the arugula files

Zucchini Fritters (What Would the Canal House Ladies Do?)

On Saturday, after I made my zucchini "spread the love bread," I had about one pound of shredded zucchini left over.  Not enough for another loaf of bread, but too much to toss.  I asked myself what the Canal House ladies would do (WWTCHLD?) and of course they would make zucchini fritters for lunch.  So that's just what I did.  I used this recipe. 

One of the most important steps in making zucchini fritters is to wring out the water that oozes from the shredded zucchini after it's shredded and salted.  Otherwise you end up with soggy fritters that are impossible to crisp.  Usually wringing out the water is done with a cheesecloth, but I didn't have one so I used paper towels.  Paper towels work equally well.  The problem is that you have to use about eight sheets, so after you are done you feel like you just exploited Brazil's rain forest.  Note to self, I bet the Canal House ladies have a whole drawer full of cheesecloths.

If you are not reading it, you must: Canal House Cooks Lunch.  It's like a daily horoscope for people who love food.

Also: top your zucchini fritters with this or this.  You will thank me later.

Zucchini Spread the Love Bread

For all the gardeners out there looking to unload zucchini: I'll take it.  Seriously.  Spread the zucchini love. There's always room for zucchini in my kitchen.  I put it in ratatouille or in panzanella salad and I also make a pasta dish that features zucchini and roasted tomotoes with basil, a spin on a dish called rigatoni del rosario, served at a place where, a very long time ago, I waitressed to pay college tuition.

 

I love zucchini so much that imagine my surprise when I noticed that my right sidebar has a tag for kale, but not zucchini. This here bread changed that.  It's a classic zucchini bread.  You can add raisins or walnuts.  I left mine plain.  Just bits of earthy green, mixed with brown sugar.  Add a little knob of butter and call it eating your vegetables for breakfast.

 

I call it love bread because it's the kind of loaf you can make in minutes with your zucchini surplus and then pass on. I'm dropping this one off to the kind, loving woman who takes care of Josie during the day.  

Spread the zucchini love.

To Cleanse or Not to Cleanse?

I'm dying.  That's what my friend Kay told me, head slumped on her walnut veneer office desk.  It's true, she didn't look good.  Tired.  A little jaundice.  Generally unhappy.  She complained of headaches and low energy. She had dreams of roasted little chickens, stuffed with pears, and dressed with oyster stuffing.

Kay was on day 5 of this homemade cleanse.  A normal sized, normal person, she had lost her mind while preparing for a Caribbean cruise.  (Let's blame this loss of sanity on the media and celebrities.  She wanted to follow in Beyonce's footsteps and shed pounds fast).  

She lost about 8 pounds, but gained it back quickly after she ate a few non-liquid meals, like a grain of rice and two almonds.  And that euphoric rush of purity that many people report feeling on the 4th or 5th day of a juice cleanse did not happen for her.  She just felt miserable the whole time.

I too want to look like Beyonce, but her experience made it clear to me that these crazy juice cleanses are not my scene.   Mostly because I don't find zen in hunger headaches, I like my kale in stir-fry not a blender, and, well, let's be honest, I don't have the will power.

But every now in then the question of the juice cleanse rears its liquid head and I consider it.  The question to cleanse or not to cleanse? continues unresolved. 

A recent article in the New York Times reports on "cleanse team building" at work.  Total.  Torture.  How can you work if you are super hungry?  

Just days after I read the article, my sister, an intermittent raw food enthusiast, sent me an email encouraging me to buy a bottle of Blue Print Juice.  A bottle costs the same as a rib-eye steak. Literally.  A three day Blue Print Juice fast could feed a family of four for one or two weeks.  

For fun I played along.  I plunked down my ten bucks for the bottle.  Yes, you read that right, $10 for 130 calories.  You think I should be ashamed of myself?  Don't worry, the cashiers totally laughed at me after the tiny bottle beeped through the scanner.  I didn't really have a quick response because anyone who spends $10 on one bottle of juice deserves to be laughed right out the door.

Back at home, I clicked open the baby blue cap, took a small sip, bracing myself for mud to wash into my mouth.  It wasn't that bad!  It didn't taste muddy.  It was light, a little lemony, and I could taste the ginger. Immediately, I started thinking, hey, maybe I should do a juice fast?  My pregnancy weight is so far winning my ongoing weight loss war.  

I took another sip.  Maybe a juice fast is the answer.  (I know it's not, but that's what my brain starts to think, mostly because my brain and body are in cahoots to avoid the elliptical machine).

Another sip.  The ginger flavor was definitely coming through.  Hey, I could add rum and this would be a healthy dark and stormy!

And that was how long my commitment to doing a juice cleanse lasted.  About two minutes.  

So tell me, guys, are you a juice cleanser?  If so, what's your protocol?  Do you have spend a gazillion dollars? Did you experience exhilaration a few days in?  Do you look like Beyonce?

 

 

Grilled Chipotle Chicken Salad with Cilantro-Lime Dressing

Remember last week when I suggested that you spend one million dollars at the farmers market to build a delicious salad?  I complained that there was no possible way to recreate such deliciousness from a regular, old supermarket salad? That if you cared about your taste buds, then you should hand over your Benjamins for some mixed greens, or else.  That if you are a true foodie, you will remortgage your house for rocket and mesculen.

What a snobby food elitist!   

Want to keep it real?  How about this whammy: I heart iceberg lettuce.  I love the light, fresh, crispy crunch of each nutrient void bite.  

Gazpacho

Today I headed to the farmers market with one thing in mind: gazpacho, the cool summer soup that can only be made with the ripest, juiciest summer tomatoes.  Usually I buy gazpacho from Chris' Market Place, the guy who sells the crabcakes and empanadas.  They were totally sold out by 9:30.  Looks like everyone else was thinking the same thing I was.  Oh well, no time like now to figure out my own recipe.

The Cleanest Refrigerator in America

 

This is what happens after you lose power for four days: you clean your fridge.  Good news: I saved the beer, peppers, and diet coke.  Bad news:  I had to throw out about $300 worth of food.  Priceless news: no trees came down on my house, my power is back on, and we are all doing fine.  Plus, now there's no excuse not to buy that fancy mustard.