I have a best friend. On here I call her Muffin.
Muffin has a history with illness; a much more storied, dangerous, and exacting one than mine. Our friendship began when our bodies were strong and our spirits unstoppable. We’re so thankful now that we were reckless, and lived dangerously and fully back then. Now we’re so careful, so precise, and so used to premeditating physical complications and energy black holes. This recipe is from her, and for her.
Today I’m very lucky to be featured on my friend Kelly’s blog, Little Bits of Good. There she’s counting her blessings with fellow “Celebrationists”, looking for the good things in life to focus on and “lifting up the amazing humans who are making the world a brighter place to play”. I’m honored she considers me to be one of those people, and I spent two lovely hours working on her interview, which focuses on my living with Lyme and the things I do to make life rewarding and so beautiful despite the many hiccups a chronic illness puts in one’s way.
It was both really emotional and really empowering to write, and the best start to a long writing day a gal could ask for. Head on over there for my favorite super-foods, the habits I’ve built that keep me focused on good things, and stories from some really special people who have turned their struggles into superpowers, and whose stories have lifted me up and inspired me weekly!! Continue reading
It’s nothing new, or novel, that eating certain foods and imbibing on tasty cocktails causes many to feel gross. But when you have an inflammatory illness, that “feeling gross” can result in horribly painful joints and enraged digestive systems.
Currently, it seems like everything and their brother causes inflammation in my body; my fingers are swollen, I have to roll out the puffiness in my feet and ankles, and my face get a Cabbage Patch Kid-esque pique to it. Lyme Disease + being in my thirties + adrenal stuff making it really hard to get the green light to exercise as often as I’d like = puff.
Does that mean I never indulge? Hell no. It just means that I’m constantly putting inflammation-fighting foods in my body, and making sure that the clean days far outweigh the indulgent ones.
This granola recipe is one of my favorites. It’s insanely easy, and wonderfully adaptable. Continue reading
This is probably the ugliest photo of a plate I’ve ever put on this site.
But this zucchini “fettuccine” is one of the most popular vegetables I ever made as a private chef, and one that family members have loved and recreated after I’ve made it for them.
It’s ridiculously simple. With a good vegetable peeler and a flick of the wrist, zucchini gets shredded in ribbons and tossed quickly in hot olive oil until it softens to an al dente-like texture. My former boss didn’t know it wasn’t pasta the first time I served it to him. My father downed his plate in minutes. A client’s guest asked me for details at a repeat dinner visit when he couldn’t quite replicate it after his first go.
So simple, so yummy. Continue reading
Funny story:
Last April I was soaking my arthritic bones in a deep bath full of Epsom salts and essential oils, melting away the wet of Spring, with Seamus Mullen’s soon-to-be-released Hero Food cookbook. I was interviewing Chef Mullen for my column on Serious Eats NY, and the book had been messengered over for my research. As I flipped through the intro, I was flabbergasted: Seamus has rheumatoid arthritis, a chronic immune disease that manifests with symptoms and patterns similar to my own with Lyme. I jumped out of the tub, threw on a robe and, dripping, held the book up to my roommate, with a “you’ll never guess what this cookbook is about!!”
Which was an unfair proclamation.
Because while, indeed, Chef Mullen battles RA, the book isn’t about that. It’s about delicious food that also happens to be good for you.
When I was first diagnosed with Lyme Disease at 12 years old, massive amounts of antibiotics weren’t cutting it. I couldn’t walk for a long period, I couldn’t eat, I attended school sporadically when I could, and in general my brain and body were in Lala land seemingly without end. It wasn’t until my mom found a nutritionist who put me on a strict diet, lots of supplements and IV vitamin drips that my immune system got so strong that my symptoms went away – relatively speaking – even though the Lyme did not.
Growing up with Lyme – including dealing with two serious flairs again in adulthood – taught me a lot about food. There were many I had to avoid – some incredibly strictly during certain periods but in moderation in others – and some that to this day I can’t touch. But there were also some that I needed to load my diet with so that my digestive tract, immune system and joints had a bit of extra help.
Seamus calls them hero foods.
Two decades later, I’m a private chef in a household with no dietary restrictions. Actually, I call myself a “private cook”, because a chef I am not. I am adept at making delicious things and, yes, can cook without guidance. But for inspiration and to widen my skill-set I often take advantage of my job and bring favorite books I want to explore to work with me. And as my blogging time has been diminished by my cooking, interviewing and event-covering time, I figured I should let my professions overlap when possible.
Hence this new series, “Private Chef-ing By the Book”.
It’s fitting that I’m starting with Hero Food because this time of year I’m back in the tub often. My job is physical, and I have to medicate, soak and sleep more often to battle the pain it brings my joints.
Just reading through Mullen’s Spanish-based recipes brings me comfort; not only do I love the ingredients he focuses on (olive oil, almonds, anchovies, good eggs, good birds, parsley etc.), but reminding myself why they’re healing for me helps me connect more intimately with them, reminding me to give them more attention when I’m frantically cooking in someone’s kitchen.
In Hero Foods this carrot soup is made to celebrate summer, with gorgeous fresh carrots and a splash of citrus. But since it’s chilly and damp in NYC I’ve made a few tiny adjustments. In the original recipe Chef Mullen blanches the carrots: I’ve chosen to roast them. He tops his with yogurt: for my boss-family I stirred some creme fraiche in instead, and for my holiday dinner-party I’ll serve it with tangy goat yogurt so I can enjoy it too. And because it’s autumn now in New York City, I toasted some pepitas and tossed them in cinnamon and a pinch of sugar to sweeten the deal a bit. I adjusted some ingredients a tad and served the soup hot rather than chilled.
This soup is delicious. I’d never thought to add orange juice or zest to a carrot or squash soup, and it brightens and enlivens the rooty vegetables. Streaming in olive oil at the end emulsified it to a smooth cream. And not using chicken stock – which is my go-to for adding flavor and depth – really let the carrots remain the star and the gentle garlic, ginger and tumeric do the flavoring. And while I love tarragon and use it often, serving it on top rather than blending it in as I usually do helps it stand out rather than meld with a pluthera of equally-amazing flavors.
I’ve cooked from Chef Mullen’s book a few times already. And on top of the deep flavors I’ve created, it’s given me mindful time in the kitchen with ingredients that should be constantly in my rotation. Soon I’ll be pickling mushrooms to add to my cheese plate and pan-roasting Brussels sprouts with some (Portuguese… sorry Mullen) chorico for Thanksgiving. At work next week I’m going to make his tender lamb meatballs in a gentle tomato sauce and ricotta. And when the weather warms up again, I’m going to utilize the grill in my boss-family’s summer home to do more smoking, which I can’t do in my tiny NYC apartment.
But, until then…
There’s Hero Soup.
Stay warm and dry, East Coasters,
– Jacqueline
** Note: Chef Mullen is also the owner of Tertulia, in NYC. I took my friend Nikk – the chef whose job I took on – for his going away / birthday dinner. It’s one of the best meals I’ve ever had, and is one of my favorite restaurants around. If you love flavor-packed food, salty fish, cured meats, incredible cheeses, bright vegetables and potent wine, go there soon. If you don’t… um…
Based on Seamus Mullen’s Chilled Carrot Soup with Yogurt and Tarragon from Hero Food.
Serves 4-6 depending on serving sizes
Ingredients:
2 lbs carrots, peeled and cut into 1″ chunks
1/2 cup olive oil (the book specified Arebquina, which happens to be what I had on hand!)
2 shallots, finely diced
2 cloves garlic, finely diced
2 Tbsp apple cider vinegar
Zest and juice of 1 orange
1/4 tsp whole tumeric
Kosher salt Freshly ground black pepper
Creme fraiche, if desired, or whatever yogurt you can digest (or omit completely to make vegan)
About 4 tarragon fronds or 2 Tbsp coarsely chopped tarragon
For the Pepitas:
Note: Thanks go to Chef Anthony Ricco at The Spice Market, NYC, for this pepitas idea. He serves it on an incredible sweet butternut squash soup that I’ll be for Thanksgiving. His interview coming up in a few weeks on Serious Eats.
1/4 cup pepitas (small hulled pumpkin seeds)
1 Tbsp olive oil 1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp sugar, if desired
Directions:
Heat oven to 375°.
Combine carrots and about 2 Tbsp oliver oil on a large baking tray. Sprinkle with salt, cover loosely with foil, and roast for about 30 minutes, until almost steamed and completely soft, and slightly browned on bottom. Remove to cool slightly.
While the carrots are roasting, prepare the pepitas: place pepitas and olive oil in a cold skillet and place over medium/high heat. As the temperature starts to rise stir and then start tossing until they crackle, pop and expand. When they’re equally lightly browned and full in size, remove quickly to a bowl. Toss with a pinch of salt, cinnamon and sugar (if desired – you don’t need to).
Meanwhile, heat 1 Tbsp olive oil in a skillet on medium heat. Add shallots, and cook to sweat, 1-2 minutes. Add garlic and toss quickly to warm and slightly sweat, about another minute more.
Place cooked carrots, shallots, garlic, vinegar, orange juice and zest, tumeric, and ginger in a blender, food processor or large pot (and use a hand blender). Start running the blender on high and slowly add warm water until you get to the “velvety” consistency you desire, about 2 cups. Reduce the speed of your blender/mixer, and stream in about 1/2-1 cup olive oil until emulsified and gorgeously smooth.
Adjust taste with salt and pepper, and add more acid from vinegar or orange if desired.
Pour into serving bowls and top with a dallop of creme fraiche / yogurt, a few fronds of tarragon, a swirl of olive oil and some toasted pepitas.
I’m in a relationship with a blue beach chair.
That is, I think it’s blue.
I’ve only met it at night, at 9pm at the earliest.
It’s one of many tucked under a long wooden walkway from the street across from the house where I work as a private chef (or private cook, as I prefer to call myself based on my skills compared to the chefs I interview for Serious Eats).
It could be green, for all I know. Or gray or black.
All I know is that it has a comfy headrest, and leans me back to the perfect angle. And, despite the dozens of chairs left by trusting locals and ready to be reached for, it’s the one I always grab, no matter where it’s ended up on the line.
I work for a good family, for which I’m very grateful. They have a beautiful home, and are respectful of who I am and what I do, which includes providing three healthful and impressive meals a day for a variety of diets put forth by themselves and their constantly rotating houseful of guests (they are very generous hosts). There are times I’m overwhelmed by the work – by the very early mornings and long days, by the constant focus that is timing food and constantly producing a creative variety of food. Some days it feels like just too much.
There have been a few moments I’ve sunk to the kitchen floor in exhaustion. And many moments when I’ve calculated the days until I can drive home to NYC and be in my own space, with my dog and my kitchen and my roommate and my desk and my dirty laundry and my neighbors and my bed!
But, no matter the lovely guests, the frantic preparation or the random quiet moments when I drive on crowded summer Hamptons streets…
… the day always ends in that chair.
I fill my Starbucks insulated cup with whatever wine I’ve bought and stashed in the garage fridge and throw on comfy clothes and head across to the beach. I bury my toes in the cold sand and look up at the cloudy/clear sky with the warm/cool breeze blowing on me, nestling into that blue/green/black/gray chair.
That chair has seen me through some medical shit I won’t go into. And through thinking I’m not worthy of this job. And through thinking I’m worth more than my salary. And through thinking that this job and me are actually quite fit for each other. And through thinking about him/her/it/them/there. And through long phone conversations, songs on repeat in my headphones and moments of quite contemplation when I just stare out at the crashing waves and have to trust that I’m where I’m supposed to be in that very moment.
For my birthday I was given a journal with many of the menus and odd stories about my time here – relayed in texts to a friend. Soon I’ll add my own scribbled notes to it. And, at the end of the summer, I’ll reflect back on the skills I’ve learned, on the dishes I’ve made that I look forward to making for my own loved ones, on how awesome my warrior dog who has shuttled between homes in my absence was, and how I made it through the summer.
That time of reflection is still a bit away.
But, until then, at least I know I have my blue/green/black/gray chair to look forward to at the end of the day…
… and more dish discoveries yet to come… like this salad.
Ingredients:
Directions:
Place 2 Tbsp olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the string beans and cook until they just soften but before they brown, about 3 minutes. With tongs (one of my top five kitchen utensils), remove to a large bowl.
Add red onion and garlic, and cook until just softened, about 5 minutes. Remove to bowl.
Add almonds (or whichever nut is currently striking your fancy) to skillet, and toss them around a few times until they start getting all nutty and toasty. Add remaining tsp of olive oil and herbs de Provence and keep flippin em until they’re slightly browned and glossy.
In a small bowl, whisk macadamia nut oil, red wine vinegar, kosher salt and pepper until smooth and glossy-like.
Add arugula to bowl with warmed string beans, and toss to slightly wilt. Add dressing and toss to combine.
Pour into serving plate and garnish with almonds.
Jicama and Watermelon Salad
Every now and then, someone comes into your life and you breathe a huge sigh of relief.
One of those such special people made me a Jicama and Watermelon salad on the 4th of July. It went scrumptiously alongside some huge langostines I fried up all spicy-like and some ridiculously fresh sea bass that took a mere ten minutes to broil to perfection. He was all achy and sore from a pulled back muscle. I was exhausted from long days of cooking for other people. We feasted with white wine I had been saving for over a year for a special occasion – until I grew up and realized that every good meal with a good person is a special occasion. Then we climbed onto the roof and watched NYC’s spectacular fireworks burst over the Hudson river.
Then I stole his recipe.
I adapted it slightly for the family I cook for, and set it on the pink-canopied backyard table with some of my garden chicken salad and grilled burgers. By the time I got around to snapping pictures of it 24 hours later it had faded in color but the flavors had developed even more fully.
Jicama is a root that’s a cross between a water chestnut and rhubarb, believe it or not. Watery, slightly sweet and somewhat starchy, it’s often eaten in its native Mexico with fiery spices. Because of the light sweetness and water content, it pairs extremely well with watermelon, giving a salad of both some crunch and texture. They’re found at most big grocery stores out in the east coast, but are easy to overlook.
After grunting and sweating away peeling the annoyingly large jicama, I tossed it lightly with watermelon, lime, cilantro and a bit of jalapeno for a ridiculously refreshing salad that my blew my bosses guests away.
Happy summer, happy Friday!
– Jacqueline
Jicama and Watermelon Salad
Serves 6 as a side
1 medium jicama, peeled and cut into thin 3″ long strips (about 3 cups)
1/4 watermelon, cut into thin 3″ long strips (about 3 cups)
1/2 jalapeno pepper, peeled, seeded and finely diced
1/2 cup finely chopped red onion
juice of 1/2 lime
1/4 cup chopped parsley or cilantro
Combine all ingredients in a large bowl and chill before serving.
Sweet beets and parsnips combine with spiced walnuts, fresh mint and smooth goat cheese.
I credit my momma for my love of vegetables; for some reason I’ve always preferred veggies over meat, and she (and her parents) were abundant in their love and attention to them as well. I learned the sweet pleasure of beets early on, and other root vegetables followed soon thereafter. While beets and parsnips may not seem like warm-weather foods, served at room temperature or chilled with bright herbs and sitting atop crisp, sharp greens, they make a hearty and colorful contrast to summer’s zucchini and cucumber abundance.
This was one of last week’s starter salads on my menu, and one that I stole a teeny tiny bowl of to keep myself fortified after a long day of cooking on my feet. It’s sweet, bright, fresh and the perfect start to an end-of-day meal.
Serves 4 as a starter
Ingredients:
Heat oven to 400°. Place beets and parsnips separately on one large or two small baking sheets. Drizzle with oil to just coat, and toss on salt. Bake for 40 minutes until very roasted and slightly shriveled. Cool completely. Combine in a large bowl and toss with mint.
Meanwhile, heat a small saucepan over medium heat. Add walnuts and toast, tossing occasionally, until fragrant, about 5 minutes (watch the stove so they don’t burn!) Add honey and cinnamon, stir to coat quickly. Spread walnuts on cutting board to cool, then roughly chop into smaller pieces.
To serve, divide greens on four serving plates, making a well in the center. Divide beet/parsnips between, piling in the center.
Crumble goat cheese equally around each pile. Sprinkle with walnuts and remaining mint. Grind pepper straight on top. If desired, drizzle balsamic vinegar and a touch of oil around sides onto greens before serving.
I admit to throwing in a little red food coloring in my red velvet creations.
Frosting? Yup, the rainbow reduced to little plastic squeeze bottles goes in there too.
But there always seemed something so off about dying eggs for Easter in such a way. Though I’m neither a Christian nor a Jew, I grew up Catholic and have many beloved Jewish friends (and the culinary traditions are stellar). So the holidays of this time of year still mean, to me, a bit of a fresh start. The earth is starting to pour out beautiful things for us to eat again, and animals are popping out little ones by the baaa’ful (or neigh-ful or whatever). It’s a time of cleansing and self-reflection.
So, I set to making an Easter egg that not only looks beautiful and delicate and natural, but actually has some flavor benefit as well. Because why dye the outside of the egg if, when putting together a holiday plate, you can color the part that you eat and infuse some new flavors too? My mind quickly turned to… tea.
Clockwise from top: chamomile, burdock, hibiscus and raspberry Earl Grey teas.
I drink a lot of tea. I own several items in which to brew it. I drink it by the potful as I type. One whole shelf of my (teeny tiny) pantry is devoted to it. I throw it into scones, cookies, cakes… delightfulness.
But can it dye eggs?
Various hues from the different teas.
Yes, it can. Much more subtly (in the cracked, stain-glass versions) than bright pigments. But the colors are so soft and delicate and would seem perfectly at home nestled in baskets on raffia amongst dark-chocolate bunnies (or whatever your tradition may be).
Perfectly cooked and colored.
My favorite (color-wise): Hibiscus
I doubled each amount of tea and let the teas sit for 20 minutes, covered, to make sure they were at full strength.
Burdock: I was disappointed that this didn’t do too much in the color department, but the deep, smoky flavor was quite lovely. Would probably work best with completely shelled eggs rather than the cracked version I tried.
Hibiscus: Turned the shelled egg to a glorious purpley-red, and gave the cracked one dark purple/blue lines. I wonder how it would have been had I soaked it longer…?
Raspberry Earl Grey: Gave clear, dark blue lines and an awesome flavor. Would be great to use on a salad with slivered almonds.
Chamomile: I was surprised that it made the egg as yellow as it did! And the flavor was truly beautiful… fragrant and slightly sweet, like springtime!
Perfectly Cooked Hard Boiled Eggs
Place eggs in a pot and fill with water until it covers the eggs over by at least one inch. Bring up to a boil, then remove from heat, cover and let sit for 12 minutes. Immediately rinse eggs and run with cold water.
To Color Eggs
The eggs can be put directly in the cooled tea once they’ve been strained and slightly cool. If made in a large enough mug, you can color three eggs at a time. Play around with shelling them completely or cracking them thoroughly to give the stained-glass-window affect. I let my eggs sit for about 75 minutes, but the longer they sit obviously the more they’ll color up. Occasionally stir them around for even coverage.
Happy Easter!
photo Brent Herrig
I’ve been obsessed with a gluten-free cream puff recipe.
Having gone without gluten for almost twenty years (minus the occasional succumbing to a bowl of homemade pasta passed to me or the gloriousness of a chewy piece of bread on my family’s island in Portugal just last week), delicate, precious things like filled pastry puffs had long been far from my food thoughts.
But when I sourced a bakery for gluten-free Easy Eats magazine’s Sweet Surprise column in our most recent issue, those thoughts shifted. As I assisted the food stylist on the shoot I fell enamored of the smooth, thick dough that puffed into crackly rounds. I was amazed by how such seemingly simple ingredients and a rather quick process could make something so delightful.
So my proposal for FoodBuzz’s 24×24 dinner party – where 24 bloggers from around the world host and post on the same day – quickly centered around the thought: how much can I play with this in one meal? The owner of the bakery and creator of the recipe, Geri Peacock, had mentioned that, growing up as a child, her mother and grandmother filled the shells with things both savory and sweet. It was a bit of her heritage that she had adapted for the gluten-free community years later.
So I rounded up some friends, checked in about their dietary issues and cultural backgrounds, and set them in the living room with some cocktails and a really random mix of music, and got to stuffing.
The pastry recipe is below, with my thoughts about how to make each batch spot on. Click on the images for links to the other recipes.
And please check out Easy Eats magazine for the original recipe and other beautiful gluten-free recipes, lifestyle tips and stunning photos – and my most recent feature of five gluten free pasta recipes! Oh, and coming out in May, my feature of six top-notch chefs give us their own food thoughts and easy-to-execute classic recipes made gluten free (two of the chefs even put gluten-free options on their menus after!).
Oh, and mucho thanks to my photographer, Brent Herrig, for plating and snapping away. All images are his.
Brent Herrig © 2012
Makes about 36 puffs, depending on size
The original pastry recipe took a teeny tiny bit of playing with – things like the position of the oven rack and sheets used made a huge difference in how one sheet would either rise and become too thin or remain deliciously eggy but too dense. Luckily they are rather quick to whip up, and once you get the hang of it you can start swapping flours and fats with relative ease.
Ingredients:
Method:
Heat oven to 400° with rack in the center / one notch down from center. Line 3 baking sheets with Silpat (the original recipe says ungreased cookie sheets but mine continually stuck that way – could be my ancient oven).
In a small pot on high heat, bring the water and butter (once it’s melted) to a full boil. Lower the heat, add the flour all at once, and mix thoroughly, using a combination of smearing together and folding to completely incorporate the flour into the liquid. Cook until a smooth ball forms. Immediately transfer to a standing mixer with the paddle attachment. Beat in eggs one at a time, starting on a low setting then raising to incorporate. About halfway through, beat until smooth, and then continue with the rest of the eggs. Once all are in, beat for about one minute on medium-high speed.
Drop on sheets in smooth lumps, about one tablespoon for smaller puffs (what I used for dessert) and twice the size for larger ones. Bake one at a time for 30 minutes (I was lucky to use a neighbor’s oven as well). Once you put the puffs in, don’t open the oven for a good 25 minutes to check – they need the heat to rise properly. Cool for a few minutes before removing to cooling rack.
Depending on the sturdiness of the puffs, I cut out small tops and filled them or sliced them in half and used them in a slider-type of way. As they’re light, eggy and rather flavor-neutral, they worked well with strong savory and sweet flavors equally.
Piri Shrimp
This is the one dish for which I’m not posting a recipe, because I totally cheated and just threw 1 pound of ethically caught shrimp (as in not from Thailand and labeled with certain standards) with 1 bottle of Very Peri Mild (I was sent some to test out and it’s quite delightful). I marinated it overnight and then threw them in a hot pan with the juice of one fresh lemon. YUM!
Lamb Stew
Garden Chicken Salad
Jerusalem Artichoke and Kohlrabi
Mini Banana Split with Dairy-Free Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream
Mini Strawberry Shortcakes with Dairy-Free Liquid Cheesecake
The Dusty Baker 