Stories

For me there is no food more appealing than roast chicken. I'd be happy to subsist on it all the time. Instead of roasting a whole chicken, which can take an hour or more, I prefer roasting chicken in pieces. It's so much faster especially for a weeknight meal. I love roasting chicken breasts, sometimes a whole bunch at one time. This way I have leftovers for dinner the following night or I can enjoy it for lunch atop a salad the next day. For dinner though, especially when I'm pressed for time, I like to make simple sides. And there's nothing more simpler than roasting vegetables alongside the chicken. Plus with this recipe the chicken and the vegetables both finish at the same time. Now that sounds like a simple supper.

For this recipe I chose to roast carrots and kohlrabi. Their flavors concentrate and sweeten from the high oven heat. Kohlrabi, a turnip-like vegetable with a broccoli flavor, which many people would most likely pass in the market without a second thought, is actually one of my favorite vegetables. I love them in soup, but this roasting method makes them taste even better. With only seven ingredients, this is probably the least fussiest recipes you will ever find. And the end result is so rewarding that you will want to make it again and again. With so little preparation spent in the kitchen there's more time to kick back, relax, and enjoy a glass of wine, perhaps a Chardonnay, to toast the mellow evening.

In the summer, people tend to fall in around here, sometimes when we least expect it. Spontaneous plans get made in the morning or a minute before because the weather’s nice and Alan’s almost always game for a barbecue (though he has been known to get cranky when the dishes pile up.)

He is constitutionally “allergic” to making salad and the appetizers and the sides (unless we’re talking grilled vegetables and the occasional amazing polenta) generally fall on my shoulders. But, since the side dishes and appetizers often define a meal, give it its flourish so to speak, it could be viewed as a tiny opportunity, to show off.

So here are a couple of my favorites, that involve a minimum of effort, the next time there are hot dogs on or burgers or Alaskan salmon on the grill and you just have to rustle something up to go along with them.

Today I discovered a half bag of brown rice, a lone red bell pepper, some leftover celery, and an onion. Since Mardi Gras is coming up, why not make a jambalaya? So with this adapted trinity (the typical trinity uses a green bell pepper) I created a festive and healthy dish. I could have added chicken and sausage to keep it traditional, but since I did not have either, I decided to make a vegetarian version. In the end I had a paella-like Cajun side dish that I could pair with anything even leftovers. Using the brown rice rather than white made it even more nontraditional, but it made it more interesting and healthier.

Since it's a whole grain, brown rice is a much better choice than white rice. It's high in fiber, more nutritious, and has a slight nutty flavor. Its texture is chewy, akin to al dente pasta. The only downside is that brown rice has a shorter shelf life than white. In its original packaging brown rice can last for about six months before going rancid, but it stays longer in an airtight container. Brown rice is really a satisfying replacement for white in this spicy and flavorful dish.

On Sundays, we stroll over to the farmers’ market along Columbus Avenue. It starts around the Museum of Natural History and meanders south a few blocks. The farmers set their stalls up on the sidewalk with their trucks parked along the avenue behind them.

It’s nice. All the healthy people are out shopping. I thought I’d pick up something fresh and farmy for dinner – maybe some turkey burgers from the turkey guy, some greens from the greens guy, some mushrooms from the mushroom guy – that kind of thing. Guy, by the way, being an all-encompassing term meaning human.

There are girl guys at the market, as well. The greens person had some bins on the table filled with various micro-greens that looked, frankly, fantastic. I asked for a taste of the sunflower and he fished out a single little sprout with his tongs and dropped it in my hand – delicious, as fresh as spring, succulent and sassy. I stuffed a couple of handfuls into a bag and a couple handfuls of the micro-buckwheat into another and handed them to the guy to weigh.

“That’ll be twenty-seven dollars.”