet homecoming. Jet lag notwithstanding. G, the world's most stoic man, is in considerable pain, not even able to be up on crutches much yet. He's eager to begin rehab and, in the meantime, being from the food-is-love school of cooking, I'm trying to distract him with a steady flow of treats from my kitchen. At first, after a month in Southeast Asia, big green salads were quite the novelty. But the guy loves squid—something I've rarely cooked with—so I decided to attempt the ne plus ultra rendering of this sea creature. Even the very squeamish tend to forget all about about gooey tentacles when presented with a plate of hot, crispy, melt-in-your-mouth fried calamari. With a blitz of sea salt and a spritz of lemon juice, what's not to like? And when I came across a recipe recently on Food52 from the venerable Mrs. Larkin, I decided to give it a go. Some friends were coming over for a visit, and I thought it would be just the thing to serve with a nice cold glass of local riesling.
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I'm not really sure what possessed me, but I decided to try to make a savory marshmallow for Easter. That's essentially an oxymoron and, as it turns out, sort of impossible, given that sugar—or in this case, honey—is such an integral part of the structure of this spongy treat. No amount of googling turned up anything helpful, so I winged it. The result was a strangely compelling alternative to the achingly sweet peeps on offer at this time of year. Made with roasted pureed carrots, the base was initially a gorgeous brilliant orange color which, upon mixing, turned into a very subtle tint. Infused with cumin and fennel, and sprinkled with chile salt, these marshmallows are a sweet, spicy, salty and sensuous mouthful.
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Certain foods just have a universal appeal. Consider the dumpling, for instance. It's found in so many cultures, this rose by any other name: knedlíky (Czech), kreplach (Jewish), pantrucas (Chile), manti (Armenia), ravioli (Italy), buuz (Mongolia), pangsit (Indonesia), dim sum (China), gyoza (Japan), mandu (Korea)...the list goes on and on. Yogurt—and soured milk of all kinds—may not be quite as common, especially given that many African and Asian countries don't do dairy, but among those that do it's a deeply-held tradition. From straight-up yogurt to crème fraîche to quark to ricotta to paneer to Mexico's indigenous Nahuatl jocoque árabe, people have long been introducing bacteria or acid to milk with delectable results. Greek yogurt has become hugely popular in this country over the last few years, thanks in no small part to the ubiquitous Fage (pronounced "fa-yeh") brand and now Chobani, too. It's simply yogurt which has been strained to remove the whey, giving it a much denser, creamier texture. Sometimes this style of yogurt is even enriched with extra butterfat or powdered milk.
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