A bit of crunch

I wasn’t even going to post today. It’s been one of those weeks, yet again, where we have no bread in the house, a random assortment of groceries we’re unlikely to get to, and a few too many takeout bills. But the lure of blog-related procrastination is a bit too much for me, it seems. Especially when I have a research proposal to write (due tomorrow!) for an experiment I’m not sure I’ll have time to do.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that this isn’t a real post. It’s just a place to share a few thoughts, and a recipe I wasn’t really sure I was going to share (notice the lack of prep photos?).  If you only have time to read one thing, check out Nathaniel Johnson’s article on raw milk in Harper’s Magazine (which I found via Bitten). It touches upon the history of pasteurization, what kind of farmers pasteurization regulations are actually trying to protect us from, and all in all, presents a pretty scary picture of the industrial dairy industry in this country. For the record, I’ll take my grass-fed raw milk from the friendly local farmer at the farmer’s market, thanks. Luckily, I have that choice here in Connecticut.

Otherwise, today was one of those days where it rains and rains until you think it’s never going to stop, and then transforms itself into a glorious, crisp evening, with streaming sunlight, chirping birds, and all sorts of other gorgeous signs of spring. The tulips even opened up, after a two-day hiatus. So what did I do? I went for a run, in my new, very funny looking shoes. I think they’re kind of hilarious, and I’m certain I look like a bit of a circus act running in them, but normal shoes seem to cause me trouble, so I thought I’d give them a try. They’re comfortable, and kind of awesome — provided you don’t spend too much time on concrete.

All this faux-barefoot running takes me back to about 18 years ago now, when I’d run around my grandmother’s neighborhood like a hoodlum, without shoes or fear of anything but the boy down the street that I sort of had a crush on (but only because I’d kissed his cheek when we were playing house one day, and it seemed appropriate somehow).  I’d run and run, playing pirates or princesses or some other nonsense, until it was time to go home for dinner, and I had to be coaxed into the car for the trip home. If I had been cooking back then, I think this jicama salad would have been the perfect antidote to a long day of playing pretend in the burning San Joaquin valley sun.

Caliente

When my week’s kind of crazy, I need something hot, filling, and nutritious. NOW. I don’t want to wait for the oven to finish pre-heating. And I certainly don’t want to bother making everything from scratch.

Or do I?

Let’s just say I was procrastinating a bit. Taxes, tow truck adventures, experiment planning, and lobbying for better health care packages make for an interesting week. An exciting (and potentially, fairly fulfilling) week, I admit, but I needed a little break. So I did what I do best — turn a potentially quick, healthy dinner into a three hour play session, starting with fresh, made-from-scratch corn tortillas, shaped ever so clumsily with my very own palms. And you know something? It was worth it. I’d give up my evening in a second for hot-off-the-pan tortillas, with a bit of melted cheese, a little snack to hold me over until the vegetables finally roasted into the perfect succulent sweetness that only a bit of patience can yield.

But the best part of this story? You can do this in pretty much no time at all, with a bit of preparation. You don’t have to muck about in your fridge, mixing this and that, like I did. Throw your vegetables in your toaster oven to roast, bake the squash ahead of time by simply cutting it in half and throwing it in a hot oven for an hour (or use a microwave, if you dare). And those tortillas? All they are are a bit of masa and water, mixed and shaped. You don’t have to make more than you need for dinner, and they cook up in minutes. Minutes!

And that’s only if you, like me, have no clue what you’re doing. Which, I assure you, only adds to the fun.