day two

It shone up at me, winking with all its faux dew among the bins stuffed with leaves. Those stalks, brilliant as ripe rhubarb and half the size! Those leaves, gently curled and green as the deepest forest! And what an ethereal, gossamer name...

CHARD.

Ugh. Seriously, who named this jewel-toned vegetable "chard"? It sounds malignant, smelly, unpleasant -- like a cross between upchuck and... you know... other bodily functions that will not be named by this delicate lady.

Chard is, however, abundant along the Mediterranean coastline and absolutely packed with nutrients and other good stuff. Which, naturally, I banished by cooking this wholly healthy green in a pan slick with bacon fat.

Which, naturally, was delicious.

Day Two: Success, encore!

day one

Picking up sea beans for dinner, eh?

Yup.



Today, in an effort to both stop eating like a McDonald's-addicted-glutton AND yank myself out of a cooking rut, I began a grand scheme. My goal is simple: actually consume vegetables, and try something new in the kitchen EVERY day.

So, on the way home from work, I stopped at FRESH, the glorious mecca of gourmet food that is so brand spankin' new and shiny it nearly blinds you. It's beautiful. It's prefect. So stocked and chock full of pristine fruit and wheels of cheese and fresh-baked bread and cured meats you simply canNOT walk through the store without your hands inexplicably filling with goodies. Of course, my inordinate love for Brookshire's (which my husband views with an appropriate amount of kindness and embarrassment) may cause me to be a little biased, but this is the kind of Central Market big-city market we never thought would grace Tyler. And the overstuffed parking lot leads me to believe I'm not the only FRESH devotee.

On my very first visit to FRESH's produce section, meandering past the bittermelon and giant radishes and baseball-bat-sized Japanese potatoes, I was seized with a fantastic idea. Every day, I'll stop by FRESH on the way home, pick a different vegetable and structure a meal around it -- gradually working my way through the seemingly infinite rows of produce. Just figure it out, look up a couple recipes, and see what magic I can work with anything from mini purple artichokes to golden beets.

What spectacular successes and failures will undoubtedly beset me! And what fun along the way!

So here goes. Today a tiny, hidden bin of sea beans caught my eye. Crunchy, salty, and brightly verdant, these teeny-tiny beans sat atop a bowl of white cheddar risotto I whipped up, and were quite delicious. Like a funky, wonderfully salty garnish, they lent a smoky, somehow delicious seawater flavor to the dish. With a bit of research, I discovered that sea beans are hermaphrodite herbs (seriously) that are otherwise known by the unflattering names of marshwort, salicornia and pickleweed, and they grow all over the place...as long as there's a sea nearby.

Day One: total success.

birthday cake

It just seemed appropriate to celebrate my great grandma Vae's birthday by making a recipe that must've been destined to come into my hands -- Vanilla Wafer Cake. While she pulverized the cookies and made them into batter, I apparently used to climb into any cabinet to get into a box of my own and would scream bloody murder if denied. Four generations between us, but clearly we both love those cookies!

Executing this queer little recipe was a near-herculean task and a definite comedy of errors. Vae's instructions are beautiful, certainly, but pretty vague. I'd love to know how many ounces of Nilla Wafers were in that "25-cent box" she refers to, and I'd really love to know how the heck she ground up all those cookies without a food processor. Right now my favorite image involves her pouring them into a sack and pounding them to dust with a hammer on the sidewalk. Still wearing a skirt and heels.

How long did it take her to get the icing (a cooked icing, no less!) to the soft-ball stage?? Because it took me almost an hour. Then I spent another 45 minutes fiddling with a bowl of, let's face it, hot caramel and trying to whip it into something resembling icing. All this after spending a good half hour getting the cake together and fudging this and that to make it less a thick goop and more a pourable batter.

It was an interesting, and highly enjoyable, process, and you'll be glad to know I've simplified things for you quite a bit. Below you'll see the original recipe, because it just looks so darn cool, but scroll down a bit farther to find a fleshed-out recipe that'll guarantee a much less haphazard and prolonged time in the kitchen.

(Oh, and this cake is rich, decadent, and totally sinful. As all cakes should be...)



cake
3/4 cup sugar
1 stick of butter, softened
4 eggs
1/2 cup milk
1 box Nilla Wafers
1 cup chopped pecans
1 cup coconut flakes
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder

Cream together the butter and sugar, then add the eggs one at a time. Add the milk. Pulverize the cookies in a food processor till they are finely ground. Add the cookies to the batter, then fold in the pecans, coconut and baking powder. Grease and flour either two round 9-inch pans or a 9x13 pan. Spread the batter in the pans, then bake at 325 for 30 minutes.

icing
2 cups sugar
1 stick of butter
1 can of evaporated milk
1 tsp. salt

Put all ingredients into a small saucepan. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low to maintain a rolling simmer. Allow to simmer for 45-50 minutes (haul out a good book), stirring occasionally. Remove from heat, and allow to cool for 30 minutes. If you're making a sheet cake, poke holes into the cake and pour the icing all over the cake. If you make a layer cake, allow the icing to cool completely, then beat at a high speed for 7-8 minutes or until spreadable. Ice the cake, and serve!