say it with Thai food

Whenever I go out for Thai food, I order Pad Thai, or Drunken Noodle, or Tom Kha soup and sticky rice. It arrives in front of me, steaming and saucy, and I slurp it down happily, though I have not a clue what's in it. What makes that beguiling orangey-brown sauce on the noodles? What's that firm yet yielding crunch I get every once in a while in a bite of Pad Thai? And really, how do they make that rice so sticky? While I might briefly ponder these questions, the truth is that I don't really care. Those mystery tastes are good ones, and that's enough for me. When the craving for Thai hits, it hits hard, but we're usually not too far from an acceptable vehicle to deliver the delicious goods. I don't have to go about actually thinking about how to create a Thai dish myself.

Which is how I knew Adriana was pretty much the greatest friend on the Earth when, in high school, she made me Pad Thai, from scratch, in her very own kitchen, for my birthday. She got together the rice noodles, the peanuts, the bean sprouts, even procured the tamarind and prepared it all in a wok. She served the luscious noodles in her living room, and I got to savor each delicate cube of tofu, each springy crunch of scallion, within the comfort of a home. I found myself touched that my fearless friend had gone so far out of her way, explored this uncharted culinary territory, simply to provide this birthday girl with her favorite dish. Thinking about it now, I'm growing a little teary, a bit wistful for those days of birthday sleepovers surrounded by teen magazines and nail polish.
...

A couple of weeks ago, when a couple of our Brooklyn friends invited Mary and me over for a home cooked meal at their apartment, I knew I really needed to step up to the plate. They were cooking us dinner, and all I needed to bring was dessert. When somebody's offering you home cooked nourishment at their house, you just kind of want to give back in a big way. Because I knew they loved the coconut mango sticky rice from a nearby Thai restaurant, I decided to dive right in and see what I could finagle in my own kitchen, using honey instead of sugar as a sweetener.

I'll admit that I was pleased with my efforts. The rice steamed effortlessly into perfect stickiness over a pot of boiling water. The honey sweetened the coconut milk into a luscious syrup, and the mangoes added firm freshness to the sticky dessert. It was a hit all around, and while it wasn't as involved as birthday Pad Thai, I think it showed I cared.



Coconut Milk Sticky Rice with Mangoes
Adapted from Epicurious


3 cups sticky rice, soaked overnight in water and drained
2 cups canned or fresh coconut milk
1/2 cup honey
Pinch of salt
4 ripe mangoes

Fill a large pot with about three inches of water. Place drained rice in a fine metal strainer over the pot of rice, making sure the rice doesn't touch the water. Place a paper towel on top of the strainer full of rice, and cover loosely with the pot's lid. Bring the water to a boil and steam rice for 25 minutes, until it is shiny and tender. Add more water during steaming if necessary so the pot doesn't run dry, as that will ruin your pot (just trust me on this one). Alternately, it's fine to cook the rice using a normal rice cooker if you don't have a metal strainer.


Meanwhile, place the coconut milk in a heavy pot and heat over medium heat until hot. Do not boil, as that will curdle the coconut milk. Add the honey and salt and stir to dissolve completely. When the sticky rice is tender, turn it out into a bowl and pour 1 cup of the hot coconut milk over; reserve the rest. Stir to mix the liquid into the rice, then let stand for 20 minutes to an hour to allow the flavors to blend.

Peel the mangoes, and slice the flesh from each side off the pit by running your knife lengthwise about a half inch to the side of the center of the mango. Lay each mango side flat and slice thinly across to make strips.

To serve individually, place an oval mound of sticky rice on each plate, and arrange half a mango beside it. Stir the remaining coconut sauce thoroughly and pass it separately, with a spoon, so guests can add more as they wish.

-Kylie

tastes of the season

You already know that I made it past Halloween without my double-stuffed, neon orange Oreos. I'm now here to report that I bypassed Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie, pecan pie, or even those little Italian cookies (a Brooklyn favorite) that decorate the after-dinner table each year. I survived Thanksgiving, sugar-free. (Well, almost. I found out later that the mashed turnips had a bit of sugar in them. Live and learn.)

My Thanksgiving this year consisted of apple cider, kissed with the tartness of pomegranate juice and a splash of fizzy water. A two-year old's sniffles when she couldn't find her Christmas tree figurine ("Where my Christmas tree?"). A surprisingly moist and flavorful slice of turkey breast, accompanied by a silken puree of mashed potato. Trying to stay out of the way as eleven other people maneuvered their way into seats around the expanded dining room table. Falling to sleep in a quiet home tucked within New York City, totally content.

I need to tell you that Thanksgiving without sugar blew other Thanksgivings out of the water. This year, instead of anticipating the cloying rush of sweetness at the end of the meal, I savored each bite, noticed the sideways glances around the table as the grandmothers squabbled and the couples squeezed hands. I woke up this morning with more energy than I can usually muster on Post-Turkey Friday, and I gazed out the window at barren branches swaying in the wind. I was happy.

While Thanksgiving was great and all, for me, it's simply the Christmas season's gatekeeper. I'm sure my contentment this morning is due in no small part to the fact that I can now admit that I'm listening to Christmas carols without shame, don some red sweaters, dash to the nearest holiday office party, and start consuming things that contain peppermint.

While I'm perfectly content with passing up Halloween candy and pumpkin pie, I will not be deterred from the familiar tastes of the holiday season. Thus my proudest achievement of the year so far, my refined sugar-free peppermint hot chocolate. Tasting this for the first time a few nights ago, I sighed in contentment. This is everything I always loved about the holiday drinks at Starbucks, and I don't even have to waste a paper cup to get it. Even better, I can drink it in the evening without experiencing what I now call a "sugar hangover" the next morning. Sipping my proud creation as I write, I'm convinced there is no more perfect way to spend a morning and kick off a season.

-Kylie

P.S. Big news! Remember how we were giving away a book way back when it was Thin Crust Deep Dish's birthday? Well, our very lucky winner (selected scientifically from a baking dish of names) was Caitlin of Roost. Congratulations to you! We can't wait to find out which book you'll chose. And thanks to all who participated and showed your love here. It was a blast to hear from you, and we appreciate your kind words of encouragement more than you know.

Peppermint Hot Chocolate

Serves 2

2 cups whole milk

4 Tbs. unsweetened cocoa powder (I like Ghirardelli)
1/2 tsp. peppermint extract
1 Tbs. raw honey
6 drops liquid Stevia (or less, depending on your taste)

Warm milk over low heat in a small pan. In a mug, combine cocoa powder, peppermint extract and honey. Once the milk has warmed, pour about two tablespoons of it into the cocoa mix. Stir briskly with a fork until the mixture becomes a smooth paste. Pour mixture into pan of milk and whisk until it incorporates fully. Taste the hot chocolate with a small spoon. If it isn't sweet enough for your taste, add Stevia one drop at a time, whisking and tasting as you go. Once the sweetness is to your liking, continue to heat hot chocolate until it is hot but not boiling. Pour into mugs to serve.

To make a peppermint mocha, simply pull a shot of espresso into the bottom of the mugs before serving. To make an alcoholic hot chocolate, replace the peppermint extract with a shot of peppermint schnapps.

sweet relief

The past few weeks, it's been, on average, about 93 degrees Fahrenheit in our kitchen. How do I know this? Well, this little surfboard magnet on the side of our fridge has a handy dandy thermometer on it. I'm really glad it does. Makes complaining about the heat so much easier when I have tangible proof of kitchen temperature.

You see, Mary and I decided to get through this summer without the help of an air conditioner. We had several reasons for this decision. Fresh air is lovely. Air conditioners are expensive. They're not energy efficient. We don't have that many windows, and we don't want to block out light with a bulky window unit. And also, secretly, it makes us (or at least me) feel rather proud to think that we're living without the modern luxury of that quickly-cooled air. Call me crazy; I probably am.The result of this decision, however, is that we sleep on top of the sheets and blankets with a strong fan blowing directly on our sticky bodies. I often find myself padding to the freezer after a few hours of tossing and turning to retrieve an ice pack, which I then tote back to bed with me wrapped in a towel and grasp as if I'm an inconsolable toddler and it is my security blanket. Not to worry; that always does the trick. I fall asleep in minutes, lulled into slumber by the coolness of the melting bundle in my arms.

During the really hot, humid days, draping ourselves over the refrigerator door sometimes provides a moment of relief. Or drinking a chilled glass of water in a stream of hurried gulps. But after a meal, when I kind of want ice cream but know I'll just get annoyed that it's melting so fast, I turn to cool, sweet fruit, slurped up as its juice trickles down to my elbow, and enjoyed so much more because I know it will be gone from the market in a matter of weeks. This watermelon salad was inspired by an incredible appetizer I recently had at The Farm on Adderley, my very favorite restaurant. Personally, I feel it fits even better at a summer meal's end than at its beginning. I have the feeling I'll be making this for years to come, with whatever fruits are in season and whatever nuts and herbs strike my fancy.While I may be wilting in the heat, we've just got to revel in summer while it's here. So soon, it will be gone for another year.

Sweet Watermelon Salad

Inspired by The Farm on Adderley

Ingredients:

Several slices of watermelon, black seeds removed

1 ounce of chevre or another fresh, tangy cheese such as feta

10 unsalted pistachios, coarsely chopped

1/2 tsp. of your favorite honey

A few pinches of lavender blossoms

Assemble watermelon slices on a plate. With your fingers, gently pry off small nubs of cheese and sprinkle over the fruit. Sprinkle pistachios over next. Dip a fork into the honey and drizzle in quickly over the salad. Sprinkle salad with lavendar blossoms, and serve immediately.

-Kylie

Today I fell in love...

...with a jar of Bron's Bee Co. Raw Honey - Buckwheat Blend. Just small treat I had picked up for myself during my last trip to the Green City farmer's market. I don't usually buy honey, but for some reason, on this one rainy Saturday, I couldn't resist the small glass bear filled to the brim with a deep amber liquid. An impulse buy, really, but one infinitely more satisfying than a pack of sugar-free gum. Or a cherry chapstick, for that matter.

But the honey, oh let's continue talking about the honey. Did you know honey has a flavor? I didn't. The pale, processed goo I had always found in the supermarket had been as close as I had ever come to the real thing. But oh, I have been eating a lie! Because real honey does have a flavor. It's somewhere between molasses and ripe fruit and fields in late summer, and it's earthy and intense and comforting all at once. With the first spoonful, I was carried back to the day I was 9 and I fell asleep wrapped in a blanket on our hammock strung between two sunny pine trees. And a good jar of honey can be used with anything. Really. I dare you to go out and find a food that won't taste delicious with raw honey. Licked off of fingers, drizzled on scones, painted on barbecue, served with cheese, added to marinades, mixed with peanut butter, stirred into tea, spooned onto oatmeal, baked into breads...Baked into breads....mmmmm.

Pardon me while I go hide the honey away in my kitchen cabinet. It's been sitting on my desk all this time for inspiration, but it's becoming increasingly difficult to type as I keep poking my finger into the jar for just one more taste. But I need to type because I absolutely must tell you how that honey made it into my dinner tonight. Honey Walnut Bread with Golden Raisins. And it's taken all my willpower (ALL of it) not to demolish the whole loaf in one night. Smeared with cream cheese and drizzled with more honey, a slice of this bread may be the most decadent, soul-fillingly joyous treat I've eaten since Kylie baked me a chocolate fudge cake for my birthday. I'm sure each and every one of you is simply dying to try this bread for yourself, so allow me to explain just how to make it.

Special note: Thank you Bronwyn and Bob for collecting the very best honey I have ever had in my life! I very much hope to come visit you on your farm soon. For those of you who want some Bron's Bees Co. Honey of your own, visit them at the Green City Farmer's Market in Chicago, or online at http://www.hpmfarm.com/brons_bees.html.

Honey Walnut Bread
with Golden Raisins
makes 1 large loaf



Ingredients

3/4 cup golden raisins
2 1/4 teaspoons active dry yeast (or one package)
2 tablespoons raw buckwheat honey
2 3/4 cups whole wheat flour
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons salt
1 cup walnuts, coarsely chopped
1 large egg beaten with 1 tablespoon of water

Step one: Put the raisins in a small bowl and cover with 1/3 cup hot (but not boiling) water. Set aside.

Step two: Dissolve yeast into 1/2 cup lukewarm water. Mix in the honey and then let the mixture stand until foamy, about 5 minutes. If no bubbles appear, your yeast might not be working, so toss the mixture out and try again with new yeast. Add another 1 1/2 cups of lukewarm water.

Step three: Mix in the whole wheat flour and 1 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour, sprinkle in the salt, and stir until well combined. Continue stirring in a bit more flour until the dough pulls away from the sides of the bowl.

Step four: Turn the dough onto a floured surface and knead by hand for 10 minutes, adding more flour as necessary. By the end, the dough should be smooth, elastic, and slightly sticky. Place dough in a lightly oiled large mixing bowl (making sure you turn it first to coat it), before covering it with a damp cloth and setting it aside in a warm place to rise until it doubles in size, roughly 1 1/2 hours.

Step five: Drain the raisins and dry with a paper towel. Turn dough out onto a floured surface and knead the raisins and walnuts into the dough. Shape into a loaf and place on a lightly oiled cookie sheet. Cover with a damp cloth and let rise until it once again almost doubles in size, about 30 more minutes.

Step six: Meanwhile, preheat oven to 425 degrees F. Slash the top of the loaf with a small, sharp knife, and brush the entire loaf with the egg mixture. Bake for 15 minutes, reduce oven temperature to 375 degrees F and bake for 30 more minutes or until nicely browned. You'll know it's done when you tap the bottom of the loaf and it sounds hollow. Cool for at least 15 minutes before slicing.

I ate my bread with cream cheese (and don't even think about using reduced fat) and a drizzle of the buckwheat honey on top. Here's a picture of my roommate trying my invention.

-Adriana