Life can get hectic. Trying to keep up with the many things pulling us in different directions – family, work, commitments, community . . . Sometimes it feels like the world around us is moving at an unnerving pace. After awhile it takes its toll and I have to find my center.

We all have a few methods that work. For me, yoga or an escape into nature away from cell phones, computers and crowds zens me out. And, of course, cooking is also on this list.

A few days ago I got into my “me time” while cooking these kousa mihshi, Lebanese stuffed zucchini (also called/spelled kousa mihshi, and kussa mihshi).

For the hour that it took to prep ingredients I was “present” – mind and body, enjoying the sensory experience:  coring several zucchini and hearing the corking sound it made with each first cut and tug of the pulp; chopping fragrant fresh herbs: inhaling the warmth from cinnamon and allspice as I measured them out; mashing raw meat with bare hands; and stuffing narrow tubes of zucchini with messy fingers.

This is not a difficult recipe just one that takes a little more time. I could have rushed through the process but why? It was an opportunity to slow down and enjoy the beauty of something I created – from garden to table.

Stuffed vegetables like these kousa mahshi are frequently a Sunday staple but are also served at weddings, parties, and other special gatherings. On such occassions, they are usually prepared communally.

That day, in my kitchen, somehow I felt connected to the generations of Lebanese women who’d made stuffed zucchini for their families and extended families.  This is a meal that is as much about process as the final plate.

Sahtayn! – the Arabic version of “bon appétit,” which means “two healths to you.”

Tidbits on Stuffed Vegetables:

1. The origin of stuffed vegetables is uncertain, although the Turks and Greeks claim ownership. Originally, they were served in palace kitchens to the wealthy and ruling class.
2. Traditionally, lamb is used rather than beef to make the meat and rice filling and very traditional recipes for stuffed vegetables like kousa mahshi called for frying them first before stewing.

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Parsley is one of my favorite herbs.

Growing up, however, the only time I remember parsley on my plate was as a green garnish that I pushed to the side. Then, years ago when I began eating Middle Eastern foods like tabbouleh, the herb found a regular place in my heart and garden.

I grow both curly and flat parsley and prefer the curly version for tabbouleh.

Parsley’s exact origin is uncertain but is believed to have been in the Mediterranean region, from Spain to Greece and its use has spread throughout the world for both culinary and medicinal uses.

There is also much folk lore surrounding its use – one particular belief was that the herb would only flourish in gardens where a strong woman presides over the household.  Snap!

The herb is a key ingredient in several cultures including those from the Middle East and North Africa. It’s essential in the refreshing salad tabbouleh (also spelled tabouleh, tabbouli, tabboule) that has its roots in Lebanon and Syria.

Traditionally the dish has parsley, mint, tomatoes, bulgar wheat, lemon juice, olive oil and seasonings such as allspice and cinnamon. It’s often eaten by scooping it up in lettuce leaves. In the Middle East, it is more of a green salad than a grain salad.

Over the last several decades the salad has grown in global appeal, which has led to a variety of interpretations – such as in North Africa where the cracked wheat is substituted with couscous – and, here in my Colorado kitchen, where this recipe uses quinoa. When I don’t have garden fresh tomatoes, as in now, I use sun-dried. My tomato plants are growing at a snails pace, or so it seems. I created this recipe for a local magazine spread and for those eating gluten free.

Tabbouleh makes a great snack, side dish or a complete meal with hummus or falafel.

Tidbits on Parsley:

1. There are three common varieties of parsley: curly, flat (Italian) and Hamburg. Parsley is rich in vitamin C and iron.
2. Parsley is related to carrots, parsnips, and celery.
3. Parsley has an honored place in folk lore and history:  parsley was used in Greek and Roman ceremonies; it was sprinkled on corpses to abate stench, Greek athletes were crowned with parsley and during the Middle Ages it was credited with lethal powers – pulling parsley root from the earth while calling out an adversary’s name could cause death. It was also believed to promote menstruation, facilitate childbirth, and increase female libido.

Sources: “Parsley,” The Gale Encyclopedia of Alternative Medicine, Ed. Laurie J. Fundukian; Encyclopedia of Spices at theepicentre.com; the Encyclopedia of Food and Culture

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In this post, a “chub” is not me in my bikini (no need to see those pics). Nor is it a fish. It refers to the tube, roll or log of ready-made polenta sitting on store shelves and maybe even in your cupboard?

Most people like chubs for their convenience – slice it and reheat. But, the taste of that pre-packaged polenta is closer to a log than what you get when you make it from scratch.

If you’re a chub buyer, you may also be purchasing the ready-made version because you’ve heard that polenta is difficult to prepare. It’s not.

Polenta is simply cornmeal simmered in liquid and stirred. (Read my post about grits v. polenta.) And, to bust a big myth, it does NOT require constant stirring; just a watchful eye and some stirring. It can be prepared simply, mixed with butter and cheese, or made a delicacy with fancy ingredients.

It is commonly eaten in two forms:  soft and creamy or hardened and shaped for baking, grilling or frying. In this post, we’re doing the latter. The ingredients are identical in both except that the polenta cooks longer so it thickens when it sets.

Making home-made chubs is easy – simmer polenta, add flavors, let it cool and set it in cyclinder container. That’s it.

Also note that you can freeze polenta – slice in individual portions, wrap and freeze. Take out what you need, when you need and reheat.

Chubs run about $4 for an 18 oz. roll. You can buy a whole bag of polenta for that much and it’ll make at least six (tastier) chubs. By making your chub, you can create entirely new flavors: green chile and cheese, sundried tomato and Parmesan (recipe below), or asiago and basil. Make sure to finely chop ingredients that don’t melt. I’ve included detailed instructions only as a guide as to the process but experimentation is always welcome.

Buon appetito!

Tidbits on Polenta:

1. Before corn made its way to the Old World, Europeans ate porridges similar to polenta that were made of millet, chesnut flour, barley and buckwheat. They were eaten much like polenta, seasoned with milk, cheese and meat.
2. When corn first arrived in Europe, it was grown for animal feed. But, between the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries corn became a staple to peasants and mountain northern Italians. Southern Italians disparagingly refer to their northern countrymen as “polenta eaters.”
3. Around the world, many cultures that had adopted corn as a primary staple in their diet became afflicted with “pellagra” a niacin vitamin deficiency. They did not follow Indigenous culinary tradition by preparing corn with alkaline water (nixtamal), which increases niacin and lysine. In northern Italy, where many subsided solely on polenta, pellagra became wide-spread. Thought to be associated with corn, Italians at one point forbid eating polenta.

Primary Sources: “The Natural History of Maize” by Ruben G. Mendoza; Polenta by Michele Anna Jordan

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A few of you have said “grits” (the name) is off-putting.

True, it’s a little rough and abrupt. It doesn’t roll fluidly off the tongue. But, I like it. Just like I dig accents and colloquialisms – Southern included. When I lived in Texas, I couldn’t resist picking up a little twang and using “y’all” and “fixin’s” in my vernacular. It was signature to the South, just like grits.

To no surprise, shrimp and grits is also rooted there – South Carolina in particular. It was referred to as “breakfast shrimp” and was a simple fisherman’s breakfast during shrimping season–usually consisting only of shrimp, grits and salt.

Then along came Bill Neal, a young North Carolina chef whose interpretation of the dish has been described as “one of the signature dishes of the Southern culinary renaissance.”

Neal gussied up the low-country version adding sautéed mushrooms, bacon, garlic and cheese grits. It was a hit. Not really a surprise to me since it has bacon and cheese.

His version has become popularized with a little help from a New York Times review and his Southern cookbooks: Bill Neal’s Southern Cooking; Biscuits, Spoonbread, and Sweet Potato Pie; and Good Old Grits Cookbook. Neal died in 1991, but his shrimp and grits are still a favorite at his former restaurant Crook’s Corner in Chapel Hill, N.C. For any of you into Southern food, you may also want to check out Remembering Bill Neal: Favorite Recipes from a Life in Cooking, another collection of his recipes used at Crook’s, which was published in 2004.

The recipe below is adapted from Neal’s version. I reduced the amount of bacon, increased mushrooms, tweaked the seasonings and used green chile cheese grits for some extra earthiness and depth. It’s relatively easy to make and is fantastic for brunch served with some home-made biscuits. It’s good. So good, my husband puts it in his top 5 recipes on this site.

Also, I wanted to share this quirky, little black and white film about grits that I found while perusing the internet.

Tidbits on Grits:

1. Southerners generally prefer stone-ground grits to the instant version. I found at least one reference to instant grits as “hog slop.”
2. St. George, South Carolina hosts the World Grits Festival.
3. At the 1996 Summer Olympics in Atlanta, Ga., Quaker (the grits producer) introduced the international audience to grits via its grits campaign.

Sources: Good Old Grits Cookbook by Bill Neal & David Perry; “Some South for Your Mouth,” Duke Magazine.

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Do you call ground, dried corn “grits” or “polenta?”  You’d be right if you said either one. Yes, polenta, the haute cuisine of the last two decades, is equivalent to good ol’ grits.

Grits v. Polenta

If you’re scratching your head, it’s completely understandable. The labeling is inconsistent and I suspect regional – in the South, I’d reckon you’d find “grits” on store shelves but in northern Italy, you’d see “polenta.”  Here in Denver, I just bought a bag of coarsely-ground, dried yellow cornmeal labeled “polenta (corn grits)” at the natural food store. What gives?

For intellectual purposes, know that one of the primary differences between the two is that grits are usually made with white corn, while polenta is made of yellow.

Some polenta authorities also distinguish the two by the size of the grind, polenta being larger with a nuttier taste. However, both grits and polenta are available in fine, medium and coarse grinds.

To add even more confusion, there’s also the lighter colored “hominy grits.” Early on, the word “hominy” reflected the lye soak process used to loosen the husk and germ, which made for a softer and creamier final dish. Today, “hominy grits” has become a generic term for “corn grits.”

Ugghh. To me it’s all “mush,” like my brain when I try to figure out all this nomenclature.

Green Chile Cheese Grits

Grits are an institution in the South – served with butter and salt, sweetened with milk and sugar, or topped with red-eye gravy, ham, bacon or shrimp.

This recipe for green chile grits is a bit Southern/Soul Food and Mexican – a reflection of my household and history. Corn (maize) was originally domesticated in central Mexico and eventually became a favored crop among Southerners.

These green chile cheese grits are easy to make and much tastier than regular mush. They are delicious for breakfast with eggs or for lunch or dinner as a substitute for potatoes or rice. Enjoy! Leave a comment about your favorite way to eat cornmeal mush, and if you have a preference for “grits” or “polenta.”

Tidbits on Cornmeal:

1. Southerners hailing from the Charleston area use the word “hominy” to refer to cooked grits and the term “grist” for its uncooked state.
2. Early Southern pioneers cultivated more corn than cotton.
3. The smaller the grind of corn, the faster it will cook. Larger grinds (and most polenta recipes) can take up to an hour to cook. The grits/polenta is ready when it’s no longer crunchy.
4. Stone ground and whole grain cornmeal has more nutrients because it still contains the germ.

Sources:  The Oxford Encyclopedia for Food and Drink in America, Good Old Grits Cookbook by Bill Neal & David Perry.

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A couple of months ago my amiga Kitty and I spent an afternoon cooking. She offered to show me how to make Puerto Rican arroz con pollo, rice with chicken.

I happily assumed the role of sous chef – peeling heads of garlic, chopping veggies, and stirring this and that. Meanwhile, Nivia was my window into the cultural and personal nuances of Puerto Rican cookery .  .  .

For starters, Puerto Rican cuisine employs a spectrum of cooking techniques and ingredients that reflect the island’s diverse inhabitants: the Caribbean native Tainos, Africans, Spanish, and other Europeans.

Three items are signature to the cuisine:  adobo, sofrito and achiote.  Arroz con pollo employs all three. No wonder it’s touted as the most popular chicken dish on the island.

Adobo: In Puerto Rican parlance, adobo is a seasoned salt. A wet adobo made of garlic, olive oil, salt, black pepper, oregano and citrus juice is rubbed on the chicken in this dish and marinated overnight. It’s the secret to moist and flavorful chicken, and it also infuses a layer of flavor to the rice.  Sofrito: The rice is bursting with flavor because of the sofrito, a fresh bouillon of peppers, onions, garlic and herbs. (Read about sofrito and view recipe.) Achiote: Achiote is derived from annato seeds and is used for its subtle flavor and to give the dish a reddish hue. No saffron here, the less expensive achiote is a long-time tradition in Puerto Rican cooking. Achiote can be purchased as a paste, ground or in seed form. It is readily available in Latino markets and spice stores.

After cooking with Kitty, I did some research. The majority of recipes out there are more intuitive rather than specific. For a Puerto Rican arroz con pollo novice, that’s not helpful. I know, I made this dish three times in the last several weeks.

Here’s my final recipe, with a bit more detail – I’ve borrowed techniques I learned from Kitty, other Puerto Rican friends and research. Remember it’s the process that matters, so make certain to read the instructions thoroughly before you begin.

It serves six. You’ll be glad to have leftovers!

One more thing, don’t forget the little bits of crispy, cooked rice at the bottom of the pan are called “pegao.” It’s considered the best part of arroz con pollo by some aficionados.

Tidbits on Rice

1. Rice was introduced to Puerto Rico by Columbus in his second trip to America in 1493 and has since become a primary food source.
2. Long grain rice is said to be favored in Puerto Rico, according to some sources. However, medium and short grain rice are heavily favored in dishes like arroz con pollo and arroz con gandules.
3. Arroz con pollo dates back to the eighth century to Andalusia, when the Moors occupied Spain. It has become a popular rice dish in nearly all of Latin America and the Caribbean, with regional variations, of course.

Sources:  The Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America; Puerto Rican Dishes by Berta Cabanillas and Carmen Ginorio.

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Mexican rice, also called arroz a la Mexicana or arroz rojo, is a requisite when it comes to Mexican food.

In the States, it is a standard side served along with beans. In Mexico, it is one of the most popular sopas secas (dry soups), in a multi-course meal, typically served before the main course.

In case you’re confused, Mexican rice is different than Spanish rice, although some people use the names interchangeably. The Mexican version gets its reddish hue from tomatoes, while Spanish rice generally uses saffron.

Mexican rice was one of the first dishes I learned to cook that required a little skill in the kitchen – sautéing, boiling and steaming. Sounds tricky, but it really just requires keeping a watchful eye on the pot during the sauté.

I’ve been making rice for eons and only recently realized that the technique I learned from my momma, and she from her abuela, was considered a pilaf. In pilafs, the rice/grain is browned in fat before it is simmered in a flavored broth. This cooking process creates fluffy, flavorful rice that’s moist. It also gives it a faint smoky taste from browning.

As you’ll see from the ingredient list and the photos, I add vegetables to my rice. It’s the way my family does it and it’s also the way many in Mexico make it – cocineros add carrots, peas, zucchini and/or fresh whole chiles for flavor. However, if you add peas, promise not to use the canned stuff! Ewww.

Most of the time, I eat this rice with black beans, lots of fresh pico de gallo, and slices of avocado atop. (The pre-cursor to Chipotle’s® bowl.) Others usually eat it as a side dish. Try it with rajas and grilled chicken, caldo de res, mole poblano, and Mexican zucchini – calabacitas con elote.

Tidbits on Rice:

1. Rice was introduced to Mexico via the Spanish during colonization via the Spanish trade route from Manila in the Philippines to Acapulco in Mexico. In Mexico, the route is referred to as the Nao de China.
2. The length of rice grains should be considered for your desired end result. Long grain rice is fluffy and has separate individual grains after cooking, while medium grain rice clings together a bit more but remains a bit more tender and moist. Short grain rice tends to stick together and is best for things like rice puddings.

Sources:  Encyclopedia of Food & Culture; The Art of Mexican Cooking by Diana Kennedy

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It’s ironic but my favorite five spice mix has six ingredients:  Chinese cinnamon, Chinese #1 ginger, star anise, ground fennel, cloves and black pepper.

A quick search online indicates that it’s not all that uncommon and there are mixes aptly named “seven spice.” Supposedly, it’s not so much the number of spices used that’s of import but encompassing all five flavors – sweet, sour, bitter, pungent and salty.

Regardless, the spice mix is what turns this vegetable-laden brown rice dish into a Chinese-inspired main course that’s quick and easy. In China, stir-frys were eaten out of practicality – meat was scarce but rice and vegetables were more plentiful. Stir-frying also conserved fuel by cooking food quickly.

Even though I write this food blog – and put more time into cooking than some – I take advantage of some practical approaches to cooking. For instance, I make one big batch of rice for the week. We’re not huge pasta or bread eaters in our house, so our starchy carb is rice. It’s usually eaten with a lot of soups and beans.

Over the last few months though, I’ve been making fried rice out of leftover brown rice. It’s a go to recipe when I want something substantial without a whole lot of effort. Each time I’ve made it’s been a little of this and that – how I generally cook. I provided measurements just as a guide but hope you make it your own. So, use whatever vegetables you have in the crisper, change out/omit the meat source and even use white rice.

And, one more thing – this is a healthy meal and a good way to eat more vegetables and fiber – despite the word “fried.”

Tidbits on Rice:

1. Rice feeds more than half of the world’s population.
2. Asia, Latin America and Africa comprise the world’s major rice growing regions. Notably, most rice is consumed within 10 miles of where it is produced.

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Apparently, lentils and bananas are combined more commonly than we think.

I came upon a Banana-Lentil Salad recipe while browsing Nuevo Latino: Recipes that Celebrate the New Latin-American Cuisine by Douglas Rodriguez, a James Beard award-winning chef. His salad trails back to the Spanish Canary Islands.

In Mexico, as well as in other Latin American and Caribbean countries, lentejas y platanos (lentils and plantains) are frequently eaten as a soup usually stewed with pork. And, in places like Puebla, Mexico, pineapple is also added to the mix, according to The Art of Mexican Cooking by renowned cookbook author Diana Kennedy, who links the savory/sweet combo to Moorish Spain. The combination can also be traced to some African recipes.

This salad recipe, however, is my version of lentejas and platanos. It’s loosely inspired by Rodriguez and traditional lentejas recipes.

If you’re leary about the lentil/plantain combo – have the salad without the plantains, it’s still plenty flavorful and healthy. However, you’re on notice that it’s those platanos fritos (fried plantains) that makes this salad special.

The caramelized plantains have sweet, tender insides that are also a tad bit tangy and a perfect contrast to the crunchiness of peppers, onion and celery, and the nuttiness of wild rice and lentils.

It’s an unusual twist that’s not so unusual.

Tidbits on Lentils:

1. Before cooking lentils, be sure to sort the legumes to remove any debris such as dirt and stones. Then rinse well in a colander and drain. It is not necessary to pre-soak lentils before cooking.
2. Store unused lentils in an airtight container in a cool, dry location for up to one year.
3. Lentils are high in soluble fiber and recommended for people with diabetes and cholestoral problems.

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