Sprout & Pea

After a glute­nous Passover Seder a few weeks ago, my body needed to reboot with some­thing light and refresh­ing, but of course I had plans to attend another giant feast the fol­low­ing day at my friend’s Easter Brunch. So I took it upon myself to bring along a dish that was a bit on the health­ier side– car­rot, gin­ger and scal­lion salad. I had never made this before but it’s a snack that I often pick up from the Whole Foods salad bar (for entirely too much money). Rather than look­ing up a recipe, I grabbed the main ingre­di­ents and impro­vised on a dress­ing. Read more:

 You know those days where every­thing in your tiny lit­tle world seems to stand still for just long enough to take it all in? Those days where you just feel grate­ful for it all? Sat­ur­day was one of those days for me, and it was a sim­ple day too. I woke up, met my cousin for brunch and we enjoyed some deli­cious poached eggs with herbs and cheese out­side on a rare 60 degree day in Brook­lyn. We caught up, walked around, did a lit­tle shop­ping, and explored neigh­bor­hoods by foot. On our walk, I received a phone call from one of my most favorite peo­ple– just to say hello and that he was think­ing of me as he biked around where the wind took him on this unbe­liev­ably beau­ti­ful day. Read more:

I love farro for its tex­ture, specif­i­cally the nut­ti­ness it adds to a dish, but I don’t love it for its price tag. It’s also not exactly gluten-​​free, so it has become an ingre­di­ent that I enjoy once in a blue moon when the mood really strikes. Well, the other night the mood struck. As I was walk­ing through the isles of my local mar­ket with arugula in my bas­ket, crav­ing some­thing refresh­ing for din­ner, I hap­pened to notice a bag of farro on the shelf. It’s rare that my local mar­ket has this delec­table grain in stock, so after a bit of brain churn­ing, and a lit­tle drool­ing over fresh herbs that I spot­ted in a nearby isle, I tossed the farro into my bas­ket. Read more:

Sum­mer has arrived! My apolo­gies for the lack of post­ing this past week, but the warm weather and some fun events have stolen away any recent com­puter time. It has been time well spent though. I’ve catered a wed­ding party, planted a gar­den and spent a day cel­e­brat­ing my incred­i­ble grand­fa­ther as a mem­ber of the first grad­u­at­ing class of Queens Col­lege. Of course, a girl’s got to eat in between all of this. Inspired by all of the water­mel­ons in the mar­kets and plant­ing some myself last week­end, I decided to make a salad out of one. As it may be well known by now, I’m a sucker for sweet and savory so I cre­ated a clas­sic dish of water­melon and feta, tossed on some shal­lots and a lit­tle home­made dress­ing. There’s noth­ing like a warm sum­mer breeze and that first bite of a deli­cious fresh salad, and this dish cer­tainly hits the spot. Read more:

Brows­ing the mar­ket last night, I was drawn to a bright orange color and two words: honey and tan­ger­ine. As a Florid­ian, I was a bit ashamed that I had never heard of this sweet lit­tle treat that is a native to the sun­shine state. These guys are a cross between a sweet orange and a tan­ger­ine and are just deli­cious. With a recipe in mind and a warm breeze in the air, I picked up some of these honey tan­ger­ines, grabbed a red onion and some hearts of palm and headed home to pre­pare a refresh­ing light sum­mer din­ner. Read more:

Grow­ing up, my mom was a big fan of black licorice and bought it on occa­sion as a spe­cial treat. I still remem­ber the first time she gave me some to try and how repulsed I was by the fla­vor. I can pic­ture every­thing about the moment — the mini mart we were in, lean­ing in to smell the long black candy before I took a bite, eying the per­fectly tasty red licorice right next to it won­der­ing why my mom enjoyed this ter­ri­ble smelling food so much. So, it’s no won­der that my mom never pre­pared or served me the healthy veg­etable with a sim­i­lar aroma and taste. Thank­fully, over the years my palette expanded and one day I decided to give the licorice like fen­nel a try. Read more: