Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One Hundred Fifty (On Sweet Things in Life)

OY VEH!!! Sometimes life just gets too complicated. That's when easy sweet recipes come to the rescue. Here is my rescue recipe.

LOW FAT SPELT BLUEBERRY/RASPBERRY TURN-OVERS

Ingredients:

One Spelt Right Pizza dough fully thawed and proofed. (That means that it should fill the bag after it has risen).

12-16 ounces of berries of your choice (either frozen or fresh). I used blueberries and raspberries.

1/4 cup VITA SPELT flour

1/4-1/2 cup organic cane sugar

1/4 teaspoon of cinnamon (optional)

Lightly oil (with EVOO) a stainless steel baking pan. Preheat oven to 375-400F

Mix berries, flour, sugar, and cinnamon (if desired) in a small bowl. Set aside.

Cut dough into 6-8 equal pieces. Stretch dough to about 1/8 inch thick in circle. Heap the berry/flour/sugar mixture on one half of dough. Gently stretch over berries and pinch on ends (see pictures).

Place on baking sheet; bake for 20-30 minutes until lightly browned on the bottom. Can be served warm or cold. As an additionally remedy, serve with natural vanilla ice cream.

Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One Hundred Forty Nine (The Go To Girl)

The Go To Girl

Sometimes the "go to girl" has to become the "gotta go girl"

Being the anchor, the fall back, the one on whom everyone relies comes with great rewards,

but also creates such a clamor that sometimes,

the voices, the calls, the requests must be muted.

Without the muting, all incoming signals become a deafening chaotic cacophony,

one that needs to be turned off,

even if only from one sunset to the next.

What good is the “go to girl” if

she hears only mumbles and sees only blurs.

And from the coveted one-day of silence and darkness emerges clarity in which

the “go to girl” returns for all but one day of the earth’s rotation around the sun, and

the “gotta go girl” slips away for her 364 day nap.

The “go to girl” has returned, refreshed, stronger, with a smile on her face and warmth in her heart, ready to be the “go to”

until it is time to “gotta go.”

This Go-to-Girl may need more than the just one day allotted in this attempt-to-be-poetic piece, but when she does "gotta go", she has left simple recipes for those whom rely on the next day's meal. Here is a simple "gotta go" recipe.

One Spelt Right Pizza Dough, fully thawed and risen. Gently work dough into a well oiled (with EVOO) stainless steel baking sheet (preferably with edges), cover with sauteed onions, garlic, and mushrooms (and whatever you have in the fridge). Top with fresh mozzarella and goat cheese and olives. Bake at 450 for 15-22 minutes, depending upon how brown and crispy you like the crust. Feed your loved ones, give them simple recipes, tell them you care, and then slip away just for a moment in time, so that you can return, refreshed, with a smile on your face, and ready to feed once again.

Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One Hundred Forty Eight (On Table and Chairs and Good Things to Eat)

We forget sometimes that the simplest of things like a table, chairs and good things to eat can transform our sense of feeling at a loss to feeling completely at home. Transitions can be hard, but also invigorating. Sometimes, though, they just unsettle us, especially when we are used to certain routines, like sitting at the dining room table (in chairs) eating mom’s homemade dinners, and knowing where the tape is stored. The delivery of the table and chairs that fit our new tight space transformed our apartment from a living space to home. For this, we are thankful to our friends.

We just went through a huge transition – a good one, but a bit unsettling nonetheless. We (the parents) decided that it was time to make a move. We were aiming to be close to NYC to help me with Spelt Right, but the real key to our relocation was dependent upon where my life partner, love, and confidant landed a job. Somehow, the stars aligned and transported us to the heart of the City where we loved, left, and longed to return.

Once again, after a twenty-two year hiatus we are back in the Big Apple. This time, though, with a little more life experience, a few more educational degrees, too many possessions, and three offspring in tow.

This move from Maine to NYC is an unlikely transition for a family who was under no constraints to move. Yet, we decided it was time to shed some of our worldly possessions, test living in close quarters, and gain access to one of the greatest cities in the world. As Spencer said, “who needs t.v. when you have NYC unfolding in front of your eyes.” (We did keep one of our three t.v.'s)

We are thankful for the supports we have in this sweet apple: our family, business partners, colleagues, and friends – old and new. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Happy Kwanzaa, and Good Wishes for Any Holiday, or Any Day….

And, for our first meal, on our new table in our little apartment – a recipe from a great Italian chef – modified to be made gluten free. - Gluten Free Baked Ziti

Ingredients:

One organic onion (finely chopped)

4-5 cloves of garlic (finely chopped or minced with salt)

1/4 – 1/2 cup of extra virgin olive oil

Pomi – crushed tomatoes – all natural, no citric acid – in a carton (no BPA in packaging)

One Pound Grass Fed Ground Beef

1-2 Teaspoons of Sea Salt

Ground pepper to taste

6-10 leaves of Fresh Basil (chopped finely)

One package of gluten free (rice) ziti

One small container of whole milk ricotta

One half to one pound of mozzarella shredded

Instructions:

Place chopped onion and garlic in olive oil in large stainless steel pan. Saute until onions are brown. Add ground beef. Saute until browned. Add Pomi tomatoes, salt and pepper to taste. Add one teaspoon of organic sugar if desired. Stir all ingredients. Cook on medium low for 20-25 minutes. Stirring occasionally. Add chopped basil.

In the meantime, boil and drain pasta according to instructions on panel. Rinse, and then toss with extra virgin olive oil to keep from sticking.

Preheat oven to 375F.

In a 9 inch glass baking dish, spread a little of the sauce on the bottom to keep the pasta from sticking. In the sauce pan, toss the pasta sauce and pasta. When thoroughly tossed, place the pasta in the baking dish. Spread ricotta on top. Then sprinkle with mozzarella. Bake until bubbling on top. Guaranteed to be hit with the kids. It was so good and easy, we ended up making this two nights in row, one with night with meat, the other meatless.

Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One-Hundred Forty-Seven (Santa Sal - Tradition)

Sal has the names of each of his children tattooed with pride on his arm. Maria, his ex-wife, is tattooed there too. Not only is she still present on his arm, but also in the front end of Sal’s Pastry Shoppe. Maria greets each customer with love and pride, as if each one is as precious as her offspring who are laboring in the back with their father. “Cannoli, tiramasu, struffoli? What would you like, honey? They are all delizioso; Sal and my sons make them.”

Sal, direct from Italy, has been baking for 40 of his 52 years. “Not no one knows how to make the bread or the pastries like Sal does.” This is not arrogance, it’s pride; it’s true; don’t mess with the maestro. Just as the famous Italian violinist Arcangelo Corelli (1653-1713) became one with his violin, Sal, of the same romantic origin, becomes one with his bread. “You must understand the dough; observe it; listen to it; feel it.” The message is clear. A recipe is meaningless without engaging all of yourself, all of your senses, and the sixth sense of intuition into the dough.

The back of the bakery is the training ground for Sal and Maria’s sons, Salvatore, Jr. and Dominic. Sal, Jr., the eldest, has taken on his father’s love of baking. In fact, Sal's Pastry Shoppe is owned by Sal, Jr. An impressive endeavor for a 20-something.

Better than any cake boss, he is the “Prince of Specialty Cakes”. The first time I met him, he honored me with a picture album of the works of art he creates for all occasions: playgrounds, sports fields, crosses, dradles, baby carriages, wedding cakes, all edible, all individual, all made with the precision of a mathematician. Uncle Frank beams, “the kid is a math whiz, you know.” Sal, Jr.’s math acumen is evident by the symmetry and artistry of his creations.

As we continue to knead the test batch of spelt bread, Dominic, the youngest says to me “Maine? That’s where you are from? I love Stephen King.” “Stephen King?” I inquire, “You must love to read, and love horror too?” “Yes, I am a writer.” Dominic’s revelation brings a smile to my face; it explains the drawing of caricatures in the office. Sal, Jr. drew a likeness of Dominic with the phrase “I AM A WRITER”. Dominic drew a picture of Sal, Jr. “I AM A BAKER.”

Dominic has written a few screenplays; some horror in the tradition of Stephen King; some comedy in the tradition of life. He studied at the New York Film Academy. “It’s hard to be recognized in that business.” Dominic said. “Yes, Dominic,” I replied, “It’s hard to be recognized in any business.” But, Dominic, Sal Jr., Uncle Frank and I all have something to learn from Sal, Sr., we just need to keep working at it – using all of our senses – becoming one with what we do.

Sal’s Pastry Shoppe, a beautifully complex tiny world, spins with family, love, passion, tradition, and hard work. Whether creating tiramasu, spelt bread, 12 layer cakes, or screenplays, a few things remain true, we must persevere, hold on to our dreams, hope for a little luck, and being thankful for those who spin into our tiny worlds to help us keep our passions alive.

Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One-Hundred Forty-Six (The Art of Multi-Tasking)

Recipe for Disaster a/k/a The Art of Multi-Tasking

I may not be known for many things, but I am known (within my circles) for being a master at multi-tasking. 1992: Graduate from law school, have the first baby, take bar exam all within a month. 1997: Have second baby, settle a case, and forget the third task. 2002: Help ailing father, do jury trial and lose, have third baby within 1 month. (No sympathy from the jury for waddling into court!) 2011: move business, move family, help ailing mother, visit sister in mid-west, deal with new diagnosis of hemophilia within a month.

And, somewhere along the way, I just wanted to make a simple dinner for two . But, this multi-tasker failed to remember that putting the oven on broil and leaving the room to do what we all must do in the water closet is not a good idea.

Luckily for my keen sense of smell, “Is something burning?” and excellent hearing "Is that the fire alarm?" the failure of my multi-tasking skills did not lead to a house fire. We simply got a slightly burned Spelt Right pizza for dinner, which, when all said and done, wasn’t a bad meal for someone with too much on her plate.

I will not give you this RECIPE for disaster. This is one you can figure out or avoid on your own.

Two essential ingredients: Spelt Right Pizza Dough and a Fire Extinguisher.

Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One-Hundred Forty-Five (Breaking the Fast for Yom Kippur)

This is a guest post by my very dear friend, Anna Collins.

The Perfect Meal to Break the Fast

 This year on Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year in the Jewish calendar, I fasted as required by tradition.  Then, I broke my fast with spelt.  Let me be more exact --  I broke my fast with the most delicious slice of Spelt Right pizza one could imagine -- a slice filled with the flavors of mushrooms, garlic, three types of cheese, and fresh basil.  


It was also a slice filled with something more -- something that cannot be easily described.

I do not find fasting to be an easy task, but it is something I look forward to because it is transformative.  Modern life is a rushed enterprise, even if one fails to embrace its speed and works to rebel against its multi-tasking nature.  Fasting forces one to observe one's struggle with modernity from the outside, looking in.  As I fast, I becomes aware of my humanity, my frailty, and my dependence on the things that are easy to take for granted in a society still far more privileged than most.  

This year on Yom Kippur, when it was time to break the fast, I found myself with a slice of spelt pizza in my hands.  This was not just any slice.  This was a slice made by a dear friend, someone who has treated me and my family as extended family.  As I ate that slice of pizza, I thought about our friendship -- its history, its dynamics, its future.  I also thought about how fortunate I am to know my friend.  We may have our differences, but we care for each other.  That is something I will not take for granted.

Today, as I consider the moment I broke the fast, I realize something else.  In some parts of the world, my friend and I would not be able to easily share a meal.  Some would consider our cultural heritage too conflicting.  My friend is of Christian Middle-Eastern decent, and I am native Russian Jewish.  The fact that I broke the fast with food she made is powerful, perhaps even transformative.  It is hard to name the key ingredient in that slice -- words are not enough to describe it.  Perhaps the word "humanity" is a good start. 


Here is recipe for humanity.


One Spelt Right Pizza Dough Fully Thawed and Risen
Extra virgin olive oil
4-5 cloves of fresh garlic
8-12 ounces mushrooms (sliced)
2 ounces chevre soft goat cheese
12-16 ounces mozzarella cheese (shredded)
2 ounces grated fresh parmesan cheese
8-10 leaves fresh basil
Sea Salt


Pre-heat oven to 450 F.


Lightly oil pizza pan with EVOO.  Stretch Spelt Right Pizza Dough over pan.  Drizzle dough with EVOO and garlic ground with salt (I do this with a mortar and pestle).  Spread with hands.  Put in oven for about 5 minutes just firm up the crust.   In the meantime, saute sliced mushrooms and more garlic and salt in EVOO until browned.  Set aside.   Take crust out of oven and top with shredded mozzarella, grated parmesan, and small dollops of goat cheese.  Next add the mushrooms spreading evenly.   Top with with 6-10 leaves of fresh chopped (not too fine) basil.   Bake for 15-20 minutes until crust is light brown on the bottom.


Remove from oven.  Slice for family.  Tempt friend who is fasting and save extra large piece for her.   Place extra large piece in aluminum foil, wrap carefully, and give to Anna with a kind admonition not to eat until sundown.

Lunch Box Chronicles: Day One-Hundred Forty-Four (On the Meaning of Life-Blood and One Incredible Banana Bread)

So I have been stressing a bit lately.  What’s new?  Most of it is a self-imposed choice of wanting to climb very high mountains, forge new territories, and occasionally get some sleep. 

Sometimes, however, genetics just get in the way.   This time, it is not only personality traits, but also blood clotting traits.  No one really wants to talk about this stuff.   Blood.  It is kind of taboo.  But, blood has become the focus of my life.   Recently, I was diagnosed with two different blood-clotting disorders – Von Willebrand Disease and Factor XI deficiency.  Factor XI is also known as hemophilia C.   At first the “H” word made me shutter, but now it has transformed me into the guardian of my blood-line – the entire tangle of my family emanating from my father’s side.   My children, my siblings, their children, my cousins, their children.  It is all genetics.   It is like unraveling a mystery.

These newly discovered diagnoses explain years of mystery.   Like why, during certain times of my life, I was so drained, I felt I did not have one more speck of energy to move on.  Or, why I chose to have all of my babies 5 years apart.  Or, why I ended up in the ER hemorrhaging after a simple tooth extraction.  Or, why my father never healed after surgery, which led to his demise a year later.  Or, why my aunt died within hours of surgery.  Or, why my oldest sister is always covered with bruises.

All of us were literally drained of our life-blood.   It is all genetics, but no one knew.   Until, now, that is. 

I recently have been told that I have been very lucky.   But, it’s also taboo to talk too much about luck.  So, I will leave it at that.  (But, I will mention briefly that I am lucky to live in Southern Maine, home to not only lobsters and great coastlines, but also a phenomenal Hemophilia Treatment Center at Maine Med.)

But, now that I am the guardian of this information, I have a responsibility to carry the torch, lead the way, make new discoveries and help those within my blood-line, especially, my youngest, who carries on the tradition of my lineage.   She’s only 9, and wishes to disclaim this inheritance, but unfortunately, she can’t.  Fortunately, though, she also has me, with the knowledge, no shame, and the ability to keep her out of harm’s way.  

So not only will I continue to teach this fierce 9 year old how to be strong, and to care for herself, and to look for signs, I am also teaching her how to be self-sufficient and climb her own mountains.

Spelt Banana Bread Made By One Strong 9 Year Old

During this recent tumultuous time, my littlest tyke really wanted to bake one day, but this baker entrepreneur mother was quite worn out.  So, with my encouragement, she and her big brother baked all on their own and made some incredible banana bread.

It was the perfect snack for a mom who was feeling slightly tired, but no longer drained of her life-blood.

Incredible Spelt Banana Bread

1/2 cup soft butter

1 cup organic sugar

2TBL organic black strap molasses

2 eggs, beaten

2 cups whole grain VITA SPELT flour

1 teaspoon aluminum free baking soda

1/4 cup orange juice

2-3 ripe bananas

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Cream butter and sugar, beat in eggs.  Add dry ingredients, and then mix in mashed bananas, applesauce and orange juice.   Mix well.  Bake in 9 x 12 well butter glass pan, or in loaf pan.  Bake for 30-40 minutes in glass pan or 45 min-1hr in loaf pan.    ENJOY every life-filled moment!