MAINS
A few years ago, I developed this creamy lemony asparagus soup topped with Cypress Grover Humboldt Fog for Culture magazine. Ever since, I’ve been making it each spring. All you really need is a couple of asparagus bunches, an onion and potato, a handful of parsley, some garlic, and lemon. Everything else—the thyme, veggie stock, cream, and vermouth— are extra, but do make the soup sing. Wedges of ash-lined, soft-ripened humboldt fog make for a fun garnish that add tang and creaminess, but can be easily substituted for any soft, fresh or aged goat cheese.
Barely set eggs nestled into a spicy, chunky tomato sauce, topped with fresh herbs and creamy (or melty!) cheese. All mopped up with some good hearty bread. Bonus points if you’ve got a nice bottle of red to wash it down.
This recipe is inspired by the beans and soup my good friend Libby Lyon posted about the other day on her Instagram. She slowly simmered her beans with a few generous glugs of olive oil, herb stems, garlic, lemon, salt, and pepper.
Imeruli khachapuri hails, not surprisingly, from the central region of Imereti and it’s essentially a flat bread stuffed with buttery Imeruli cheese curds and cooked on the stovetop. While adajruli’s dough is closer to that of pizza’s - with a satisfying crackle when you break off a piece - imeruli’s is soft, tender, and melts in your mouth.
I’ve you’ve been following me a while - especially on my Instagram - you know that I love galettes. So much so, that I even waxed poetic about them once for the Washington Post. Make your dough, roll it out, and fill it with whatever inspires you (or happens to be wilting away in the crisper drawer…).
I’ve adapted the recipe to whatever melty cheese you might have in the fridge. A sharp cheddar, gruyere, gouda, raclette… all work well here. I can imagine this would also be delicious with broccoli and onions, cumin and red pepper flakes substituted for the thyme and nutmeg. Sounds delicious, right?
Today I went to the grocery store in hopes to get ingredients for marinated French lentils with arugula and chevre. Well, the whole bulk bin section being what it is these days, French lentils and black (both which are delicious and hold their shape well) were out of stock. Luckily, there was plenty ol' plain green - not split pea, mind you- so... we improvise.
This Curried Sweet Potato, Chickpea, and Avocado Salad has been on the menu at my house every week for the past few years.
This gorgeous kale and brussels sprouts salad spotlights all my favorite wintery foods and is light and refreshing as it is hearty and satisfying. Talk about nourishing!
In February, I wrote Everything You Need to Know about Khachapuri for Culture magazine. I talked a little bit about its story and the culture that surrounds it (did you know the Georgians even have a Khachapuri Index to gauge inflation?) and listed a few of my favorite versions. I also promised you all a recipe for the Insta-famous Adjarian cheese boat, but deadlines and travel plans (aka Life) got in the way, and now here I am a month later finally addressing it.
Lobio is a hearty, yet good-for-you Georgian bean stew chock-full of earthy spices and vibrant herbs that is traditionally served with cornbread.
An epic journey through the Georgian Military highway inspires years of perfecting the culinary art of khinkali.
To my readers and those who reached out to me after last week’s post, thank you. Thank you for making me feel heard. When I write a blog post (and I don’t mean to sound self-deprecating), my expectations for anyone to actually read it is quite low. Who has time these days, I think, to do more than scroll through the pretty pictures of food? Putting my feelings and thoughts to paper is catharsis enough, but to realize I have an actual audience for them is truly…moving and heartening. Many were quick to point out that bravery isn’t simply weathering the bad things in life, but more how we choose to respond to them. Whether I feel brave on a day-to-day basis or not, I’m glad I’ve chosen to write about this phase of my life— if only because you all know how to make a girl feel loved and cared for. Again, thank you!!
Nothing is ever for certain in the world of medicine. I’ve learned this truth in the way doctors shy away from definitive answers and conclusions. I’ve learned it after countless letdowns. Weeks worth of hopeful wishing and planning out the window, now leaving me with Plan B, C and other letters I haven’t accounted for. I’ve learned all of this to then forget it and be disappointed when things don’t work out as hoped.
A question I often receive is “How do you make all this delicious food and still say thin?”. I wish I could just pin it on a lightening-fast metabolism, but unfortunately that’s not the case. The reality is that my relationship with food has had its ups and downs over the years, but only recently have I felt like I’ve started (keyword here) to achieve a healthy balance.
Whenever I tell others that I’m Russian, I often find myself responding to the same old stereotypes: cold, harsh winters, burly men knocking back shots of vodka, and a penchant for “that soup with the beets.”
Beep beep beep—ah, finally. You open the oven door to find your little roasted chicken inside, a perfect 165°. You set it on the counter top and give it a rest. Perfumes of lemon and sage fill your kitchen, triggering loud growls from your stomach, but you find ways to distract. Maybe you toast a chunk of bread or pour yourself a glass of wine, but you don’t bother with setting the table—you know perfectly well where this is going. The chicken should probably be given a few more minutes, but come on, hasn’t it rested enough already? You walk over, eying your poultry prize. There’s a moment pause, and then you dive right in. Pull off a wing here, a chunk of breast there. Crunchy, golden skin gives way to tender, supple meat, and ooh, yes, let’s mop up some of those pan drippings for good measure too. To eat with your hands is like choosing your own adventure, picking away until you reach the most rewarding and succulent bites. It’s all fun and Game-of-Thrones like, until you realize you’ve eaten way more bird than appropriate and you’ve got a hefty pile of bones to show for it. Whoops.
It’s been a little over three months since my accident and after spending most of that time with family in Rhode Island recovering, I’ve finally returned to Charlottesville—my other home of the past six and a half years. I’ve quickly realized, though, that my life here is no longer quite the same and the experience has reminded me of something the narrator says in the movie The Curious Case of Benjamin Button: “It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed, is you.”
In my last post I talked about summer’s generous bounty—how do you take full advantage of it?? It’s a bit tough, I have to admit—not only is there so much variety in produce available, but there’s also the sheer abundance of it too. At work, as a baker, I can’t seem to make enough pies, buckles, coffee cakes to keep up with all the peaches and nectarines that need to be made use of. Outside of work, I can’t seem to keep up with my impulse buying of heirloom eggplants, tomatoes and peppers at the farmer’s market. How can I resist when they’re all seeming to say, “Buy me before the season is over!!”
Birthdays are an interesting thing. Of course as a little kid, birthdays were the best day of the year—you are the birthday prince or princess and anything you say or want, goes. But as you grow older, things change. The day looses its luster for some and then others find that they’re better off without the yearly reminder that time is ticking away. Most likely the hedonist in me, I’ve always loved birthdays. Not only is it an excuse to eat, drink, and be all sorts of merry, but it’s also an occasion to bring together the people in your life to do so. And even when it’s not your birthday you’re celebrating, you can do what I did as a 4-year old and pout in the corner until you get a present too. Sorry, Mom.
If I had to choose one dish that embodied home for me it is my mother’s borscht, a traditional Eastern European beet soup. There is nothing like sitting down to a piping hot bowl of it, a dollop of thick sour cream slowly swirled in, and for the heck of it, another dollop (or two) smeared on a hearty chunk of bread. Just looking at its gemstone color warms my soul, but one bite—spicy, sweet, sour, rich and creamy—fills me with all sorts of cozy, comforting feelings.
I originally wrote this recipe for Culture Magazine and Cypress Grove, using the creamery’s Sgt. Pepper chevre. Although a bit untraditional, the fluffy goat’s cheese adds an added kick of harissa and spice—along with a creamy tang—to the classic Middle Eastern dish. Feel free to swap it out for any chevre or sheep’s milk feta you have on hand.