Lump charcoal can burn hotter and can be made with specific woods that impart desirable flavors on food.
Photo: Andy Ciordia/Flickr

Post by Eliza Barclay, The Salt at NPR Food (5/24/13)

A lot of things about grilling can ignite a fight, including the meaning of “barbecue.” If you have a charcoal grill, the type of fuel you use is no exception, as many people are likely to discover this weekend.

To a newbie, the world of charcoal can be overwhelming, especially since the charcoal aisle of big box and hardware stores seems to be getting more crowded, with alluring chips and lumps of apple, cherry and even coconut wood. But the first hurdle is navigating the question: Do you use charcoal briquettes or lump charcoal, also known as “natural” hardwood charcoal?

Most polemicists on the matter can agree that there are advantages and disadvantages to each one: Briquettes burn more consistently, but they contain additives and generate more ash. Lump charcoal can burn hotter (handy if you’re searing meat) and can be made with specific woods that leave a trace of their scent on food. But the lumps come in a jumble of different sizes, some of which may not be evenly charred. And its bags can contain excess dust that may block the flow of oxygen in a grill.

If sales figures settle a debate, then briquettes and instant light charcoal are still the favorites by far (they made up 94 percent of the charcoal shipped in 2012, according to the Hearth, Patio and Barbecue Association).

Still, lump charcoal is attracting fans, especially among backyard cooks easily sold on the word “natural,” which adorns nearly all of the dark brown bags filled with lump charcoal for sale. There are now more than 75 brands on the market. And there’s even a small community for DIY lump charcoal.

According to Craig Goldwyn (aka Meathead), who runs the authoritative Amazingribs.com: The Science of BBQ & Grilling, “I see lump charcoal as just an extension of the organic movement. It’s still a tiny sliver of the market, but it reflects on the public’s desire to have less stuff in their food and their cooking.”

All charcoal is essentially the same thing: wood burned with little oxygen so that all that’s left is essentially carbon. But makers of lump charcoal claim it’s superior because of its purity — it contains no additives like regular briquettes or lighter fluid like instant-light ones.

Indeed, while lump charcoal and briquettes both originate as scrap lumber, the uniform round shape of the briquette is a result of an industrial process that depends on other materials, too. (Kingsford, the biggest maker of charcoal in the U.S., is a little vague about what exactly is in its briquettes, but its website mentions coal, limestone, borax and cornstarch.)

While breathing in too much smoke may cause adverse health effects, there isn’t much evidence that the additives in the briquettes have any impact on food. What they do impact, says Meathead, is control over the cooking process.

“I’m trying to teach people how to cook, and so I preach temperature. That means controlling heat is really vital, and briquettes are just a rock-solid heat source,” he says.

And when it comes to flavor with smoke, Meathead writes, adding small amounts of hardwood in the form of chips, chunks, pellets, logs or sawdust on top of the charcoal matters more than the charcoal itself. In other words, mesquite or hickory wood will add much more smoke flavor than mesquite or hickory charcoal.

Some serious grillers actually prefer cooking with logs instead of charcoal, but it’s a far more challenging undertaking. That’s because raw, burning wood still gives off a lot of volatile gases (that are gone once it has been reduced to charcoal).

“You have a lot of die-hards who prefer the hardwood, and the thing about hardwood is that it can have a regional, cultural aspect,” Jeff Allen, executive director of the National Barbecue Association, tells The Salt.

Allen notes that people from Georgia or Alabama are likely to prefer pecan wood because that’s one of the best hardwoods they’ve got. Over in Kansas City, another motherland of barbecue, the forests are rich with hickory, as well as oak and apple.

“When you look at the famous iconic restaurants, they’re all using wood,” says Allen. For example, Black’s Barbecue in Lockhart, Texas, slow-cooks its meat over 60-year-old-pits, using local oak wood.

Grillers with access to good local wood may also be intrigued by the nascent DIY charcoal movement. Virginia Tech and the Virginia Cooperative Extension Office have been promoting homemade charcoal made with small kilns as a way to add value to wood scraps or firewood. The “local fuel for local food” idea has caught on at a few farmers markets in the state. (Check out this YouTube video series to see how it’s done.)

According to Adam Downing, a Virginia extension officer, it’s important to choose the right wood for the kind of cooking you want to do.

“If you use pine, that would burn fast and hot — good for searing a steak,” he says. “But if you want a slower cook, you’ll want charcoal made from a higher density wood like oak or hickory.”

Downing makes his charcoal out of Ailanthus altissima, a non-native weed tree that has invaded his property in Madison, Va. “It’s the bane of people who have it on their property, but it makes great charcoal,” he says.

For the lump charcoal-obsessed who prefer to buy it, there’s The Naked Whiz’s Lump Charcoal Database, which features detailed reviews of dozens of lump charcoal products.

Copyright 2013 NPR.

Illustrations by Lila Volkas (click on any image to view larger versions and activate slideshow)

Last summer, as my daughter Lila unpacked on her return from another year of college in Canada and a stint WWOOFING on an organic farm, she plucked from her backpack a large Ziplock bag encasing a strange, slimy, dripping pancake and held it up to my face, declaring proudly, “Look at my baby!”

I admit I recoiled with a gasp, as I managed, “What is that thing?”

“Oh, Mom, “ sighed Lila, like it was so obvious, “That’s my Kombucha SCOBY!”

Since I was uninitiated to the delights of the fermented, fizzy drink with a long history and the recent surge in popularity, Lila was eager to share her discovery from the organic farm of how easy (and cheap) it is to make your own kombucha with only water, tea and sugar. As we searched our shelves for a suitable jar and a cotton cloth, she raved about the health benefits (still in dispute) and how drinking some kombucha every day made her feel so good.

After brewing a gallon of tea, adding a cup of sugar and letting it cool completely, I watched Lila pour the sweetened tea into our largest mason jar and gently place the slippery SCOBY (Symbiotic Colony Of Bacteria and Yeast) to float on top of the liquid. She covered the mouth of the jar with a cotton dishcloth and secured with a rubber band. “Now we just have to wait for seven days.” Decanting the bubbling golden brew a week later, I sipped the earthy tang of a zingy, apple cider. Maybe I’m suggestible, but after a small glass, I felt re-energized.

A few weeks later, as Lila was packing for her job as an art instructor at a summer camp in Yosemite, she broke the news, “You’re going to have to take care of my SCOBYs while I’m gone for two months and whatever you do, don’t let them die!” As I surveyed the brood of SCOBYs (which, like rabbits, had multiplied and now occupied all of our glass pitchers) I was suddenly flooded with memories of the traumatic summer when I was nine and volunteered to feed my neighbor’s fish, while they were on vacation. One morning, to my horror, I discovered dead fishies floating atop a tank of black water. I don’t think my neighbors spoke to me again.

Luckily, Lila left me with detailed drawings and instructions and all went well during her absence. Seems my maternal instincts are still intact.

When she returned home, however, I pointed out a few worrisome threads hanging off the bottom of a SCOBY, but Lila reassured me they were a normal part of the yeast and not mold.

Last September, as Lila packed to go back to school, she offered me my own SCOBY, but I declined, because of impending trips away from home. (I know now could have set up a SCOBY hotel)

Meanwhile back at UBC in Vancouver, Lila became active in Sprouts, their volunteer-run, organic café and gave kombucha making workshops to curious Canadians, including lists of do’s and don’ts (e.g., only clean your bottles with hot water, never use soap). She had intentionally expanded her SCOBY family in the intervening months so she could give each of the 30 attendees their own baby SCOBY to take home.

While she was away at school, I missed the bubbly, revitalizing beverage and tried store-bought kombucha but nothing hit the spot like Lila’s brew.

Lila is back for the summer now and our fridge is once more full of her concoctions, this time, flavored with ginger and lemon or blueberries and chia seeds. Soon she’ll be leaving for her summer camp job and I’ll be in charge of the little rascals again. This time, I’m ready. Instead of regarding the jellyfish-like blobs with distaste, I now welcome them as a part of the family who inhabits half our pantry. And I thank my daughter for her willingness to let me mother her “kids.”

Why won’t bacon die? Because it tastes so good. Photo: Rachael Myrow

Yes, pundits keep declaring bacon is boring, and therefore, dead. Over. Done, already. But bacon’s greasy grip on the American consciousness lives on.

As food writer Jason Sheehan of the Seattle Weekly put it,

“Bacon has not merely jumped the shark. Bacon has taken all the sharks, stuffed them with cupcakes, ice cream, sausage, lipstick, alarm clocks and mayonnaise, wrapped them in bacon, deep-fried them, then jumped that. Using a ramp made of bacon.”

In a time when people are cultivating their own yoghurt and milling their own flour, it’s a wonder everybody isn’t making their own bacon, the way Pati Palmer does in Cupertino.

It all started a couple of years ago. Driving her two teenagers around one morning, Palmer heard a KQED Forum segment on Do-It-Yourself projects, and the guest Sean Timberlake from Punk Domestics piqued her curiosity. Not long after, she was poking around on the group’s web site. “And I just decided ‘I gotta do bacon.’”

Off she went to Dittmer’s Gourmet Meats & Wurst-Haus in Los Altos for five pounds of pork belly. The family ate what they could, and froze the rest. Although, really, that shouldn’t have been necessary. Palmer guffaws. “A 14 year-old son? Come on! Bacon doesn’t last.”

Tasty as it is, Palmer’s not looking to start a new career in bacon. In case you’re thinking about it, bacon is not one of the approved foods under the new California Homemade Food Act. But…we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

The raw material, in this case, at Olivier’s Butchery in San Francisco. Photo: Rachael Myrow

First, you should try making bacon, and that involves buying pork belly. Bi-Rite butcher Zane Clark says some people do pause looking at a full pork belly. Especially if they don’t have ravenous teenagers living at home. Zane suggests sharing the love — and the saturated fat — with others. “You could have a bacon party with it,” he suggests.

Or…if you want to get all competitive about it, you could invite your DIY-inclined friends over for a piggy throw-down. “A bacon swap,” Clark says, “Which would be kind of cool.”

Clark says he’s seen no perceptible bump in pork belly sales specifically for bacon-making. Other Bay Area butchers report bacon stampedes, typically set off by a compelling food blog post, or TV show, or dare I suggest it, public radio segment. Once you’ve got the belly in your hot little hands, the next question is dry rub or brine.

Ian Marks is chef/owner of The Beast and The Hare in San Francisco’s Mission District. Photo: Rachael Myrow

Ian Marks of The Beast and the Hare in San Francisco brines. Downstairs in the restaurant’s basement, buckets of pork belly sit in brining solution for a week before he pulls them out, commenting:

“It’s basically a pickled piece of meat.”

Marks is coy about the actual recipe. Still, it’s fair to say his recipe works. He moves four slabs of bacon a week. The rest he sells to Drewes Brothers and Guerra’s Deli & Meats. In truth, much depends on your personal palate. The ingredients are about as basic as can be: “White sugar, brown sugar, molasses, honey, salt, and a little saltpeter.” That said, he must be doing something right to stand out in a crowded marketplace. San Francisco magazine last year declared his bacon the best in the Bay Area.

Out of the bucket and ready for the smoker. Photo: Rachael Myrow

From there, it’s on to the smoker, strewn liberally with apple wood chips. To meet the exigencies of the weekend brunch rush, he typically finishes cooking the bacon in the oven. After that, there’s yet another aesthetic decision to make – thin slices? Or thick? Marks slices super thick — just eight to ten slices a pound. “Otherwise, the molasses will start burning.”

Some folks are finicky about choosing locally-raised pork, but some of the best heritage breeds come from parts elsewhere. Marks gets his pork from Coleman Farms in Colorado: raised on pasture; no hormones or antibiotics.

“I definitely prefer a red pig, a Duroc pig, over a Berkshire pig,” Marks says. Why? He likes the nuttiness of the Duroc, and the sweetness of the meat. He makes his own charcuterie, too, and that’s also Duroc. That said, there’s something else. “I find Berkshire to be a little more barnyard-y smelling — and because I’ve noticed it, now I notice it every time.” There are a variety of heritage breeds to choose from, and heritage crossbreeds, too. Ask your favorite butcher where she’s sourcing her meat, but it’s worth noting she’ll also special order if you simply must try, for example, a Tamworth pig, instead of what she has in the case.

Where were we? Right, the stove. After Marks fries up a couple slices, we retire to one of the restaurant tables. Journalistic duty requires a taste test, you understand. Sure enough, as Marks promised, the bacon is salty, sweet and nutty. Some say brining makes the bacon taste more hammy, but there’s nothing hammy about this bacon. “Phenomenal,” I exclaim, and he grins with satisfaction.

Want to listen to the radio feature on bacon that aired on KQED? Here you go!

Off You Go To a Butcher Now:

• 4505 Meats, SF.
• Avedano’s, SF.
• Belcampo Meat Co., Larkspur.
• Bi-Rite Market, SF.
• Boccalone, SF.
• Dittmer’s Gourmet Meats & Wurst-Haus, Los Altos.
• Drewes Brothers, SF.
• Fatted Calf, Napa, SF and Berkeley.
• Guerra’s Deli & Meats, SF.
• The Local Butcher Shop, Berkeley.
• Marin Sun Farms, Point Reyes Station.
• Olivier’s Butchery, SF.
• Prime Smoked Meats, Oakland.
• Victorian Farmstead Meat Co., Sebastopol.

Previous Bay Area Bites bacon coverage: Makin’ Bacon in the Headlands

The Cat. Photo: Courtesy of Kazuki Yamamoto

Post by Maria Godoy, The Salt at NPR Food (4/25/13)

Clovers? Hearts? That’s small fries, guys. It’s time you met The Cat:

That 3-D creation is the work of Japanese latte artist Kazuki Yamamoto. The 26-year-old resident of Osaka creates ephemeral works of art in espresso and foam.

Anime Character. Photo: Courtesy of Kazuki Yamamoto

From whimsical monsters crafted from milk froth …

Foam monster. Photo: Courtesy of Kazuki Yamamoto

… to adorable homages to favorite childhood cartoon characters …

The Peanuts cast. Photo: Courtesy of Kazuki Yamamoto

Yamamoto’s art makes you regret the need to consume the canvas.

Yamamoto has made a name for himself on Twitter, where more than 82,000 followers receive daily tweets with images of his latest creations. But he’s hardly the only latte artist to emerge from Japan.

Einstein. Photo: Courtesy of Kohei Matsuno

That caffeinated Einstein, for instance, is the work of Yamamoto’s friend Kohei Matsuno, a 23-year-old originally from Osaka who now works at a café in Tokyo. (He’s on Twitter, too.) Matsuno’s subject matter varies widely — from anime characters to Lady Gaga. He also takes customer requests.

I like to surprise people, Matsuno, who also goes by the name Mattsun, tells The Salt. (NPR’s Yuki Noguchi kindly translated for us.) He says he’s always looking for new images.

Monkey. Photo: Courtesy of Kohei Matsuno

Lately, Matsuno has started recreating famous works of art — like this take on Edvard Munch’s The Scream.

Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.” Photo: Courtesy of Kohei Matsuno

A toothpick and spoon are Matsuno’s primary tools in creating such fine details. The milk and foam parts go on first, then he uses toothpicks to add “shading” with espresso. The whole process, he says, takes about three to five minutes. Yes, that means the beverage isn’t always piping hot when it reaches drinkers’ lips, but hey, they say you’ve got to suffer for your art.

Sure, we have latte artists in the U.S., too, but from what Matsuno tells us, it seems to be more common in Japan. So why bother to craft a masterpiece in a mug when it’s just going to disappear down someone’s gullet?

I put the question to noted design philosopher Leonard Koren, who has written about Japanese aesthetics. He pointed me to two Japanese concepts — wabi-sabi and mono-no-aware — both of which hold, in part, that “many things are beautiful precisely because they are short-lived and fragile,” Koren told me via email.

“For example, the Japanese love the cherry blossom metaphor,” he writes. “Because cherry trees blossom for only a week or two every year, when they do blossom, there is the emotional poignancy of knowing that it is only a temporary state of affairs.”

“If you can memorialize cherry blossoms in poetry—which the Japanese do,” says Koren, “why not do the same for latte foam?”

Harry Potter. Photo: Courtesy of Kazuki Yamamoto

It’s not a bad approach to life when you think about it — always seeing the potential for magic in the mundane.

Big hat tip to Rebecca Subbiah, who blogs at Chow and Chatter, for introducing us to these two artists.

Copyright 2013 NPR.

First up are fava beans, those long, plump pods that stretch and swell at the first touch of spring warmth. Buy a big bag of favas. Many more than you think you need. Think of each fava pod as a Gulfstream jet–ample, cushy, and much too large for the three or four fat-cat beans reclining inside. Now, put a pot of water on to boil, and crank up something you really like to listen to. You’re going to be here a while. But not as long as you might think, thanks to the brilliance of food scientist and author Harold McGee.

Take your bag of favas and strip off all those foamy pods. Don’t worry about their pallid little raincoat skins yet.

Now, here’s the great trick: When the water boils, add about a tablespoon of baking soda per quart of water. According to McGee, “Acidity maintains the structure of plant cell walls, and alkalinity breaks it down.” So, adding something alkaline–like baking soda–to your blanching water “weakens the fava seed coats enough that many of them rupture on their own in a couple of minutes at the boil, and the remainder easily break between finger and thumb.” If you’ve ever sat around peeling favas for what can feel like hours at a time, you know what an amazing breakthrough this is. Thank you, Harold! (You can find more juicy details on McGee’s website, Curious Cook.)

Dump your de-podded favas into your alkalinized water. Let come back to a boil and simmer for a minute or two. Drain and rinse with cold water until cool enough to handle. If they haven’t already busted their coats, pinch off the now-slippery and grayish-pink outer skin and discard. (You may need to rinse the finished beans again to remove any remaining skin debris.) Drop the pretty bright-green bean halves inside into a little bowl. Yes, a little bowl. That’s all you’ll need, trust me, since your two pounds of favas will only net you about 1 1/3 cups of fully denuded beans. Slide your now double-peeled favas into a small skillet with a little olive oil, a few tablespoons of water and a pinch of sea salt.

Cook them, stirring, over low heat until tender and nutty tasting, probably around five minutes, maybe less. If you have one of those cute little mini-food-processors, scoop your favas (and whatever liquid might be around them) into the processor, add a squeeze of lemon juice, a little more olive oil and/or water, and pulse to a rough puree. Not too smooth; this isn’t hummus.

Otherwise, stamp them into a rough paste with one of those waffle-grid-headed potato mashers. (I think if you tried to chop them they’d just go slithering off in every direction all over the counter, and after all that work, you don’t have any to waste.)

Add some freshly ground pepper (preground pepper is as useless, and tasteless, as sand), and taste. Does it taste creamy and nutty and green? Good. Only add more salt and/or lemon if it tastes flat; lemon juice can really jump right out at you and that’s not what you want here. However, if you’re lucky enough to have some Moroccan-style preserved lemons sitting around, you could add a tiny bit of minced preserved-lemon rind to the fava-bean mixture, just to spark it up. Set aside.

Strip some mint leaves from their stems. Lay the leaves one on top of the other in a little leaf stack. Roll up like a cigar and cut into very fine strips. Ah, mint chiffonade. Two words like the tinkle of clear ice in a tall gin and tonic on a summer afternoon–the two words Henry James considered the most lovely in the English language. (No, not mint chiffonade, nor gin and tonic, more’s the pity, but summer afternoon. And this from a man wearing a high collar, waistcoat, suit and tie in the middle of July.)

Then you need a chunk of Pecorino Romano cheese, a firm, salty sheep’s milk cheese similar to Parmesan, and a vegetable peeler. You could use Parmesan instead, but in that case I’d look for a young Parmesan, one that’s still got a little sweetness and elasticity to it, rather than one gone all stark and aged and granular. You could also use a Spanish Manchengo, or my new favorite, an Italian Gran Cacio, a firm sheep’s milk cheese found on a quick trip to the Bi-Rite Market cheese display.

Now, cut some very thin slices of baguette. Toast lightly, which is best done on a baking sheet in the oven at around 350°F, for about 5 to 7 minutes. Rub the top side very lightly with a clove of garlic, or even better, with a juicy little chunk of green garlic.

But wait, green garlic? What is that, exactly? So glad you asked! It’s the bulb and stem of the garlic plant in its early stages, before the bulb swells and the cloves separate in the fat, familiar, papery-white bundle we know. At this moment, the bulb is barely a nubbin and the stalk is still flexible and edible. It has the texture of a young leek or extra-firm scallion and a taste that mixes the vegetal greenness of leek with a hint of the earthy warmth of the garlic to come. Basically, these are thinnings, pulled to give more elbow room to the bulbs ripening in the late summer and fall. They seem to be particularly relished (and sold) at farmers’ markets in Northern California, where they have a brief season as harbingers of spring, much like favas, pea shoots, and the first rhubarb and strawberries. Here’s a lovely green-garlic pesto recipe from Stephanie Stiavetti, my KQED colleague and fellow food-writing Stephanie.

Now, back to your baguette slices, waiting for you all garlicked up. Have you noticed how seasonal this little nibble is? How local? Everything, from bread to olive oil to favas, lemons, and mint, can come from some combination of backyard and farmer’s market. (For cheese, try Bellwether’s Pepato, a peppercorn-studded semi-firm sheep’s milk cheese made in Valley Ford.)

Drizzle or brush some good olive oil on your toasts. Return to the oven to continue crisping up and browning. You don’t want it much more than golden brown around the edges, but you do want it nice and crunchy all the way through. The oven is better for this kind of slow crisping than the toaster, which will give you fast brown edges but a chewy center.

Once your toasts are ready, spread a spoonful of fava mixture onto each toast. Don’t be stingy, baby! Swirl it on nice and thick, like icing on a cupcake. Strew a few mint shreds over the favas. Using your little vegetable peeler, add a couple sheer curls of Pecorino Romano cheese. Nicest served while the toasts are still warm, but that’s a frill.

All this work and you will probably end up with anywhere from 10 to 12 toasts, depending on how many favas you could bear to peel. What this means, of course, is that, as with fried zucchini blossoms, these should only be served to a small group of people you really, really like.

Best of all, really, is sitting in the back garden, lilacs on the table, something sparkling in your glass, toasting your good fortune with your one very favorite, most fava-worthy friend, whether sweetheart or pal. Happy Spring!

Recipe: Fava-Bean Crostini

A recipe-memory mash-up of snacks enjoyed in Tuscany and an appetizer served over the years at Delfina in San Francisco.

Ingredients
• Fava beans, about 2 lbs (in the pod)
• 1 tablespoon baking soda, for blanching
• 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more for brushing toasts
• 1-2 garlic cloves or 1 stalk of green garlic
• Juice of 1 lemon
• A small handful of mint leaves, cut into thin chiffonade
• A small chunk of Pecorino Romano cheese
• Flaky sea salt, such as Maldon
• Freshly ground black pepper
• Half a sweet baguette, sliced thinly

Preparation
1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Spread baguette slices on a baking sheet. Let toast lightly in oven until just crisp, 5-7 minutes. Rub each piece, on the top side, lightly with a garlic clove or piece of green garlic. Brush with olive oil. Set aside.
2. Peel the outer pods from the favas. Discard pods. Bring 1 quart of water to a boil. Add baking soda to water. Add favas and blanch for 2 minutes. Drain and rinse with cold water to cool.
3. When favas are cool enough to handle, pinch off outer skins and discard. In a small saucepan, combine favas with a few tablespoons of water, a tablespoon or two of olive oil, and a pinch of sea salt. Cook over low heat, stirring frequently, until favas are tender, about 5 minutes. Add juice of half a lemon.
4. Using a small food processor or waffle-headed potato masher, break up the favas (and any liquid from the pot) into a rough paste. Add more lemon juice, salt, and freshly ground pepper to taste. Set aside.
5. Return baguette slices to the oven until crisp and just beginning to brown around the edges, 2-3 minutes.
6. Divide fava-bean mixture between baguette slices. Top with a few mint wisps, a few grains of sea salt, and a few curls of Pecorino Romano. Serve immediately, with a glass of Prosecco or Champagne.

The Smitten Ice Cream shop in the Hayes Valley of San Francisco serves fresh ice cream with one novel ingredient: liquid nitrogen. The shop is located inside of a repurposed shipping container. Photo: Alan Greenblatt/NPR

Post by Alan Greenblatt, The Salt at NPR Food (4/17/13)

Robyn Sue Fisher’s ice cream shop, Smitten, in San Francisco’s Hayes Valley, may at moments resemble a high school chemistry lab, but that’s because Fisher uses liquid nitrogen to freeze her product.

Nitrogen is “a natural element,” she notes. “It’s all around us.”

What makes it essential to Smitten is the ability to make ice cream fresh to order. You walk up and ask for a chocolate, or a blood orange with pistachio. The liquid nitrogen freezes the ingredients together, and your cup or cone is ready about a minute later.

Each serving is made from only a few ingredients — including none of the gums, egg yolks or other emulsifiers normally needed to keep ice cream frozen on its months-long journey from manufacturer to distributor to store to your home freezer.

The mint chip, for example, contains just organic cream and milk, mint and a dash of salt. The first lick is like biting into a mint leaf.

“This is the best ice cream I ever had,” says my son, who is only 7 but already an experienced ice cream taster, as he spoons his way through an order of chocolate.

The store uses a patented machine to keep ingredients churning and mix in the liquid nitrogen in a safe, controlled manner.
Photo: Alan Greenblatt/NPR

Smitten charges a buck an ounce, but a small amount of the ice cream is rich enough to satisfy.

“Knowing there are only a few ingredients makes me feel like I can indulge,” says customer Claire Kensington, the founder of a food, fashion and sex website, who’d returned two days after her last serving for some more mint chip.

Of course, there’s nothing new about making ice cream with liquid nitrogen. In fact, cooking with the stuff has become so trendy lately that Wired felt inspired to put together this how-to guide. (As we reported last year, sometimes these culinary experiments can go dangerously wrong.)

At New York’s Eleven Madison Park, guests brought back to the kitchen after dinner are treated to an apple-and-brandy cocktail topped with a frozen dome of foam fashioned with liquid nitrogen.

“It gives us the opportunity to do a little performance before the guests that’s really easy and quick, and at the same time entertaining,” says Angela Pinkerton, the restaurant’s head pastry chef. “Liquid nitrogen is fun to watch, and everyone’s curious about it. It looks cool.”

It does look (and feel) cool when clouds of vapors come pouring out of the metal containers where the ice cream’s stirring at Smitten. Fisher started serving ice cream out of a kid’s red wagon back in 2009. She spent years developing a patented machine that keeps her ingredients churning in a safe, controlled environment. She goes into the techie details in this video:

The stirring, along with the minus 321 F temperature of the liquid nitrogen, keeps ice crystals from forming and is responsible for Smitten’s smooth texture, which my son likens to a cross between standard-issue ice cream and whipped cream.

“Because it is a different texture than any other ice cream,” says Kensington, “it feels like a new experience, like a new treat.”

Copyright 2013 NPR.

We wish this one was televised, too: Alice Waters, Martin Yan, Joanne Weir, Virginia Willis, Nell Newman, Rick Bayless, Thomas Keller, Charles Phan, Joel Riddell and Irvin Lin were among the folks who took the stage for Tuesday night’s 2013 International Association of Culinary Professionals (IACP) awards ceremony in San Francisco. Oakland Food Connection and food incubator La Cocina were also honored. IACP’s professional awards are widely viewed in the food world as something of a gold standard for cookbooks, food writing, digital media and culinary tours. The awards marked the closing night of the organization’s 35th annual conference, which went with a “Dirt to Digital” theme this year.

Check out the full list of award finalists and the grand list of winners. While the awards ceremony stretched out over a few hours and was oddly lacking any form of culinary nourishment (there were definite rumblings after the ceremony about that), it offered quirks, songs and even a few dick jokes courtesy of Libbie Summers, whose Salted and Styled blog won for Best Culinary Blog. On the other end of the spectrum, the evening kicked off with all guests looking up and saying “thank you” as a dedication to publisher Peter Workman, who passed away just this week. It was also emotional for Lifetime Achievement Award winner Alice Waters, who gratefully accepted her prize and joked in her speech that while she cannot farm, “I am a picker,” which got the audience laughing–wise words from the founder of Chez Panisse and the Edible Schoolyard. Waters also professed her admiration for cooking teachers because: “I cannot teach.” She immediately went on to acknowledge IACP attendee and stalwart Darina Allen, whose Ballymaloe cooking school she visits every year (for her birthday).

When Charles Phan won in the Chefs and Restaurants cookbook category for his “Vietnamese Home Cooking” (co-authored with Tasting Table Senior Editor Jessica Battilana), he confessed that he did not have a speech but had enjoyed some bourbon to presumably get warmed up. Phan thanked Battilana, his agent and wife, Angkana. “My wife made sure I turned the book manuscript in, so I wouldn’t have to return the book advance money to Ten Speed Press.”

“Jerusalem: A Cookbook” by Yotam Ottolenghi, Sami Tamimi, received the award for Cookbook of the Year, and Marion Nestle garnered a prize in the Food Matters category for her weighty tome, “Why Calories Count: From Science to Politics.” The deeply satisfying sugar-rush images in the Bouchon Bakery cookbook garnered an award for Food Photography and Styling, and the Dining Around with Joel Riddell radio show won in the Long Format Audio category. The team at Chronicle Books may still be celebrating given their author Diane Morgan won for her book, “Roots: The Definitive Compendium with more than 225 Recipes.”

Culinary Tour Operator of the Year went to Copita chef Joanne Weir, who shared that as a child, she told her father that she wanted to be a bus driver, so that she could drive a bus on every road in the world. Her confession seemed to scare him a little. Weir dedicated her prize to him because he passed away last year. Food blogger Irvin Lin won the Best in Show prize for his photography, and he asked the IACP crowd to “hire me, I’m available,” a sentiment which was echoed by the next winner.

The conference itself is that rare chance to possibly figure out how to eke out a living doing things in the culinary field–it can be exciting but also daunting in the number of possibilities it presents. There were various declarations for members to support each other and that each one “stands on the shoulders” of those who have come before and after them. That may sound hokey and like general conference speak yet three people we spoke with found these pronouncements to be inspiring.

Many attendees shared with Bay Area Bites that the chance of learning from so many different people doing interesting things is one of the main draws of shelling out $750 to $950 to register for the full conference—that’s on top of the $280 it costs to initially join IACP. Off the record, we were told that IACP is in the midst of something of a revamp and that costs and programming issues have been noted if not yet changed. These folks said that they attend as much for the learning sessions on, say, the meaning of restaurant reviews in the era of Yelp to getting a lowdown on sourdough or video content strategy. The coffee breaks are also highly valued and networking even happens in the bathrooms. Yes, really.

Kale salad and eating local may remain a big trend, but IACP attendees see much, much more at play in the food world. We asked some notable thought leaders to answer a few questions in person:

• What is this conference about for you?
• The theme of the conference is Dirt to Digital; what does it mean to you?
• How does the theme translate to the food industry?
• What did you learn about in the workshops and what are the clear trends that emerged from the conference?

Here are insights from Corby Kummer, Danielle Gould, Sandor Katz, Joanne Weir and Sarah Copeland. Their responses have been edited for length and clarity.

Corby Kummer is a senior editor at The Atlantic magazine. Known as “the dean of food writing,” Kummer’s 1990 Atlantic series about coffee is a benchmark for excellence in long-form food writing. He is the author of “The Joy of Coffee,” based on his Atlantic series, and the recently published “The Pleasures of Slow Food.” Kummer is the recipient of three James Beard Journalism Awards, including the MFK Fisher Distinguished Writing Award.

Kummer: This conference is about seeing people who are following food issues on the level of the home cook. It’s about how the things that we in the media are interested in and write about play out in real life and the home of a consumer.

IACP has always been the most connected to the real world of any group because it’s people making their living as culinary professionals. They are in touch with sustainability, farming and local issues. I thought the conference was brilliantly named “Dirt to Digital” because online is where all of the IACP members need to be marketing themselves and their products.

With social media, no one yet knows how to master it but everyone’s trying to learn. IACP has always been at the forefront of practical and real world applications. That’s a unique role because being so smartly focused attracts the most interesting, lively and active people in the food world. And I’ll take any opportunity to connect with them.

Danielle Gould is the Founder and CEO of Food+Tech Connect, a media company and network for innovators transforming the business of food. Through news and analysis, events, and custom research, Gould helps companies of all sizes drive innovation and understand how information and technology are changing the way food is produced, distributed, and consumed. She is also a founding member of the Culinary Institute of America’s Sustainable Business Leadership Council and is a regular contributor to Forbes.

Gould: This is my first time at IACP and they invited me to talk about food and tech trends and hackathons as a model for food innovation. Our panel touched on the opportunity and the medium, as well as how to demystify technology. It is also about helping people understand the knowledge and the challenges that are out there. We’re trying to empower people to put that knowledge out there where they’re collaborating with designers and developers to solve that problem. I travel the whole country and spread the gospel and learn about how people are thinking. It’s about using technology to help solve problems, spread messages and improve business models and just accelerate innovation that’s happening on a small scale.

In the past, a book would take you two years and a product would take 18 months. For a food producer or chef, that means that it takes awhile to market things. Technology offers opportunities: now you can self-publish that cookbook in close to real time, and get feedback on your product.

“Dirt to Digital” is at the heart of what food technology is. You’re looking across the supply chain, and food is interconnected. It is a system, and that goes to the consumer. A lot of times when people think of digital, they think of consumers. Emerging trends and what role technology is for each trend is a part of that. Technology is very broad and means so much to so many different people.

I just love learning how people respond to technology and food and how they use it. The other major takeaway was a lot of the panels weren’t very popular or not as sexy but were about funding. Everyone’s having trouble making money in the food space.

Sandor Ellix Katz, “one of the unlikely rock stars of the American food scene” according to The New York Times, is a self-taught fermentation experimentalist. His books “The Art of Fermentation” and “Wild Fermentation,” and the fermentation workshops he has taught across North America and beyond, have helped to catalyze a broad revival of the fermentation arts.

Katz: I’ve never been to IACP before. I don’t think of myself as a culinary professional. The work that I do is demystifying and sharing skills with people who aren’t necessarily culinary professionals. The highlight for me has been to meet people whose books are influential. [Katz was sitting with Bruce Aidells when we caught up with him and Aidells shared the table with us while we caught up.]

Aidells: What’s good sauerkraut without good sausages?

Katz: A kraut — quesadilla is my fast food, and I make it with Pepper Jack. That’s one of my standard meals.

The theme of the conference is significant. What does “Dirt to Digital” mean? I was just on this panel that was high tech versus low tech yet I don’t necessarily see things that way. I’m interested in understanding these processes in their simplicity. So that doesn’t mean you can’t use technology to have more control over the processes. It’s very empowering to see how the underlying principles don’t need equipment. If you get involved in sausage making, you can use a funnel for the casing. You can also just be there with you hands, pushing the meat through to the casing.

For cheese, you can buy nice molds, perhaps. There are elegant crocks to make things but you can also do it with a jar that’s already in your pantry. I appreciate the conference and there’s much information spreading by digital means but it may be telling people how to use their hands.

Joanne Weir is a James Beard award-winning cookbook author, cooking teacher, host and executive producer for the award-winning television series Joanne Weir’s Cooking Confidence. She is the chef-owner of Copita, a tequileria and restaurant in Sausalito. The author of 17 cookbooks, including the newly released “Cooking Confidence,” Joanne is the Culinary Editor at Large at Fine Cooking! magazine. She travels and teaches extensively around the world as well as in her studio kitchen.

Weir: This conference was so interesting because I’ve approached it differently as a restaurateur this year. I usually approach it as “I write for magazines” or my cookbooks or how to fill your cooking classes. This time I’m taking in things that are really different. I want to sit in on the reviewing and Yelping session.

I still love to see all the people I know when I come to IACP. And I love that it’s in SF and I get to share Copita–they’re going over by ferry. I did a tour on Saturday and people loved it. I’ve shared in a different way and am still excited about my restaurant.

For me with “Dirt to Digital,” I don’t know if I put the two together. Yet every single thing I do is fresh. I have an organic farm — and my next series is called “Fresh” for TV. I am always interested in digital media. The market has changed and the whole landscape is changing. My hope is it that it goes back to dirt and less digital. Is that so ‘Chez Panisse’ of me? (laughs) I do digital but food is still my passion. Perhaps next year the IACP theme should be “Back to Passion.”

IACP is pretty current on things. What they’ve done this year is now bloggers have been integrated. I left feeling in past years that I had to do so much on my own blog. I’ve always done food that is following my passion and on what brings about major possibilities for me. I attended a book session that talked about book advance spending and how book tours are back and rely on the digital medium.

My trend is always Mexican, and that comes with owning Copita. I saw the trendologist Kara Nielsen here and she said, “You couldn’t be in a more trendy thing, with Mexican food and tequila.”

I do modern Mexican food.

We used to think of Italian red tablecloths and Chianti — yet now Italian food has come a long way. One of the trends here is taking cuisines and elevating and educating around the cuisine. Thomas Keller was talking about that and I have seen that in this conference.

Sarah Copeland is the Food Director at Real Simple and author of “The Newlywed Cookbook: Fresh Ideas and Modern Recipes for Cooking With and For Each Other.” Her book, “Feast” will be published in December this year and she has authored numerous articles and recipes for Real Simple, Saveur, Food & Wine, Health, Martha Stewart Living, Better Homes & Gardens and Food Network Magazine. She has appeared as a guest on The Martha Stewart Show, Good Morning America and ABC News Now.

Copeland: A lot of the conference is about relationships. I see faces from every different facet of my career and have been reconnecting and catching up on what people are doing that is new and exciting. There’s a chance to celebrate successes while hopefully helping a few people too.

On “Dirt to Digital,” one of the most challenging things of this industry from my perspective is that I started in print. That part has changed so dramatically in ten years or even five years. For most food people who are in love with food, it is very tactile how we communicate yet that is changing so much. The dirt part communicates place, smell, and touch, which are all the good things. It includes the agriculture, and the farmer. There are so many layers and it is complex with dirt. That’s how food is to me: we touch humanity and civilization, nutrition and wellness. In the digital sphere, how do you capture that? I think we are all figuring that out.

I did a panel on recipes and copyright for the conference. There were folks from Pillsbury there who were trying to figure out their contest. We also had teachers, bakery owners and bloggers. As Food Director at Real Simple, I have to be savvy and think about those aspects.

On almost every panel I ask, ‘What’s the best panel?’ This year, everyone is focusing on video. I worked at the Food Network — and yet this industry has been print for so long. With Hungry and YouTube and different avenues, it’s just so video-focused. The trailer for my first book is a minute and a half but my next one will probably be half that, to seventy-five seconds. My new book ‘Feast’ from Chronicle Books is coming out in December and I’ve learned a few things that I’ll do differently. I am coming away from the conference with the feeling that there is room for every voice and every talent. If you are generous, they will help you, too.

Kimchi is a traditional pungent fermented Korean dish made of vegetables with a variety of seasonings.
Photo: Chung Sung-Jun/Getty Images

Listen to the Story on Weekend Edition Sunday

Post by Bonny Wolf, The Salt at NPR Food (4/7/13)

It’s delicious, it’s nutritious and it’s basically rotten. Fermentation is a hot culinary trend, and, as Weekend Edition food commentator Bonny Wolf explains, the preservation process gives food a flavor unique to time and place.

People you know may intentionally be growing bacteria in their homes — on food, outside the refrigerator. And they are doing it to make food safe, and nutritious.

They are doing what cooks have always done: fermenting food.

For decades, we have fought against bacteria in our food. And now we’re being told to make love — not war — on germs.

Before you wrinkle your nose, consider this: If you have ever eaten bread, cheese, chocolate or yogurt, or drunk beer, wine or coffee, you have had fermented food.

There are bad bacteria. But many are beneficial.

OK, non-scientists, stick with me. Fermentation is the process in which bacteria and yeasts feed on the sugars in food. That creates lactic acid, a preservative. It is what Bill Schindler, a fermenter and anthropology professor at Washington College, calls “controlled rotting.” The results are the probiotic foods you hear about: miso, tempeh, the fermented tea called kombucha.

The nutrients are intact, the foods are easier to digest, and new flavors have been created.

Katy Chang, an award-winning kimchi maker, says fermentation is magic. You make nutrients and flavors that didn’t exist before, using what’s in the air around you.

This taste of time and place gives your food what some fermenters call “microbial terroir.” Yeah, like in wine.

Chefs, artisan food producers and just plain folk have been touched by fermentation magic. New York superchef David Chang is working with a Harvard microbiologist to try new things at his Momofuku fermentation lab, like pistachio miso cashew tamari.

Sandor Katz is considered the guru of fermenting food. He calls himself a “fermentation revivalist,” trying to bring back an ancient tradition.

In his introduction to Katz’s book, The Art of Fermentation, food writer Michael Pollan says we’ve been living in an age of Purell. He calls fermentation “an eloquent protest against the homogenization of flavors and food now rolling like a great, undifferentiated lawn across the globe.”

Katz says he wants to demystify fermentation so people won’t be afraid. Then, maybe, we can all feel the magic.

Bonny Wolf is managing editor of American Food Roots.

Copyright 2013 NPR.

Listen to the Story on Morning Edition

Post by Selena Simmons-Duffin, NPR Food (4/4/13)

We’ve all got those strange food items in the kitchen that either bewilder or bore us: A strange can of beans bought in a pre-storm panic. Something in another language, gifted as a souvenir. Bulk items purchased for an ambitious recipe, used exactly once.

And usually, those things just sit there … forever. But what if you could ask a bunch of people, “Hey, what do I do with this?”

NPR’s Morning Edition just launched a project called Cook Your Cupboard to help with that. It’s simple: Post a photo of what has you stumped. Then get (and give!) advice in the comments.

Every few weeks we’ll ask for something different (like freezer items, spices, surplus produce). But the first round is general: Just pick any three questionable things in your kitchen.

Need inspiration? Morning Edition‘s David Greene found these weird things: Red and white popcorn kernels, apricot oil from Vienna and never-opened blackberry jam. And the suggestions are already rolling in.

We hope you can help each other out of your kitchen conundrums. And as a bonus, every few weeks we’ll also bring one participant on-air — to get expert advice from a chef. First up is Nigella Lawson. We think she can make anything (even watermelon preserves) sound delicious.

Related Links:
• NPR’s Handy Guide To Not Taking Terrible Food Photographs (NPR’s The Picture Show)
• Cook Your Cupboard: Share a Photo, Get Some Feedback (cookyourcupboard.tumblr.com)

Copyright 2013 NPR.

“I’m always going to err on the side of whole foods, that’s my philosophy.” Rebecca Katz

Rebecca Katz. Photo courtesy of Rebecca Katz

(Get recipes for Golden Roasted Cauliflower and Bella’s Moroccan Spiced Sweet Potato Salad below)

Included in the book is a list of the Super 16 Power Foods, foods that “nibble for nibble offer the highest levels of antioxidants.” I liked the list, but it was missing some of my favorite medicinal foods. Where was the broccoli with its anti-cancer and hormone balancing effects; or turmeric, the potent anti-inflammatory, anti-cancer Asian spice? So, I was pleased to find that the second chapter of the book contained a culinary pharmacy — a list of over 80 foods that are used as ingredients throughout the book along with their various health benefits. Here I found turmeric, medicinal mushrooms, broccoli and many more. There are also notes included with many of the recipes that talk about the health benefits of specific ingredients. These notes go into greater detail and explain the benefits of important foods that aren’t included in the Super 16 or the Culinary Pharmacy like flax seeds.

Here are the three major reasons why I found “The Longevity Kitchen” to be a valuable resource.
• The first is quality. The ingredients in the recipes are truly health promoting. Katz emphasizes fresh, organic, unrefined foods in each recipe.
• The second reason is that the book is almost entirely gluten-free. There are a few recipes that contain gluten but most include easy substitutions for people with sensitivities. In fact, many of the recipes are also free of eggs, dairy, soy and sugar making “The Longevity Kitchen” a valuable resource for people with allergies and special diets.
• The third and most important reason is that the food actually tastes good. I have tested recipes from every section of the book, from Latin Kale to Mango Lassi and they have all been delicious. I have served these dishes to friends and even to my four-year-old twins. People love them. I got so many compliments on the Parsley Mint Drizzle that it felt like cheating; its only six ingredients in the blender after all.

As a naturopathic doctor I focus on optimal nutrition for each patient, and this often involves diet change. It is relatively easy for me to tell people what they should and shouldn’t eat. It is much harder to tell them how to prepare those foods. This book does an excellent job of bridging the gap and making healthy food accessible and flavorful. One caveat is that most of these recipes require some basic cooking skills to prepare. People who don’t already know how to chop, dice, mince or zest may need to brush up before attempting them.

This month I had the opportunity to interview Rebecca Katz about her new book and her philosophy on food. Excerpts from our interview are transcribed below. The content has been edited for length and clarity.

Your previous two books, “One Bite at a Time” and “The Cancer Fighting Kitchen” were specifically targeted to cancer patients and their families and this book is targeted to the general public. I’m wondering why you made that shift?

Katz: If I had one more person come up to me and say, “these books are great, but when are you going to write a book for the rest of us.” …A lot of people are afraid of the word “cancer.” So even though the recipes in both of those books are yummy for everybody, number one — people who have been through cancer and are on the other side don’t want to look at the word anymore. Number two — there was a larger audience to reach. Many of the same rules apply when we are talking about eating for a cancer-fighting diet and eating for longevity. We are still dealing with the major chronic issues that we all face which are free radical damage, inflammation, and getting a lot of antioxidants. Nothing really changes. What changes is the way the story is told, but not the principles of eating. One of the challenges with this book, in dealing with the topic of longevity was how to grab people’s attention and make it relevant to their lives.

Absolutely, one of the things I experience in working with people with cancer is that I’ve become really passionate about prevention. You see all of the steps that led to the development of the disease and you want to help other people make changes earlier.

Katz: There are very few things in our lives that we have control over. But one of the things we do have control over is what we put in our bodies and it can be a joyful experience. We are talking about longevity and our connection with food being one of joy. This is a book about all of the things that you can have, not simply a list about all of the things that you can’t have.

I was really interested in your list of 16 foods. I was a little surprised to see coffee, chocolate and green tea on the list. We know that all of those foods have a very strong profile of phytochemicals. But I wonder if you believe that people need some level of stimulation to be optimally healthy and happy?

Katz: Honestly it was really hard to get it down to 16. Here was my criteria, number one was the antioxidant properties, number two was some of the latest research coming out on brain health which shows that a little stimulation can go a long way. But really every recipe and every ingredient in that book could be considered on that top sixteen. So I was really looking for a blend of nutrient dense, antioxidants, phytochemicals, the right amount of stimulation and I wanted people to look at that list and be able to recognize those foods. I also think there is a psychological component — giving people permission to indulge in some of the foods that they resonate with. Food is such an emotional issue and if you take away everything, people really get upset. When I take something away, I always have to give something back. Just because you want to eat well and be healthy doesn’t mean you should be relegated to the sidelines.

How did you become a cookbook author, specifically one focusing on cancer prevention and longevity?

Katz: I had a motivation at the very beginning. My father was diagnosed with throat cancer in 2000. I took a leave of absence and went to take care of him and I didn’t know anything about cooking for people with cancer even though I was trained chef. There was nothing out there! There was nothing. So my father was my guinea pig. Food was the platform of his life, so it was not an option not to feed him well. Then I got a wonderful opportunity (to work) at Commonweal Cancer Health Program. I really believe, truly, in that connection to food and to being a nourisher — I felt like I had found my calling. One Bite at a Time came out of my experience working with people individually and The Cancer Fighting Kitchen came out because there was so much new science appearing. I was now at a different level, I had gotten my masters of science in nutrition, I was witness to this evolution. I look back and think, wow what a wonderful gift.

I think that is the gift that everyone is looking for in a career, being able to find the thing that you are meant to do in the world and be paid for it.

Katz: Yes, I feel incredibly grateful.

EVENT:
April 5, 7:15pm: Rebecca Katz will be signing books at Book Passage in Corte Madera

RECIPES:

Golden Roasted Cauliflower

Roasting cauliflower completely transforms it into a candy-like delight that yields to a gentle fork. The spices—cumin, coriander, and turmeric—really make this dish sing. Turmeric has anti-cancer and anti-inflammatory properties, and holds great promise for maintaining (and possibly improving) brain health.

Golden Roasted Cauliflower. Photo: The Longevity Kitchen

Serves 4

1 medium head of cauliflower (about 2 1/2 to 3 pounds) cut into 1 1/2 inch florets (about 8 cups)
2 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon coriander
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1 tablespoon finely chopped parsley or cilantro

Place the rack in the middle of the oven and preheat to 450°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Toss the cauliflower with 2 tablespoons olive oil, salt, pepper, cumin, coriander, turmeric and garlic. Spread the cauliflower mixture in an even layer on the prepared pan. Bake until the cauliflower is golden and tender, about 25 to 35 minutes. Toss with spritz with fresh lemon juice and parsley or cilantro.

Variations: If you’re not in a spicy mood, omit the spices and toss the cauliflower with olive, salt and pepper. You’ll love how sweet this vegetable tastes after its oven “sauna.”

Prep Time: 10 minutes Cook Time: 25 minutes
Storage: Store refrigerated in airtight container for 2 days

Notes: Chopping cauliflower releases enzymes that increase the bioavailability of its nutrients. Delaying cooking for 5-10 minutes after cutting helps insure that heat won’t destroy these enzymes’ effectiveness. Also, the enzymes need Vitamin C to activate, which can be accomplished with a hit of lemon or lime juice.

Bella’s Moroccan Spiced Sweet Potato Salad

This is proof that exposure to vegetables expands one’s horizons, whether they have two legs or four. My 8 year old Portuguese Water dog Bella had become known around our house for her love of carrots. She literally comes running every time she hears the carrot peeler come out of the drawer. We figured ‘hmmm, that’s different for a dog,’ and played the approving parents. Well, she’s expanded her palate (or maybe she just likes orange-colored veggies). Now she’s on to sweet potatoes. No sooner do they hit the counter, than she’s dancing and singing around my feet. I quarter and square off the potatoes so she gets the ends, and she’s been known to get some serious hang time under her paws as she leaps for a toss. Seriously, Air Bud has nothing on Bella. Maybe she heard about how good sweet potatoes are for health. Their natural sweetness is perfectly balanced with high fiber content, slowing the rush of sugar into your system. That’s great for vasculature and mood. All I can say is, whenever I make this salad, Bella’s awfully happy.

Bella’s Moroccan Spiced Sweet Potato Salad. Photo: Courtesy of The Longevity Kitchen

Serves 6

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup onion, diced small
1 teaspoon freshly grated ginger or 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon sweet paprika
1 pound orange-fleshed sweet potatoes or yams, peeled and cut into 1/2 inch cubes (2 medium sweet potatoes)
1/2 teaspoon sea salt,
1/2 cup filtered water
1/4 cup freshly squeezed orange juice (preferably blood orange)
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 teaspoon orange zest
2 teaspoons maple syrup
2 tablespoon lemon juice
12 pitted kalamata olives cut in half
1/4 cup finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
1/4 cup toasted almonds or pistachios roughly chopped

Heat the olive oil in a deep sauté pan over medium heat, then add the onion and a generous pinch of salt and sauté for 3 to 5 minutes until onions are translucent and slightly golden. Add the ginger, cumin, paprika to the onions and sauté for 1 minute. Add the sweet potatoes, sea salt, the water, orange juice, and zests. Cook covered for 20 minutes, remove lid and continue cooking until potatoes are tender and the liquid is reduced to almost a glaze. Add the maple syrup and the lemon juice, and olives. Gently combine. Taste and add another pinch of salt or squeeze of lemon juice if desired. Transfer the potatoes to a bowl and garnish with the parsley and nuts. Serve at room temperature.

Prep Time: 20 minutes
Cook Time: 30 minutes
Storage: Store refrigerated in airtight container for 5 days.

Recipes courtesy of Rebecca Katz, The Longevity Kitchen