Time for a change.

Hello, old friend. Remember me? I'm the dedicated nutrition-focused foodie who started you all those years ago. I've neglected you. It's not you, it's me. My new job involves a great deal more writing than did my last job, though my last job was reporting at a busy daily newspaper. I write about and discuss food all day long. When I come home, I still cook, but I don't feel like writing about food. I'm putting you to rest, but I'll add new recipes to a different site, http://www.sparkrecipes.com/. Find my recipes here.

I need to take a break from public or semipublic writing for awhile. I need to write for me. No one else. Princessveggie was fun, and I promise to return.

I will very infrequently post here, and I'll sometime be posting nonfood related blogs at princessstepfinqueencity.com.

Love, Stepf

What $40 will get you at Findlay Market

1/2 lb raw milk gouda 

1 dozen farm fresh eggs

1 loaf harvest bread (with polenta. rye and buckwheat)

1 green pepper

2 yellow peppers

basket orange slicer tomatoes 

2 lbs heirloom tomatoes

1/2 of a monstrous watermelon (the other half will be my friend Jenny's) 

bundle of sage

bundle of tarragon

bundle of parsley 

bag of spinach

4 small knob onions

That made last night's dinner. I made a batch of pesto, added two tomatoes to the remnants still in the blender and pureed. Cooked up some whole wheat shells, to which I added the sauce and briefly cooked. Chopped another orange tomato, some basil and a 1/4 yellow pepper. Served alongside creamed spinach. 

Yesterday's brunch, again from my market bounty. 

Two slices harvest bread with a poached egg, a slice of gouda and one tomato sprinkled with tarragon. There is also a sad example of an egg cooked in the cast iron skillet.  

I lived in Athens for four years, but I rarely left campus and only left the city limits on my way home. There is an entire world beyond the four greens of OU, a world of organic, local farming, a rich agricultural history and plenty of quirky foods. (Schnuckelputz and pawpaws? Only in Athens County.) 

Until today, I hadn't tried a paw-paw, and I mistook them for plums yesterday. 

Things I've made recently

Sadly, photos are lacking

My larder is stocked with: 

1 pound of gave-rosemary glazed roasted almonds

6 jars of kimchi for my co-op

40 jars of pear sauce with molasses and cinnamon (yes, 40. and they're not here. They're at Chad's, ready to be distributed.) 

3 trays of roasted peppers

2 trays of oven-dried tomatoes 

countless ice-cube trays of pesto (sans parmesan so it freezes better) 

1 jar tarragon vinegar

1 bottle hot sauce 

endless jars of salsa (all gone, thanks to Fred)

Why I do what I do...

Some people are dog people. Others are kid people. I'm a vegetable person. 

I love 'em, but only in season. Don't you dare feed me asparagus in August, and if you try to feed me a cold tomato, I'll stab you with my fork. 

(Left: A smattering of heirlooms from the Thistlehair Farms booth at Findlay Market.) 

I don't buy produce from grocery stores. 

I keep most vegetables on the counter so their taste fully develops. 

I shun cold tomatoes, lettuce that's straight from the fridge and mealy apples. 

I shop the perimeter of stores. 

I joined a food co-op to ensure I always have local, organic food. 

And I urge you to do the same, if you're able. 

My body, after two years of eating locally and organically, has completely adapted. I'm almost fed up with tomatoes, and the beauties I've roasted, pureed and frozen will tide me over until next year. Sorry, but we're not meant to eat insalata caprese year-round in Ohio, nor should we be expected to endure cold mealy, anemic supermarket Flavr Savr tomatoes. (A misnomer indeed.) 

At left, a salad made from co-op and market produce: Pea sprouts, avocado, tomatoes, basil and balsamic vinegar. 

Breakfast for dinner: Swiss chard pancakes and salmon with maple glaze

Two Fridays ago, Mark Bittman's recipe of the day was for Spinach Pancakes. I substituted Swiss chard, which I steamed in a bit of water. The day-glo pink cooking water went in the batter, too! I altered his recipe a bit: 

3 cups Swiss chard, chopped and steamed in about 1/2 c water (dice the stems, and reserve the cooking water, which is full of nutrients)

2 cups whole wheat pastry flour 

1/2 teaspoon baking soda 

1/2 teaspoon salt 

1/8 teaspoon grated nutmeg 

1 1/2 to 2 cups plain lowfat yogurt

1 teaspoon sugar

2 eggs 

2 tablespoons melted and cooled butter, plus unmelted butter for cooking Mix the dry ingredients in a large bowl, then add the yogurt, eggs and butter, mixing well. Fold in Swiss chard and the cooking water.

The salmon was cooked very simply. After rubbing it with a spice blend Fred got from Whole Foods, I seared it in a cast iron skillet then briefly broiled it. I removed the salmon to a plate to rest. I added 2T butter to the skillet, scraping up the bits from the bottom of the pan, then added about 1/2 c white wine. After that reduced briefly, I added 1/4 cup maple syrup and allowed all to slightly reduce. (Do this over medium heat if you're not using cast iron, which has enough residual heat that additional stovetop cooking isn't necessary.)

Serve salmon alongside 2-3 pancakes, drizzling with the maple "syrup."

Breakfast for dinner, for grownups. 

This is what I get for trying to be a locavore.

Thank you, Mother Nature.

I spent every Saturday morning at Findlay Market, where I packed my bag to the brim with local, organic produce. An average of $50 a week, so half could fill the freezer to ensure a bountiful winter. Any salad tomato that was overly ripe went in a bag in the freezer. Romas were halved, doused with olive oil and left in a warm oven overnight. The heirlooms were sliced and diced, mashed and chopped. In sauces and salsas, salads and soups, I lovingly sacrificed the Garden Peaches, the Mortgage Lifters, the Green Zebras, the Chocolate Cherries and the Yellow Romas.

I drove 60 miles with three friends on a muggy and mosquito-filled Saturday, to the largest raspberry farm in the east.

I risked life and limb (OK, so once a car almost hit me while I was on by bike) to transport succulent local plums, a dozen of the season's first red peppers, and some ripe tomatillos home with me.

I froze and canned, refrigerated and stored away.

And then, Hurricane Ike (or his remnants) hit Ohio. Yes. A hurricane hit the Midwest. 75 mile-per-hour winds knocked out power, sent shingles spinning into transformers, starting fires across the city. 

I lost power, but I didn't worry. Surely it would return by the time we returned from a dinner at La Mexicana. But, no, it didn't. Just in case, we stopped to buy a 20-lb bag of ice. The fridge and freezer were on life support and each passing minute meant that my beloved local produce was one degree closer to death (or spoilage). 

Thank goodness for good friends. The power outage lasted another four days, but the contents of my freezer were safely stowed in Sean and Katy's freezer. My bountiful fridge was safe for another day, thanks to that mighty bag of ice and another. I finally took the perishables (eggs from Thistlehair Farms, 2 quarts of organic plain lowfat yogurt, an unopened container of soymilk, some vegan butter and a hunk of parmesan) to work and stashed them in the fridge in my Whole Foods bag for a couple of days. The condiments were left in the fridge with the dwindling ice supply In all, we lost about $30 worth of goods, mostly dried up and unidentifiable condiments. (I don't remember buying blackberry jelly from Trader Joe's, and when was the last time we ate the coriander chutney? It contains cashews!) 

We used the outage as a chance to purge the fridge without guilt of wasting food (the ultimate sin). As Chad had about 100 pounds of apples and pears, the now-empty glass jars were quite useful!

Food was rescued from Sean and Katy's on Friday night, and now all is safe in my freezer (again, purged of unrecognizable leftovers, now mushy frozen veg and bags of scraps for stock). 

What did I do Saturday morning? Went to Findlay Market and restocked, of course!

Actually, it costs $1.05.

Such simple salsas

Now that tomato season is here, those luscious red, ripe fruits are no longer verboden chez moi. All winter long, I shun the anemic, mealy supermarket tomatoes and long for the days when you can smell the tomatoes before you actually see them. Salmonella be damned. If you buy organic, local tomatoes, there is no worry. It's salsa time! Dear friend Katie in D.C. loved the mango salsa we made when I visited last fall, and she commented last week in a fluster. She'd forgotten the ingredient list! Guess what? With salsa, there are no rules, no recipes, no "ingredient list." Out mango version was a bit fancy: tomatoes, red peppers, red onion, jalapeno, mango, a bit of salt, pepper and lime juice.

I'm very fond of pico de gallo: tomatoes, white onions, a bit of jalapeno, cilantro or parsley and salt and pepper.
And tonight I made an "Italian salsa": tomatoes, basil, red onion, green garlic, red peppers, a drizzle of olive oil, salt and pepper. So good. (Photo above.)
I could eat sals plain, as a salad. But it also works as a pasta sauce (the heat from the pasta warms the salsa just enough to release the flavor.), a sandwich topping or a dip.
Salsa can be made with any vegetable, any fruit, in any comination. Roast the veggies or leave them raw -- it doesn't matter. Too bland? Add salt, a pinch of sugar or a dash of vinegar or citrus juice.
I love pineapple with cilantro, onion and jalapeno. Or mango with red peppers. Or tomatoes, green peppers, any onion, any fresh herb, and pretty much anything else you have lying around.
Tomatillos are great roasted and added to a salsa.
Add cucumbers. (Try cucumber, cilantro, jalapeno, and onion.)
The list is endless. Mix and match what you like. Experiment. Fool around with some combinations until you find something that works for you. (ooh, I LOVE raspberry-chipotle salsa!)
Fat-free, fresh, raw, perfect.
Every bite counts.

PrincessVeggie is home tonight... cooking up a storm.

I'm taking a hiatus from my second career as a social butterfly to enjoy my fabulous apartment and my even-more-fabulous boyfriend. We spent the day at the Gaiam outlet (headstand chair!) and Ikea and made our place feel a bit like home. (Our mattresses are happily off the ground, and we've finally got a desk. I needed workspace to get the creative juices flowing again!)
Tabitha, my Little Sister, is here tonight for her first sleepover. After a busy evening spent cooking, we're (well, she's) watching a Disney Channel movie.
To say that my early morning Findlay Market trip was prodigious would be a serious litote, comme on dit en francais. $50 or so later, the fridge is bursting!
2 avocados
5 lemons
5 tomatoes
1 dozen farm-fresh eggs
1 bunch amethyst-colored "green"onions
1 head green garlic
3 zucchini
1 bunch basil
1 bunch cilantro
1 pint mulberries
1 bunch grape leaves
1 pint sweet pie cherries
1 pint strawberries
1 head butter lettuce
1 bunch of the season's final asparagus

(oh, and two homemade chocolate chip cookies to lure Fred from bed...)
This joined the produce leftover from last week--half an overflowing bag of rainbow chard and a head of organic broccoli.
Yeah, I'm a bit overwhelmed. Couple this with two separate batches of beans that I soaked today, and the kitchen was blissfully full of goodies! (Mark Bittmann just taught me that cooked dried beans can be frozen! Fabulous news! No longer will I waste dried beans or worry about hurrying to cook them on a busy weeknight. They're cheaper than canned, and there's no worries about the lining in the cans.)
Hummus is one of the easiest dips to make, and it's one of my favorites. Sure, it's on every menu and in every incarnation, (Jeff Ruby's soon-to-be-no-more Tropicana does an edamame version, how many times have you seen black bean versions, and even lentil hummus.) but it's a classic.
My co-worker Nicole makes really good hummus with lots of cumin and garlic. I made a version of that tonight. Tahini is the key to really great hummus, and so are really soft garbanzo/ceci/chickpeas.
More musings later...

What I did on my break from blogging...

I've been busy...

enjoying the first berries of the season ... and green beans...

and gobbling up fresh asparagus. And we entertained for Mother's Day with an Italian feast: And I've perfected my romesco dip recipe. It's vegan!I went to the ballet. (Love that dress!)

Followed that up with a lovely homemade lemon-ricotta tart with raspberry sauce.

Leftover beer (Mt. Carmel stout) makes a great chocolate cake (vegan!).

And most importantly, I developed an addiction to tamari almonds. Recipes to come...

Heavenly

Multigrain Shadeau bread with organic, raw milk, local Cheddar cheese (made from milk from grass-fed cows)

The perfect Saturday afternoon snack.
And look at all that whole-grain goodness!

I declare this...

IMG_3411
Originally uploaded by sromine

... the summer of the mojito.
I know, I know. Mojitos were soooo three years ago, but I don't care. Last summer, Fred and I were all about gin and tonics, and exactly one year ago I earned the nickname Gin-Tin. (Apparently because I smelled like gin the night after we imbibed in a few too many at home.
Friday night we headed to a trendy Mexican restaurant called Nada and had caipirinhas. Brazil's national drink, the caipirinha is the mojito's sexier, more sophisticated cousin. (It's lime, a sugarcane liqueur called cachaca and sugar. Mmm.)
Light and refreshing, they pack quite a punch and really sneak up on you.
The next day during my weekly trip to Findlay Market, I found a bunch of fresh and fragrant mint. Madison's was offering 5 limes for $2, so an idea soon formed.
I called Fred, who was running errands with his mom, and told him to bring home club soda and rum. (After I explained what a mojito was.)
It's no caipirinha, but the mojito is pretty darn good. And unlike a gin and tonic, it's a universally appealing drink.
I can still throw back a few G&Ts, but this summer, at our place, it's all about the mojito.

schnuckelputz

DSCN4673
Originally uploaded by sromine

I'm in love. Ginger-lemon wine. Organic, local. Sweet, effervescent. And, yes, it's called schnuckelputz. Get it from Shade Winery in Athens County.http://www.shadewinery.com/

My friend Sarah is bringing me a case next weekend. Ah.

Urban living

About a month ago, my boyfriend of one year, Fred, and I moved from our respective apartments in the urban 'burbs to a loft-style flat in the city's most diverse and historic neighborhood, Over-the-Rhine.
We're three blocks from an independent coffee house, two blocks from the city's second-oldest bar, two blocks from our favorite wine bar, and about six blocks from Findlay Market, the city's public market.
I'm in an urban foodie paradise.
People who live in downtown Cincinnati, Over-the-Rhine and the urban burbs -- and those who are mulling the big move to the heart o' Queen City -- love to complain about the lack of a grocery store.
"I'd loooovvve to move downtown," the yuppies say, "but there's no grocery store downtown."
Au contraire, mes amis.
But there is.
There is a Kroger located just a few blocks from my apartment, at 14th and Vine streets. (In fact, it's just four blocks north of the Kroger headquarters. It's a bit intimidating because, frankly, it's not in the gentrified part of OTR. There's an endless stream of solicitors, panhandlers and loiterers outside, most of them African-American males. It's small: no olive bar, sushi counter or endless spread of organic produce.
But there is organic soymilk (in three flavors), whole-wheat spaghetti, and tofu.
That's good enough for me.
It also has the staples like whole-wheat flour, canned beans (not sure if they're organic because I've been living off my stash of dried of late), and plenty of the junk food staples.
Hmm, sounds like a grocery store to me.
Yes, it's not in the safest part of town, and no, I wouldn't really go out of my way to go there after dark. But it's a grocery store, and it's functional enough for me.
And... we've got something better than a grocery store. We've got Findlay Market.
Each Saturday morning, I rise early (I aim for 8:30), shower and gather my canvas bags. I put on my iPod and walk to the market.
The farmers market is in full swing. Asparagus is sadly gone, but in its place are strawberries, spinach, baby lettuce, and herbs whose intoxicating scents follow you to the next booth. (Last week, when we were out of town was the last good week for asparagus. The few bunchs that remained were sad and limp or of gargantuan girth. Dommage.) Whatever I can't get from the farmers market, I pick up at Madison's, a fabulous family run produce store. They've recently expanded, so I can get their son's homemade gelato, prepared salads, spreads, and soups, plus seasonal delicacies like morels (I must admit that I've never coughed up the cash for them!), fiddlehead ferns (think of them like curled up asparagus) and ramps (ramps and 'taters, anyone?)!
Next door, I carefully move sideways through the narrow aisles of Dean's Mediterranean Imports, from whose packed shelves I get roasted red peppers, sheep's milk feta, raw almonds, tahini and bulk grains and pulses. Two weeks ago, he had miniature, mouth-puckering green plums, soft and fuzzy green almonds, and fresh fava beans in baskets near the entrance.
For harissa, chipotle powder, or cinnamon, I head to see De Stewart in the market house.
My bags ready to burst, I carry them home.
I lovingly put away my produce. Herbs cut a fresh cut, then go into glass jars filled with water. portobello caps go into a paper bag, bananas, tomatoes and avocados rest in a large sky-blue blue ceramic bowl on the counter. Onions and sweet potatoes go in the pantry.
I feel very rich when I've got a kitchen full of veg.

I'm back

Much has changed in my life since I last posted. I've got a new job, a new apartment, a new fitness regime... I'm happy, really happy.
And I've been cooking like crazy.
However, I'm in desperate need of a new computer or more memory. My laptop is on its last leg. My camera battery is currently dead, and I don't know where the charger is at the moment. (ah, the joys of moving.)
So I'm back, but the better than ever part will have to wait.