Shrimp, Avocado, and Mango Salad

I have been so busy cleaning out and packing up my mother's house I've barely had time for anything else. During the week it's work and the gym and miles of paperwork and bills, and every ounce of the weekend is clean, sort, box, pack, throw away. I welcomed the fourth of July weekend not as a holiday but as an extra day to work. I skipped fireworks to sort through miles of photographs. I marked my birthday on the calendar (today), so I wouldn't forget.

This makes it sound like I haven't been cooking, but I have. Mostly everyday things, I'm trying to whittle down my pantry in the spirit of the new economy, lots of beans and grains and lentils finally being put to use. I've had a few salads of my homegrown (!) spinach and homegrown tomatoes, I made a batch of this white nectarine compote and used it to make turnovers.

There is nothing like hauling boxes and moving furniture all day to work up an appetite, and while slogging through mom's house is a pain (goodness she kept everything), I've found some real treasures too. Like pictures of my mom as a baby, or of the family making homemade ice cream. That's the part I like best, finding things I've never seen before.

This past weekend, between sorting my mother's collection of Wedgwood and boxing up her 18 figures of Ganesh, I made this salad. It's a chopped salad of shrimp, avocado and mango inspired by what I had on hand and what looked good in the store. It's delicious, really, served on a bed of lettuce as dinner for one, and I bet it would make an excellent pot luck contribution or filling for a sandwich.

Shrimp, Avocado, and Mango Salad

1 mango
1/4 of medium-sized red onion, finely diced
2 tbl finely diced red bell pepper, or hot chili pepper
a few cilantro leaves, finely chopped
3 tbl fresh lime juice
1 avocado, chopped
1/2 lb shrimp, peeled
salt and cayenne pepper to taste

1. Set a large pot of salted water to boil.
2. Peel and slice the mango, working over a bowl. Squeeze the juice from round the pit of mango into the bowl. Add the onion, pepper, cilantro, lime juice and toss to combine.
3. Adjust the heat so the pot of water is just simmering. Add the shrimp and cook until just opaque and curled in 3/4 circles. For goodness sake do not overcook the shrimp into pink rubber bands. Immediately transfer shrimp to a colander and run cool water over them to stop cooking. Dice the shrimp.
4. Add the shrimp and avocado to the mango mixture. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve as desired.

Maacouda (Tunisian Potato Omelette with Olives and Mint)

A maacouda is a sort of Tunisian potato omelette, similar to the Spanish tortilla, but made with eggs beaten into smooth mashed potatoes and then baked. I'll admit I don't know much about Tunisian cuisine, other than a prediliction for fish dishes, but I have noticed that Tunisian food contains more egg dishes than other Middle Eastern cuisines. Eggs are not used as often in Middle Eastern cooking as in the West, and cakes, breads, and desserts rarely contain egg. Tunisian food, however, has spiced eggs and chicken with eggs and egg tagine.



Anyway, maacouda by itself is a fine but somewhat plain dish, so I've spiced mine up with chunks of black olive and a hint of mint. It's best if you mash your potatoes until they are completely smooth, which makes the omelette fluffier and moister. The olives give it the right salty tang, and it's a good thing to pack in your lunch or for a light dinner with a salad.


Maacouda (Tunisian Potato Omelette with Olives and Mint)

1 lb potatoes (about 2 small russets), peeled, cooked, and mashed until smooth
1 onion, sliced
olive oil
1/4 cup good quality black olives, pitted and chopped (measure before chopping)
6 leaves of mint, slivered
6 eggs, beaten
1/2 tsp salt

1. Heat some olive oil in a saucepan, add the onions and cook over medium heat, stirring occaisionally, until the onions are golden. This usually takes 20-40 minutes, during which time I prep the rest of the ingredients.
2. Preheat the oven to 450 F. Place the potatoes in a bowl and beat in 1 tbl of olive oil and the salt. Beat in the eggs. Add the caramelized onions, olives, and mint and stir to combine. Grease the skillet or casserole dish you will be using. Add the potato mixture and bake for 20 minutes, until puffed and golden.

Umm Ali (Egyptian Bread Pudding)

There are so many iterations of Middle Eastern desserts that involve pastry, cream, and sugar that after a while they start blurring together. Myriads of types of kunafe, aish el saraya, shaaibiat, baklava muhallabia, othmallia, halawet el jibn, and on and on it goes until I stop paying attention. I'd heard of an Egyptian bread pudding recipe called Umm Ali (literally, Ali's Mother), but I'd never investigated. But when someone raved about a version they had recently, I thought I'd try my hand at yet another Middle Eastern bread and cream iteration.

Umm Ali (the dish) dates back to Ottoman era Egypt, when legend has it the sultan stopped in a poor village looking for something to eat and the village's best cook, named Umm Ali, made something akin to this dish. There are other legends too, about a British nurse named O'Malley who may have invented the recipe.



History aside, do not be off-put by the "bread pudding" label, I almost never like bread pudding since many versions are eggy and rich and about the weight of small livestock. But this is just the opposite- light fluffy pastry bathed in sweet milk, sprinkled with tangy dried fruits and nuts. Many versions include toasted coconut but I prefer it without. It's good enough not to get lost in the shuffle of all those other Middle Eastern desserts.


Umm Ali (Egyptian Bread Pudding)
You can choose to stuff the pudding full of dried fruit, nuts, and coconut, or you can have a more simple version with just a slight scattering of fruit and nuts. I prefer the latter, but many people prefer the former. You could also use 3 cups half-and-half in place of the milk/cream.

1 sheet puff pastry, thawed
1/3 cup mixed fruits and nuts (such as raisins, dried cherries, chopped dried apricots, pistachios or pine nuts)
1 1/2 cups whole milk
1 1/2 cups heavy cream
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 cup sugar
slivered almonds for serving

1. Preheat oven to 425F. Spread pastry on a greased baking sheet. Bake for 15 minutes until puffed and golden. Set aside.
2. Meanwhile, heat milk, cream, sugar, and vanilla in a saucepan until small bubbles form around the edge of the pan. Turn off heat and let sit while you proceed with the next step.
3. Raise oven heat to 475F. Grease a baking dish, crumble/tear apart the pastry and scatter in the baking dish. Scatter the dried fruit and nuts over the dish. Pour the milk/cream mixture over the dish. Bake for 15 minutes, or until golden on top and set. Let cool somewhat before serving.
4. Lightly toast almonds and scatter over top before serving.

Mint Lemonade

I certainly did not intend to be away from this site for so long. But then again, there are many things in my life that are not going as I intended these days. The day after my mother's funeral I flew to the Middle East. This may seem odd or callous or escapist, but for me it was just right. Something about wandering a souk and hearing the call to prayer is remarkably comforting to me. Plus, there was a certain boy out there that I was excited to see.

It being a short trip, I didn't have time to do much food investigation, but I did have time for plenty of mint lemonade. The mint lemonade (limon nana ليمون نعناع ) you find in the Middle East is not like what you find in the States, but rather a mixture of fresh lemon juice, mint leaves, and plenty of sugar whirled in a blender until a thick green concoction is poured into your glass. It's the most fantastically delicious drink I've ever had, and supremely refreshing in hot weather.

I'll admit I haven't quite mastered this mint lemonade at home- they must use some super high powered blender in the Middle East that blitzes the mint the liquid- my home version always ends up with little chunks of mint that get stuck in your straw or ledges in your teeth (see above photo). It still tastes great, mind you, but the solution I've found is to simply strain out the mint- sure it doesn't look quite authentic, but it still tastes the same.


Mint Lemonade
You absolutely must make this with fresh lemon juice. Don't even talk to me if you don't.

juice of 8 lemons (about 3/4 cup)
3/4 cup sugar
1/3 cup chopped mint leaves, packed
6-8 cups water (to taste)

Place all ingredients in a blender, starting with 6 cups water. Blend well, taste and add more water as necessary.

Soba Noodles with Eggplant, Garlic, Chilis, and Walnuts

I have a little bit more of an appetite these days. I haven't cooked much, unless toast counts, but my kitchen is somewhat more appealing these days. I've started slowly going through mom's things at the house- old boxes of photographs, telegrams, and correspondances. My mom was the one in the family who saved everything- eighteenth century family photos, my grandfather's manuscripts, two whole shoeboxes full of letters my grandmother wrote her while in college. Dance cards filled out with names of boys, most now forgotten, buttons from every presidential election since 1956. Her divorce papers. Every award, paper, or gold star I ever received in school.

It's exhausting, going through everything. It's all I do- work, clean out the house, deal with bills and debts and credits. All the work, however, does stir up an appetite. I've been trying to empty out some things in the pantry, since I've essentially inherited my mother's pantry as well. Soba noodles (Japanese buckwheat noodles) are great because they cook in minutes and are more nutritious than plain old pasta. Combined with eggplant, chilies, garlic, and walnuts, and drizzled with sesame oil, it's the only thing I've cooked in weeks.

Soba Noodles with Eggplant, Garlic, Chilis, and Walnuts

8 oz soba noodles
peanut or grapeseed oil
2 cups of cubed eggplant
1 clove garlic, minced
1/4 cup finely chopped walnuts
1/2 - 1 teaspoon Aleppo pepper flakes or chili flakes (to taste)
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
sesame oil, to taste
thinly sliced red cabbage, optional (I like the extra crunch)

1. Set a pot of water to boil.
2. Heat a generous splash of grapeseed oil in a skillet. Add the eggplant and garlic and cook over medium-high heat, stirring frequently, until the eggplant is completely tender. Add the walnuts, pepper flakes, and salt and cook a few minutes more, until the walnuts are lightly toasted.
3. Meanwhile, cook the soba noodles according to package directions (about 6-8 minutes). Transfer the noodles with tongs to the pan with the eggplant and add the cabbage if using. Toss everything together to combine. Transfer to a serving bowl and drizzle with sesame oil. Serve immediately.

...

My mom passed away on the morning of 12 May 2009. She was visiting her sister in Tennessee when she just closed her eyes and was gone. They said there was no pain, that she was peaceful. That is supposed to make you feel better, but really, it's not much of a consolation.

I was not ready. I thought I had more time, another year maybe. I wish so much that I could have been there to hold her hand. I wanted to do that. I thought I had more time, I thought I could keep working and living my life and now I regret every meal out that I should have eaten with her, every time I didn't visit when I could have. My mother did everything for me and the least I could have done was to curl up in bed and hold her hand when she died.

When you are 25, you do not expect to sit in a room and have a man ask you which urn you would like for her remains. You do not expect to inherit a house and a dog and a canoe, you do not expect to feel so terribly, terribly lonely.

When someone is gone, you have a hard time figuring out where to put them. I know my mom is no longer here physically, I saw her body so cold and still laying on the table. But it's almost like a game of Where's Waldo, she's not at her house, and she's not at the room at Margaret's where she stayed these last months of her illness, and there are her sneakers on the floor, and her wheelchair in the corner of my aunt's house, and her perfume in the bathroom. So finally I decided she's on Monhegan Island, our favorite summer retreat, hiking on the trail just up ahead of me. I can see her climbing the rough stone cliff and at the summit, turning and waving and disappearing into the woods. And that's where she'll be always, on the trail, just ahead of me.

Hot Pink Raspberry Cake

I saw this awesome hot pink cake and immediately planned to make it this weekend. I should point out that this never happens- recipes often sit in my cue for months, dare I admit years, before I get around to making them. But somehow this big puffy pink raspberry cake wanted to be made. Mother's day is tomorrow, and we've got spring flowers finally coming up everywhere, and I don't really need and excuse to bake a cake.

The cake calls for a packet of raspberry jello, and I'm sure purists could find a natural substitute for this, but I'm not that scared of gelatin although I only used half the package to keep it from being too sweet. You might try adding some of the liquid from defrosted raspberries to the cake in place of some of the milk for a more "natural" raspberry element. But the best thing about this cake, the this-is-going-into-the-recipe-files part, is the raspberry buttercream. Just three simple ingredients (butter, sugar, raspberries) the work perfectly together. The raspberries make it perfectly pink and add tartness and crunch to what would otherwise be a cloying frosting. I imagine it would go perfectly on your favorite chocolate cake recipe.

Then again, if hot pink isn't really your thing, there's always this blue cake for a more boyish note. What can I say, I think I have a problem with colorful cakes.




Hot Pink Raspberry Cake
Makes 2 9" round layers. Adapted from Apartment Therapy: The Kitchn.

1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 1/4 cups sugar
3 eggs
2 1/4 cups flour
1 teaspoon salt
3 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 cup milk
1/2 a red raspberry Jell-O packet, (this would be 1.5 oz, I just eye balled the half packet but you could measure)
1/2 cup raspberry jam, for between the layers

1. Preheat the oven to 325°F. Grease two 9" round cake pans with butter or baking spray. Combine the flour, baking powder, salt, and half-packet jello in a bowl.
2. Cream the softened butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs until combined. Add half the flour mixture stirring to combine, then add the milk, then the remaining flour mixture. Beat everything together for about 3 minutes until well combined.
3. Immediately pour into the prepared pans and bake for 25-30 minutes, or until the tops spring back slightly when pressed.
Let cool on wire racks for at least 15 minutes, then flip each pan over onto the rack and tap gently all over. Lift the pan slightly. If the cake doesn't feel like it's falling out smoothly, lay a slightly damp kitchen towel over the pan and tap again. If necessary, let the cakes cool more. If they have been baked thoroughly, however, they should fall right out of the pans once they've cooled a little and the sides of the cake have shrunk back from the pan.
Cool completely before frosting, otherwise the frosting will melt everywhere.

Hot Pink Raspberry Icing
1 pound confectioner’s sugar, sifted!
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, softened
5 ounces raspberries, thawed if frozen

1. Beat the butter with an electric mixer until soft, then radually dd the powdered sugar until it is encorporated. Add the raspberries and mix well. Spread on cooled cake.