Perfect Summer Quinoa Salad

Crunchy. Vibrant. Mouthwatering. Satisfying. And utterly guilt-free.  Five good reasons to make this  simple quinoa tabouleh salad this very weekend. And again over July Fourth. Your mouth will thank you. Your body will thank you. And you will look back on all those gut-busting summer BBQs and say, "How the heck did I stomach all that gloppy potato salad and soupy cole slaw?"

Now, I'm sure you know all about quinoa. I was an earlyish adopter after I wrote an article about the stuff for Real Simple probably a decade ago. But just in case you weren't aware, it's not a grain, but a seed. It is one of the only plant foods that is considered a complete protein and boasts all essential amino acids. Now compare that to starchy, nutritionally vapid pasta and potatoes!

None of this would mean squat if this nifty little salad from Ina Garten's Make It Ahead cookbook tasted like old hippie groats. Far from it. Think of it as a kissing cousin of a Greek salad. It's got the tomatoes, the feta, the cukes. But the quinoa makes it more substantial. And a perfect side for grilled steak, chicken or fish.

So give it a go. You'll feel so good and virtuous, you might just pass up that peach pie at dessert for a crunchy slice of watermelon. On second thought….fat chance!

1 cup quinoa
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (2 lemons)
1/4 good olive oil
1 cup thinly sliced scallions, white and green parts (5 scallions)
1 cup chopped fresh mint leaves
1 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
1 hothouse cucumber, unpeeled, seeded and medium-diced
2 cups cherry or grape tomatoes, halved through the stem
2 cups medium-diced feta (8 ounces)

Pour 2 cups of water into a medium saucepan and bring to a boil. Add the quinoa and 1/4 teaspoon of salt. Lower the heat and simmer, covered, for 15 minutes, until the grains are tender and open (they'll have little curly tails). Don't over cook or you'll have mush. Drain if necessary, place in a bowl, and IMMEDIATELY add the lemon juice, olive oil and 1/2 tsp. kosher salt (less if you are using regular salt and less, too, if you don't like your food salty or have very salty feta). Fluff and blend with a fork.

In a large bowl, combine the scallions, mint, parsley, cucumber, tomatoes, and 1 teaspoon of pepper. Add the quinoa and mix well. Carefully fold in the feta and taste for seasonings and adjust if necessary. Serve at room temp or refrigerate and serve cold.

You can prepare this salad without the feta, cover and refrigerate it for up to 4 days. Fold in the feta and serve. I've never waited that long but that's what Ina says. This makes enough for about 8 sides.

Heart and Sole

I left my boots in Guatemala. 

I did it on purpose. Because after almost two decades, my beloved L.L. Bean boots owed me absolutely nothing.

As a health and fitness journalist, a mother of boys, a late-blooming runner, and a lifelong camper and mountain climber, I consider my feet and my legs my most indispensable physical asset. Beautiful, they may not be. But they have allowed me to chase stories, keep up with kids, and reach life's most exhilarating summits. I'd sooner spend a bundle on a great pair of running or hiking shoes than I would on a cocktail dress, a handbag or Botox injections any day of the week. 

So it's sort of ironic that the L.L. Bean boots that have travelled through adulthood with me were a quick $50 purchase that was made years ago with little thought. I did indeed have a fancy pair of Pivettas for serious endeavors.  I owned running shoes for every possible surface. I bought my Beans because, while perusing the good old catalogue, I thought: "Those might be come in handy for a lightweight walk."

Flash forward and here I am looking at pictures spanning years upon years. And in nearly every shot that captures my most treasured memories, there are those boots! They've tromped around every woodsy part of New Jersey I've been able to sniff out while living here. I've worn them in the Austrian Alps at Christmas. I've used them to explore Big Sur with my husband and young sons. Most importantly, they've come each and every summer with me to a tiny island in the Narrows of Lake George where my extended family has camped for generations. 

While on our island, those boots have stomped out campfires, steadied me while I built trenches around tents, and stood firm while I've cooked up chow for a dozen or more diners each night without the benefit of running water or electricity. They have also been on my feet every Lake George morning, when I awake at 5 and boat with my brother (and any victim who chooses to come) to the base of Black Mountain, where we proceed to walk/run three miles to the summit and back to the bottom in time to make it to breakfast back on the island. Through rain and mud and every other element Mother Nature throws in our way, we almost never miss that morning ritual. And my Bean boots have never let me down. 

Two weeks ago, I tossed my boots into a bag and headed off to build a house with my youngest son for a family that lived outside Antigua, Guatemala. As volunteers for a group called From Houses to Homes, we worked hard and got very dirty, but ultimately felt privileged to be able to help people who lacked so many of the basic things in life we take for granted here in the U.S.

As I packed up on our last night, I saw my boots in the corner. Covered with paint and mud, they looked a little worse for wear. Or so someone might think. But to me, they were objects of utter beauty. They were, in fact, all the better for the extraordinary wear they'd had. Sure I could take them home and probably get a few more years from them. But I slipped them into a sack and gave them to our volunteer coordinator the next morning. 

I've been blessed to have walked long and happily in those shoes. And I only hope that the next person to slip them on is as lucky.

The Easiest Cake You'll Ever Make

Here are four reasons some people don't bake cakes: They don't have time. They don't have the ingredients. They stink at baking. It's an assault on their diet.

Here's a cake that puts all of those excuses on ice. Some people call it the New York Times plum torte, because, for a long stretch, the paper published the recipe each and every September due to reader demand. My family calls it Cousin Sandy's Cake because, well, our cousin Sandy turned us onto it eons ago.

I call it the easiest cake you'll ever make because...it is. It has only a handful of simple ingredients, which just about anyone other than maybe a fraternity bro tends to have on hand. You can use frozen fruit if you have nothing suitable in the fridge. It doesn't require an electric mixer. Heck, there's even "one" of every batter ingredient, except for the 2 eggs. So you soon won't even need to look at the recipe when you make it.

And what a treat you'll have: A crunchy cookie-like crust guards a moist, buttery interior studded with succulent fruit. What's not to love about that? With a tap of confectioner's sugar on top, it looks downright gawjus. A blob of whipped cream or vanilla ice cream and you're practically Martha Stewart.

Now, just in case you're wondering why this cake won't assault your diet: It's nice and small and so utterly delicious, there won't' be a crumb left after you serve it. That means you won't spend the next week picking at it every time you walk into the kitchen. So go. Make this cake. Get happy. It's Spring!

The Easiest Cake You'll Ever Make

1 stick butter, softened

1 cup sugar

1 cup flour

1 teaspon baking powder

2 eggs, lightly beaten

1 teaspoon vanilla

sugar

cinnamon

5 to 7 sliced plums, depending on size (sliced about 1/2-inch thick)

or

2 to 3 sliced, peeled apples (1/2-inch thick)

or my favorite….

a cup or so of fresh or frozen, rinsed blueberries (frozen cherries are good to mix in, too)

Preheat oven to 350.

Grease an 8-inch spring form cake pan. If you don't have one of those, grease an 8-inch cake pan and line bottom with a circle of parchment paper. You can use a bigger pan if you want, but the cake will be thinner and less cake-y.

Cream butter with the sugar. Add flour, baking powder, eggs, and vanilla. Dump into into pan and pat it out evenly with a damp hand.

Cover top decoratively with fruit of choice. You want enough on the cake so that the top is evenly covered with little areas of batter showing through. The fruit will sink in as cake bakes. Sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar (if you have turbinado sugar, use it. It gives the top a nice crunch). 

Bake one hour or until batter around fruit is set and the cake is lightly browned and crisp. Remove from oven. Let cool for 15 minutes. Release side of spring pan. Or if using a regular pan, run a knife around edge of cake to release it from side of pan and then turn cake out and flip again so the top is showing. 

Sieve some confectioners sugar on top. Serve with whipped cream or ice cream, if you feel like it.

Note: Don't overdo it on the fruit or the cake will be goopy. If you keep a bag of frozen blueberries in your freezer, you will be able to make this any time, on a dime. I haven't experimented with other fruits, but feel free. I'd stay away from anything that's too watery, soft or acidic, such as strawberries and citrus.

Happy New Year everyone!

I just looked back on my cookbook note from last year. In it, I mused about the fact that “at this time next year” my first-born would be in college and would be “just visiting” with us for the holidays.

Indeed, that has come to pass. Ben went off to school and has brought back with him passionate arguments about every possible aspect of what’s wrong with our economy, our government, our international conduct, our penal system, our drug laws, you name it.

He’s also brought back one whopping appetite. Apparently, there’s a lot wrong with the food at school, too. I must admit, I get a little trill of excitement from Ben’s gastronomic dissatisfaction. Not only because it makes me feel like he truly did appreciate my cooking during his 18 years under our roof. But because this is a hunger I can easily fix.

I know that when I feed Ben his favorite foods, I’m not just filling his gullet. Those familiar tastes and smells are filling his heart with the comfort and love of home. Likewise, the Crohn’s-friendly foods I make for Noah make him feel secure and cared for. I know that every meal I prepare for my husband Paul is, in essence, a love letter to him. I know I can send my mother-in-law Florence home with plastic containers of goodies and that she’ll feel and taste our love for her long after we drop her off in the City. And I know that when my mom joins us for dinner during the week and on many Sundays, I am helping fill, if even in a small way, the enormous void left by my dad when he passed a year ago November. Man...nothing marks change and loss more than sitting down to one-less place setting, I think.

So mom and I make dinner together pretty often these days. I spend a decent amount of time in the kitchen with my mom-in-law Florence, too. When we get to chopping and peeling, stirring and basting, conversation is easy and our goal for the moment is simple and happy. The ground between us warms up and we get to share some pretty special time together.

It’s so interesting to me how—through all that’s happened over the years, the good and the bad---I’m constantly drawn back to the kitchen. I’ve been happy in here. I’ve been frustrated and exhausted. I’ve felt wistful, as I’ve laid a table for three instead of four, with the knowledge that that number will continue to shrink as time marches on.

At this very moment, though, with my whole family here, work on the back burner, and my fridge brimming with foodstuffs, my heart is busting. I’m devouring the feast of this wondrous, if crazily imperfect, life. It’s been a good vacation, indeed.

I’ll take this opportunity to send good wishes to everyone out there who’s reading this note—with a special shout out to my dear sister-in-law and sister-in-life Lonnie, who is wrestling a hefty challenge at this time. With her peerless positivity and the love-drenched support of her husband Ken and the rest of us, there’s no question that she’ll emerge from this fight the kick-ass victor. And “at this time next year” we’ll all be feasting on life together with gusto.

I hope that 2014 was a good year for you. If it wasn’t, I wish you better things in 2015. And, if you’re getting this cookbook, I’ll just say, I feel lucky to know you! 

Want your copy? Just shoot me an email at pegSrosen@gmail.com and I'll get right back to you with an attachment and printing instructions.

P.S. The additions to this year’s cookbook are:

New England Express Cocktail

Present Perfect Pecans

Killer Shakshuka

Turn-the-Clock-Back Roasted Tomatoes

Caulimash

The Way to Cook Filet Mignon

Looks-Like-You-Fussed Pork Tenderloin with Apples

Hot Blondies

No-Grain Brownies

Good-as-Grain, No-Grain Banana Bread

Bake These Apples
Wondrous, Grain-Free Cashew Butter Waffles

Best to You....


Peg

Power Stretch: A New Option For Tight, Achey Muscles

I warehouse all my stress in my muscles. That's why I exercise like a maniac---to release pent up tension so my head doesn't spin off my body.  But all the yoga, running, and spinning in the world still can't keep me from feeling achey and bitchy after sitting and fretting at a computer all day. 

Now I know what can help. And I know what might just be sweet salvation for many stiff, chilly, and stressed out souls this holiday and winter season. A nice…….long……gentle……assisted stretch. If you live anywhere near me, you can find it at Power Stretch Studios in Upper Montclair.

The Back Story:
I was feeling particularly stiff and sore last week, after laptopping on a hard wooden bench at Java Love for a few hours with my friend Pat. The day's headlines had only added to my seized-up state. As I hobbled across Bellevue Avenue, the awning for Power Stretch Studios caught my eye. 

In an almost trancelike state, I wandered in and chatted up the owner, Hakika DuBose. Apparently, this young and curly former dancer has been quietly stretching out stiff Montclairians for a few years now. Her growing client base--ranging from 8 year olds to 80 year olds--- has helped her move from various back office spaces to her new storefront across from the Bellevue Theater uptown. 

I wasn't asking too many questions, as Kika (which she calls herself) described her Kika Method. But whatever Kika was telling me about passive stretching and muscle release sounded pretty damned good. I arranged to return for a 6 PM session.

The Session

I showed up in comfortable work-out clothes, filled out a few forms, and sat down for a brief orientation. After Kika flipped through a decidedly low-tech presentation about the stretch method that she herself has devised, we entered a small white room with a soft rubber mat on the floor. (yes, I'm  getting closer and closer to a full-blown rubber room.)

Kika stood behind me and gently guided my neck and head from side to side and around in half arcs. She used some sturdy pressure to help me get the most out of some lateral stretches. Then she sat me down with my legs out in front, placed a long ruler vertically between my legs and asked me to stretch my arms as far as I could out on the floor in front of me. She put a gentle hand on my shoulder and  asked me to remember the number I reached: it was 18.

Over the next 50 or so minutes, Kika carefully used her arms and hands to guide and ease me through myriad standing and seated stretches. It was far more relaxing, nurturing, and enjoyable than a do-it-yourself stretch class. But there was still work involved. The best way I can describe the experience is that it's sort of a cross between a massage, yoga, and, I dunno, Rolfing? (though, to be honest, I've never been Rolfed.) Maybe a smidge of Feldenkrais in there, too?

By the time the session wound up, my breathing was in sync with our movements and I felt deeply relaxed and--yes---supple. The proof in the pudding? Kika had me stretch out on that ruler once more. This time, I reached 26--an increase of 8 whole inches. Pretty cool, I must say. Though I didn't need the ruler to tell me the stretching had done me good.

Caveats and Questions:

Being a health and fitness writer, I couldn't help but pepper Kika with questions before and after my session. Turns out that, besides having an MFA from Montclair State University and certification as a personal trainer, she has no formal accreditation in bodywork or physiotherapy. And yet she says she is treating everyone from athletes to paralysis patients. 

That's a bit of a red flag for me--to say the least. In other words, I don't think I'd risk sending my fragile and stiff mother-in-law or anyone else with serious orthopedic or health issues to her at this point. 

However, for those of us who are sturdy and in good health, but could use some sweet, nurturing release, Power Stretch seems like a safe and delicious bet. I'd go so far as to say that if Kika goes ahead and gets a degree in physiology or some other certification to give her some cred and some tread, she could be sitting on a gold mine. And a franchise concept, at that.

Cost: 

Kika has a few staffers who also do stretch sessions. They are trained by Kika. I personally would opt to work with Kika herself, at least for starters.

A 45-minute session costs $60; an hour is $70.  A 20-minute head and neck session is $20. Kika also hands out cards for free 15-minute intro sessions.

The Upshot:
Considering the cost,  I might be hard-pressed to fork over $70 for a stretch when I could be indulging in a massage for similar dinero. But after all is said and done, the feel-good glow of stretching might outlast what I take home from the massage table. And if someone wants to gift me a stretch, I'll be all over it! If you end up giving Power Stretch a try, please let me know what you think. And if you know of anyone else who's doing similar work, I'm all ears.



 I

Turn-the-Clock-Back Roasted Tomatoes

Ho hum. The grey days of November are here. Summer's warm caress, milky nibs of sweet corn and  bawdy scarlet tomatoes have slipped away for another year. And, sniff, sniff, this biting cold Marathon Sunday will be cloaked in darkness faster than you can say "finish line," as we bid daylight savings time adieu.

I'm cheering myself up tonight with these super-cinchy roasted tomatoes from Ina Garten. No, they can't compare to their perky and juicy summer forbears. But I gotta tell you--they get those Proustian daydreams going.

A bracing whallop of balsamic vinegar, olive oil, sugar and chopped garlic, followed by a stint in a 450 degree oven, acts like culinary CPR on even the most haggard plum tomatoes. They emerge looking glamorous and rich as an Italian countess. That dignified tomato-y taste comes back and the cottony pulp of off-season fruit becomes supple, worldly, and, well, sexy. These are, if you please, sultry tomato cougars to summer's blushing and buxom babes.

Sometimes I serve these as an extra side, topped with chopped basil or whatever herb I have around. Sometimes, I'll shower them with freshly grated Parm or chunks of gamey feta. On really lazy nights, I'll nestle these ruby red beauties next to a bed of scrambled eggs and call it dinner. They're also an excellent topper for crostini and can work magic on any sandwich.

So I've presented my argument. Curious? Run out now and grab 12 plum tomatoes from the nearest supermarket. No need to be picky. Follow this recipe and I promise, summer dreams will be yours to savor tonight. And all winter long.

12 plum tomatoes, halved lengthwise, cores and seeds removed
4 Tbsps. good olive oil
1 1/2 Tbsps. balsamic vinegar (use a little more if you run out before you sprinkle all of the tomatoes)
2 large garlic cloves, minced
2 tsps. sugar (you can use a little less if you must, but don't omit)
1 1/2 tsps. kosher salt
1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.

Line a sheet pan with aluminum foil. (Don't skip this step unless you want to scrub the pan all night.) Arrange tomatoes on pan, cut side up, in a single layer. Drizzle with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Sprinkle the garlic, sugar, salt, and pepper over the tomatoes. Roast for 25 to 30 minutes, until the tomatoes are concentrated and beginning to caramelize. DONT dry them out. They should be sort of flat and collapsed, but not wrinkly or tough like sun-dried tomatoes.

Serve warm or at room temp.

Uber Simple and Supremely Tasty Black Bean and Corn Salad

Too busy with back-to-school BS to cook anything interesting? This simple, healthy black bean and corn salad will change your game.

My girlfriend Bianca passed this recipe on to me when we first moved into Montclair. My son Ben soon adopted it as his hands-down favorite salad. I'm tempted to send him a vat of it, now that he's settling into his freshman year of college (and complaining about the food). But I'm not so sure how it will travel.

You, however, can whip it up in a flash. And once it's done, you’ll want to slurp this stuff right out of the bowl. Serve it as a side one night, sneak some for a snack the next day, and spoon it over grilled fish or pan-seared chicken breast for dinner that night. Try to cut the bell pepper, onion and tomato into pieces about the same size as the black beans. Of course, that’s not a must, but it refines the dish.

Ben and Bianca's Black Bean and Corn Salad

2  12-ounce cans black beans (no need to use dried)

One 12-ounce can (or a bit more) yellow corn (nice if you can use fresh sweet

corn cut off the cob, but not a deal breaker. I use canned all of the time.

I like yellow corn for this salad. Looks brighter; white sort of washes out.)

1 large green bell pepper

1-2 jalapeno peppers, diced very fine (adjust amount depending upon taste and hotness of the chile)

1 small onion

1 large tomato (or more if you’d like)

¼ cup chopped cilantro (or to taste)

Juice of two limes (or to taste)

¼ extra virgin olive oil

salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

A few dashes of Tabasco (to taste)

1.     Rinse and drain beans and corn.

2.     Combine in bowl with bell pepper, jalapeno, tomato, cilantro, and onion.

3.     Add lime juice and olive oil. Taste, adjust dressing acidity. Add salt and pepper to taste. Before going crazy with the jalapeno, let the salad sit for a while—the hotness take a bit of time to come out fully. Now you’re ready to add those dashes of Tabasco. Enjoy.