It's been an emotionally taxing week at work. Early on in the week I had to file a complaint against a parent with Child Protective Services for the first time in three years at my private school. I've worked in foster care and have seen the worst of the worst parenting, but I didn't think I would encounter anything quite like it when I transitioned to a well-off independent school. I've learned that privilege breeds its own set of issues and problems, however, and this week was confronted with that harsh reality. The end of the week was book-ended by an 8th grade girl who arrived at school sobbing, hysterical. Her mother, undergoing chemotherapy treatments for breast cancer, had collapsed in the bathroom that morning and was unresponsive when the student's brother, a 3rd grader, found her. Home alone and their father at work already, it was terrifying for both of them, but she kept herself together enough to comfort her brother, call 911, and fetch the next door neighbor. Mom was responsive by the time paramedics arrived and was taken to the hospital where she received blood and fluids and was released.
I don't know about you, but at the end of a tough week like that, I want nothing more than to come home, open my takeout folder and order something comforting (and typically unhealthful). I love love love Asian food of any kind, so I'll usually pull out the trusty Chinese or Malaysian menus. I'm trying to eat better and be more conscious of the foods I put in my body these days, tho, so now I usually resist the urge to order and make my own "takeout."
I have a great electric non-stick wok my mom gave me for Christmas a few years ago. It makes stir-fry a no-brainer. There's something about the chopping, dicing, and prepping of stir-fry veggies that is soothing. The rhythm and repetition allow the mind to check-out and put the body at ease. And there's something about standing over a sizzling wok, stirring, stirring and watching the ingredients sear, that's good for the soul.
I don't have a set recipe for stir-fry. I use whatever vegetables are in the fridge: carrots, broccoli, zucchini, summer squash, bell pepper, mushrooms. Stir-fry is a great fridge cleaner. But there are stir-fry staples I include every time and always have on hand: onions, celery, and frozen peas. I also try to keep cans of water chestnuts, bamboo shoots, or baby corn in the cupboard; to me, these veggies just scream "stiiiir-fryyyy!" Finally (full disclosure here: I'm a pescetarian and don't eat meat...), I might throw in some tofu that I've drained, cubed, and shallow fried beforehand in a bit of vegetable oil. With the tofu and some brown rice or whole wheat noodles, this stir-fry makes a complete, balanced, and well-rounded meal. Not to mention it satisfies the takeout craving without all the fats, oils, and sodium. You control all the ingredients and know exactly what's going in.
I have two go-to sauces I use, depending on mood and what my boyfriend asks for. I really like them both. One is a brown sauce you find in most stir-fries, the other a creamy peanut more typical of Thai cooking. They're quite simple to throw together, use ingredients you usually have on-hand, and can easily be doubled. The recipes make about enough for two dinner-size portions of stir-fry:
SAVORY STIR-FRY SAUCE
Ingredients
2/3 c Vegetable stock
3 T Soy sauce
1 T Rice wine vinegar
2 t Light brown sugar
1 t Minced garlic
1 t Grated ginger
4 t Corn starch
Optional: Red pepper flakes or Sriracha sauce to taste; 1-2 t black bean paste
1. Whisk all ingredients until smooth.
2. Add to stir-fry at end of cooking. Let sauce come to bubble and simmer until thickened.
THAI PEANUT STIR-FRY SAUCE
Ingredients
1.5 T Creamy peanut butter
1.5 T Rice wine vinegar
2 T Soy sauce
1 t Garlic powder
1/2 t Grated ginger
Cayenne to taste
1. Whisk all ingredients until smooth.
2. Add to stir-fry during last minute of cooking.
2.20.2010
2.15.2010
Everything I Need to Know about Salads I Learned from My Mom
Ever go away on vacation and pretend like nutrition wasn't important? Eat a McDonald's apple pie at a rest stop, sample "fried latte" at the Texas State Fair, scarf down frites in Brussels? Yeah...me neither. But I imagine that if you were one of those people, you might be craving something utterly healthful when you arrived home, bleary-eyed and luggage-stumbling, after such a trip.
Two feet of snow dumped over several days caused our area to grind to a halt, and school's been closed the past eight business days. I've been enjoying the unexpected vacation, but my mid-section hasn't. Tonight was one of those nights when my body threw in the towel and begged for something healthful and nutritious. My frite-loving side demanded it also be delicious, though.
Fortunately, my mom taught me everything I need to know for making five-star salads. Growing up we had a salad with dinner almost every night. If the huge salad bowl didn't debut at the table on a given evening we were all shocked. Having a salad every evening might have grown repetitive -- dare I say unwelcome? -- but mom knew how to keep things interesting, and I learned the art of the salad from her.
Forget iceberg lettuce. Unless you plan on going retro with a wedge salad, you're asking for unrest. Mixed greens are the essential palette on which to build a great salad: romaines, baby spinach, mache, watercress, and (my personal favorite, which I could eat until I burst) arugula. Once you've got your greens assembled, anything goes.
My salads usually include some kind of combination of the following(all of these do not show up together in every salad, of course, that would just be ridiculous!):
1) CUCUMBER. Peeled. Especially if purchased at the grocery and covered in that slippery, oily, gross wax. I scoop out the seeds and slice in half moons to keep the salad from getting soggy.
2) BELL PEPPER. Always a colored one, because I enjoy the visual contrast of a red, yellow, orange, or purple pepper against my greens. And because I enjoy the sweet flavor contrasting the more bitter greens. Roasted peppers also make a nice, different addition.
3) SPRING ONION. I like that they're mild and don't overpower the other components of the salad.
4) HEARTS. Like hearts of palm. I. Love. Hearts of palm. It's hard to describe them (creamy? piquant? sweet?), but they really provide a lot of interest to any salad. Or artichoke hearts. The heart was always my favorite part of the artichoke and I welcome them in any salad bowl.
5) FRUIT. Strawberries are really, really lovely in a bitter mixed green salad, particularly with a balsamic dressing. Dried cranberries or cherries also make a wonderful complement.
6) CHEESE. Typically something crumbly, such as salty feta, or mild, earthy goat.
7) NUTS. My favorites are walnuts, pine nuts, and sunflower seeds. They give salad a crunch as well as a buttery, nutty note.
The final component of a truly great salad is homemade dressing. Again, when I was growing up bottled dressings seldom appeared in our fridge. I remember sucking down Ranch and French dressings at friends' houses and then grumpily confronting mom about why our family couldn't have such luxuries. Her response? Bottled dressings are unhealthful and prohibitively expensive. You don't know what's in them exactly, and you pay through the nose to have someone else emulsify those mystery ingredients for you. Our salads always had some form of vinaigrette that my mom put together in a re-purposed chutney (or salsa, or jam) jar.
It's easy: three parts oil to one part acid is the typical ratio, although I like a bit less oil, a bit more acid. Oils can be olive, vegetable, peanut, sesame, grapeseed, whatever you like really. Same with the acids: balsamic, red wine, apple cider vinegars, citrus juices. Add in salt, pepper, possibly minced garlic or fresh or dried herbs, and you have a dressing that enhances rather than masks your perfect salad. I know I'll be enjoying mine on this, my last evening of unplanned vacation from school.
Two feet of snow dumped over several days caused our area to grind to a halt, and school's been closed the past eight business days. I've been enjoying the unexpected vacation, but my mid-section hasn't. Tonight was one of those nights when my body threw in the towel and begged for something healthful and nutritious. My frite-loving side demanded it also be delicious, though.
Fortunately, my mom taught me everything I need to know for making five-star salads. Growing up we had a salad with dinner almost every night. If the huge salad bowl didn't debut at the table on a given evening we were all shocked. Having a salad every evening might have grown repetitive -- dare I say unwelcome? -- but mom knew how to keep things interesting, and I learned the art of the salad from her.
Forget iceberg lettuce. Unless you plan on going retro with a wedge salad, you're asking for unrest. Mixed greens are the essential palette on which to build a great salad: romaines, baby spinach, mache, watercress, and (my personal favorite, which I could eat until I burst) arugula. Once you've got your greens assembled, anything goes.
My salads usually include some kind of combination of the following(all of these do not show up together in every salad, of course, that would just be ridiculous!):
1) CUCUMBER. Peeled. Especially if purchased at the grocery and covered in that slippery, oily, gross wax. I scoop out the seeds and slice in half moons to keep the salad from getting soggy.
2) BELL PEPPER. Always a colored one, because I enjoy the visual contrast of a red, yellow, orange, or purple pepper against my greens. And because I enjoy the sweet flavor contrasting the more bitter greens. Roasted peppers also make a nice, different addition.
3) SPRING ONION. I like that they're mild and don't overpower the other components of the salad.
4) HEARTS. Like hearts of palm. I. Love. Hearts of palm. It's hard to describe them (creamy? piquant? sweet?), but they really provide a lot of interest to any salad. Or artichoke hearts. The heart was always my favorite part of the artichoke and I welcome them in any salad bowl.
5) FRUIT. Strawberries are really, really lovely in a bitter mixed green salad, particularly with a balsamic dressing. Dried cranberries or cherries also make a wonderful complement.
6) CHEESE. Typically something crumbly, such as salty feta, or mild, earthy goat.
7) NUTS. My favorites are walnuts, pine nuts, and sunflower seeds. They give salad a crunch as well as a buttery, nutty note.
The final component of a truly great salad is homemade dressing. Again, when I was growing up bottled dressings seldom appeared in our fridge. I remember sucking down Ranch and French dressings at friends' houses and then grumpily confronting mom about why our family couldn't have such luxuries. Her response? Bottled dressings are unhealthful and prohibitively expensive. You don't know what's in them exactly, and you pay through the nose to have someone else emulsify those mystery ingredients for you. Our salads always had some form of vinaigrette that my mom put together in a re-purposed chutney (or salsa, or jam) jar.
It's easy: three parts oil to one part acid is the typical ratio, although I like a bit less oil, a bit more acid. Oils can be olive, vegetable, peanut, sesame, grapeseed, whatever you like really. Same with the acids: balsamic, red wine, apple cider vinegars, citrus juices. Add in salt, pepper, possibly minced garlic or fresh or dried herbs, and you have a dressing that enhances rather than masks your perfect salad. I know I'll be enjoying mine on this, my last evening of unplanned vacation from school.
I Did It, and I'm Scared
I'm not the blogging type. Really. Two things led me to want to try this (now that I'm looking at my templates, I'm a bit nervous!):
1) I'm a school counselor. More to the point, I'm a Lower and Middle School counselor. Remember that cheesy show from the 60s hosted by Art Linkletter -- resurrected recently by the esteemed Cos -- "Kids Say the Darndest Things"? I am constantly reminded that this is true in my job. Not only that, but kids do the darndest things. Through status updates over the last few years, my Facebook friend list has been privy to some of the lunacy I field on a daily basis. Sometimes I feel as if I should be keeping a daily journal of my encounters with students, though, in case I ever want to write a screenplay and become rich and famous. Enter the blog...
2) Who's the school counselor's counselor? Her kitchen. When I walk through the door at the end of the day, a glass of red wine and my cozy little kitchen are the first things on my mind. I'm not one of these people who groans the whole commute home in anticipation of having to prep and cook a dinner after a long day at work; I am one of these people whose day dissolves on a cutting board, or in a wok, or in a pot on the stove. Every nutty comment from a kid, every hurt I absorb from a child, every success a student brings through my door becomes an ingredient in my nightly dinner. I improvise so much in my cooking, however, that keeping track of recipes started to become a challenge. Enter the blog...
I love cooking, almost as much as I love eating. So I created this blog to be my diary. And my therapist. And my recipe book. If you happen to enjoy it or get something out of it as well...well, I'll be thrilled. Surprised, but thrilled! Maybe you can recommend me to Scorsese.
1) I'm a school counselor. More to the point, I'm a Lower and Middle School counselor. Remember that cheesy show from the 60s hosted by Art Linkletter -- resurrected recently by the esteemed Cos -- "Kids Say the Darndest Things"? I am constantly reminded that this is true in my job. Not only that, but kids do the darndest things. Through status updates over the last few years, my Facebook friend list has been privy to some of the lunacy I field on a daily basis. Sometimes I feel as if I should be keeping a daily journal of my encounters with students, though, in case I ever want to write a screenplay and become rich and famous. Enter the blog...
2) Who's the school counselor's counselor? Her kitchen. When I walk through the door at the end of the day, a glass of red wine and my cozy little kitchen are the first things on my mind. I'm not one of these people who groans the whole commute home in anticipation of having to prep and cook a dinner after a long day at work; I am one of these people whose day dissolves on a cutting board, or in a wok, or in a pot on the stove. Every nutty comment from a kid, every hurt I absorb from a child, every success a student brings through my door becomes an ingredient in my nightly dinner. I improvise so much in my cooking, however, that keeping track of recipes started to become a challenge. Enter the blog...
I love cooking, almost as much as I love eating. So I created this blog to be my diary. And my therapist. And my recipe book. If you happen to enjoy it or get something out of it as well...well, I'll be thrilled. Surprised, but thrilled! Maybe you can recommend me to Scorsese.
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