For 12 weeks I've been part of the City of Evanston's Women Out Walking Program. Twelve-hundred women pledged to change their exercise routines. My goal was 10,000 steps a day, the minimum number of steps one needs to stay healthy.
During the course of the WOW program I only made that goal 6 times. Pathetic, I know. One time I actually started running up and down the stairs in the house at 9:30 PM because I was just shy of my goal by 400 steps.
Sunday was the last day of the program which included seminars on healthy eating, introductions to tai chi and incentives for walkers to upped their steps by 10% each week.
So now it's week 13 and I need to go it on my own.
I usually wake up around 5:30 AM in the summer. Up until 2 years ago, I used to get up and walk or bike first thing in the morning. I switched my routine so I could write while the house was still quiet or clean while no one was underfoot.
Somehow I'd never find the time to walk. Once the day got started I'd be glued to my chair in front of the computer. Net effect? I gained 25 pounds and I had to go on statins.
Throughout the whole WOW program, I was struggling to get over 5,000 steps a day. One time racking up only 3,445 when I had a deadline.
This morning I decided I would switch the routine because the weatherman says today is going to be sweltering after the rain and the warm front moved in over night. So I had a cup of tea and put my walking shoes on.
I started by walking to the post box, then up the street through downtown Evanston, then turned toward the lake. I said hello to construction workers and commiserated about the rising humidity. A dog walker and I exchanged some observations about a baby bunny who was hiding under the viaduct. Before I knew it, I was at the park and joined in with the other walkers and runners.
I watched one woman move from a walk to a trot as runners past her by, as if she was being pulled along in their slip stream. I used to do that, giving my walking routine a little boost. There was also another woman who passed me. She probably outweighed me by 60 pounds and I could see the effort it took to carry that extra weight at a jog. But she was undaunted. I wanted to yell, "You go, girl," but I didn't want her to think I was mocking rather than encouraging her.
All in all it was a relaxed and fulfilling time. I thought. I planned. Then I stopped thinking and planning and just enjoyed the morning. It was kind of like meditation. It took awhile for the chatter in my head to die down but when it did my mood became expansive.
When I got back home I realized we had no milk. So I got my granny cart and hustled over to the local Whole Foods. When the milk was safely in the refrigerator, I finally checked the pedometer. 10,145 steps before 8 AM!
Switching the schedule was all that I needed. The added bonus, if you can call it that, is I'll have to wash the floors tonight, instead of parking myself on the couch to watch TV.
My take away? Exercise first thing in the morning. But don't just get it out of the way. Breath in and enjoy every moment.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
Cooking with 4th Graders
It's been my privilege to be the Culinary Artist-in-Residence at a local elementary school for the past few weeks. It's the first time the school has tried a program like this.
Each week I would teach an hour of cooking to 4 fourth grade classes of about 20 students each. It was a little scary at first to think I'd be walking into a room full of 9- and 10-year olds who I had no time to get to know and handing them sharp knives and giving them control of hot pots.
Luckily, the first class was actually not cooking but putting in a kitchen garden at school. While most of the class was arranging arugula, spinach, kale and chard seedlings in a grid we'd plotted out, I enlisted the aid of two students to take surveys.
One survey was about their skills in the kitchen, how often they cooked with their families and how often the family sat down to eat together. The second survey was which vegetables they recognized and which they would actually eat.
I was pleasantly surprised by the survey results. Unlike Jamie Oliver's experience, all of the kids knew their vegetables and an amazing number said they actually loved some of the more "challenging" vegetables.
Ninety percent of the students said they knew how to handle peelers, graters and knives. There were of course a few kids who only sat down to eat with their families at holidays but for most cooking and eating together happened at least 3 times a week.
I still had trepidations about the first day of cooking in the classroom. In the five years of producing, shooting and behind the scenes guiding the recipes for Spatulatta I have never soloed in the kitchen with such and overwhelming child to adult ratio.
The first challenge was using the observations I'd made while putting in the garden to pick out the students who had the eye-hand coordination and concentration to get us through the first recipe - Italian Wedding Soup with homemade chicken fennel meatballs and arugula salad with dried cranberries and almonds.
One teacher commented that I had chosen well, picking the natural leader in the group to man the heating unit and putting the least coordinated boys making salads. This was all done on the fly while confronted by a sea of raised hands and a chorus of voices going "Me! Me!" I was going on instincts because there was no time to think.
I was so relieved when we got the first class got the soup and salad to the table. Although the arugula was a challenging flavor that some of the students had never had, they gave it a try because it was something they had planted in their garden.
We had one girl say that the whole grain bread tasted disgusting which prompted a discussion about how one should comment on cooking. I actually didn't start the discussion. One of the other students told her it wasn't nice to say the bread was disgusting because someone had baked that bread and it was disrespectful because of their hard work.
Wow! What a teaching moment. I jumped in and offered alternatives. You could say "it's not to my taste," or "It's not my favorite thing." Some of the other girls chimed in with other, kinder ways to express one's distaste. Later as the students were lining up to change classes I heard the girl telling her friends that she didn't find the bread to her taste.
The next week's menu was more to her taste. We made Fettuccini Alfredo with diced sweet red pepper and spinach from the garden.
Each week I would teach an hour of cooking to 4 fourth grade classes of about 20 students each. It was a little scary at first to think I'd be walking into a room full of 9- and 10-year olds who I had no time to get to know and handing them sharp knives and giving them control of hot pots.
Luckily, the first class was actually not cooking but putting in a kitchen garden at school. While most of the class was arranging arugula, spinach, kale and chard seedlings in a grid we'd plotted out, I enlisted the aid of two students to take surveys.
One survey was about their skills in the kitchen, how often they cooked with their families and how often the family sat down to eat together. The second survey was which vegetables they recognized and which they would actually eat.
I was pleasantly surprised by the survey results. Unlike Jamie Oliver's experience, all of the kids knew their vegetables and an amazing number said they actually loved some of the more "challenging" vegetables.
Ninety percent of the students said they knew how to handle peelers, graters and knives. There were of course a few kids who only sat down to eat with their families at holidays but for most cooking and eating together happened at least 3 times a week.
I still had trepidations about the first day of cooking in the classroom. In the five years of producing, shooting and behind the scenes guiding the recipes for Spatulatta I have never soloed in the kitchen with such and overwhelming child to adult ratio.
The first challenge was using the observations I'd made while putting in the garden to pick out the students who had the eye-hand coordination and concentration to get us through the first recipe - Italian Wedding Soup with homemade chicken fennel meatballs and arugula salad with dried cranberries and almonds.
One teacher commented that I had chosen well, picking the natural leader in the group to man the heating unit and putting the least coordinated boys making salads. This was all done on the fly while confronted by a sea of raised hands and a chorus of voices going "Me! Me!" I was going on instincts because there was no time to think.
I was so relieved when we got the first class got the soup and salad to the table. Although the arugula was a challenging flavor that some of the students had never had, they gave it a try because it was something they had planted in their garden.
We had one girl say that the whole grain bread tasted disgusting which prompted a discussion about how one should comment on cooking. I actually didn't start the discussion. One of the other students told her it wasn't nice to say the bread was disgusting because someone had baked that bread and it was disrespectful because of their hard work.
Wow! What a teaching moment. I jumped in and offered alternatives. You could say "it's not to my taste," or "It's not my favorite thing." Some of the other girls chimed in with other, kinder ways to express one's distaste. Later as the students were lining up to change classes I heard the girl telling her friends that she didn't find the bread to her taste.
The next week's menu was more to her taste. We made Fettuccini Alfredo with diced sweet red pepper and spinach from the garden.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Smoked Salmon and Dill Macaroni and Cheese
Cedar Grove Smoked Salmon and Dill Macaroni and Cheese
Yields 6-8 servings
I first met Bob Wills from Cedar Grove while working on the documentary “Living on the Wedge: Wisconsin’s Artisan Cheesemakers.” I bumped into Bob at the Splash! Great Lakes Water Conservation Conference reception in November and had a chance to try the new addition to the Cedar Grove line: Artisan Cheddar with Smoke Salmon and Dill.
It inspired me to create this “adult” version of Mac and Cheese for the Wisconsin Milk Marketing's 30 Days 30 Ways Macaroni and Cheese initiative. It's quick but very elegant. The chunks of smoked salmon and minced dill in the cheese give you a head start in the flavor department. This Mac and Cheese makes a great weekend main dish accompanied by a dark green salad and a glass of Prosecco. (See the wine pairing notes below.)
This dish will make everyone think you’ve been slaving away in the kitchen for hours, when it really came together in less than 20 minutes from draining the pasta to putting in the casserole into the oven.
Ingredients
A dash of salt
A drizzle of olive oil
1 pound Campanelle* or other macaroni
1 pound (16 ounces) Wisconsin Cedar Grove Smoked Salmon & Dill Cheddar
3 tablespoons butter
1 1/2 tablespoon flour
1 1/2 cups milk
2 cloves garlic, finely diced
1/8 teaspoon of cayenne pepper
1/2 cup of moist sun-dried tomatoes**, cut into 1/4-inch pieces
Fresh parsley for garnish
Directions
Bring a large pot of water to a boil, add salt and olive oil. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.
Add the pasta to the boiling, salted water. Campanelle are little bell shapes that usually take 10-11 minutes to cook. Check package directions.
While the pasta cooks, cube the cheese and cut the sun-dried tomatoes into 1/4 inch bits.
When the pasta is ready, drain it and set aside in a different bowl. Using the same pan melt the butter over medium-low heat. 
Briskly whisk in the flour and make a quick blonde roux. Keep the roux moving as the flour toasts: about 5 minutes.
Stir in the milk, garlic, and cayenne into the roux. Simmer on low.
Next, add the Cedar Grove Smoked Salmon and Dill Cheddar to the sauce and allow it to melt.
Stir often, don’t allow the sauce to stick.
Add the sun-dried tomatoes to the sauce and stir well.
Meanwhile, butter a 9 by 13 inch casserole dish.*** Add the drained pasta to the dish. Pour the sauce over the pasta. Toss gently.
Bake for 20 minutes. Switch the oven to broil for the last 5 minutes to brown the top.
Garnish with fresh parsley and serve with a dark green salad.
*I used Barilla Campanelle because it has a texture that is close to handmade pasta.
** I used Tuchten Moist Sun-dried Tomatoes because they are so meaty and don't need to be soaked.
*** I used two round baking dishes because they photograph better.
Wine Pairing Notes by Damien from Candid Wines:
“Maybe its the time of year, or maybe its the richness of the dish, but your recipe screams out for bubbles. Well made prosecco, with good acidity and bright fruit will complement the dish without breaking the bank, and for a comfort-food meal, I think that is important.
We work with the Spinazze family who make Santome extra dry Prosecco from 100% prosecco grapes that would be perfect. With a touch less heat, you could also use a Brut rose. The richness of the cheese needs some acidity and the smoked salmon will likely disagree with tannins of a dry red, but pink is perfect.
If you can't find a pink sparkler that works, look to a dry rose. The key with Rose to me is often finding a winemaker who loves pink wine as opposed to a wine made as a brand. in our lineup, Fred Scherrer and Joey Tensley are two such wine makers. In wine, as in food, it pays to know your producers!
At the same time salmon and cheddar make me think of red fruits so why not use a sparkling pink wine? I would let the amount of heat dictate the sweetness in the wine; the more peppers used, the more residual sugar I'd look for.”
Monday, January 25, 2010
On Men and Culture
I didn't grow up in the Armenian Orthodox Church but my friend Gary and his wife Sona have opened their arms to me and made me welcome into the community. You may not think that's such a big thing. Christian churches are supposed to be welcoming to new members. But I'm ges-hye, only half Armenian.
Remember Cher's big hit "Half Breed"? She wasn't singing about being half Native American. She was signing about being half Armenian.
The Armenians, like the Japanese and Amish, have been, by necessity, are an insular culture. Like the Jews, they have been scattered to the far corners of the earth. Holding onto cultural identity has been key to the Armenians survival. And marrying outside any ethnic group is definitely the way to dilute culture.
What holds a culture together?
I often say that food is the last thing that disappears in a culture. The first thing is dress, for sure. I hate to think there may be a day when everyone on the face of the earth will be wearing dull-colored, baggy workout clothes and Nike shower slippers on the street.
Yesterday, I witnessed a big part of what holds the Armenian culture together, the church. Armenians pride themselves as the first country that converted as a whole to Christianity. They say their Bible is the "Queen of Translations."
So the 65th anniversary of St. James Armenian Church paired with the ordination of sub-deacons was a big event. Sona and Gary's son Nicky was one of the three young men being ordained so I had to go.
The ceremony began with a service that looks very much like a Catholic high mass. Lots of candles and incense burning. The choir signing. This is something I could relate to being brought up Catholic.
Gary and Sona's 9-year old son, dressed in a sharp suit, assumed the role of usher, helping people find empty seats. And the church was packed.
When the ordination began, one of the young men was taken to the back of the church. Surrounded by the bishop, the pastor, the several deacons and sub-deacons, he knelt down. We were told that he would be tonsured to show his submission to the church.
Tonsured monks have a circle about 3 inches in diameter shaved on the crown of their heads. A woman behind me, obviously a non-church goer like myself, gasped and said, "Are they really going to cut his hair?" She voiced my thoughts exactly.
Scissors were produced and a tiny bit of hair was cut. The young man then walked forward on his knees about 6 feet and was given a whisk broom. We were all told that this signified that he was now worthy of sweeping out the church.
He walked forward another six feet. This time he was given a candlestick to signify that he was worthy of lighting the candles on the alter. He proceeded forward being stopped again and again to accept the symbols of his new station in the church.
I looked around at the others watching the ceremony. The elders, the middle-aged, the parents with babies in their arms, the young marrieds, the teenagers. All of us focused on this young man. All of us bearing witness to the threshold he was crossing over. All of us recognizing his new status in the community.
After the ordination, the Sunday School students entered the church holding candles, sometimes rather precariously. They approached the altar for a special requiem ceremony to honor those "who have gone before us to their eternal rest."
Here was the whole of the church's history laid out before me. From birth to death and beyond we were all included. We were all part of the fabric of this life.
And what stood out for me was the men in the gathering. I usually am so woman-centric but this time I focused on the men. Here on the altar were men I knew, men I had joked with, men who just a few short years ago were boys.
I thought about how the church had been supported for nearly 2 thousand years by the men like these and how important it was to have a new generation of men be invited, generation after generation to take up responsibilities, to make vows to the community.
Men are early adopters of alien culture. Men switch from sarongs to blue jeans first. In Tanzania, they will wear traditional garb plus a Yankees baseball cap. In a very short time, as men emulate a more profitable or invading culture, essential things get lost.
How does a culture keep their men hooked in?
What I saw in that church definitely said it's not just role-models, but being included, inducted into the group.
It works for the military. It works for street gangs. It works for terrorist organizations.
The challenge is providing a positive structure for young men. Because the way young men go the rest of us follow. That's why television programmers are so desperate to attract that group.
And so I am going to follow. I'm going to follow the young man with the tonsured hair. Witnessing his induction as sub-deacon of the church, I became closer to the community. I've been dancing on the edge of this culture all my life.
It's time to take a step into the circle.
Remember Cher's big hit "Half Breed"? She wasn't singing about being half Native American. She was signing about being half Armenian.
The Armenians, like the Japanese and Amish, have been, by necessity, are an insular culture. Like the Jews, they have been scattered to the far corners of the earth. Holding onto cultural identity has been key to the Armenians survival. And marrying outside any ethnic group is definitely the way to dilute culture.
What holds a culture together?
I often say that food is the last thing that disappears in a culture. The first thing is dress, for sure. I hate to think there may be a day when everyone on the face of the earth will be wearing dull-colored, baggy workout clothes and Nike shower slippers on the street.
Yesterday, I witnessed a big part of what holds the Armenian culture together, the church. Armenians pride themselves as the first country that converted as a whole to Christianity. They say their Bible is the "Queen of Translations."
So the 65th anniversary of St. James Armenian Church paired with the ordination of sub-deacons was a big event. Sona and Gary's son Nicky was one of the three young men being ordained so I had to go.
The ceremony began with a service that looks very much like a Catholic high mass. Lots of candles and incense burning. The choir signing. This is something I could relate to being brought up Catholic.
Gary and Sona's 9-year old son, dressed in a sharp suit, assumed the role of usher, helping people find empty seats. And the church was packed.
When the ordination began, one of the young men was taken to the back of the church. Surrounded by the bishop, the pastor, the several deacons and sub-deacons, he knelt down. We were told that he would be tonsured to show his submission to the church.
Tonsured monks have a circle about 3 inches in diameter shaved on the crown of their heads. A woman behind me, obviously a non-church goer like myself, gasped and said, "Are they really going to cut his hair?" She voiced my thoughts exactly.
Scissors were produced and a tiny bit of hair was cut. The young man then walked forward on his knees about 6 feet and was given a whisk broom. We were all told that this signified that he was now worthy of sweeping out the church.
He walked forward another six feet. This time he was given a candlestick to signify that he was worthy of lighting the candles on the alter. He proceeded forward being stopped again and again to accept the symbols of his new station in the church.
I looked around at the others watching the ceremony. The elders, the middle-aged, the parents with babies in their arms, the young marrieds, the teenagers. All of us focused on this young man. All of us bearing witness to the threshold he was crossing over. All of us recognizing his new status in the community.
After the ordination, the Sunday School students entered the church holding candles, sometimes rather precariously. They approached the altar for a special requiem ceremony to honor those "who have gone before us to their eternal rest."
Here was the whole of the church's history laid out before me. From birth to death and beyond we were all included. We were all part of the fabric of this life.
And what stood out for me was the men in the gathering. I usually am so woman-centric but this time I focused on the men. Here on the altar were men I knew, men I had joked with, men who just a few short years ago were boys.
I thought about how the church had been supported for nearly 2 thousand years by the men like these and how important it was to have a new generation of men be invited, generation after generation to take up responsibilities, to make vows to the community.
Men are early adopters of alien culture. Men switch from sarongs to blue jeans first. In Tanzania, they will wear traditional garb plus a Yankees baseball cap. In a very short time, as men emulate a more profitable or invading culture, essential things get lost.
How does a culture keep their men hooked in?
What I saw in that church definitely said it's not just role-models, but being included, inducted into the group.
It works for the military. It works for street gangs. It works for terrorist organizations.
The challenge is providing a positive structure for young men. Because the way young men go the rest of us follow. That's why television programmers are so desperate to attract that group.
And so I am going to follow. I'm going to follow the young man with the tonsured hair. Witnessing his induction as sub-deacon of the church, I became closer to the community. I've been dancing on the edge of this culture all my life.
It's time to take a step into the circle.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Back Home in Louisiana
Last night Roger and I arrived in New Orleans for a brief stop before we head out to New Iberia and start filming on the "Ma Louisianne" project. We came in at night so I really couldn't see the bayou flanking I-10 but as soon as we hit the familiar streets the tension rolled off my shoulders.
We've been planning "Ma Louisianne" for 3 years now. It started when we ran into Chef John Besh backstage at the James Beard Awards when Spatulatta won in 2006. The amount of work leading up to this shoot is unlike any other we've done. Besides the usual ducks that must be gotten in a row there was the fundraiser last September. I haven't really had a day off since then.
So when we walked into Drago's last night and saw the happy crowd we knew we were home. I ordered a split of champagne to celebrate the fact we had arrived at last. We'd been on our cells phones in the car on the way down borrowing waders from cousins, booking hotel rooms, making contact with friends. But now we could kick back and relax.
Roger and I just looked at each other across the plates of char-broiled oysters and thanked each other for the work each of us has done to get us to this place and for the commitment to our marriage and our goals.
New Orleans seemed to rejoice with us. All the laughter of the happy holiday revelers engulfed us and welcomed us home.
We've been planning "Ma Louisianne" for 3 years now. It started when we ran into Chef John Besh backstage at the James Beard Awards when Spatulatta won in 2006. The amount of work leading up to this shoot is unlike any other we've done. Besides the usual ducks that must be gotten in a row there was the fundraiser last September. I haven't really had a day off since then.
So when we walked into Drago's last night and saw the happy crowd we knew we were home. I ordered a split of champagne to celebrate the fact we had arrived at last. We'd been on our cells phones in the car on the way down borrowing waders from cousins, booking hotel rooms, making contact with friends. But now we could kick back and relax.
Roger and I just looked at each other across the plates of char-broiled oysters and thanked each other for the work each of us has done to get us to this place and for the commitment to our marriage and our goals.
New Orleans seemed to rejoice with us. All the laughter of the happy holiday revelers engulfed us and welcomed us home.
Friday, November 13, 2009
It's the Nuts
I had the opportunity to test some of Fisher Nuts Culinary Touch Add-ins and Toppings and Fusion Snack Mixes. As soon as I popped open the first bag I knew I was working with a quality product, the aroma was great. I have had problems recently with walnuts from other vendors which smell old and slightly rancid when you open the bag. So I was pleased by the wholesome, fresh aroma.
I added 1/2 a cup of Fisher Culinary Touch Pecan, Cranberry, and Orange blend to give a new twist to the my favorite banana bread recipe. The additional fruit and nuts really gave the bread a wonderful range of flavors. Each bite was a surprise.
I used the rest of the bag as topping for a green salad tossing it all together with extra virgin olive oil and Lucini 10-year Gran Riserva Balsamico vinegar. Again, it was like a symphony for the tongue - a hint of orange here, a bit of tart cranberry there, then the satisfying texture of the pecans.
About that time, we where throwing a big gumbo party fundraiser for our "Ma Louisianne" project and I used the Fisher unsalted cashews as the protein in a vegan gumbo. (The recipe is posted below.) I added the nuts at the end of the cooking so they wouldn't become too mushy. They gave the gumbo an incredibly rich flavor. Chef Melissa Graham of Monogram Events, one of our guests that night, said it was her favorite gumbo out of the 4 selections. She thought I had added cashew butter but it was just the lovely cashews themselves.
The Fisher Fusions snack mixes were a bit too sweet for me. The Ice Cream Sundae mix was especially sweet. If you read the ingredients, all of the fruit was sweetened: pineapple, banana and strawberries. Those were then mixed with marshmallows and chocolate covered peanuts. Whoa! I'll stick to the nuts.
The great thing about the Fisher Culinary Touch bags is that they are small enough to put in ones' bag for a healthy snack on the go. I'd like to see Fisher go even further and make smaller size snack bags of their nut mixtures as an alternative to candy.
I added 1/2 a cup of Fisher Culinary Touch Pecan, Cranberry, and Orange blend to give a new twist to the my favorite banana bread recipe. The additional fruit and nuts really gave the bread a wonderful range of flavors. Each bite was a surprise.
I used the rest of the bag as topping for a green salad tossing it all together with extra virgin olive oil and Lucini 10-year Gran Riserva Balsamico vinegar. Again, it was like a symphony for the tongue - a hint of orange here, a bit of tart cranberry there, then the satisfying texture of the pecans.
About that time, we where throwing a big gumbo party fundraiser for our "Ma Louisianne" project and I used the Fisher unsalted cashews as the protein in a vegan gumbo. (The recipe is posted below.) I added the nuts at the end of the cooking so they wouldn't become too mushy. They gave the gumbo an incredibly rich flavor. Chef Melissa Graham of Monogram Events, one of our guests that night, said it was her favorite gumbo out of the 4 selections. She thought I had added cashew butter but it was just the lovely cashews themselves.
The Fisher Fusions snack mixes were a bit too sweet for me. The Ice Cream Sundae mix was especially sweet. If you read the ingredients, all of the fruit was sweetened: pineapple, banana and strawberries. Those were then mixed with marshmallows and chocolate covered peanuts. Whoa! I'll stick to the nuts.
The great thing about the Fisher Culinary Touch bags is that they are small enough to put in ones' bag for a healthy snack on the go. I'd like to see Fisher go even further and make smaller size snack bags of their nut mixtures as an alternative to candy.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Gaylon's Cashew Vegan Gumbo
This is a cut-down of a recipe I put together for the "Big Easy Gumbo Party" we hosted last July as a fundraiser for our "Ma Louisianne" television project. I had a number of vegetarian guests and one vegan guest who couldn't eat the other gumbo offerings. I looked around for vegetarian gumbo recipes, but none of them had the hardy, earthy taste I wanted.
Roasted corn and smoked paprika stand in for the smoked meat and I added cashews as an homage to shrimp, another traditional gumbo ingredient. The original recipe was enough to serve 75 people using 5 pounds of okra. Here's a version for 4 to 6 servings.
2 ears of corn
1 cup oil
1 cup flour
3 stalks of celery - chopped coarsely
1 large onion - chopped coarsely
1 large green pepper - chopped coarsely
3 cloves garlic - finely chopped
3 cups vegetable broth
1.5 tablespoons of fresh thyme
1 serrano pepper - chopped finely
3 Roma tomatoes - peeled, cored and seeded, chopped coarsely
1.5 cups of sliced okra
2 tablespoons smoked paprika
1 cup raw, unsalted cashews
Salt to taste
Roast the corn on the cob ahead of time. Soak 2 ears of corn, with the husks on for 30 minutes then put them on the grill. Turn the ears as the husks began to burn. You want the kernels to darken on the edges but not burn. When the husks are blackened all over, remove the corn from the grill and let cool. Remove the husks, pull off all the hair and slice the corn away from the cob. Set aside.
When the roux has reached the correct color, pour it into a heavy bottomed pot. Add the "holy trinity": celery, onions and green pepper. Add the thyme, garlic and hot pepper. Sauté until the vegetables are soft.
Add the vegetable stock, bring everything to a boil then simmer for 1 hour. (I made my own stock from the dozens of onion skins, parings from the peppers and celery I had after making 4 gumbos for 100 guests. I added 3 carrots, 6 bay leaves and a handful of black peppercorns. It boiled for 2 hours then I strained the vegetables out then reduced it. The stock was slightly sweet.)
The corn, tomatoes, orka and cashews go in for the last 1/2 hour of cooking. I don't like okra to get slimy and I've found that if you don't overcook it, it will retain its shape and texture.
Lastly, I added the smoked paprika and tasted. Then added the salt, a little at a time, until I hit the right flavor balance.
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