simple

what does it mean, simple? i mean, to be simple? how does one know how much to strip away to get to this simplicity? further, how does one forge simplicity when life itself is so complicated. it is, isn't it?

there's so much stuff everywhere. and who's to blame? not who, but what. we have these big brains see, so, i think, we think, lets use up this power. i mean, it is after all at our fingertips.

so then, simplicity, the seeking of it, is like setting out to accomplish the impossible, that what was never meant to be. just aiming to do this and that from sun up until it wanes again weighs heavily against the idea of simplicity. simplicity is one step, perhaps the briefest two, when ordinary life requires so many more. what i mean is, one could argue that it may be pointless to seek simplicity when we were designed for so much more. we are wired to be complex. so then, simplicity becomes wholly an art form. seek it if you will, but it's not natural, right, simplicity demands some strenuous effort and a skilled hand. the effort to remain still when everything inside of us demands that we 'go! go! go!', to remain still within the maelstrom of this innate calling requires a certain ingenuity, a decided creativity. to have the perseverance to quiet the mind is to be in possession of a magnitudinous skill.

it asks, of us, simplicity: do that which is not natural. and we strive. it is hard. simplicity is a paradox. and we can call it art, we must call it art. it's really nothing more, but then, art is everything, isn't it?

if life is an abstraction, time is an abstraction, then the art of simplicity is the alchemy of a gifted hand turning an illusion into a tangible point in time. simplifying the confusion of life into a standing still of sorts. the art of simplicity says: there, i've captured it, i've concentrated it to this one point, see, and you can see it, i can see it, by its illusion, we can stop and stand still for a moment. the art of simplicity is a moment to see things as they are, or were, rather, because the world does not stop, even in that captured moment there is something stirring. volumes.

art, i think, is a negotiable undertaking. one can choose to do it or not. but the irony is that life would surely fall apart if it is not pursued. god bless the artists of the world for giving some cohesion to universal chaos. for they are rarely compensated for it.

many things in life can seem pointless. it is up to us to determine some value in a thing and set forth with the faith that our choosing alone gives it merit. seeking simplicity within the cacophony of life is a rare pursuit. i'm not certain that it's the success of it that matters, or if it's even possible, rather, the road one travels by virtue of making up one's mind.

the recipe:

asparagus. eggs. parmesan cheese. toast. salt. olive oil. do with it what you will.

araucana frittata

so, araucana chickens lay these fabulous eggs in a spectrum of colors from from steel gray to green to martha stewart flagship blue. the shells are stalwart, so, be prepared when you whack them on the edge of the counter. it's gonna take a little bit of strength. the yolks are bold. orange, really, and the whites a lot more viscous than the watery, flabby eggs you get from the grocery store. alas, you cannot get araucana in grocery stores, you've got to be lucky enough to have a supplier at the farmer's market, and if you are, you will soon find that there is just no comparison in flavor and texture (and health benefits). i like to imagine my farmer sprinkling pellets of corn over a patch of dirt, the roosters and hens flocking about her. it's this pastoral image that makes me an apostle for farm to table anything, really. when i think of eggs from the grocery store, i imagine those horrible white orbs being delivered from mechanical tubes. where is the chicken? you don't want to know.

this morning i was feeling peckish whilst perusing david lebovitz's site, and he had just made a frittata in the name of some crazy diet he's on because he eats too many profiteroles, so i was inspired. he uses a bunch of egg whites to supplant some of the whole eggs in his frittata, but the idea of dieting is balderdash as far as i'm concerned. life is short. food is fabulous. i can't see any reason to abstain from profiteroles or whole eggs in a frittata. i do believe that moderation is the key, and if we adhere to this sort of thinking, we get to eat whatever we want and stay trim. works for me.

here's the thing, a frittata can be made with leftover stuff in the fridge, you know, a little o' this, a little o' that. i had some leeks and flageolet left over from dinner last night, a chunk of comté and tons of cavolo nero that i needed to use because i bought six bundles at the sunday market with every intention of juicing them and making mango-banana-kale smoothies with them (which are fabulous, by the way). turns out that this week i preferred to chew.

with my leftover bounty, so arose this beautiful  lunch, which turned out to be just the thing for a garden gathering or some lovely event to applaud the advent of spring.

i realize that i've been wholly absent, but you know, i do have another blog, and aside from that, we get busy, no? i also do most of my cooking at night, and i've made countless things that i would love to share, but night photography is not happening, so, unless i want to eat hearty fare in the afternoon, i am sad to say that many things will be left undocumented.

i had considered taking down this blog, but i decided to leave it up for the recipes that are already posted, and in case i make a periodic something that's simple for me to share. like this post today.

i guess what i'm saying is, i hope that you don't desert me. and whilst my posts may be extemporaneous and sparse, when i do post, it's with the utmost love.

here's your extemporaneous post. araucana frittata with a little o' this, a little o' that...

araucana chicken egg frittata with a bunch o' good stuff

INGREDIENTS

7 araucana chicken eggs

1/2 bunch cavolo nero, sliced into ribbons

about 1/3 cup sweated leeks
1/3 of a  yellow onion
1 garlic clove, sliced thinly
about 1 cup cooked flageolet, drained well
2 sprigs tarragon
a few leaves of fresh oregano
a small bit of comté, grated
a small bit of parmigiano-reggiano, finely grated using your rasp

THE PROCESS

- first, turn the broiler on.

- whisk the eggs and set aside.

- dice the onion, add it to the cast iron with a bit of olive oil. salt them, yeah? when they begin to brown, add the garlic. cook until the garlic becomes fragrant.

- add the cavolo to the pan with a a touch of water. wilt this down. if there is any excess water in the pan, drain it off (you want the mixture to be dry, or you will end up with a gross, wet frittata).

- add the sweated leeks to the pan with the flageolet and the herbs to warm through. pour the eggs over this mixture and turn the flame down to medium low. gently cook until the eggs just start to set. you will see it begin to set around the edges.

- sprinkle the eggs with the cheeses and pop under the broiler. get down on the floor and watch it vigilantly or it will burn. you will probably have to rotate the pan for even cooking. the top of the frittata should puff up and turn golden brown.

- to serve, invert the frittata by placing a plate over the mouth of the pan, then deftly flip it over. the frittata should fall from the pan with ease.

-serve wedges on your best garden party plates, with a simple green salad and a glass of wine.

mangia bene, vivi felice!

Community Grains 100% Hard Red Winter Wheat Pappardelle

Speaking of rain, today I made some 100% whole wheat pasta dough. I didn't want to leave the house, right, so I opened the cupboards to see what I could conjure up. I had a little bit of Community Grains had red winter wheat flour left, yeah, and so dredging up some foggy memories from my chef days at Oliveto, I endeavored to make pappardelle. By Hand.  No machine. Just a rolling pin. Now that's bad-ass.

Listen up.

The thing about 100% whole wheat pasta is that you have to use the best quality flour that you can find, hence the Community Grains flour here. And say, if you're not feeling up to doing this thing by hand, you can totally use your pasta machine, but I have to confess, there is a certain satisfaction that comes with rolling the dough out to paper thin. Making pasta by hand is not hard, it doesn't take long, and it's uber rewarding. If you think I'm crazy, you know with this whole rolling pin thing, remember that Italian grandmothers everywhere did it this way back in the day (and still do, right, fabulous old habits die hard).

This pasta can be paired with any number of earthy things: simple, like truffle butter, a little salt and thyme, this is what I did today. Try it with some good olive oil, cannelini and cavolo nero, I plan to do that tomorrow. It will happily stand up to a hearty and more involved sauce like a game bird ragu. Try it with sausage, rabe, chili pepper and olive oil, or maybe some chicken livers with vin santo and sage. Puttanesca would be fabulous with this, as would anchovies and Calabrian chili and olive oil, a little fresh herb. Seriously, the possibilities are endless, so get on it!

Alright, so here's the simple recipe and a photographic journey to further guide you. Let me know how it turns out.

This recipe makes about 1.4 pounds of pasta.

GATHER THESE THINGS

2 cups Community Grains hard red winter wheat flour (no subs, please)
2 large eggs
1/2 tsp kosher salt
about 1/4 cup cold water (of which I used 11 TB)

1) Pour the flour onto a clean work surface large enough to accommodate your rolled out dough, mine is 26" square and worked perfectly.

2) Make a well in the center of the flour, then break the two eggs into it.

3) Start scrambling the eggs, pulling in small measures of flour. Keep pulling in more and more flour until it becomes rather thick, at which point you will begin to add water, 1 tablespoon at a time, mixing all the while with the fork, pulling in small measures of flour, until it starts to become a shaggy mass, and quite pointless to keep using the fork.

4) Do away with that fork! And start kneading the dough with your hands, incorporating all of the flour so that it become a smooth mass. (Keep adding water just until the dough begins to come together. It should be smooth, stiff, and easy to work with. Be careful not to over-hydrate it).  Your bench scraper is a mighty tool at this point. You can use it to scrape up the flour and turn it into the mass, so I hope you have it nearby.

5) Once all of the flour is incorporated, add the salt to the dough. Knead this mass for about 5 minutes, then cover with a bowl and let it rest for at least 45 minutes, giving it time to relax and absorb all of the water.

6) After the dough has rested, flour the counter liberally with more of the Community Grains red winter wheat flour, and begin rolling out the dough using long, smooth movements. Start in the center of the dough, always, and push the pin out to the edges.

7) Add flour as needed to keep the dough from sticking to the pin and the counter. Focus on pushing the pin all the way out through the edges to achieve a smooth sheet as thin and even as you can possibly get it. Dude, it has to be really thin. Don't be afraid to flour your board and the dough to get it to where it needs to be.

8) Flour the sheet liberally, then fold into thirds. At this point you can cut the sheet into pappardelle, tagliatelle, maltagliatelle, fettucini... whatever floats your boat.

9) Unfold what you plan to use immediately, and get your water boiling.

10) This pasta only takes a few minutes to cook to al dente, so watch it. Drain quickly and toss it with whatever sauce, butter, ragu, or oil you desire and eat right away.

11) If you don't use all of the pasta right away, lay the strips out flat and flour liberally. then gently fold it in thirds and slip into a zip lock bag, pressing out any air. Slip a sheet of paper towel, into the bag to absorb condensation. This will keep the dough from sticking when you use it the next day.

12) If you don't plan to cut/use the sheets right away, slip into a zip lock bag, press out any air, pop a sheet of paper towel into the bag to absorb condensation and use within a couple of days. Temper a bit to make it more pliable before unfolding and cutting.

Mangia bene, vivi felice!