eggbeater

Channukah, eighth night. Candle 8: Latkes

on the eighth night

so many tears were shed

so many

they could not be counted

tears of joy

tears of immeasurable gratitude

tears of sorrow and of grief

tears for light, and for darkness

tears for what it is to taste life for the first time, and for the last

tears for a life

lived for the first time

free.

on the eighth night

they lit the last candle, or the candle was still lit, depending on how you look at it.

on the eighth night, the were prepared.

prepped.

potatoes shredded, onions sliced, apple sauce resting, bowls of freshly soured cream in the ready.

on the eighth night they feasted,

{on humble foods}

nourishing their hearts, filling their bodies with

Latkes.

*the delicious latke photo was taken by an extra special person I've never met named Chris Cohen. Please feel free to help me thank him for letting eggbeater use it by checking out his other photos on flickr or visiting his lovely blog.

Channukah, seventh night. Candle 7: Mis en Place

on the seventh night they knew.

don't ask how.

but they did.

they settled in for the journey ahead and made plans for the eighth night.

when life is being lived, as if there is only one day to it, plans are not made. the future does not exist. every hour is a lifetime, every minute is treasured. there is only now.

but on the seventh night, they lit another candle. they prayed and they thanked and they gathered and they looked up at the sky, beyond their community of candlelight.

thanks g-d they said quietly.

and so, they prepared.

they collected potatoes from near and far. they started peeling onions and apples. they collected honey & milked mammals, and set about souring the cream.

they spread the word, from one dune of sand to the next,

'tomorrow night we feast. oy, don't ruin your appetite with leftovers! come one, come all,

come ready to press & pat, fry & eat...'

some knew, for they had already begun the

Mis en Place.

Channukah, sixth night. Candle 6: Chicken Fried Chicken Livers

on the sixth night they began to relax a bit, starting to feel safe.

was it really possible they were finally free of the Pharoah and his oppressing ways? how could it be that one candle, one night, after one great escape, could lead them to this day, this sixth day?

they weren't sure, but they were relieved and grateful and humbled.

light. oil burning. it seems so small.

but when you have lived in the darkness, for what feels like centuries, light is no small event.

when you have lived under the menacing hands of monstrous people, light is your Northern Star, your horizon line, your hope.

and so,

in keeping with the theme,

they lit a sixth candle

they said a prayer and killed a chicken,

and made schmaltz, lovingly slow, taking their time,

and with the carcass: matzoh ball soup,

and set aside the livers, salting & soaking them first, to remove all blood,

and went a little overboard with the voluptuous schmaltz in the pan, schmearing a thick layer, as fat as a thumb, and set the pan over their searingly hot oil, {for it was now a cooking surface unto itself}

and made

Chicken Fried Chicken Livers.

Channukah, fifth night. Candle 5: Fried Green Tomatoes

on the fifth night they awoke to a warm kitchen, and light. light that had never gone out, had never diminished.

content to call it a miracle now, they pulled green tomatoes out of some tall black hats [rabbits still had a few more centuries to develop].

someone had cornmeal, another family had hens. buttermilk was always on hand. someone cried with happiness and another rendered tears of joy into salt. tomatoes were sliced into big, fat, thick, rounds, and the breading commenced.

as you can imagine, that oil was hotter than the hot of hot, having absorbed a vast desert's hospitality and having intermingled with g-d's message.

some dipped into cool buttermilk, others transferred into knobby freshly pounded cornmeal, and the very brave carefully slipped tomato rounds into miraculously hot oil.

dehydrated salty tears were sprinkled in a heedful & measured way. some people opted for less joy, some more.

and so, nu, on the fifth night, another candle was lit and there, gathered around its light, were grateful, hungry, joyful, people.

alive & free, they finished every crumb, every crispy bit of

Fried Green Tomatoes.

Channukah, fourth night. Candle 4: Vegetable Fritters

on the fourth night, the oil was not only still hot, but hotter.

smokin' hot

in fact.

so they grated, they chopped, they fit many friends in the kitchen. all were giddy with excitement, albeit slightly disbelieving.

they lit the fourth candle. became quiet. said a prayer to HaShem quietly. smiled broadly.

and then. they mixed, and tasted, and seasoned, and threw in some fresh mint for brightness. they danced and embraced and told stories and laughed and delighted in being alive.

in having escaped.

two spoons were played on a knee, Yiddish was sung in that bluesy way. and then two spoons dipped into the sticky mix. egg shaped, large walnut dollops were carefully lowered into the miraculous oil.

a toast to life was made. L'Chaim!

spooned out of the black iron pot came

Vegetable Fritters.

Channukah, second night. Candle 2: Foccaccia

on the second night, another candle was lit.

oil was still hot.

mysterious or miracle?

no one knew for sure.

so something else was made.

foccaccia.

plated dessert II - pumpkin_pomegranate

 

pomegranate & brown butter vinaigrette, toasted kataifi, warm spice butternut squash custard, amchur sugar-salt dusted pumpkin & sesame seed crunch, feta & goat's curd sorbet.

plated dessert I - miso_fennel

bonsoy jelly. moromi & white miso, amaranth financiere. honey fennel caramel ice milk. amaranth-fennel lavosh dusted with sumac & maldon salt. honey, slow toasted cashew, fennel, cocoa nib & cumquat marmalade florentine.

favorite ingredients

demerara sugar
eggs
love
buckwheat flour
butter
honesty
inquisitiveness
rosemary
lima salt
bacon fat
espresso
humour
Jersey milk
cold water
freshly ground black pepper
goat yogurt
cocoa nibs
desire to learn
pink peppercorns
Madagascar vanilla beans
fennel seeds
patience
passion
humility
the ability to say a sorry you mean
beef bone marrow
crab
chocolate egg creams
leeks
Scharffen Berger milk chocolate
peach leaves
Royal Blenheim apricots
rhubarb
mangoes
passion
butter caramel
puff pastry
deep breaths
diplomacy
wet green peppercorns
lemon zest
orange blossom honey
mastic
strong black tea
homemade soy sauce
corn on the cob
roasted red peppers
overcooked broccoli
mama
family
research
Jane Grigson
Laurie Colwin
cherry blossoms
the scent of hay
cumulus clouds
roasted chicken
Little Gem lettuces
quince
sun warmed blackberries in August
wild blueberries
hazelnuts
kisses
French Horns
memories
egg bagels
red cabbage
fresh horseradish
playing bridge until 4 am
old school Adidas
holding hands
bicycling down a steep hill
sauteed foie gras
raw clams on a New York boardwalk
Coney Island
juniper berries
fresh blackcurrants
young ginger
asking questions
cardamon
jaggery
oats
thick cold tart yogurt
Meyer lemons
marmalade
crushes
sharp knives
baby offset spatulas
camaraderie
the banana song
homemade marshmallows
Yiddish
haroset
hip hop
raw fennel
eggplant/aubergine
canneles
bee's wax
persimmons
eating fruit off trees
Black Mission figs
mud pies
postcards
words
Sharpies
absorbent side towels
typewriters
silver quenelling spoons
stainless steel saucepans
parchment paper
lust
silpats
the color orange
sailors
unrequited love
novels
farmer's markets
craft
dark chocolate
leaf gelatin
green almonds
nocino
asking for help
golden raisins
rosewater
pistachios, untoasted
ripe tomatoes
the scent of rice on steam, cooking in your house
sesame oil
pomegranate seeds
soft brown sugar
hot porridge at dawn when there's snow falling outside
Thanksgiving dinner during the first week of November
flirting
compliments & complements
lobster
smoked fish
heirloom apples
dogs running through open fields
green olives
bread baking
brown butter
whisks
crushes
Santa Rosa plums
okra
tears
love letters
Doyenne du Comice pears
taking chances
having faith
walking through our fears
roux
Lyle's Golden Syrup
Damson plums
Meadowsweet pannacotta
sober sex
shallot-morel-puff pastry tart
black truffle
grapefruit
making new friends
teaching
learning
train trips
toasted English muffins
peeled chestnuts
whole roasted young fava beans
Muhammara
rolling pins
young coconut
forbidden black rice
confidence
seeded watermelon
green, opalescent fleshed H'aogen melons
pumpkin pie
sleep
vivid dreams
asking 'Why'
red quinoa
helping the most important person in your life die
walking through grief
Mara de Bois strawberries
scallops
swimming in the ocean
moving great distances
knitting
jokes you laugh at while telling them
corniness
adventures
loving
being loved
not being afraid of difference
redefining success
apologizing
watering all the plants on the same day
watching an orchid take weeks to blossom and stay for months
baths
organizing memorials
honey roasted peanuts
eating freshly churned ice cream off the spatula
adding baking soda to caramel and watching it froth up, turn opaque and later break it open and see why they named it Honeycomb, or Hokey Pokey
burning fingertips on tuiles
making lists
showing up for the hard stuff
surviving
glitter
a tongue on the inside of an elbow
torching meringue
raking leaves
lemon juice
hot fudge sauce
cucumbers
hot chorizo
padron peppers sauteed in olive oil and drenched in sea salt, eaten out of a black cast iron skillet
biscuits made with hand rendered lard
buttermilk
elderberry cordial
limes
gingerbread cake
yellow peaches
the desire to live.

Newington Green Greengrocers & Fruiterers

Living in London has humbled me, when it comes to fruit loving & eating. The seasons baffle me, (rhubarb appears to be in season right now!}, not to mention that seasonality for all of the world's fruit has to be taken into consideration! Because when you're buying fruit and vegetables in the UK, it comes from as nearby as 100 or as far as 4000 mile. oy vey. And you thought keeping up with all the peach varietals was hard.

I can't keep up.

So instead I buy what looks and smells good. And I relish in the fruit America won't import. HehI feel especially lucky because I just happened to move into an area that is home to one of the best produce shops I have ever come across in London. Newington Greengrocers. All they sell is fruit & veg. O, and locally made jam/preserves, and little 1/2 dozen containers of eggs. 

If I'm not sure what's in season on British soil, I go here. If I want the best price (better than a restaurant's produce purveyor!) on Pakistani or Indian mangoes, I go here. If I want to make sure my fruit and veg hasn't been in the crates since last week, I go here.Live in London? Have a great Fruiterer in your postcode? Post a link in the comments section-- it would be great if we could make a list together for all the other nerdy fruit lovin' people of Londontown.

~ Yours humbly in Greengage & Damson plums. (Two new varietals I might not have otherwise been introduced to had I not moved here.)

rochelle canteen, arnold circus e2

 

there's a secret doorway in east london.
it's on a round-about with a circular park in the middle.
you press a bell. it's labeled canteen.
you need to know that the hours they keep are odd, and few.
you need to be free for lunch.
on weekdays.

it helps if you're not overly privileged, or think that restaurants must be a certain way to please you.
this one's quiet, like the shy smart girl wearing stripes in the library.

the food is hearty, a little frenchified; maybe a dose of california and the setting is quiet and quirky.

  the menu is small and changes daily.
arnold & henderson
are the restaurant.

they seem like powerful women
i'd like to meet them one day.
do you think they would like it if i brought some cake or lyle's golden syrup toffee/caramels?

 
p.s. arnold & henderson also do weddings.

picnic at mine.

Inspired by Crozier Blue & Neal's Yard Dairy.

I never thought I'd pick a blue as my new favourite cheese.

But this one's exceptional. Creamy, bright, slightly acidic, easy to eat with sweet or savories.