Kale Chopped Salad with Roots, Millet and Chickpeas

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7:35 am.  End-of-March morning. We were up, out, and running.

From the Inn, we ran a block over to Beacon Hill Park, along the bark trail up Cook Street, past the daffodils waving their morning hellos, to Dallas Road and the Sea Wall.

The sun was shining brilliantly over the Strait of Juan de Fuca, the water smooth and clear. Nature’s morning show stopped and held us multiple times. We shared an experience of taking it in, the view, the moment, our connection to the place—before beginning again.

Will waved hello and called out good morning as is his usual, making an instant connection with strangers. I smiled my greeting and couldn’t help but let my thoughts and gaze glide out towards the sea. “Welcome to this new place,” the sun beamed. My feelings in those miles reflected the spectacular light around us.

“You are not separate from the whole. You are one with the sun, the earth, the air. You don’t have a life. You are life.” – Eckhart Tolle
 
 
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Often, despite nearly-contant connectivity, I feel disconnected. Not up on what the rest of the world is doing, feeling as if something out there is not getting experienced, feeling left behind. In this mindset, I prompt myself out the door to experience life outside, where I draw my energy from running.

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This last week was no exception. We semi-spontaneously took a few days to travel to Victoria, British Columbia, a place we have longed to visit. Pots of tea, delicious food, and reading by the fire were all in order, but first, those mornings spent out on the Sea Wall.

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There is a certain energy about the early morning hours, and to me, it is best experienced over a few miles by foot. The locals are slowly coming about their daily business and the world is unspoiled. Out on the trails, I share a connection to this place, these people, and all the daily concerns and uncertainties fade.

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Victoria, we found, is a city of runners. We spent the inbetweens of the days walking the better part of the downtown neighborhoods and no matter the time of day, there were runners about. Friendly. Hardcore. Peaceful. University girls talking sorority topics. Ladies clearly out for a run-chat. With their pooches. Visitors from our section of the world. Displaying their I-Conquered-That-Race shirts. They were all out and about, running the city.

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When I venture off to other places, I am reminded we are all visitors in this space we inhabit. We wander about all our lives,  knocking into each other, waving cheerfully, yelling obsenitites, and feeling alone.

We are not alone. Over the miles, I am reminded of our connection. We live different experiences and we wake each day viewing a unique piece of the world. There are scars that we accumulate and monumental joys that we have to live through to understand. In the moments when we feel the most separate, we can draw together, smile in greeting to a stranger, and have faith that we are all in this life together. Whether it is through running, cooking, eating, or wherever your passion lies, know that ours is a life meant for celebrating our kinship with the whole of each other.

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Kale Chopped Salad with Roots, Millet & Chickpeas, serves 3
 
Not only did we run in Victoria, but we ate. Amazing food. This salad was inspired by one I ate at Irish Times Pub in Bastion Square. Live music, a cozy nook, Bulmers Cider, and this salad were all I could ask of a good evening. Quinoa was in the pub salad, and can easily be subbed in for the millet. Among all the other ingredients, the flavor and texture comes out quite similar either way.
 
1 large bunch kale, destemmed and chopped
6 small beets, cooked, peeled and diced
3 large carrots, shredded
1 1/2 cups cooked millet or quinoa, warm
3/4 cup chickpeas, cooked and warm
3/4 cup edamame, gently steamed and warm
1 Tbs. dijon mustard
1 1/2 Tbs. honey
6 Tbs. extra virgin olive oil
3 Tbs. white wine vinegar
Salt and pepper to taste
  • In a large bowl, toss chopped kale, diced beets and shredded carrots.
  • If not already, warm the grains and beans. Then toss them on top of the vegetables.
  • In a small bowl, stir in mustard, honey, oil and vinegar.  Whisk together, and then add salt and pepper to taste.
  • Pour dressing on top of the mixture, and stir together. Enjoy!

Caramelized Onion, Kale, Squash & Bacon Pizza

Contrary to how much cured pork is on this blog, our meals are often light on meaty things. Bacon and its relatives do happen to show up in special dishes though, and this pizza, it is super special. The Recipe Redux folks asked us to share a healthy pizza recipe that we can all look forward to after a long week…or a long day. This gluten and dairy-free pizza is definitely worth coming home to.

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Two years ago, I eliminated gluten. It was not as rough of transition as I had anticipated, except for pizza. Pizza has always been among my top three favorite foods, and W can eat it at least twice per week, indefinitely. We had an amazing pizza crust recipe, one that we had trialed and tailored so many times that it was loved more than any other pizza crust at even our favorite restaurants. It just so happens to contain a lot of wheat flour. When I received those test results back in January of 2012, and had cleaned out the cupboards and brought in new gluten-free flours, I quickly set to trying an array of pizza crust recipes. None of them were even remotely appetizing. They were difficult to roll, sticky, crunchy, and tasted like crackers. There was none of that bready texture that we wanted. Worse, we couldn’t find a better crust at any restaurant, even ones claiming to have an amazing gluten-free option!

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Then came months of still not feeling well, and the frustrating news that dairy was  a culprit too. Feeling defeated, I gave up on pizza for a while.

No longer. A few more months of experimentation paid off. We ate a lot of bad pizza in the process, but finally created the crust. And cheese? We have come to realize that when good toppings are loaded on, the cheese isn’t missed.

Really.

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Now let’s talk about these toppings. This pizza involves acorn squash, lacinato kale, caramelized onions, honey, and a touch of bacon. It’s one of my favorite combinations. The caramelized onion forms an exquisite base in lieu of sauce, and with the slightly salty kale, squash and bacon, and with that drizzle of honey, the combination of sweet and salty creates a pizza that leaves us no longer missing the gluten and cheese.

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Caramelized Onion, Kale, Squash & Bacon Pizza, (crust adapted from Kumquat)
A note about the crust: The ingredients below make enough for two 10-12″ crusts. Each pizza usually serves two to three. You can refrigerate the dough for the second crust up to two days. Due to the differences in the flours, I like to weigh them with a kitchen scale to get an accurate ratio of 70 percent whole grains and 30 percent starches. I’ve then put those weights into cups so it will be easier to measure without a scale, but if in doubt, I’d use a “short measurement,” rather than an overflowing cup.
  
1 large yellow onion, thinly sliced
1/2 Tbs. olive oil
1/2 a bunch of lacinato kale, chopped
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt
1/2 of an acorn squash, deseeded and chopped
3 slices thick-cut bacon, cooked and diced
1-2 Tbs. honey
 
1 1/2 Tbs. golden flax seed, ground
3 Tbs. hot water
40 grams (a short 1/2 cup) garbanzo & fava bean flour
80 grams (3/4 cup) brown rice flour
80 grams (3/4 cup) sorghum flour
80 grams (3/4 cup) millet flour
40 grams (1/4 cup + 2 Tbs. tapioca starch
40 grams (1/4 cup + 2 Tbs. arrowroot starch
40 grams (1/4 cup) potato starch
2 tsp. salt
2 1/4 tsp. active dry yeast
~2 Tbs. olive oil, separated
1 tsp. sugar
1 1/3 cup warm water, divided
Cornmeal
 
For the caramelized onion:
In a large saute pan, pour in olive oil and heat to medium high. Add onions and allow to cook until they are becoming soft. Add a good pinch of salt and turn down to medium, covered. Stir occasionally and turn down again, if they are cooking too high. They will take 30-45 minutes to become golden and soft, and caramelized. Remove from pan and set aside.
 
For the kale:
In the same pan as the onion was cooked in, add a small drizzle of olive oil and pour in the chopped kale. Add a good pinch of salt and cook just until slightly wilted. Remove from pan and set aside.
 
For the squash: 
In the same pan as the onion and kale, add 1 Tbs. olive oil and squash. Cook over medium heat, just until the squash begins to soften slightly. Remove them from the pan and set aside.
 
For the pizza dough:
1.Combine flax seeds and 3 tablespoons very hot water in a small bowl until a slurry is formed; set aside.
2. Combine flour and salt in a large mixing bowl or bowl of a stand mixer. Combine yeast, 1 Tbs. olive oil, sugar and 1/2 cup warm water in a medium bowl or measuring cup. Allow to rest for 3 minutes for yeast to activate. Add yeast mixture to flour mixture; mix for 1 minute. Add flax seed slurry to the dough and a portion of the remaining water; mix until the dough comes together in a ball. If it is too dry, add enough water to for a tender, pliable dough. Set aside to rest for 1 hour.
3. Preheat oven to 450 degrees F. Separate the dough into two equal portions. Sprinkle your pizza stone or baking sheet with a light sprinkling of cornmeal. Roll one of the dough portions out to desired thickness directly on a pizza stone or baking sheet. 
4. Sprinkle the dough evenly with caramelized onion, followed by squash, then kale, bacon, and finish with a good drizzle of honey. Fold the crust edges in when done. Bake for about 16 minutes.

Pomegranate, Kale + Pancetta Spaghetti

 
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“Go into yourself and see how deep the place is from which your life flows; at its source you will find the answer to the question of whether you must create. Accept that answer, just as it is given to you.”
                                                            – Letters to a Young Poet, Rainier Maria Rilke 
 
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The truth is, the beginning is blurry. When I squint back into the depths of my childhood, my thoughts were not long off of food. I would take cookbooks to bed at night, squinting into the flashlight-shadows, long after my sister had demanded I put our shared, bunk-bedded room into darkness. Looking back at the shy, quiet, anxious little person that I was then, I recall only that I felt most at home in the kitchen. I still do.
 
It began then, I think, with playdough. My mom mixed up homemade playdough. I remember seeing the recipe on a worn index card in her gray metal recipe box, a box that to this day holds her most cherished recipes. There were two recipes in that box that were beyond intriguing to my child-mind:  elephant ears and playdough. The first was something that I had never considered could be made outside of a hot, steamy, trailer-kitchen at the county fair. The second was the only non-food recipe that I’ve ever known my mom to have on hand. I must have asked her, and she mixed up a batch for us. I don’t remember much after beyond the whirl of the mixer blades, and the fact that my mom brought me into the kitchen, handed me the measuring cups, and taught me fractions.
 
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From that moment when I learned to turn on the mixer, to scoop flour into the measuring cups, to follow recipe instructions, up to now, nearly 20 years later, I’ve been most at home in any place surrounded by food. It fascinates me in its cultural symbolism, use as a socio-economic tool and weapon, as a draw to family gatherings and entire holiday celebrations, and, most importantly, in its most simple form as basic sustenance for the hunger in all of us.
 
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In those simple childhood days, those most-remembered foods symbolize the dearly loved and oft-hated. My favorites from that gray box included our neighbor’s recipe for honey-cinnamon swirl rolls,  my mom’s homemade bread, and leftover-oatmeal cookies with just the right amount of spice. There was my favorite breakfast, dad’s “stinkbug porridge”, which was a simple concoction of raisins and brown sugar. And then the fresh milk from our cow, Betsy, with flakes of cream floating amongst my morning cheerios. I had to plug my nose to get the milk down after staying an extra hour at the table gathering the resolve to drink it. Now looking back, I realize what a precious experience to have been raised in a place where our milk came right from the cow.
 
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In this new year and new beginning of sorts, I am reminded of how I am drawn to food as a means of communication and connection. I am reminded of the beginning, how I learned in the kitchen with my mom and the whirl of the blender blades that are still in her cupboard today. I am reminded that food is special, and that when I go into myself, as Rilke suggests, the only answer I come back with is, yes, I must create.
 
Though I can no longer enjoy thick slices of my mom’s bread, or partake in flecks of cream floating in the cow’s milk, I hold in my heart and in my cooking a focus on good, simple, nourishing food, in whatever way it can be most enjoyed. I am looking forward to this year to come, and the creations it will bring.
 
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Pomegranate, Kale & Pancetta Spaghetti, serves 3
Pomegranates have been often in our kitchen this winter, more than ever before. This creation happened spontaneously and naturally, out of ingredients we had on hand one evening. It will become a favorite, I’m thinking, in the many wintery days ahead. If you have not used pomegranate molasses, it can be found at a well-stocked grocery store, online, or you can make your own by reducing pomegranate juice in a sauce pan. Don’t leave it out in this dish; it will be missed.
 
6 oz. brown-rice spaghetti (or any type that you prefer)
4 oz. pancetta, diced
1 medium onion, chopped
1 large bunch kale, chopped (I prefer Tuscan but any type will do)
1/4 tsp. salt
3 Tbs. pomegranate molasses
1 Tbs. orange zest
seeds from one pomegranate
salt and black pepper, to taste
  • Cook the spaghetti according to package directions in a large pot. 
  • While pasta is cooking, heat a large sauté pan to medium-high. Add pancetta and cook until almost done. Add the onion and continue to sauté until transculent, about 8 minutes.
  • When onion is very soft, add kale and cook down until wilted, about 5 minutes.
  • Drain spaghetti when cooked, and mix it into the kale and onion mixture.  
  • Add salt, orange zest, and pomegranate molasses. Toss the pomegranate seeds on top and stir them in gently. Add additional salt and pepper to taste, and serve.