Changing up chefs in the family kitchen

The night before I flew back to Colorado, my family and I gathered around the dining table for a vast home-cooked meal. Unlike other feasts that were primarily created by my mom, this time my brother did most of the cooking, coming up with seven or eight dishes by himself over the course of an afternoon. On the table were fried pork chops; a stir-fry of shrimp, carrots, and celery; marinated burdock root; stewed lotus root; sauteed snow peas; braised tofu; and sauteed Taiwanese cabbage. We ate everything atop bowls of my dad's multigrain "rice," and it was a meal that tasted all the better from my older sibling's touch.

The next morning, I pulled out several batches of homemade bagels from the oven—I had kneaded and shaped the dough the night before, and gotten up early in order to boil, top, and bake them in time for breakfast with the fam. I'd also picked up some smoked fish at a tiny Russian grocery next to my bus stop the day before, and that on the bagels along with some veggie cream cheese and lettuce picked from the garden meant we were truly dining in style. There was only so much time to linger over the meal though—I had a plane to catch, my dad had an exercise class to lead in the park, and my brother had to go back to his apartment. In other words, it was time for my brother and I to remove our chef hats and return the kitchen to our folks.

Bidding farewell with a bountiful breakfast

At the end of break, the morning I flew back out to Colorado, I enjoyed an early breakfast with my family before my parents drove me to the airport. With a leftover bit of pork and a handful of scallions my dad mixed up the filling for some homemade pan-fried buns, which he prepared that morning. There was also pan-fried taro and turnip cake, kaya (coconut jam) on toast courtesy of my brother, orange and pomelo wedges, and a large pot of jasmine peony tea. It was one of the nicest send-off breakfasts that I can remember.

An early Lunar New Year feast

The day before I flew back to Colorado, my brother and I went with our parents to an early Lunar New Year celebration at their friend's house in Long Island. It ended up being a huge potluck with all of the members of an alumni association that they give ballroom dance lessons to, and there was a ton of food.

Here's the plate I filled from the table. Yes, those veggie dumplings are a pretty horrifying shade of green, and the Peking duck buns (someone got a tray of them from Corner 28, in Flushing) were dried out, but like all potlucks there was also a good mix of other items. I felt pretty happy about having a chance to celebrate the new year with my family, even if it was a week early.

Snacking on the cheap in Flushing

Photo taken April 12, 2008

Each week, my parents drive into Flushing, Queens and spend the afternoon ballroom dancing and singing karaoke. When I was home during break, I took the opportunity to tag along, mostly so I could get my snack on in the area while they tangoed and waltzed.

The roast pork triangles from the new Fay Da Bakery location near Queens Crossing are awesome, especially when eaten still warm from their heated display next to the cash register. The pastry crust is flaky and tender, and the whole thing is practically bulging with sweet roast pork. Unlike other versions, where the roast pork filling often tends to be full of chunks of fat, Fay Da's is relatively lean and not too sweet, either. I'm sure the lard in the crust will still kill me, but at least the filling won't.

I stopped by Gu Shine, too, to see if I could get my hands on some of the bing that I saw being griddled in the window the week before. When I had tried to order one then, it was late in the day and all of the remaining bing had already been reserved by someone else, and this time I was informed that none were going to be prepared until a few hours later. Fail!

But seeing my disappointment, my mom picked some up after their ballroom dance session, and I tried them the next day. While the loss in freshness may have accounted for some of the disappointment I felt when I tasted them, I'm not sure how much better they would have been considering the meager ratio of filling to dough. There was simply too much bread to make the bing notable. So much effort, so little reward.

The gua bao from Gu Shine, though, was much better. Braised pork belly, pickled mustard greens, chopped peanuts, cilantro, and sugar (yes, sugar) inside a soft steamed bun, which at two bucks for the whole monster beats the hell out of Momofuku's pork buns, at least in terms of cost value. Granted, the ones at Momofuku use pedigreed ingredients, but at less than half the price for nearly four times the size, I'm not asking for my pork bun's credentials.

This one I dropped off at my brother's office, along with a load of taro and turnip cake and a bunch of other goodies from my parents. I serve as a pretty good food shepherd, if I do say so myself.

Fu Run: A menu of unusual delights

More often than not, when I look at a menu from a Chinese restaurant, I find typos. Not to say that non-Chinese restaurant menus don't have errors, because they do. But I notice it often in Asian places because they tend to be the most hilarious. Take the printed menu from Fu Run, in Flushing, as an example. In addition to the "sliced photo w. special sauce" and "sliced of stomach in hot oil" you see above, there were also "deep fried bondless spare ribs" and "braised rips" on offer. Not to mention "seafood w. blotch soup." I spent the first ten minutes laughing at the menu and then poking my dad to make him read me the Chinese names. In some cases, there was no other way to figure out what the dishes really were.

But I still have no idea what "sliced photo" is.

I was at Fu Run with my family after my parents had gone ballroom dancing all afternoon (one of their frequent amusements). My brother had suggested the restaurant after reading about it on Chowhound, where it was first discussed when it went by the name "Waterfront International." Now it only goes by a Chinese name which has been translated to English as "Fu Run," though reviews for Waterfront International still sit in the window. From what I've gathered the menu has either remained the same or is very similar.

I let my mom and brother do all the ordering, as I was too busy giggling over the menu. Fu Run has a lot of specialties from the Northeast region of China, and they picked out some of the more unique ones, such as the above dish of "country style green bean sheet jelly," a refreshing cold mung bean noodle salad with shreds of pork, cucumbers, carrots, and wood ear mushrooms tossed in peanut sauce and a final drizzle of wasabi oil.

The zhajiang mien we ordered was disappointing, making the just-okay jajangmyeon I'd had recently seem awesome. The noodles were too soft and the sauce just tasted oily.

Two other dishes we had, though, packed strong flavor punch: the "shredded pork stomach in fresh hot pepper" (on the left) and the casserole of pork with sour cabbage and pig blood cake (on the right). With its crunch of barely sauteed hot peppers and chewy shreds of pork stomach in a salty sauce, the former was definitely the kind of dish you call xia fan. The sour, meaty casserole was hearty and warming in the belly.

My favorite dish of the night was, hands-down, the crispy lamb in chili pepper. While it wasn't particularly crispy, I found the pieces of meat tender and chewy at the same time as well as redolent with a rich array of spices, the strongest being toasty cumin. It was a little gamier than usual—the fat in lamb, I think, is what holds the funkiness—but that's also part of why I couldn't stop sneaking pieces of it into my mouth.

We had ordered a lot of food for four people but still couldn't pass up the opportunity to get dessert, which in this case was the "mixed sweet delights" dish of taro, sweet potato, apple, and banana. The pieces of fruit and potato are deep fried and then tossed in sugar, which caramelizes into a rich syrup. When you pull off a piece, gooey strands follow your chopsticks until you plunge the piece into a bowl of ice water, whereupon the sugar instantly hardens, creating a crisp candy shell around a hot center. Fun! Despite the description on the menu our plate didn't seem to have any banana; I wasn't as fond of the apple, so I stuck mostly to the taro and sweet potato. Next time I'd probably just order the taro, as it was my favorite and cost three bucks less for the same amount as the mixed version.

Fu Run had a bunch of specials written in Chinese on the wall, which none of us noticed until after the meal. Too bad—it's not often that I eat out with my parents (we're more about the home-cooked feast) and so I won't be able to have them translate should I return. With so many unique offerings on the menu, I wouldn't mind going back to explore.

A hot pot and lobsters in the wok

Most of my extended family lives in Taiwan, including my grandparents. Out of five siblings on my dad's side and three on my mom's side, only two others immigrated to America: my mom's younger sister who lives in San Jose, and my dad's youngest brother, who lives just ten minutes away from my parents in Bayside, Queens. Since I was born in New York City, away from my relatives in Taiwan, my uncle, aunt, and two younger cousins are sort of the only "family" I've grown up with outside of my own.

Before I left for graduate school, we all got together for a farewell dinner in honor of me and my younger cousin, who was leaving for college in Boston; now the two of us were back again with our respective first semesters under our belts. It was time for a food-filled gathering of hotpot.


As you can see, there was quite a spread of ingredients. Both our families had come up with plenty of items to throw into the pot: several different forms of tofu, various meat balls and fish cakes, assorted mushrooms, two types of thinly sliced meat, rice cakes, and piles of vegetables. The only thing missing, as we realized later, were chunks of deep-fried taro, one of my brother's favorites.

Since the price of lobsters is now so low, my mom decided to buy several to stir-fry in the Cantonese style. This meant chopping 'em up, tossing the pieces with corn starch and poaching them quickly in oil, setting them aside to saute the aromatics, and then tossing the lobster back in to stir-fry with the sauce until done. (My brother handled the actual hacking up of the live crustaceans; I'm pretty sure everyone else was too faint-hearted to do the job.) With four lobsters between eight people—some less enthusiastic eaters than others—there was plenty for everyone.

With so many items on the table, it was hard to know what to eat. Raw, and then cooked ingredients flew in and out of the bubbling pot, and sauces and other dishes were passed around regularly. The platter of lobster went from one end to the other. Each person's mouth and hands seemed to move simultaneously…it was a hectic, comfortable dinner, and exactly the kind of meal I wanted to have coming home to my family.

At night, you pay the price: Dim sum at Red Egg

Red Egg, which opened only about half a year ago, bills itself as Peruvian-Chinese, but the menu looks more like straight Chinese with a few Peruvian dishes thrown in. The main draw for my brother (who suggested eating there) is the dim sum, which is available both day and night and steamed to order. Above, shrimp dumpling, beef balls, braised chicken feet, and assorted seafood dumplings. We also tried the taro cilantro dumpling, sui mai, and a few others that were all quite good.

The thing about eating the dim sum here at night is that the prices are nearly double the daytime dum sum menu. With the "regular sum" starting at $4 and running to $7 for the "house special sum," even regular items like the shrimp dumplings cost $5.25 each. Compared to regular dim sum prices, this is a huge jump, and I don't feel that the level of increase in quality quite justifies the raise in price.

The other problem with dim sum at night (and especially when it's a place that's part bar/lounge like Red Egg) is that you end up eating dumplings in the dark. And taking dark, blurry photos of the food. Personally, I like being able to see what I'm eating—turn up the lights, yo!

The curry bread bowl looked interesting, but what arrived was a giant loaf sodden with okay-tasting curry. There were some interesting additions to the curry, such as okra and blue crab, but I wouldn't bother with this one again.

Chinese broccoli with "black olive sauce." I couldn't detect any taste of black olive here, but it was a tasty dish regardless.

The "Peking Duck Sliders" were carved and assembled tableside and the remaining "duck rack" (the remaining bones and meat) whisked away, unlike most other Peking duck places that leave this on the table for nibbling. On our request, though, they were nice about bringing the rack out again, cut into manageable pieces and dressed with cilantro on a new plate. The "sliders" themselves were good but nothing special.

Red Egg's dim sum is half off at the bar during their happy hour, which makes it a great deal given the quality of the goods. At full price though, I probably wouldn't choose to go again—not where there are so many other places to get good dim sum for cheaper. I'll just have to settle for dim sum in the day.

CSA Cookin', Week One

Last week I picked up my first (and possibly only) portion of the CSA vegetable share I had signed up for back in January. Nothing terrible happened—I just simply won't be in New York City anymore and there's too much for me to do these days (packing, moving, etc) for me to cook bushels of greenery every few weeks until I go. At least my brother will take over for me, so maybe he'll cook some veggies for me. Hint, hint.

Since I'm splitting one CSA share with three other people—we set it up so that two people split each week's veg on alternating weeks—here's the half portion I took home: bok choi, half head; Chinese cabbage, half head; red sail lettuce, half head; buttercrunch lettuce, half head; red vein mizuna, one bunch; garlic scapes, two; sage with flowers, one bunch. There was rhubarb and green mizuna as part of our bundle too, but RL took those, and ended up swapping her mizuna for an extra bundle of rhubarb in order to make a proper pot of jam.

I gave half of my head of red mizuna to my folks, and with the other half did kind of a pantry clean-out dish with half a box of thin spaghetti and a cup or two of grated aged gouda that had both been languishing for a while. Basically I sauteed mizuna in a bit of butter (stems first, then leaves) and tossed the mizuna, gouda, and a few ladles of pasta water in with the drained, cooked spaghetti with the heat on low. After a few minutes the cheese melted into a rich coating over the pasta and mizuna, resulting in something between mac 'n' cheese and fettuccine Alfredo.

I was pleased by the pretty color of the mizuna against the spaghetti, but upon eating it I discovered the pasta was heavy with oil. For lunch the next day I tossed in a cut-up grilled chicken breast and some chopped sage, both of which were good pairings, but the pasta still slicked my lips. Next time, less cheese and no butter.

I also did two cheese toasts for dinner the other night, both with French raclette on ciabatta, but one with sage leaves and the other with chopped garlic scapes. I managed to burn both of them, and while the sage toast was still good, I was surprised that the spicy garlic flavor of the scapes had completely disappeared—I know now to eat them raw or just barely cooked, instead. Ah well. But hey, learning about all these new vegetables is all part of the CSA fun....

A socks-rockin salad-off: The winners, and their recipes

Catch up here!

BigJeff spent awhile counting up the votes, and then we all gathered 'round to hear his pronouncement. Without further ado:

Third Place:

A goat cheese, dried cranberry, pistachio, and couscous salad. Made by...me! I know, I know, I'm family so I probably won illegally, but I'll fight you if you try to take away my prize, a charming pair of metal tongs.

Goaty, Nutty, Fruity Whole Wheat Couscous Salad
by Soopling

2 cups whole wheat couscous (instead of the now-out-of-stock quinoa you were originally aiming for)
1.5 cups dried cranberries (from bag miraculously in pantry when you thought you'd eaten them)
1.5 cups roasted, unsalted pistachios (plus a few handfuls for snacking while you make the salad)
7 or 8 ounces, or 1 large log goat cheese (left over from a Greenteam anniversary party)
1 cup chopped scallions (which sits in your fridge, for soba)
1/2 cup lemon juice (from fresh fruit, or from a bottle when you realize you forgot to buy some)
1/2 cup good olive oil (that your friends brought back from Italy for you)
Mixed greens (that you've stolen from your roommate)
2 tablespoons sugar
Salt-N-Pepa

Bring two cups of water and a little salt to a boil. In a large pot, measure out two cups of couscous, spilling some all over the counter as you do so. Pour the boiling water over the couscous, stir, cover, and then let stand. After five minutes, uncover and fluff up the grains using a fork. Let cool.

In the meanwhile, combine your shoddy bottled lemon juice (or your delicious, fresh-squeezed lemon juice) with olive oil, sugar, several generous grinds of black pepper, and a sprinkling of salt. Use your couscous-fluffing fork to blend together, or use an actual whisk, you lazy ass. Set aside.

Use a large knife to attempt slicing the log of goat cheese into cute little chunks and become dismayed when the cheese adheres to the knife and does not slice. Give up and break up cheese into large, ungainly chunks with your fingers instead. Set aside.

Add cranberries, pistachios, and scallions (reserving a handful of each to top the salad later) to the cooled couscous. Stir in the lemon-olive oil mixture. When well combined, add the goat cheese chunks and toss gently (again, reserve a handful of goat cheese for later).

Line the bottom and sides of your serving bowl with the mixed greens. Spoon the couscous salad on top, cursing when all the greens sink to the bottom and become obscured. Arrange some new greens around the edges of the couscous like a ridiculous wreath. Top with remaining goat cheese, pistachios, cranberries, and scallions, and a few more grinds of black pepper and salt. Serve at room temp. Feeds 8, or 30-35 rambunctious salad-off participants.

Second Place:

C-Monkey's potato salad, which boasted the addictive combination of bacon, pickled jalapeños, and cumin. He received an bright red, eco-friendly colander for his achievement.

The Squealing Kaiser
by C-Monkey

1 tablespoon cumin seeds
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
8 oz (half-pack) bacon
2 pounds red-skinned new potatoes, unpeeled, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 tablespoon salt
4 large hard-boiled eggs, peeled, coarsely chopped
2 green onions, thinly sliced
3 tablespoons chopped red onion
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
1 heaping tablespoon chopped, seeded, and drained pickled jalapeño chilies from jar, and 2 tablespoons reserved liquid

Toast cumin seeds in heavy small skillet over medium heat until fragrant, about 30 seconds, and cool. Using a spice grinder, coarsely grind cumin seeds. Transfer to medium bowl. Whisk in lemon juice, then oil. Season dressing to taste with salt and pepper. (Can be made 2 hours ahead; let stand at room temperature.)

Cook bacon to your preference, and chop or crumble. Set aside.

Place potatoes in large pot. Add enough cold water to cover and 1 tablespoon salt. Boil potatoes until tender when pierced with skewer, about 8 minutes. Drain. Transfer to large bowl.

To the potatoes, add eggs, green onions, red onion, cilantro, jalapeño chilies, bacon, and 2 tablespoons chili liquid. Pour dressing over salad; toss to coat. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Transfer to serving bowl.

Serve warm or at room temperature. This salad can be made 2 hours ahead; let stand at room temperature.

First Place!

Latecomer HertzSoGood slipped in with a savory barley, wild rice, and asparagus salad, and managed to take top prize, winning a pair of beautiful wooden salad servers. Hooray!

Barley, Wild Rice, and Asparagus Salad with Soy-Ginger Vinaigrette
adapted from Once Upon A Tart... by HertzSoGood

Salad
2 cups cold salted water (for rice)
1/2 cup wild rice (rinsed in a bowl with cold water and drained)
4 cups cold salted water (for barley)
1.5 cups barley (also rinsed in a bowl with cold water and drained)
2 tablespoons canola or vegetable oil
2-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and julienned
1 pound fresh asparagus (break off tips and cut diagonally into 2-inch pieces)
1 teaspoon salt
1 ripe avocado, halved, pitted, and diced
Soy-Ginger Vinaigrette (see below)

Place 2 cups water and rice in large saucepan and bring to boil over high heat. Lower heat, and simmer, uncovered, for 40-45 minutes, until the rice is tender but still chewy. (DON'T OVERCOOK!)

While rice is cooking, put 4 cups water and barley in a separate saucepan and bring to boil over high heat. Lower the heat, and simmer, uncovered, for 25-30 minutes, until barley is tender to the bite but not mushy. (DON'T OVERCOOK!)

Remove both pots of grain from heat and drain each separately in a colander. Then dump both together in one big bowl. Warm oil in a large saute pan or wok over high heat. Add the ginger and saute until until golden brown. With flame still high, add asparagus. Stir frequently until asparagus is tender. (DON'T OVERCOOK!) When it's done, dump everything in the pan on top of the grains.

Just before you serve the salad, pour the vinaigrette over the grains and vegetables, add the salt, and toss it all with your hands (or a large spoon if you're too wussy to use your hands). Add the avocado cubes midway through the tossing. Serve right away, at room temp.

Soy-Ginger Vinaigrette
Juice of 1 lemon (3 tablespoons-ish)
1/4 cup apple-cider vinegar
2 tablespoons honey
1-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and finely grated
1/4 cup tamari or soy sauce
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
3/4 cup canola or vegetable oil

Whisk together all the ingredients except the oil in a bowl. Then add the oil in a slow, thin, steady stream while whisking. Try to form a smooth, creamy emulsion, so that the oil doesn't separate later and sink to the bottom of the salad.

And so...

Runaway birthday balloons, floating off into the sky.

We had spent many great, joyous hours in the park, but after the winners were announced it was pretty much time to call it a day. Happy birthday BigJeff, and congratulations everyone! If there's a future salad-off in the works, you can bet I'll show up with my grain-game on. Wooden salad servers, you SHALL BE MINE.

A socks-rockin' salad-off

For the "friend" segment of my brother's birthday celebration (vs. the "family" segment), peeps traveled from all corners of the city to Prospect Park in Brooklyn for a blow-out picnic salad-off. (Yes, my brother has surely changed his ways; once upon a time this would have been a wing-off instead.) It was a windy day, as you can see from the angle of the balloons above, but the sun was shining brightly and everyone was in high spirits. In addition to all the picnic supplies, my brother had brought four different types of salad he'd made, and I'd provided a hoard of carbohydrates: whole wheat flatbread, puffy white pita bread, a crusty garlic loaf; and a crusty plain white loaf. We were ready to SALAD.

People arrived on bike and foot, bearing their creations. Our posse was doubled by the addition of a renegade group of salad-crashers headed by BH, who had come with their own food but who were nonetheless enamored by the array of dressed veggies glistening in wooden bowls on the blanket.


I couldn't keep track of all of them, but here are a few up close (clockwise from top left): crunchy fruit and vegetable salad (recipe here); tuna salad; cauliflower, zucchini, orange, and basil salad; feta, grape tomato, cucumber, and red onion salad.

Ready for self-service.

Yes, this was a salad-off, with winners (and losers) to be determined at the end. But then again, there was also a beautiful birthday cake. Chewy-crisp chocolate chip cookies. A moist chocolate cake. And delicious homemade smoked salmon. I'd say these were decidedly non-salad entrants, but no one, no one is complaining here.

We spent the day eating, making new friends, playing sports, and even shucking oysters. We sampled the different creations people had whipped up and submitted the names of our top three favorites.

Dogs like salad, too.

As the sun became obscured by clouds and the wind began gusting, people started pulling on sweatshirts and huddling in closer and closer to one another. It was only a matter of time before we would have to surrender to the cold and pack up. And so it was decided: time to call voting to a close. Salad-off, tally ho!

Up next: The winners, and their recipes

Recipes from BigJeff: Health(ier) Babaganouj

Another recipe from BigJeff! (For an intro, check out his first post.) Using tofu as a substitute in recipes is a trick I've seen my brother pull off in several different dishes, including mac 'n' cheese, cauliflower gratin, and lasagna. As tofu takes on the flavors of whatever it is prepared with, it's particularly ideal when you want lighten things up, add body, and keep the creaminess of a dish without introducing another flavor.

The basic change in this babaganouj recipe is swapping out the traditional tahini for blended firm tofu, a touch of smoked paprika, and just a teaspoon of dark, roasted sesame oil. It remains rich-tasting and has the smokiness and flavor of eggplant, as well as a beautiful texture. The tofu also adds a lean protein boost.

Health(ier) Babaganouj
by BigJeff

3 large eggplants
3 squares medium or firm tofu
2-3 scallions, roughly chopped
1 head garlic + 3 cloves
juice of 1 large lemon
1 tsp roasted sesame oil
1 tbsp smoked paprika
salt and pepper to taste
fresh herbs of your choice (dill, cilantro, etc.) to garnish

Wash (but don't peel or trim) the eggplants, pierce them all over with a fork, and roast in the oven whole for 45 minutes at 350 degrees or until they become totally mushy and soft but still retain their shape. If you want, you can finish these eggplants on the grill for some real char flavor, but it's not necessary.

Roast the garlic at the same time as the eggplant: cut the top off the whole head of garlic (retain the other three cloves for later), salt a bit, top with a bit of olive oil, and roast alongside the eggplant. The garlic should soften considerably and almost rise out of its skins when it's done. Set aside to cool.

In a food processor, blend the tofu, scallions, roast garlic, remaining raw garlic cloves, lemon juice, smoked paprika, and sesame oil. Halve the eggplants and scrape out the insides with a spoon or round spatula, being careful not to get any of the skin mixed in (it's delicious and blackened and smoky, but ultimately unhealthy), and mix into the blended tofu by hand. Add salt and pepper to taste. For a smoother babaganouj, you can use the food processor to blend the eggplant into the tofu, but I like to keep it chunky.

Top with freshly chopped herbs of your choice and a dusting of smoked paprika, and if you'd like, some fine olive oil. Serve with pita bread, crackers, cucumber and/or tomato slices, or as a side dish to grilled meats.

Introducing BigJeff, and recipe #1

This morning, after reading about the health difficulties of the food-obsessed in the New York Times article "The Fat Pack Wonders if the Party's Over," I thought of my brother, who I mentioned in my last post. We always talk about food, but the nature of our conversations had undergone a marked change in the last several months; now, instead of telling me where to find the best chicken wings or enthusing about the tripe tacos at Taqueria Coatzingo, he is debating the merits of macrobiotic restaurants and making recommendations for high-fiber cereals. Like Ed Levine and Jason Perlow, my brother is one who has seen the light, and his turnaround has definitely shown results. And since he's been sending me a bunch of great recipes lately, I thought it'd be cool if he started posting some of them up here. So here's BigJeff (who is not so big anymore)—say hi!


Hello all. Jealously observing the rise of S(cubed), I figured I'd piggyback with a series of recipes I've started writing down—all healthy, delicious, and kitchen-intensive (so you can still get that cooking fix).

Is this a big change for me, making healthy recipes? I've always loved food and cooking but after a ridiculously rich and hedonistic week spent in a cabin in California's wine country (where my friends and I cooked two huge meals a day, interspersed with Wii and a constant double Knob Creek and single rock), I came back to New York with an epiphany: I'm gonna die. Or at least die earlier if I continue with my food/alcohol-enthusiast lifestyle. I made a similar change about two years ago (my doctor's scary diagnosis of Syndrome X helped) but I got bored after four months and fell off the alfalfa sprout/tofu/sunflower seed/bulgur wheat wagon. This time, I knew it without anyone telling me (my friends were too polite to do that).

Consider that I used to host "meatups" at my house where we'd roast twin orange-glazed pernils in the oven, serve six different kinds of satay, or do huge pots of confit or braised short ribs (whatever you do, don't trim the fat before browning!). One year, I made a ridiculous amount of Ming Tsai's delicious Soy Dijon Chicken Wings using 60 orders of Chinese takeout wings (240 wings total, folks). I've hosted DIY parties with full toppings and sides for both cheesesteaks and hot dogs (not at the same time), while Sunday brunches were full-on cooking demos. Christmas and Thanksgiving meals were always at least a dozen plates on the table (this past year, the mirepoix for my sausage stuffing was prepared with duck fat, and the whole thing was moistened with duck broth). And of course, this is just the food I cook so I'm not even gonna bother listing the stuff that other people cooked, although needless to say, all just as intense.

So with a deliberate change in my life (and no alcohol), I've simply converted my food style to one which is low in fat, high in fiber, heavy on the counter prep, and super tasty. I'm cooking just as much, if not more, but way healthier and still delicious. My sister mentioned the ten-grain "rice" that my dad makes, which is chock full of soy beans, lentils, barley, oats, mung beans, etc.; it goes great with the simple sautéed or roasted veg I usually eat. Salads have become full-on affairs, packed with crunch and taste while using minimally processed ingredients. Most of my meals consist of macro-style food groups (grains, legumes, simply cooked vegetables such as greens, cauliflower, or pumpkin). There's plenty of spice in the form of fresh chilis and herbs, while healthier food preps such as poaching, steaming, and roasting retain and intensify natural flavors.

The first recipe I want to share is typical of my style: clean out the crisper drawers and pantry and find some delicious goodies which, thankfully, make a great salad.

Fruit and Vegetable Salad
by BigJeff

2 Asian pears (julienned into 1/4" matchsticks)
1/4 cup dried cranberries
1/4 cup dried apricots, chopped
4 plum tomatoes (seeds removed, cut into long eighths)
2 cups snow peas (trimmed)
1 large beet (roasted for 40 minutes in foil, cooled and then julienned into 3/8" matchsticks)
3–4 jalapenos (keep the seeds and ribs, cut crosswise into circles)
1–2 carrots (shredded)
1 unripe green papaya (shredded with a mandoline)
1–2 stalks celery (cut into 3-inch long matchsticks)
1/2 head of red or savoy cabbage (shredded as if for slaw)
1 medium red onion (sliced into rings, as thin as possible)
1/2 cup rice vinegar
juice of 1–2 limes
1 tbsp sesame oil
salt and pepper to taste

Prep all the fruits and vegetables, toss with the wet ingredients, and serve. All ingredients and proportions are mere suggestions.