Oh, kimchi, where have you been all my life? Spicy, piquant, fermented vegetables, you rock my world. Your loads of vitamins A and C and gut-healthy probiotics are a happy bonus for something so delicious.

On paper, I shouldn’t like kimchi. I have issues with certain hot spices — cayenne pepper: no, thank you (except in very small amounts); chipotle pepper and sriracha: yes, please — so it’s always a toss-up as to whether I’ll like something spicy-hot. (Cayenne pepper has a curious physiological effect — it completely overwhelms my senses. It burns, oh, yes, and then it deadens my sense of taste and smell for hours. Indian cuisine, which relies heavily on cayenne, was a real challenge until I learned to omit it entirely, or make substitutions with sriracha.)

I’m still not clear on exactly what kind of chili pepper gives kimchi its heat, but whatever it is, it’s highly addictive. I’m sure the pickling effect of fermentation helps tweak the peppery bite into something that appeals more to my palate. I adore anything pickled. (Is it TMI to admit that I used to drink dill pickle juice out of the jar as a youngster? I suspect some of you are nodding in agreement, while most of you are cringing. ;^) )

Kimchi is a very flexible condiment — serve it as a side, or add it to salads, stir fries, and scrambled eggs for a super quick and healthy meal. A quinoa stir fry with seasonal vegetables is my favorite lunch in the whole world, but when time is tight, scrambled eggs with a big helping of healthy greens fill in nicely.

Vegetarians should note that not all kimchi is vegetarian. Some regions of Korea use brines enhanced with fish sauce or anchovies — be sure to read the labels on imported varieties — but I have no problem finding locally produced all-vegetable kimchi.

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I really have to question my sanity at the decision to grow tea roses again. Many years ago, before the heirloom tomato obsession kicked in, I grew roses. Gorgeous, silky petaled tea roses, the ones with perfect buds that open into full, blushing blooms, heavenly scented

This is a blissful, meditative, soul enriching pastime for many people.

But not for me.

As much patience as I have for my beloved heirloom tomatoes and their various issues, the drama of growing roses eventually broke my spirit (thrips! spider mites! leaf rollers! japanese beetles! japanese beetles! japanese beetles! black spot! powdery mildew! downey mildew! blight!). I haven’t grown roses in 20 years.

But, a strange repetition reared its head over the winter: the want for rose petals. Mostly for the Moroccan recipes that held my fascination, but also for skin care products.

Roses are sold in practically every corner store, of course. But, they’re not organic — none of them. And, as a former rose grower, I can tell you exactly what’s been sprayed on those gorgeous specimens of nature’s perfection:

Nothing you want in or on your body.

The only way to get a hold of organic roses that won’t break the bank, I’ve concluded, is to grow them myself. And so ….

Gosh, they are gorgeous, aren’t they (she says dreamily, before the black spot hits and the Japanese beetles descend). You should see the Celebrity rose with its yellow and pale pink blooms.

For the last month, the bushes have been blooming one stem at a time, and then all of the sudden, this little hot pink beauty sent out four at once.

Time, at last, for rosewater.

I love rosewater’s skin-soothing abilities. (And believe me, my skin needs lots of soothing.) Its anti-bacterial properties provide a layer of protection and healing to your skin, and its abundance of Vitamin C helps repair damage and ward off aging. A few drops of witch hazel (optional) creates a lovely toner that can be used day and night. Swab a rosewater-dampened cotton ball across your skin after cleansing, or fill a spray bottle and spritz your entire face.

Refreshing, especially after a long day in the garden battling black spot and Japanese beetles.

Most rosewater recipes you find on the web call for large amounts of petals, which is both impractical and a waste. Rosewater does not stay fresh for more than a week or two without preservatives (and only if kept in the fridge), so bottling a quart at a time is overkill (unless you’re going to share your efforts with your most beloved peeps, who will love you even more).

Small batch rosewater is the way to go. And in my case, my roses will throw out just enough buds to keep me lavished in rosewater all summer long.

Here’s what you’ll need:

• A small, clean kitchen towel/bar mop
• A large pot with a domed lid* (thoroughly wash the lid, top and bottom)
• A heat-proof bowl that will fit inside the pot with plenty of room around the bowl base.
• The petals from 4 or 5 fully bloomed, heavily scented, organic roses (color does not matter; scent does).
• Purified water
• 2 to 3 trays of ice cubes
• Witch hazel (optional)

*The curve of the lid does not have to be steep, just enough to form a bowl when overturned.

Fold the kitchen towel into a small square and arrange in the center of the pot. Place the bowl on the towel. Spread the rose petals around the bowl, and pour water over petals — not in the bowl — to cover. (The towel will hold the bowl in place and keep it from chattering in the pot while the water is boiling.)

Bring the water to a gentle boil, then reduce the heat to maintain a simmer. Place the lid on the pot upside down, so that the dome is pointing downward in the pot. Add about 1/2 of a tray of ice cubes to the “bowl” of the downturned lid. When that batch of ice melts, wait a few minutes, then add more, repeating this step until you use all of the ice (discard the water from the melted ice, as necessary).

You’ve just created a homemade distiller!

Condensation created inside the pot from the interaction of the simmering roses and the ice will cause drops of purified rose essence to form on the domed portion of the lid, and drip into your bowl. This is your rosewater. Continue the process for 30 to 40 minutes (even if you’ve run out of ice). This will be enough time to create about a pint of rosewater. Gently remove the bowl of rosewater from the pot, and allow to cool.

You’ll notice that the distilled rosewater is clear, and that all of the color from the petals remains behind in the pot. That’s what’s supposed to happen. The scent and flavor of roses — go ahead and taste the rosewater, it’s perfectly edible — is in the distilled water, not in the pot. If you want that beautiful pink blush to your rosewater, add just the tiniest drop of strawberry juice or beet juice.

Add several drops of witch hazel, if you like. Store in an airtight container, preferably in the fridge.

Enjoy!

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I’m so happy it’s strawberry season here in the Ohio Valley. Bright containers of ruby berries at the farmers’ markets stand out among the long stretches of crispy greens, irresistible in their allure.

Strawberries always inspire a fit of spring baking, like no other ingredient can. This year, bored at the thought of my standard shortcake recipe, I was in the mood to experiment. I wanted something pound-cakey, but gluten-free. I had recently reorganized my pantry (again — it seems never ending, that task) and (re)discovered a good portion of cornmeal and whole buckwheat groats. Ideas began to form.

I had recently read that freshly ground, raw buckwheat groats makes for a much tastier, mild flour that the buckwheat flour you purchase prepared, which can lean towards to the bitter side due to the toasting it undergoes. (Toasting can add amazing flavor, but it’s a fine balance — rich nuttiness vs. bitterness — that manufacturers don’t always successfully strike.)

Also, if you’re gluten-free for serious health reasons, you have to carefully choose your prepared buckwheat flours, which are often processed in non-GF facilities. Bob’s Red Mill, for example, does not produce GF buckwheat flour (organic, yes; GF, no), but they do sell GF groats.

With this mix of gluten-free flours, I was wanting a loaf with the texture of cornmeal, the nuttiness of buckwheat, and the moistness of pound cake. Score!  (I love when that happens.) I’ve said this before, but I’m so impressed with the progress that gluten-free baking has seen in the last couple of years. Adventurous folks continue to discover the best flours and formulas for GF baking, and generously share their knowledge. (Grind your own raw buckwheat groats for a marvelous GF flour — whoddathunk?)

Oh, and the chunks of strawberries … they create delectable little pockets of strawberry jam with every bite. Serve like a shortcake, with a generous scoop of vanilla frozen yogurt, and more freshly sliced strawberries on top (if you want to get all fancy-pants about it, macerate the strawberry slices with a bit of sugar (or maple syrup) and balsamic vinegar for a few hours before serving). Or, to send it right over the top, drizzle the top of the loaf with a sweet lemon glaze, while it’s still warm from the oven.

This isn’t a health loaf — hello, sugar — but it’s full of sweet personality with a touch of nuttiness thrown in.

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This is one recipe that I don’t really want to talk about. I just want to serve it to you, and get you hooked on its thick, cheesy, nacho-ness, mindlessly reaching for chip after chip. Or maybe a spoon.

And then I’ll tell you all about it.

Because what’s in it is my most magical vegetarian ingredient. My favorite creamy-it-up-without-the-dairy, lumpy, bumpy, vegetable:

Cauliflower.

Cauliflower cheese sauce has been making the rounds on the Interwebs since the turn of the year, and with good reason: cooked cauliflower mashed in its cooking liquid is, as it turns out, quite effective as a dairy substitute. I’ve tried it, and it’s spectacular. But in the back of my mind, I had another idea, one waiting for summer party season.

An appetizer — creamy, savory, with a nice kick of spice: cheeseless — yet creamy-cheesy — nacho dip. Cue the healthy cauliflower sauce, and healthier still salsa. Vegetables + more vegetables = all manner of goodness.

The cheeseless cheesy-ness comes thanks to my second most magical vegetarian ingredient, nutritional yeast (an inactive, distant cousin to brewer’s yeast and baker’s yeast). Nutty and savory with a flavor you’d swear is aged cheese, nutritional yeast (or “nooch,” as it’s often affectionately called; or, a bit more tongue-in-cheek, “hippie dust”) makes a surprisingly decent substitute for parmesan or cheddar cheese in many dishes. And it’s packed with vitamin B-12, fiber, protein, and folic acid. Plus, it’s vegan, to boot.

So, how is it possible that these super healthy ingredients come together to make something rich, creamy, addictive, and bowl-scrapingly delicious?

I don’t know.

But it totally works. It must be magic.

Please try it before we get too much deeper into summer cookout season. Halve the recipe, if you must, but do try it. It’s one appetizer your peeps won’t stop eating … and one that you don’t have to worry about them enjoying.

(P.S. For those with cauliflower haters in the family, no worries: you can’t taste the cauliflower. At all.  Trust me, no one will guess there’s cauliflower in the mix.)

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One of my winter dinner staples this year was Pad Thai. I just love Pad Thai — it’s the perfect meal in every way. Brown rice noodles (soothes my pasta cravings), sprouts, green onions, eggs, crushed peanuts, cilantro … and plenty of ever-so-slightly-spicy sauce.

Once spring hit, so did a little lightbulb {click!}:  Pad Thai salad!

Now, I know without even looking that this is not the first time anyone has ever thought of Pad Thai salad. But it’s the first time I thought of it, so I’m just going to take a moment via this post to revel in the discovery: Pad Thai that is warming and comforting in the winter becomes cooling and refreshing in the summer, thanks to a hefty dose of fresh salad greens.

I am so digging my new salad bar garden bench. The crisp, perfect greens pictured here have grown right outside my kitchen door all spring. What a treat!

Oh, wait — it just occurred to me, I don’t think I’ve shared my salad bar garden bench. Duh! This has been the focus of my entire spring planting efforts — it completely consumed my thoughts late in the winter, when visions of fresh spinach and arugula filled my garden dreams.

{Digs through camera card to find picture of garden bench].

{There!}  My amazing brother built this bench for me out of lovely, scented cedar. Just seconds after the last nail was set in early April, I filled the bench with dirt, and eagerly waited for my seedlings to be strong enough to withstand our frost-filled spring.

Today, the bench is lush with green — cilantro, arugula, spinach, romaine, and Swiss chard. It’s the perfect height for comfortable gardening, and well out of reach of nibbling bunnies (don’t worry — there’s plenty for furry friends to eat in my yard). My next project is to fashion a shade screen, so I can extend the plantings into summer.

(Another thing that just occurs to me is that, with all the hullabaloo of this spring’s crazy planting schedule, I haven’t yet done a gardening post, which is practically unimaginable on my part: in the spring, I’m not really focusing on dinner; I’m thinking about my summer gardens. I must remedy that soon, because my yard is positively stuffed with all manner of growing things. Just this weekend, I harvested my overwintered French shallots — small this year (about the size of the circle your thumb and forefinger make in the “OK” sign), but lovely and fragrant. Garlic scapes are starting to appear from robust garlic stalks — hello, garlic scape pesto.)

So, you can see why I might seem extra excited about a salad. Any excuse to pick fresh greens, I’m there, happily picking from my salad bar garden bench.

Finally, although Pad Thai ubiquitous scrambled eggs will rock with this salad (if you don’t mind eggs that have cooled off, which I don’t), I went with a sunny-side-up preparation, with runny yolk that I find irresistible on salads.

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With the warm weather comes an uptick in activities penciled into the calendar. At least in my schedule. Winter makes me want to hibernate under thick blankets, but in the summer, the long days aren’t nearly long enough to fit in everything I want to do.

Summer also means a slow-down in cooking and meal preparation: I’m not one to linger behind a hot stove when my gardens are calling me. Besides, summer’s beautiful vegetables and fruits are at their best with minimal intervention — hours braising in a scorching oven (heating up both house and brow) will be set aside until autumn.

Fast dishes with fresh ingredients take over from May through September.

Spring has been chilly and rainy here, but my herbs, I must say, are magnificent. Although the easiest to grow of all my crops, they bring daily benefits to my cooking all summer long (and how pleasing it is, to have a panoply of fresh, fragrant herbs just outside my kitchen door to pluck as I need).

Coconut milk has replaced dairy milk in all my dressings and sauces. Its light flavor, belied by its substantial structure, makes a lovely dressing base. And unlike dairy milk, which becomes ranch-y in the face of a hearty herbal infusion, a mixture of coconut milk and tangy Greek yogurt lets herbs shine, producing something delicate but immensely flavorful.

Quick cooking gnocchi is a year-round favorite, and takes very nicely to a variety of sauces, including this herb yogurt sauce. Sauteed with leeks — or, as spring progresses, shallots — and topped with crunchy pistachios, this side-dish staple becomes the star of the meal.

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When I decided to follow a vegetarian diet two-plus years ago, it wasn’t for health reasons. So, my new way of eating wasn’t the healthiest — not terrible, but not a model of vegetarianism, either. Pasta was the automatic substitute for meat dishes. And when all else failed, there was bread. I consumed plenty of whole vegetables and fruits — I always have, actually — but replaced animal protein with lots of carbs in the process. I neither gained nor lost weight (although my cholesterol levels — which were already good — improved further, as did my blood pressure. A ringing endorsement, I think, for cutting back or giving up meat).

It was an easy transition, eliminating animal products, but over time, I realized I just wasn’t feeling as I should. Problems that were minor or infrequent eventually became nagging, annoying, concerning. I blame that on aging — not vegetarianism — I knew I had to make a change.

I began green juicing more or less to do a full-body “reset.” Some of the issues I was experiencing are better left for another post (marked, “Girl stuff”), but others, like bad skin (life-long rosacea, adult acne and dry, flaky skin), aching joints, an autoimmune disease that could fire up at any moment, persistent heartburn and digestive issues … I wanted relief — I wanted to just feel better — but I didn’t want to turn to western medicine (which tends to patch rather than fix, accumulating pill after pill in the process).

There’s certainly a lot of hype out there — a lot of hype — about eating a vegetable-strong diet, but some of it made sense to me. Particularly, that the health of one’s body, and the normal functioning of the immune system, begins in the gut and digestive tract, and that inflammation is the enemy.

I’ve written before about gluten, and the fact that I’ve cut back considerably on my daily consumption of it. That, alone, has made a difference in how I feel, every day — a big win against inflammation, which gluten is known to promote.

Fresh vegetable juice and green smoothies (sans dairy) have been the icing on the cake. This has been my personal project for 2013, so I thought I’d share the ways I’m getting more vegetables into my life — in liquid form — and what the effects have been.

(As with all things health-related, do not take one person’s experiences as a rule of law — consult your trusted medical advisers before radically changing your diet, especially if you take prescription medications.)

Green Juicing

If it wouldn’t completely kill all credibility of subjectivity and levelheadedness, I’d film a video of me running around the kitchen in circles like a 4-year-old hopped up on Twinkies, hugging my juicer to my chest. (Also, it would go viral for all the wrong reasons — “See 40-something woman go crackers on green juice!” — and I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t help the cause.)

But, that’s how I feel about my juicer. Green juice has been a transformative influence, and I’m very grateful that I hit the “Add to Cart” button late one night, after two friends gushed about their new juicer. I worried it would become another appliance in the cabinet that I can’t reach without a step ladder; instead, it’s my daily tool to feeling better.

The best benefit of juicing is that it has completely reset my appetite. I no longer crave sugary, fatty foods (and honestly, they don’t even look particularly tasty to me anymore). I eat smaller portions at meals without feeling deprived. I didn’t even do a real juice fast — I just started drinking green juice between meals and at bedtime. The changes occurred slowly, almost imperceptibly, until I realized all at once that I wasn’t going back for seconds at dinner, and I wasn’t craving ice cream at night.

Other effects began to accumulate as well. I will never have super-model-smooth skin — not even laser treatments or plastic surgery will give me that — but my skin has cleared considerably, especially the rosacea. I used to get heartburn every morning about an hour after awakening. No more. I sleep well, and wake up refreshed. I’ve plowed through spring’s labor-intensive gardening tasks with great energy.

I know all of the arguments against juicing — particularly about the extracted pulp — so I’ve approached the whole thing as sensibly as I can. I drink freshly pressed green juice almost every day, but I do other things as well (below), including consuming more than the recommended daily allowance of whole vegetables.

I use very little fruit — just apples and lemons — to keep sugar rushes at bay (and avoid the calorie bombs of typical fruit-heavy smoothies). I alternate the greens and vegetables I use to get a wide range of nutrients.

I use lemon juice in every drink I make — it’s reported to cleanse the liver as well as to have an alkalizing effect on the body — and often add a splash of raw apple cider vinegar (which has a slew of health benefits of its own).

For folks worried about the taste … and concerned about the intimidating greeness of the drink … it’s really delicious. The flavor is controlled by the vegetables you add, not so much the leafy greens that contribute the color. I never notice the kale or spinach, but do notice the balance of carrots, cucumbers, ginger, and apple. You can’t go wrong if you use the vegetables you love.

And if you’re not a fan of the bottled green drinks by companies like Naked and Odwalla, take heart: I don’t like them either. (One of them, I can’t remember which, has garlic, and I can taste the garlic. It’s just not my cup of tea.) Fresh green vegetable juice tastes nothing like what’s on the commercial market (not even the salt-laden V8 juice).

My favorite green juice is a based on a widely-shared recipe: 5 or 6 kale leaves, a big handful of spinach, 1/2 of a lemon (peeled), 1 Honeycrisp apple, 1/2 of a cucumber, 2 stalks of celery, 1 small carrot, and a 1″ piece of ginger. (My homemade V8 juice rocks the party, too: to the above, add a handful of cherry tomatoes, a red bell pepper, and another carrot.)

Pros of juicing:

• Delicious — it’s pure vegetable essence, so you don’t need additives like salt or sugar.
• Fresh juice is loaded — I mean, loaded — with vitamins, minerals, and micro nutrients.
• Numerous, healthy side-effects. I imagine they’re different for everyone, but my skin has cleared considerably, I have good, steady energy throughout the day and sleep well at night, and my digestive system has calmed noticeably.
• Consuming at least 16 ounces of green juice a day has reduced my sugar cravings to almost nothing. Rich desserts don’t even look good to me anymore.
• It’s versatile. Most vegetables and fruits can be juiced — the recipe possibilities are endless and it’s never boring.
• For folks who have trouble consuming enough vegetables in a day, you can drink an entire bowl’s worth of vegetable nutrients in one glass.
• It stores well overnight. I fill a small thermos to the top to minimize air in the container.
• Unlike smoothies, green juice doesn’t need reblending, so it’s portable.
• Some juicers (like mine) can produce nut milk, which is a very delicious alternative to dairy and soy. (Pistachio is my favorite.)

Cons:

• It’s time-consuming. Depending on your recipe, the entire process can take 30 to 60 minutes.
• Juicing requires a lot of vegetables. A lot.
• Pulp and fiber is removed during the juicing process. (I compost my pulp, but there are recipes online to use up the pulp.)
• Some juicers are harder to clean than others. My Hurom Slow Juicer has just a few parts, but, I must clean them immediately — no procrastination. Dried vegetable matter in the filter basket would be dreadfully difficult to clean.
• Because of the pulp removal, some nutrition experts advise that, no matter how many glasses of juice you drink per day, it still counts only as one vegetable serving.

Vegetable Powder

Vegetable powder was an accidental discovery. I was browsing through the health section at the grocery store, and impulsively grabbed a can of wheatgrass powder. I really had no intention of drinking it straight-up — I thought I’d add it to my green juice. That worked fine: I couldn’t taste it in the juice, and I got the extra nutrition benefits.

After some further research, I decided I wanted something that contained chlorella, a fresh water algae rich in chlorophyll (fights inflammation), vitamins, minerals, and amino acids. I stumbled upon the Green SuperFood Raw Reserve brand on Amazon, and have been quite happy with it.

The flavor is much better than wheatgrass (although still, you know, very grassy), and it takes the pressure off of daily green juicing. I consume at least one glass per day, using this recipe:

2 teaspoons vegetable powder
1/2 teaspoon magnesium (about 100 mg – at night only)
juice from 1/2 of a fresh lemon
1 tablespoon raw apple cider vinegar
8 ounces coconut water or freshly pressed apple juice

Pros of vegetable powder:

• Super convenient. Mix, stir, drink. It doesn’t get any easier than this.
• The brand I use contains an insane number of green nutrients, including wheatgrass, spirulina, and chlorella, plus probiotics (a big plus).
• You can add the powder to any drink, including your vegetable juice (above) and your Nutriblasts (below).
• Did I mention it’s really, really quick? This powder makes certain I never go a day without an extra boost of green nutrition.

Cons:

• The flavor isn’t particularly great straight up in water, which is why I came up with the “recipe” I use (but is also fine just mixed in orange or apple juice).
• The brand I use is a bit upfront pricey, but it does last for a couple of months.

(In the interests of full disclosure, if you make a purchase on Amazon via the links in this post, I get a teeny-tiny commission that will likely not be paid until sometime next year. But when it is, it will be funneled back into the costs of maintaining this site. And I’ll be ever so grateful that you clicked.)

Nutribullet

This was sort of an impulse, discount-I-couldn’t-pass-up purchase. I wasn’t seriously looking to buy one, but I got a fantastic deal — given the equipment I already own, I would not have paid full price, or even a run-of-the-mill sale price.

Bullet blenders, like the Nutri Bullet, are small units with a double-row of sharp chopping blades and a fairly powerful motor. You load the ingredients in the provided container — taking care to respect the Max Fill line — attach the blade base to the opening (it screws on easily), then invert and insert the unit onto the base, pressing down and twisting clockwise to lock in place. This twisting activates the blades when the base is plugged in. To halt the blending, twist the container/blade unit counter-clockwise. Up-end the unit, remove the blade base, and you’re drink is ready.

If you have a mega blender, such as a Vitamix or a Blendtec, you definitely don’t need a Nutribullet. You have all the power and chopping speed you need to make green smoothies, just in a larger appliance.

It does, however, perform better than my standard blender. My blender doesn’t completely break down leafy greens, so there are always flakes of spinach and kale in my green smoothies. The Nutribullet breaks everything down quite well.

I’m surprised how much I enjoy the convenience of it. Everything about it is fast, from the blending — just two 15-second pulses do the trick — to clean-up.

If you balance your ingredients, the drink is quite substantial — it’s a satisfying meal replacement. Since I don’t use dairy in my smoothies, the drink stays well-blended, and can store in the fridge overnight, or be transported for later consumption. (I’m personally not concerned about nutrients breaking down after hours of storage — I figure a fresh[ish] green drink is better than most of my other options, especially at work.)

Feedback comments on this unit at various online stores reveal a few problems, and an unsatisfactory product life. The unit will readily leak if you exceed the Max Fill line (easy to obey, though — I bow down to the great and mighty line, and haven’t had a leak). The unit loses power over time (although it’s not clear if it’s a blade issue, or a motor issue). And numerous people have reported back that the unit died within a few months. The manufacturer’s customer service is said to be fairly uncooperative, so I’m hoping I’ll be able to return it to the retailer instead. (Yes, I’m already braced for the unit to fail. Sadly.)

Lots of stuff comes in the box — stuff that is more of a nuisance to store than anything (but since I’m keeping the box for the inevitable return, they just live in the box). I wouldn’t trust the included lids to be leak proof. The smaller of the two containers is ridiculously small – it holds barely anything. Kid-size, I’m guessing. There’s a snap-on handle for both large and small cups — good for kids; I just find it bulky. Neither cup fits a standard car cupholder. The milling blade looks interesting, but I haven’t used it yet. The recipe book is a useful read. I don’t really use any of the recipes — they’re too fruit-heavy for my tastes — but they gave me ideas that lead me to the mix I use most often (below).

Despite these weird negatives, I really do like the unit. I appreciate the convenience and speed of prep, taking only a few minutes to slice up the small amount of vegetables that fit in the large container vs. the 15 to 20 minutes it takes prep all the veggies for my juicer.

My favorite Nutribullet recipe:
1 large kale leaf, torn into several pieces
1 palmful spinach, torn into smaller pieces
1/4 Honeycrisp apple, cubed
1/4 cucumber, cubed
a small palmful of other veggies I might have on hand, such as celery or broccoli
a small palmful of sunflower seeds
1 tablespoon raw apple cider vinegar
juice from 1/2 of a lemon
coconut water or apple juice

Pros:

• Blends really, really well.
• It’s fast. Two 15-second pulses liquifies everything.
• Unlike juicing, the whole vegetable is preserved in the drink – it contains the pulp and the fiber and all the goodness therein.
• The large size container produces a decent meal replacement.
• If you don’t include dairy, the drink remains well-blended and is, therefore, transportable.
• Compared to juicing, vegetable prep is pretty fast, since you’re using a small amount of veggies
• Clean up is really fast. Just rinse the blade unit, and wash the cup with soapy water, and you’re good to go.

Cons:

• I’m concerned that the unit won’t last.
• Blended — as opposed to juiced — vegetables need extra liquids added, or else they would become a pesto. This produces a less flavorful “watered-down” drink than juicing (and is one of the reasons I prefer juicing).
• The recipes in the booklet rely on fruit to give the concoctions — the “Nutriblasts” — decent flavors (kudos, though, that they don’t resort to yogurt or milk). I don’t like to use as much fruit as they recommend, so it took some time for me to develop a vegetable-heavy recipe I liked with ingredients that counteract the liquids that have to be added.
• The extras that come with it are kind of silly.

And so, you now have a glimpse into my daily vegetable routine. I use the three processes interchangeably, and sometimes together (while green juicing, I usually make a point to also juice some apples, which I use with both my vegetable powder drinks and Nutriblasts).

If anyone would like to share their experiences with green drinks and/or equipment, I’d love to hear them (successful or not)!

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In the spring, my eyes are so focused on green that it becomes a single-minded pursuit, waiting for green grass, green shoots on the trees, green seedlings breaking through the soil.

This year was the first spring that I noticed how much purple is in my yard. Everywhere I turn, surprising splashes of purple, lavender, redish-blues and bluish-reds.

In a season of green, it’s positively magical.

The lilac tree is in full bloom right now — if any flower was heaven sent, it surely was the lilac. I’m certain my neighbors are mocking me behind their curtains at this point, watching me stick my nose deep in the bloomy cloud every time I pass by.

Lilacs have a very special meaning in my family. Many, many years ago, my brother planted a lilac tree on a standard in my parent’s front yard. It grew and grew to an amazing umbrella of lavender perfection. Somehow, every year — no matter the weather — the tree timed its all-too-short bloom with Mother’s Day, mid-May.

After my parents passed, we put their home on the market. It was November but, along with the economy, the housing market was depressed. It took months to get any interested parties, but at last, we had a buyer. Paperwork and milestones passed smoothly, and the closing was scheduled: late April. I thought of the tree — for the first time in 15 years, I wouldn’t see it bloom on Mother’s Day, with my mom.

I hadn’t been to the house in weeks. On closing day, I visited one last time, to say goodbye and wrap up a few more memories to carry forward.

Pulling in the driveway, my breath caught in my throat. It was April 24th, weeks away from Mother’s Day.

The tree was in full bloom. It was only April 24th, but somehow … the tree knew.

I snapped the photo above and took a clipping, which thrived in a small white vase for weeks beyond what it should have. Sometime later, my brother bought a lilac tree on a standard and planted it my front yard. And, today, it’s in full bloom. Mid-May, just in time for Mother’s Day.

I hope your Spring is colorful and sweetly scented.

Hug your mom and dad. Time is fleeting, and like the lilac’s bloom, all too brief.

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A quick post today. I’ve made this dish a few times already, but each day, something has come between me and taking pictures of it. So, last night, I was going to photograph this dish come hell or high water (or dusky, overcast 8pm light — thank you, light reflectors).

Ah, the life of a food blogger.

Asparagus is a beautiful vegetable. So bold in its growing habit, popping straight up out of the ground like vegetal stop sticks, leaving behind waving masses of ferny stalks all summer long. And I have a confession.

It’s not my favorite.

No rhyme nor reason. It’s just not. I like asparagus. I don’t love it.

But, this recipe knocked my appreciation of the vegetable up a few notches. It’s the leeks, though, I suspect (sorry, asparagus, but it’s true — leeks make you a better version of you).

Thanks to the chilly spring, my leeks are still tall and beautifully crisp. I panicked a little last year when I realized I had a double crop to plant (and no immediate space to house a double crop), but the result was fresh leeks all winter long, and now springtime, too. I’m happy to use them up in this dish (and use them up I must, because the next generation’s seedlings will be ready to plant within a month).

And of course, everything is more amazing when topped with a soft-yolked egg.

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Oh, radishes. You lovely, under-appreciated, first harbingers of Spring. Pink, red, and purple in a soft sea of greens.

Few other vegetables elicit such confused stares as the radish. Sometimes hot, usually peppery, always crunchy, folks just don’t seem to know what to do with the radish, other than chop it up in a salad.

Let me help. I will try not to overwhelm this blog with radish recipes, but as the first of my own crop will be ready to pull in a week or so — I’m growing three varieties this year, French Breakfast, Pink Beauty, and Watermelon (a really cool inside-out radish, where the exterior is white and green, and the interior is neon pink) — you can expect to see more on this subject.

This past weekend kicked off the new season of my neighborhood’s farmers’ market — a happy day, for sure. Mostly greens at this point, a small basket of bright pink caught my eye: adorable baby radishes.

I bought them all.

Also for sale from the same farmer were baby Japanese turnips (the white root in the photo above), which I’ve never had before. Almost too cute to eat — almost — they were crunchy and sweet. I hope there’s more next week.

Did you know that radish greens are entirely edible? Gently peppery, similar to their root, they’re more than welcome in a salad of mixed greens (use as you would arugula).

Like most greens, radish greens are best when young and fresh — a hard find at the supermarket (in fact, the bundles of radishes at the grocery this weekend had greens that were already wilted and yellowing — entirely unappetizing). I encourage everyone to seek out a farmers’ market or CSA and buy directly from the farmer, who will have pulled their radishes at their young peaks — not weeks prior for shipping, but rather just the evening before market.

Speaking of fresh greens, along with my radish and turnip purchases, I couldn’t resist a bagful of tender mesclun mix. The first baby greens of spring are always extra special: crisp and bright, salad lovers could eat them out of hand from the bag, no dressing necessary.

Farm fresh radishes need little help to be wonderful, but to temper their bite, a gentle heating tames their peppery ways (much like cooking onions removes their tear-inducing rawness). Paired with warm (but still crunchy) cabbage and baby cucumbers, and liberally flecked with fresh herbs, this radish slaw is a delightful side dish to your spring dinner.

It’s also quite delicious as cold leftovers — marinated in the tangy dressing, the flavor morphs to a sharper edge, as one expects from vinaigrette-based slaw.

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