Playdates and Japancakes

By Steph Farrar

Oh so long ago, before weddings and babies, adulting and anxiety, I traveled to Osaka and Tokyo with Sam and his former band (please get back together) Phantom Planet. We ate our way around these massive cities in between their gigs and Harajuku shopping, blindfolded when tasting raw horse meat (to my and Sam's surprise), robata chicken gizzard, liver and heart - and the rest of this damaged animal, Ippudo ramen, crisp beer, and many other weird and wild dishes. 

The next afternoon, after jet-lagged Sam and I decided to dye our hair in a fancy Japanese Salon (where they had NO idea how to work with Caucasian hair) we met the rest of the guys at a pancake house, a chain actually. But to us, this spot was wholly progressive. 

Making a batter with a few simple ingredients.

We used to travel more; correction, I used to travel more. So when a memory from a decade back presents vividly like yesterday's sunset, something about it must've made it stick. It wasn't the egg in the batter, but something else ... it was just THAT GOOD.

I've always been an adventurous eater, even as a chap. I recall the first time I actually enjoyed avocado. I remember loving steamed cabbage, covered in butter and s+p, tossing cubed sweet potato back like popcorn. This doesn't seem that "adventurous" until you have your own 8-year-old who's the pickiest, most bland eater of all time. All the sudden a quesadilla would be a win for this mom. 

As my hair slowly recovered from the intense dye, a cabbage pancake sounded like a reprieve. Something crisp and unique for our American palettes. Shit, just something different from sushi, bonito flakes and ramen. 

I'm one of those ladies who always grabs last minute food magazines at the check-out stand at Gelson's. Bon Appetit, Food & Wine, Cooking Light, Real Simple...  you name it. Last month, Real Simple killed it. I pulled two pages and immediately started testing recipes for a few catering gigs. This gremolata below went so well over sea bass filets soaked in the fennel and farro, served over slow roasted tomatoes. Now, the japancake is a new staple in our house since making it for the first time in years. And the sauce is a forever larder stock. 

Just like the Japanese pancake house, adorned with dozens of topping options, the most important ingredient in the recipe is the sauce. Sriracha, mayo, ketchup, tamari (or soy, coconut aminos), Worcestershire. Die. Oh and scallions, which are really just an excuse to add green. 

Mix the cabbage, carrots, eggs, ginger, flour and s+p. Let it sit.

Between professional days, parent / teacher conferences, holidays and WTF days off for no reason, Vesper has had a LOT of playdates lately. Incidentally, the playdate is sort of a vacation for me. They play with each other, require snacks near constantly, but for the most part, they leave me alone. It's magic. I get to cook and play in the kitchen, shove food in their mouths as they scoot by, and carve out the time I need to be creative. 

I've been cooking so much for other people lately, for parties and vacations, small dinner or lunch gatherings. For someone who's always been the social butterfly in almost any setting, I'm reveling in the peace of stepping away from it all and focusing. Intent on feeding those I love and admire, winning their praises, sleeping with compliments. What a joy to provide. A joy beyond.

Feed your loved ones Japancakes. They will keep coming back for more. Just remind them to take beano before bed. Cause you know, toots. 

Japancakes  (Okonomiyaki)

adapted from Real Simple

Ingredients:

• 3 scallions

• 4 cups shredded green cabbage (from ½ small head)

• ¾ cup all-purpose flour (or almond flour for GF)

• ½ teaspoon grated fresh ginger

• 4 large eggs, lightly beaten

• 2 tablespoons tamari, divided

• 2 tablespoons canola oil

• ¼ cup mayonnaise

• 1 teaspoon sriracha

• ¼ cup ketchup

• 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

Directions:

1. Slice scallions, separating white and green parts. Stir together cabbage, sliced white scallion, flour, ginger, eggs, and 1 tablespoon tamari in a large bowl until well combined.

2. Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium. Add cabbage mixture; press to flatten and cover bottom of pan. Cover and cook until bottom is golden, about 8 minutes. Carefully flip pancake; cook, uncovered, until bottom is golden, about 5 minutes. Transfer to a serving platter.

3. Mix mayonnaise, sriracha, and 2 teaspoons water in a small bowl. Add ketchup, Worcestershire, and remaining 1 tablespoon tamari. Drizzle sauce over pancake and sprinkle with sliced green scallion.

Makes one large pancake or about 6 small ones. 

You can make this thing BIG or ...

A little smaller so friends can use their hands

Noodles and a Marathon

By Steph Farrar

(Marathon length post, so SPOILER)

It all started Alumni Weekend, last October 2015, 20 years after high school. I stayed with one of my oldest and dearest friends on Lookout Mountain, TN, where I was raised well, even after all the middle-of-the-night sneak outs and kissing boys, smoking cigarettes unwell. I drove into town from Atlanta with another high-school sister, my senior roommate, the only year I boarded away from home. When driving North to Chattanooga, you round a corner directly under Missionary Ridge and just beyond the bend, a great looming, vast city, bordered by mountains, hills, and ridges announces itself to you.

And when we came upon that reveal, we hurrayed. It was actually quite comforting that we were happy to be back. Nearing the end of our thirties, it's basically an even playing ground now. We're almost (if not) mid-life, searching for answers, for purpose and meaning. And it's just now getting a little easier to accept that I'm not 25 anymore.

But it still hurts.

However, not quite as much as a half-marathon. So I have Kathleen of Lookout Mtn. to blame for the pain. As well as the achievement. After our athletic years in high school, both runners, and after the reunion, she signed me up for the Vancouver Seawheeze half-marathon in August of 2016.

Signing your friend up for a half marathon is kind of like giving someone a fish for their birthday. Like, ugh... I have to deal with this now. I have to train, book a ticket and inevitably run 13.1 miles?  But damn if it didn't pay off (not that a fish really pays off; it's a pain in the ass actually.) But finishing 22k? That's some will power, Jedi mind shit. And I'll never regret a single step.

Bucket List

I don't care if you worked out today. One of my favorite lines is, "I don't want to hear about your workout unless you fell on the treadmill and broke your face." But I'm sorry to report I am here to brag. One bucket list item checked off, completing a half-marathon before 40. Because I'm an idiot. And I like any kind of adrenaline rush, like a runner's high. Ask me about bungee-jumping off a freestanding gondola in Interlocken over turf, or paragliding off a low Lake Tahoe ravine. Good move dummy.

So...this is our Before.

The Starting Line is nearing and the pressure and excitement is everywhere. It's infectious. There is no way I'm not gonna finish this race.

I love the marooned lady in the forefront, hands on her friends shoulders. A lovely, human moment.

I can say one thing about Vancouver.

Canada.

God I love Canada. It's so clean. Calm. Generous. Warm. Even though it's usually freezing. They're all just SO NICE.

If you're going to run 22 kilometers on a Saturday morning, it might as well be somewhere breathtakingly beautiful. It's difficult to shoot good photos while jogging, but I tried. I met Vancouver downtown at the impending Starting Line. I greeted this city one mile at a time; throughout the riverwalk, over and back along an extra long bridge with elevation on both ends, mermaids, surf sirens, a guy manning one of those water hover suits holding a sign of encouragement, pumper-uppers on stationary bikes, inching us 1k closer, a sign which read "Ryan Gosling is waiting with a puppy and a beer in 5K. You can do it!" and most importantly, a GREAT playlist.

There are some people who crave camera time. And some who'd prefer to remain behind, masked, private. (I tend to shift but in this case...) you would have to pay me to dress up like a mermaid, paddle board on a melted glacier in a Grecian robe, or sky rocket in a hover-water IronMan suit... with the goal of encouraging half-marathoners to finish strong. I would just rather run the marathon.

I must admit, their presence was passionate; the demonstration of art as a means to support and encourage was invigorating. And I believe I finished because of that support. My legs were little fried chickens.

But the end was near.

I took pictures of two meals from my time in Vancouver. After 13.1 miles of running, we walked four miles around the city, landing at The Noodle Bar, chowing on the BEST spicy Kung Pao Chicken and reminiscing how brave and successful we were. It's not even noon and we already made 30k Steps. So we ate whatever we wanted. And had Oysters, Beef Carpaccio and (I had a) Cabernet from Miku for dinner.

It looked like this:

then this...

then this...

then these amazing kung pao noodles and a cold beer:

Kung Pao Vancouver

then dinner at Miku... after a four mile site-seeing journey.

In my life, I've had some very proud moments... times when I've surprised myself with some level of success. Winning our Region Pentathlon as a junior, summiting Mt. Shasta summer before my senior year, shaking David Letterman's hand after performing with Weezer, Marrying the love of my life, birthing two watermelons, finishing a Whole30... and completing a half marathon.

Celebrating these moments, these successes has been paramount. I want to run the Malibu half marathon in November so I can power shove a huge bowl of carbonara into my mouth, from the local Italian eatery Tra Di Noi. Sign me up.

And keep these moments coming.

Kung Pao Chicken

stolen 1000%  from Feasting at Home

Ingredients:

• 1 lb chicken (or sub roasted cauliflower, see notes below)

• ½ tsp salt

• ½ tsp sugar

• 1 ½ tbsp corn starch

• 1-3 tbsp peanut oil or vegetable oil for frying - optional, see notes.

• 1 red bell pepper - or handful dry red Chinese chilies (see notes)

Kung Pao Sauce:

• 1 ½ tsp chopped ginger

• 1 ½ tbsp chopped garlic

• 2 tbsp water

• 2 tsp fish sauce

• 1 tbsp soy sauce

• 1 tbsp oyster sauce

• 1 tbsp vinegar (black vinegar if you have it, or use rice or white)

• 1 tbsp sugar

• 1 tbsp garlic chili paste (Sambal chili paste)

Garnish: roasted peanuts, green onion (sliced at a diagonal), lime, raw bean sprouts

Cooked noodles (2-3 servings), rice noodle or rice

Directions:

If making noodles or rice, get them cooking.

Cut chicken into ¾ inch cubes and place in a bowl. Add the salt, pepper, sugar and cornstarch to the chicken and toss.

(Alternately -- if using cauliflower, roast cauliflower florets in a 450 F oven for 25-30 minutes, with olive oil, salt and pepper)

Chop ginger, garlic and thinly slice red bell pepper into thin strips.

Measure all the condiments and place in a small bowl (water, soy, fish sauce, oyster, vinegar, sugar and garlic chili paste) and give a quick stir.

Heat oil in a wok over medium high heat, and when its hot, brown the chicken, turning, tossing and cooking through about 5 minutes.

Turn heat off and place crispy chicken on a plate lined with paper towels, blot.

Wipe out wok, add 1 tablespoon oil and heat over medium heat.

Add the red bell pepper and sear over medium heat until tender and just slightly charred in places, about 3-4 minutes. Make a well in the center of the bell peppers, add the ginger and garlic and sear (keeping them in the center), cooking and stirring 2 minutes until they are fragrant and golden. You may need to add a few more drops of oil.

Add the small bowl of mixed sauces to the wok and bring to a simmer, lower heat, then place the cooked chicken (or roasted cauliflower) back into the sauce and toss well, coating it and heating it back up. Serve over rice, noodles, or add the cooked noodles directly into the wok and sear them for a minute or two. Serve immediately.

Garnish with roasted peanuts, sliced scallions, lime and raw bean sprouts.

Notes:

If subbing with crispy tofu, prepare it in the same way as the chicken, blot, cut into small cubes, coat with salt, pepper, sugar and cornstarch (you may want to use a little more cornstarch) , and fry in the wok until crispy. Then set aside. (Alternatively, you could use "baked tofu" and not fry it, adding it at the end into to the sauce.)

*For a lighter version, use roasted cauliflower instead of chicken and add it to the wok with the sauce (at the very end). You, of course, can also add other cooked veggies, tossing with the flavorful sauce. You can sub another sweetener for the sugar, like agave, maple or honey, but flavors won't be balanced if you leave it out altogether.

*If you use the whole head of cauliflower, you may want to increase the Kung Pao sauce by half so make 1 ½ times the recipe). 

*Traditional Kung Pao also includes a handful of red, dried Chinese chilies (Thai red chilies are too spicy) . I usually toss these in at the end with the garlic and ginger, but in this recipe you don't really don't need to because of the chili garlic paste. If you do choose to use the dried chilies, add them in right after the the ginger and garlic, and decrease the garlic chili sauce in the recipe.

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A Simple Stir Fry

By Steph Farrar

I can't seem to say goodbye to summer. It's certainly having difficulty leaving us, based on the current temperature in late October. But I won't complain. Instead of zucchini, I'll have apples and persimmons. And those will do just fine by me.

I'd like to endlessly agree with my partner, Sierra, on the great anticipation of things to come. There's an urgency present as the year begins to wind down into the Holidays; there's a magic pulse pushing its impatience on me. There's the yoga I should be doing to relax, yet I tend to pour that third cup of coffee instead. And often, in lieu of sitting down to write, I look around our beautiful home and realize I will always want to update, change or buy something to improve it. I'm dying to plant a million new flowers and trees in the backyard, and elevate Sam's studio into a botanist's dreamscape. There will always being something to distract me. Always. So take it easy girl. One day at a time. Rome wasn't... yada yada yada.

Shredding.

A few weeks back, Sierra and I visited a dear friend at her newly renovated home, brought three bottles of wine and some groceries for this simple stir fry. Needless to say, three bottles wasn't enough.

I'm serious. And this was on a Monday. (cut to: the reason I no longer imbibe during the week, unless on vacation, a special occasion or a wrecked day deserves a kick back).

All the ingredients you need!

The early evening quickly took a turn for a late night hang and three girls devouring not only the stir fry, but each other's presence and conversation. This is, literally, besides my family, what I live for. Bringing friends together in a comfortable atmosphere, kicking off our shoes, sipping on something delicious and letting our mouths and minds wander free. To gather, to converse, to share, to let it all out. This is everything to me.

Which is the basis for our collective anticipation of such amazing things to come for French and Farrar. This is what we do... and what we should all do more often. Get together. Cook. Drink. Chat. Repeat.

This is the exact kind of "one grocery bag" meal that makes dinner so much more than just about the food.

Simple Stir Fry

Ingredients:

• 1 lb. chicken, sliced into either thin strips or small cubes, or you can cook the breasts and cut after

• 1 red pepper, thinly sliced

• 3 carrots, peeled and cut 1/4 inch, or shredded (my preference)

• 1/2 head of green cabbage, thinly sliced

• 3 cloves garlic, minced

• 1/4 cup soy sauce

• 1/3 cup teriyaki sauce (optional)

• 1/4 tsp ground or dried ginger

• 1/4 cup chopped scallions

• olive oil (or canola)

Directions:

Combine soy and teriyaki sauces in a bowl, add garlic and ginger. Add the chicken to the bowl and let marinate for at least ten minutes in the fridge. The longer the better.

Heat oil in a pan on medium heat. Add chicken and let cook through, about 3-4 minutes, stirring. Remove chicken from pan and set aside.

Add carrots and red pepper to the pan and let soak up the juices. Cook, stirring for about 5 minutes. Add cabbage, and any remaining sauce unused from the marinade bowl.

If you want more sauce, just add soy and teriyaki in small amounts, testing it along the way. Throw the chicken in and let it all mold together, stirring often. until soft, but still painting a light crunch.

Remove from heat and serve with chopped scallions. Serve over rice if you desire or with a dash of red pepper flakes, but it certainly doesn't need it.

I can eat this five nights a week.

Tomato Cream Sauce with Orecchiette

By Steph Farrar

After a few months away from here (embarrassingly enough) I figured no better re-entry than a staple amongst tape. Tomato cream sauce with pasta, for literally everyone and everything. Welcome back to you as well.

After years working at home, while being a full-time mom, I recently landed a new job. I literally have no idea how I fit a blog post into my life, besides the fact that it's a priority.

The only two negatives of new job-ness are time away from this very site...and my family of course. Even at this very moment, while my 8-month old is crying himself to sleep, I'm still grateful for time to myself. Time to focus on progress, being a better mother, having something else to discuss at cocktail parties other than vomit, diaper changes, and milestones. So let's get to the sauce.

Simple ingredients never fail.

It's seasonally the end of summer, with the swift passing of Labor Day and a goodbye to white jeans (never in Cali), yet tomatoes are still delicious. While I used my favorite San Marzanos and a large handful of fresh cherubs, I wish I had a filling of those gorgeous heirlooms. Getting to the market lately is a privilege. However, this sauce never fails, in or out of season.

Grew that basil myself.

I'm not a big fan of sweet tomato sauce, see the Batali added carrot or Nigella added vidalia. I prefer salty, vodka-ish, closer to Ina's favorite sauce than any other. If I have to use a store-bought, I never buy anything other than Roa's Vodka Sauce, so my goal... replicate, minus vodka.

Get it in the pot and wait.

For this late summer dinner, Vesper and I had orecchiette pasta, one of my favorites... where the pasta scoops up the sauce in its little hat-ear, eats the parmesan alive and leaves it all for your buds. I wish I could say when I'm cooking I'm solely focused on the task at hand. In these brief moments of quiet calm, I steal away whatever time I have to catch up on my beloved game.

What was really happening while chopping

Tennis.

I shouldn't mention my extreme jealousy of anyone who attended the U.S. Open this year, especially because I'm married to one such person. My weeknight was so different from his.

Fave new appliance

And now for...without-shame-appliance-plug: The Baby Bullet.

It's not just for baby food, it's just cuter than the Magic Bullet. Same thing, with a smiley face. If only Flynn could have some of this sauce. He's so close to the joys of full-flavored food, yet seemingly so far. Maybe he'll be the first kid in our family to crave sushi, avocado and zucchini? Working on it with the bullet.

Pretty and pretty yummy

But maybe ground-up sushi is a no-no?

You'd think I'd have this down by now.

Tomato Cream Sauce with Orecchiette

Ingredients:

• 2 tbsp olive oil

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• 1 onion, diced (not sweet, any but vidalia)

• 1 24 oz can San Marzano whole peeled tomatoes

• large handful fresh cut cherry tomatoes, any variety

• pinch red pepper flakes (optional)

• 1 tsp freshly chopped thyme

• 1 tsp freshly chopped basil

• 2 pats butter (2 tbsp)

• either 1/4 cup cream or fresh / prepared ricotta

• 1 package orecchiette pasta

• salt and pepper to taste

 Directions:

Heat oil at medium high heat in a Dutch / French oven or heavy bottom pan.

Add onions and garlic and cook before browning, 4-5 minutes.

Hand crush San Marzanos over heated pan. Add additional sauce and fresh tomatoes. Add red pepper flake if using.

Simmer over medium low heat for about 30 minutes.

While sauce simmers, bring a large pot of water to boil. Add a large pinch of salt, just as it begins to boil. Add pasta and cook for 8-10 minutes. Drain, set aside.

Add thyme and basil to sauce about halfway through simmering process. Once tomatoes are cooked down, add butter, and either cream or ricotta, cook an additional 5-10 minutes.

Add a healthy pinch of salt and freshly ground pepper.

In a blender, Magic Baby Bullet or any other blending appliance, add sauce in batches until slightly blended... keep some chunks!

Reheat sauce in a shallow saute pan until barley simmering. Add drained pasta to incorporate sauce, making sure every little "hat" is full of that flavor.

Top with freshly grated parmesan and a pinch more of salt. Garnish with freshly torn basil leaves.