Parsnips aren’t sexy. They wouldn’t win a beauty pageant. Their whiskery rootlets could use a shave, and when you scratch the surface, they have an oddly floral scent, vaguely reminiscent of a elderly grandmother’s perfume. Neither colorful like their cousin, the carrot, nor voluptuous like a beet, parsnips simply don’t grab your attention at all. In fact, I’ve managed to ignore them for years. But when you belong to a CSA, you get what you get. And trust me, you get parsnips. Then you decide what the hell to do with them. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. I’m as guilty as anyone of getting stuck in the rut of cooking with the same old, familiar ingredients.

One winter, I tried roasting parsnips, but that floral aroma intensified upon tasting, which I didn’t like one bit. As part of a root vegetable mash, they overpowered more delicate specimens. So I kept roasting them, and eating them, all the while disliking them, only because I hate to waste perfectly good, fresh produce.

Then I found this soup recipe. I might not have enjoyed it either, if I hadn’t substituted a leftover head of roasted garlic for the raw garlic in the original recipe. Oh yes, I did. And it was absolutely the right thing to do. You know that deep, earthy, mellow sweetness that develops when you roast garlic? Turns out it’s the perfect balance to that floral thing.

Unlike my buttery oatmeal cherry scones, this soup is also the antidote to all that holiday indulgence last month. Thick and creamy, with a complex layering of flavors, it relies on puréed vegetables for richness instead of the more commonly used butter and cream. (Although topping it with a dollop of crème fraîche, in the more forgiving months of February or March, wouldn’t hurt it any.) Carrots give it a gorgeous sunny color and fresh ginger adds spice to warm your soul on freezing winter nights. Which, if made for 2, and eaten by candlelight, or a blazing fire, could be considered kind of sexy after all.

Parsnip and Roasted Garlic Soup
adapted from Gourmet, February 1990
serves 2

½ large onion, finely chopped (approximately 1 cup)
2 teaspoons minced peeled fresh ginger
1 large carrot, thinly sliced (approximately 1 cup)
1/2 cup thinly sliced celery
2 tablespoons olive oil
3/4 pound parsnips, peeled and cut into 1/8- inch slices (about 2 cups)
1 head of roasted garlic, released from the skin
3 cups chicken or vegetable broth (preferably homemade), plus extra to thin to desired consistency
Salt and pepper, to taste
Garnish*

Please note that this recipe serves 2, unlike most of the recipes in this blog. It can easily be doubled or tripled to serve more. Also, I find this soup to be very filling.

In a heavy saucepan cook the onion, ginger, carrot, and celery in the olive oil over moderately low heat, stirring, until the onion is softened. Add the parsnips, the roasted garlic, and broth, and bring the liquid to a boil. Turn down the heat until the soup is at a simmer, and simmer the mixture, covered, for 15 minutes, or until the vegetables are very tender. (This step has always taken more like 25 minutes for me.)

Purée the soup in a blender, in two batches (being very careful to hold the lid securely), then return the soup to the pan. Or you can use an immersion blender right in the pan, as I do. Stir in enough additional broth to thin the soup to the desired consistency, if necessary, and add salt and pepper to taste. Don’t be shy with the salt, as it makes all the flavors in the soup pop. However, if you are using salted broth, you may need to be careful not to over-salt!

*Garnish, if desired, with a sprig of thyme, small croutons, crème fraîche, sour cream, plain yogurt, a swirl of cream, or toasted pumpkin seeds. All these options work very well with this soup. I know, because I’ve tried them all!

If you have any soup leftover, you will need more liquid (broth or water) to thin it when you reheat it. Parsnips have a lot starch in them, so the mixture will resemble a mash after refrigerating it overnight.

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

Today, at 440pm PST, I am scheduled for my post-op appointment to get 6 stitches taken out of the palm of my hand. That’s 3 hours and 16 minutes from now, not that I’m counting. And it’s about time. Because these stitches are DRIVING. ME. CRAZY.

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

We’re clearly not very much into the January spirit of denial and prudence around here, although these scones do have some oatmeal (fiber!) and sour cherries (fruit!) mixed in with all the butter and flour. If you are having a virtuous January, then you might wish to check out Fig-Bran Muffins, or Apple-Pecan Muffins, or Crunchy Granola. Otherwise, throw caution to the wind and bake up a batch of feel-good comfort to get you through the dark days of January.

Not that I can personally use that excuse, given that we’ve been having more bright sunshine than we do in the summertime. No, the truth is, I made these scones during the holiday season, and froze them before baking. They were meant as a hostess gift for a party we were attending, but a little hand surgery got in the way. (I’m fine, thanks for asking, and the stitches come out on Monday, thank god!) Now there’s a bag of scones in the freezer, waiting for me to pull them out a few at a time and bake them, at will, on lazy Sunday mornings. Which makes me feel virtuous in a different sort of way. (Do you know how much cheaper it is to make these than to buy them?) And kind of like a kitchen Superwoman, you know? (You’re hungry for scones? No problem, ready in a bit, even with stitches in my hand!) So if you’re watching what you eat this January, go ahead, make them anyway, then freeze the shaped scones for Valentine’s Day. Because it’ll sneak up on you like rain when you’ve forgotten your umbrella. Yikes!

Oatmeal Cherry Scones
adapted from Baking, From My home to yours, by Dorie Greenspan

1 large egg
1/2 cup cold buttermilk
1 2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/3 cup old-fashioned oats
1/3 cup sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
10 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
½ cup dried sour cherries
2 tablespoons melted unsalted butter (optional)
2 tablespoons sugar (optional)

Center a rack in the oven and preheat the oven to 400°. Line a baking sheet with parchment or a silicone mat.

Stir the egg and buttermilk together.

Whisk the flour, oats, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt together in a large bowl. Drop in the butter and using your fingers, toss to coat the pieces of butter with flour. Quickly, working with your fingertips or a pastry blender, cut and rub the butter into the dry ingredients until the mixture is pebbly. You’ll have pea-size pieces, pieces the size of oatmeal flakes and pieces the size of everything in between.

Pour the egg and buttermilk mixture over the dry ingredients and stir with a fork just until the dough, which will be wet and sticky, comes together. Don’t overdo it.

Add the dried cherries. Still in the bowl, gently knead the dough by hand, or turn it with a rubber spatula 8 to 10 times. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and divide it in half. Working with one piece at a time, pat the dough into a rough circle that’s about 5 inches in diameter, cut it into 6 wedges and place on the baking sheet. (At this point, the scones can be frozen on the baking sheet, then wrapped airtight. Don’t defrost before baking, just add about 2 minutes to the total baking time.)

Optional step: Gently brush the scones with the melted butter. Sprinkle with the sugar. (I love this step, which I learned from Good to the Grain, because it makes a gorgeous glazed top crust.)

Bake for 20 to 22 minutes, or until their tops are golden and somewhat firm. Transfer them to a rack and cool for 10 minutes before serving, or wait for the scones to cool to room temperature. (I like them best before they’ve gotten to room temperature.)

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

I realize that it’s two days before Christmas, and I know you’re running short on time. But there is no reason you can’t make this oh-so-pretty and sure-to-delight peppermint bark in plenty of time to wrap it and place it under the tree. It’s that simple.

Unless, of course, you do as I did this year, spilling peppermint candy dust into all the crevices of your refrigerator. That could really mess things up. Because then your refrigerator drawers become instantly stuck, thereby necessitating complete removal of all refrigerator parts. And when you accidentally bump the light bulb in the fridge with the damp sponge as you try to clean up the mess, and it explodes with a bang, while your knees are literally stuck to the kitchen floor with peppermint candy glue (surprisingly strong!), well, you kind of start to wonder what’s really so wrong with paying outrageous sums of money for the peppermint bark they sell at Williams Sonoma?

So, anyway, I’ve been making peppermint bark for years. I first started with an extremely simple version that was too sweet for my taste. White chocolate and peppermint is, well, cloying, without some bitterness to balance it. Then I made the King Arthur Flour version, with bittersweet chocolate and white chocolate, and the balance of flavors was delightful. However, it wasn’t until I found a recipe on Epicurious, from Bon Appetit 1998, and tweaked it a tiny bit, that I was satisfied. Three layers! Gorgeous, and impressive! And melt-in-your-mouth, in a crunchy kind of way, pure deliciousness. Extraordinary. Now that’s a reason to make candy at home. Just promise me you won’t tell anyone how easy it is, okay? It’ll be our little holiday secret.

p.s. This year I tried a new technique, and after the peppermint candies were crushed, I sifted them. I sprinkled the resulting peppermint candy “dust” on top of the first layer of white chocolate, and placed it into the fridge to set. (Instead of stirring it into the dark chocolate layer, as Nancy does, because sometimes I’m not so bright.) Unfortunately, I also set the cookie sheet atop uneven items, and the next time I opened the refrigerator door, the pan tipped, spilling the loose candy dust down the back and side of the inside of my fridge. I suggest you not make this mistake, unless you’d like to add an extra hour of cleanup to your frantic holiday preparations.

Extraordinary Peppermint Bark
adapted from Bon Appetit, December, 1998

17 ounces good-quality white chocolate (such as Lindt or Ghirardelli), finely chopped
30 red-and-white-striped hard peppermint candies, coarsely crushed* (about 6 ounces), sifted
7 ounces bittersweet (not unsweetened) or semisweet chocolate, chopped
5 tablespoons whipping cream
3/4 teaspoon peppermint extract

Turn a large baking sheet bottom side up. Cover securely with foil. Mark a 12 x 9-inch rectangle on the foil. Stir the white chocolate in a metal bowl set over a saucepan of barely simmering water (do not allow bottom of bowl to touch water) until chocolate is melted and smooth and candy thermometer registers 110°F. or the chocolate feels warm to the touch. Remove the metal bowl from over the simmering water, and wipe the bottom of the bowl with a towel to avoid dripping water on the foil-covered baking sheet. Pour 2/3 cup melted white chocolate onto rectangle on foil. Using an icing spatula (an off-set one makes this step especially easy, though it’s not necessary), spread the white chocolate to fill the rectangle. Chill until set, about 15 minutes.

Stir the bittersweet chocolate, cream and peppermint extract in heavy medium saucepan over medium-low heat until just melted and smooth. (I often do this step in the microwave, using 30 seconds on high, stirring, then 20 seconds, stirring well again, and repeating the cycle if needed, until chocolate is completely melted. If you do this, take care not to overcook the chocolate, thereby scorching it!) You may add the peppermint candy “dust” to this layer of chocolate, if you like. Cool until barely lukewarm, about 5 minutes. Pour bittersweet chocolate mixture in long lines over white chocolate rectangle. Using icing spatula, quickly and gently spread bittersweet chocolate in even layer. Refrigerate until very cold and firm, about 25 minutes.

Re-warm the remaining white chocolate in bowl set over barely simmering water to 110°F or warm to the touch. Working quickly, pour white chocolate over firm bittersweet chocolate layer; spread to cover. Immediately sprinkle with crushed peppermints bits. Chill just until firm, about 20 minutes.

Lift foil with bark onto work surface; trim edges. Cut bark crosswise into 2-inch-wide strips. Using metal spatula, slide bark off foil and onto work surface. Cut each strip crosswise into 3 sections and each section diagonally into 2 triangles. (I cut my 2-inch wide strips into several diagonal pieces and then cut each piece in half, resulting in small diamonds, instead.) Can be made 2 weeks ahead. Chill in airtight container, with pieces of parchment or wax paper in between layers. Let stand 15 minutes at room temperature before serving.

*To crush the peppermints, I place them in a heavy plastic baggie (such as a freezer bag), and crush with the flat side of a meat mallet. They can also be crushed with an unopened 15-ounce can of canned goods. Make sure to crush them small enough; if you leave them too large, it hurts to bite into them!

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

It’s possible that you are a little like me, and you, every year, wait until the last minute to make/buy/order Christmas presents for everyone on your list (except for your child, on whom you have managed to spend all your shopping time and money). If that’s true, and you still need to pull something off for a few people you dearly love, why not make them this guaranteed-to-please granola? Put it in a clear bag, tie it up with a red bow and a cute tag, and you have something made with more love than time spent. The red of the chewy dried cranberries (or cherries) against the green of the crunchy pepitas is certainly seasonal and festive, and it’s a wonderful light, healthy, filling, and amazingly addictive option to have on hand for breakfast, should you have relatives visiting. What are you waiting for? Preheat your oven to 350 degrees and you’ll be finished in no time!

I make this granola (or a version of it) every single week. Yes, I do. It’s so simple, and you can sub in endless options so that your taste buds are never bored. And have you checked the price of small-label granola in the “healthy” section of your grocery store lately? Homemade definitely wins all the way around. Grab a cookie sheet with sides and mix everything right on the cookie sheet itself. Even clean up is a breeze!

Easy Crunchy Granola
1/2 cup pure maple syrup (I use grade B for stronger maple flavor)
2 tablespoons canola oil
3 cups old-fashioned rolled oats (not quick cooking)
1 cup puffed brown-rice cereal (I use brown rice Rice Krispies)
1 cup pecan halves or pieces, coarsely chopped (or sliced almonds, or other nuts)
1/4 cup unsalted raw pepitas – hulled pumpkin seeds (or shelled unsalted sunflower seeds)
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
¼ cup oat bran (optional)
¼ cup powdered milk, or powdered coconut milk (optional)
1 cup dried fruit (such as sour cherries, cranberries, or blueberries)

Pre-heat oven to 350° F, rack centered in the oven. Mix the maple syrup and oil in a small bowl or measuring cup. On a rimmed baking sheet, toss the oats, rice cereal, nuts, seeds, cinnamon, salt, and oat bran and powdered milk (if using) together with your hands or large spoons. Add the maple syrup mixture by pouring it over the dry ingredients. Stir until well mixed.

Bake, stirring once, until golden, 30 to 35 minutes. Test the granola that’s in the middle of the pan to make sure almost all the moisture is gone. If not, return it to the oven for 5 or more minutes, watching closely so that it doesn’t over-brown. (Granola will continue to crisp up as it cools.)

Add the dried fruit and toss to combine. Let cool. Serve with regular yogurt, greek yogurt, milk, or just eat it plain by the handful. But beware, once you start the handful thing, it’s really hard to stop!

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

It’s hard to write about my heart. Which is why I’ve gone missing again. About a week after my last post, I had a drop-me-to-my-knees kind of chest pain while walking across a flat parking lot. No hills, no stress, just plain old walking caused my heart to contract. I’d also experienced dizziness, minor chest pains, and a fluttering feeling near my heart many times, in spite of my attempts to ignore the whole crazy thing. It was obviously time for a more aggressive approach to dealing with my anomaly.

Back at the cardiologist’s office, we learned I needed to go on daily medication for the first time in my life. Thus the pill reminder/holder. If you’ve lived 50 years without medication, it’s harder than you think to remember to take a daily pill, even when it’s one that keeps your heart beating. After counting the pills left in the bottle one too many times, trying to figure out whether or not I’d taken the pill that day, I broke down and bought the pill reminder. So it’s official. I’m old now. But alive. Thanks to a drug called Norvasc, which opens my arteries and veins so that more blood can flow to my heart through the arteries I do have. I have a whole new respect for pharmaceutical companies, believe me.

The amazingly good news is that there aren’t any side effects. I can take a very small dose and it’s enough for now. After several weeks on the drug, I can exercise as much as I want, and get my heart rate up at the gym, and life feels pretty normal again. Except for that darned pill holder, reminding me that I’m not getting any younger. Not a bad price to pay for life, I’d say. I’m still a very, very lucky person; dramatic visits to the cardiologist, and exciting stays at places where they pump drugs into my veins, are over.

I’m knocking on wood as I write this (which makes it very hard to type, by the way), but this should be my last post about my heart. For a long, long while. And I can get back to writing about recipes. About really good food, and friends, and sailing, and all the other things you come here to read. Thanks for sticking with me. You’re the best.

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

I haven’t felt up to writing about my heart. It’s been too scary; too unreal. But today I got good news. So here’s the whole story. The longest entry in my entire blog.

I’ve been going to physical therapy for my back, which turned out to be fractured, for several months now, and I’ve done so well that I was able to start going to the gym. I’ve been working out pretty hard on the treadmill and elliptical machine, and in the pool for the last two months.

A few weeks ago, I noticed I was having chest pains when my heart rate was really high (140 to 150), about 45 minutes into an hour or so of hard exercise. I talked myself out of worrying too much, but the thoughts still came to me . . .

Then I went and had my eye exam, and the optometrist told me I have cholesterol behind my pupils, which I didn’t have at my exam two years ago. I freaked out, called the doctor, and went in that day. (I’ve always had high “good” cholesterol and low “bad” cholesterol, so this really worried me.) After the doc heard where my chest pains were, she sent me immediately to the hospital to get blood tests to see if I’d had a heart attack, and she told me to schedule an echo stress test. The blood tests all came back great, including my cholesterol. I stopped worrying, but she wouldn’t let me exercise again until I had the stress test. (The cholesterol behind the eyes turned out to be totally irrelevant, but it got me to the doctor!)

After the echocardiogram stress test, the nurse at Stanford said my EKG looked completely normal and the pain was probably muscle related. I pretty much forgot about the whole thing, until I got a phone call from my doc the next afternoon. The test had come back abnormal, and the cardiologist who read it thought there might be a major blockage in an artery. So they immediately scheduled a angiogram with possible angioplasty.

I subsequently felt so stressed out that I came down with a bad case of the respiratory flu. Go figure, right? The doctors decided to go ahead with the angiogram, in spite of my illness, although the cardiologist in the cath lab felt I had nothing to worry about – that this was just a case of an overly-sensitive echo test. My blood tests were great, my weight is great, my blood pressure low. What could really be wrong with my heart? I joked in the operating room that if I had a clogged artery, I was going to blame it on all the quinoa I eat.

We spent from 8am to 8pm at the hospital. In post op, I was coughing my head off while putting pressure on my femoral artery so it didn’t re-open, which could have caused me to bleed to death. Impressive, right? It was very humorous to hear me cough, and three nurses’ heads would immediately pop in through the curtain and simultaneously ask me, “Are you putting pressure on your bandage?” You’re not supposed to move for four hours, much less cough, so everyone was on high alert. It was like a funny bit in a play that went on for too long.

It turned out that I surprised everyone. (I need to think of happier ways to surprise people.) The angiogram showed that I have a congenital heart defect called CAA (Coronary Artery Anomalies). Less than 1% of the population has this. However, many people who have it never know until they die of sudden death after or during exercise. Exciting, no? It basically just means the coronary arteries aren’t as they should be, with varying degrees of abnormality.

So there was no clogged artery, only an extra-large healthy one, one that was very small, and one that was missing in action. Sort of like the three bears, but not quite. Which meant they needed to do more tests.

The next adventure was a coronary CT scan with dye (complete with beta blockers!), to see if they could locate the missing artery by taking more pictures of my heart. They needed to find out where the artery originated and where it terminated, in order to determine how dangerous the abnormally placed artery could be. Unfortunately, by now I was even more sick with the virus, and this event had to be rescheduled while we waited for my cough to subside. This didn’t add to the stress of it all. No, not at all. Okay, maybe a lot! At some point during this, I stopped caring much about my heart. I just begged to live through the darned virus.

Of course, once I went for the coronary CT Scan, the fun had to continue. They have to give you beta blockers to slow down the heart so they can get clear pictures. I already have a slow heart rate and low blood pressure because I exercise so much. Yup. Add that to a funky artery situation and mix with potent medications and right there you have a cocktail for disaster.

My spouse insisted that I would need less medication than most people, and got the nurse to call a doctor for permission to use less of the beta blocker. Permission granted, I was given a 1/2 dose. In about fifteen minutes, I was a dizzy, sleepy, heartbeat skipping, heart rate and blood pressure dropping mess. I barely remember being quickly hooked up to an IV and to an oxygen tank. I could almost make out the nurse yelling at me, “Breathe!” Yes, it was terribly frantic and I seriously wouldn’t want to repeat the experience. Ever. The nurse later told me to never let anyone give me more than a quarter dose of a beta blocker. Noted, I promise. Lesson learned.

After an interminable wait, the CT results came back. It turns out that there was no missing/hidden artery. It didn’t exist. Which was sort of good news: no surgery to move it. And sort of bad news: a heart needs its arteries!

Today, finally, I got the whole scoop. I have a zero calcium score (for arterial blockage), which is the best score you can have. I have no damage to my heart, no enlargement, no thickening. This is a great news for someone with missing coronary arteries.

My right coronary artery is the tiny one. I do not even have a left anterior descending artery – that’s the one that was missing and they hoped to find from the CT Scan. However, to compensate for the absence of a left anterior descending artery, my body has grown a diagonal branch and a large septal preforator. (You probably have no idea what I’m talking about. I only learned a couple of hours ago. It’s as if there’s no major highway/freeway where there really needs to be one, so they just bulldozed a couple of one lane circuitous country roads to try and handle all the traffic.) This takes me from a rare form of coronary artery anomalies to “very rare,” but it shows how the body can adapt to difficult situations.

I don’t need surgery. I’m not at risk for sudden death, unless I get my heart rate too high or too low, which could cause a heart attack. Any time there’s a lot of demand for blood to my heart, I’m at risk and need to be really careful and pay attention to my chest pains and heart flutters. I have to read the labels on over the counter medicines for warnings about anything related to the heart, and stay away from those medications. I have to stay hydrated ( I’m terrible about drinking water!) in order to keep my heart functioning properly.

The doctor says that I’m really lucky. He said I have a “Ferrari heart.” It’s amazingly healthy, in spite of the challenges it’s had to deal with. The reason I haven’t had a heart attack so far is because the arteries I do have are so clean and healthy. (Yes to healthy eating!) The reason I’m having symptoms now is because I’m aging and I push too hard. When and if my symptoms increase, we’ll deal with it, possibly with medications and more lifestyle modifications. Otherwise, I just have to exercise moderately (warm up slowly, stay well below a high heart rate, cool down slowly), stay healthy, keep eating the way I eat, and pay attention to symptoms.

I’ve always exercised hard. My older brother and I were trained as athletes, competitive swimmers from a very young age. When we stopped competing, we took up running. Anything to keep us moving. I compete with myself most of all. I’m always trying to go 5 more minutes, have a higher average heart rate, increase the resistance, 100 more yards in the pool, constantly challenging myself.

The doctor is right: I’m lucky. I get a chance to learn what moderate exercise means, no matter how sharp that learning curve turns out to be for me. My brother was not so fortunate. A few years ago, at the age of 49, he dropped dead after crossing the finish line of a half marathon. From a congenital heart defect, but not the same one I have. He left five children who miss him every single day. Who knows if he ever felt chest pain and ignored it?

Thank you to each and every one of my doctors at Stanford for paying attention. Thank you to the nurse who took care of me as my blood pressure dropped. Thank you to all our friends and extended family who called and emailed and supported us through this ordeal. You’re just going to have to put up with my scrappy, adaptive Ferrari-heart a while longer.

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

I just wanted to drop in and let you know that I haven’t completely disappeared. And that I’m not just off having too much fun without you. No, not at all. It’s been a strange time in my life, and it continues to get even stranger.

While summer has sidled in, and the backyard roses have been blooming, I’ve been sick. Really, really sick. And while I was really, really sick, we discovered some major problems with my body that are completely unrelated to the month-long virus I’ve suffered through. I haven’t had the words to write about it yet. I don’t even fully understand it. For now, let’s just say I’ve been off getting temporary purple tattoos at Stanford Hospital, and having very exciting medical adventures.

This Wednesday, I’ll be talking to a doctor I first met a couple of weeks ago in pre-op, and I’ll ask all my questions. I’m pretty certain he only knows some of the answers, and I’m going to have to be okay with that. When the words come to me, I promise to write them here, and you’ll know as much as I do.

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

It’s pouring rain. I’ve been stuck in the house for three days with a sick kid. The saving grace is that our CSA started up the season this week and I was able to leave the house long enough to pick up our first box less than a mile away. So, glory be, we have farm fresh vegetables in the house.

Looking through the cupboards and the nearly empty shelves in the refrigerator, I find some polenta-grind cornmeal, some low-fat cream cheese, a few cups of homemade vegetable broth begging to be used, and an ounce or so of parmesan. So right away, I know creamy polenta is happening for dinner.

The baby carrots, turnips, and delicata squash from the CSA can be chopped up and roasted with the lonely broccoli head leftover from another meal. I’ll throw in a cut-up onion or two, and a few shallots that have been sitting in the onion basket.

I’m less cranky already. The aroma of the roasting vegetables begins to fill the house. The heat radiating from the oven kicks the dreariness right out of the kitchen. Forty-five minutes later, we’re all making happy sounds as we eat comfort food around the cozy table in our pajamas. Seriously, is there a better way to deal with winter?

Roasted Winter Vegetables with Creamy Polenta
(Creamy polenta recipe adapted from our dearest Elise at Simply Recipes)

Roasted Vegetables
This is more of a guideline than a recipe. Basically, chop up a bunch of winter vegetables, toss them in olive oil, salt and pepper, and stick in the oven until browned and softened. Substitute cauliflower for the broccoli, peeled butternut squash for the delicata. Or just go crazy and tell me what you roasted in the comments. Serves 4, more or less, depending upon your appetite for roasted vegetables. We seem to be able to consume bucket loads of them.

2 small unpeeled delicata squash, sliced into ¼ inch thick slices, seeds and strings discarded
4 large or 6 small turnips, peeled and cut into ½ inch wedges
6 carrots, peeled, cut into 3-inch chunks, then halved lengthwise
2 small onions, peeled, halved lengthwise, and cut into ½ inch wedges
1 head of broccoli, stems peeled and cut into ½ inch chunks, florets cut into large bite-sized pieces
4 shallots, peeled and cut in half (optional)
3 tablespoons Olive oil (approximately)
Salt (coarse salt works well, if you have it handy)
Pepper (freshly ground, if possible)
Parmesan cheese, grated, to taste (used as the final dish is assembled)

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees while you cut up the vegetables. Spread the prepared vegetables onto two baking sheets. You want them to have room to roast and brown. If they are too crowded, the result will be more like steamed vegetables.

Drizzle a tablespoon or so of olive oil over each baking sheet of vegetables. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. (Not too much, as you can season again when they are cooked. It’s much harder to get rid of excess salt than it is to add salt at the end of the roasting time.) Toss the vegetables in the olive oil, salt, and pepper. (I use my hands. It’s much easier to get each piece coated lightly with the oil that way.) Roast for approximately 40 to 45 minutes, stirring the vegetables once or twice while they are roasting. Vegetables are done when they are lightly browned and can be pierced easily with a fork. We prefer our vegetables darkly browned and slightly caramelized, so I leave them in until they look like the ones in the picture.

While the vegetables are roasting, prepare the polenta.

Creamy Polenta
4 cups vegetable broth
1 cup polenta-grind cornmeal
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
4 ounces low-fat cream cheese (Non-fat is not good in this recipe. Full-fat is wonderful, but very rich.)
Salt, to taste

Bring vegetable broth to a boil over high heat. Quickly whisk in the cornmeal. Lowering the heat to a simmer, add the butter and allow the polenta to cook, stirring occasionally, for 30 minutes. Stir in the cream cheese and salt, stirring until the cream cheese is completely melted.

Serve the roasted vegetables over the polenta, and top with freshly grated parmesan cheese.

©2012 RoundTheTable. All Rights Reserved.

Recently, I went on a binge of epic proportions. Lest you think I need rehab, like Mr. In-the-News-Constantly-These-Days, my over the top indulgence stopped as soon as my body got its fill of Vitamin C. Or at least that’s what I’m blaming my behavior on, for now.

You see, I suddenly starting craving anything and everything bitter. Teeth-hurting, salivary-glands-burning, eating raw lemon peels (with the pith!) kind of bitterness. I began drinking pure unsweetened cranberry juice, but required something more.

So I made pucker worthy whole-lemon lemon bars, the ones you see in the photo above, from this David Lebovitz recipe. They were so bitter, my family left them for me to eat. I wish I had a picture of my son’s face when he tried one.

I canned extraordinarily bitter/sweet lime marmalade with ripe (therefore yellow) Persian limes from our tree, and another batch with limes from the farmers market, using Shuna Fish Lydon’s formula for lime marmalade (scroll down through the comments on her page to find the ratio for limes). I couldn’t stop eating it straight from the jar by the heaping spoonful, but I wasn’t quite ready to admit I needed help – not just yet.

I candied a Buddha’s Hand from our tree, and though it was delicious, I found it too sweet to satisfy my cravings. So I ordered Meyer Lemon marmalade from the queen of preserves, June Taylor. And I signed up for a marmalade making class with her, and almost burst into tears when I found I had to wait until April. This was when I first realized I might be out of control.

Fantasies of multi-colored citrus peels filled my daydreams. Pectin made from the membranes, oh my! Wait. Maybe that was reality. It’s so hard to tell when you’re overdosing.

Thankfully, none too soon, a day arrived when the lemon bars tasted bitter enough that I only wanted one. The lime marmalade began to seem like something needing homemade sourdough English muffins to go with it, which slowed its entry into my bloodstream. I stopped begging my blood oranges to ripen, and am now content to wait until they’re ready on their own to be made into marmalade.

I got over it. It’s passed. I’m thankful that my body got what needed and moved on. Because that was scary, man. I couldn’t even find a rehab facility devoted to those who crave bitterness.

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