Various Broccolis Gratin (with Questionably Long-Winded Personal Narrative)

I'm supposed to be at a birthday party right now. In fact, I believe I missed two birthday parties today. I don't have any real excuse.

See, sometimes my life is kind of like this. (Not really. But sort of.) I was totally kicking this particular weekend's ass. There I was, making it to the market before noon and doing laundry and going to yoga like a champ. The last big thing on my list of Functionality Indicators was going to a birthday party! But then my resolve sort of crumpled. There was a distinct chill in the air, and I couldn't stomach the idea of Muni-ing out to Ocean Beach to huddle 'round a fire in the fog. (Sorry, Katie! I'm sure you all had a lovely time without me.) I just wanted something warm. I just wanted to curl up under my freshly laundered comforter and eat a really good, somewhat decadent meal that I'd made myself.

Lately -- in addition to maintaining said Functionality Indicators with varying degrees of success -- I have been doing Other Things, which have mostly included neither blogging nor cooking. I have been camping. I have been swimming in creeks, in pools, and in the bay. I have been walking, and then walking some more. I have been breaking in the most fabulous pair of knee-high black boots you could ever hope to see. I have been falling in love. And I have, most recently, been eating a lot of kimchi. (Kimchi needs a post onto itself. Long story short: this was a first attempt and not entirely successful. But at least this ain't no white girl kimchi! This kimchi is the sort of hot that catches you in a never ending masochistic loop of kimchi eating, wherein eating more kimchi simply hurts less than not eating more kimchi.) And while all of these Other Things have been quite grand, today I needed something warm, home-cooked, chili-free, and cheesy.

Also, I happened to have a ton of various incarnations of broccoli in my overstuffed fridge. There was the somewhat wilted broccoli I'd inherited from someone heading out of town, and there was the broccoli I'd bought at the farmers market. Then there was the glorious Chinese broccoli cultivar we're growing at Alemany Farm right now, which is leggy and tender and sort of rabe-esque. And it turned out that in addition to Glorious Chinese Broccoli from yesterday, I also had Somewhat Less Glorious Chinese Broccoli from two weeks ago, which was literally going to seed in the crisper. (Summer at Alemany means an increasingly bounteous harvest, and everyone is expected to do their part in the eating department.)

What to do? Various Broccolis Gratin, that's what.




Chop various broccolis into bite size bits. Steam, then transfer to a greased casserole dish. Sautee some chopped leeks and red onions, and add to casserole. Meanwhile make a light butter roux. Season to taste -- in this case, Herbs de Provence, salt, and fresh black pepper. Stir in cream. Heat, but don't boil. Melt in cheeses of choice -- in this case, Asiago, another mystery hard cheese from the back of the fridge, and Mozzarella to fill it out. Pour sauce over vegetables and toss to coat. Lay thinly sliced red onions over the top for a bit more color, then sprinkle with more cheese and/or breadcrumbs. Bake at 350 until golden brown.

Warm. Easy. Cheesy. Comforting. And look! Finally posting to the ol' blog again was also on my to-do list. Check plus.

Bringing it back.

It's been so long since I've written here, I'd all but forgotten staking out this corner of the internet as my own. But I'm again feeling the need for a quiet corner to type up my ramblings, maybe a link to send people to when I feel I've had a particularly cogent thought. So welcome back, me!

We've had a disturbingly, brilliantly, confusingly warm winter here on the left coast. Bud break came early. The plums have been out for nearly a month, and the San Francisco street Magnolias are starting to blossom. The parks were overflowing every weekend in January. Our artisanal ice cream vendors have been doing brisk business, and it's been absolutely fabulous weather for biking. In fact, it's been downright challenging to reign in the smug when gchatting up my easterly compatriots -- what with the warmth, and the plum blossoms, and the progressive politics, and the sexual permissiveness, and the year-round deliciousness that is the Yay! Compared to their now-no-fun-at-all Snowpocalypse.

And then yesterday the deluge started. I rejoiced at the chance to break out my new rubber boots. And today I'm sitting down to this. Which is all to say that I feel both on the cusp of a wild blossoming and the urgent need to be deliberate, to pay attention, and to put at least some of this moment into written words. Also, I think we should approach any creative practice (any practice at all, really) the way Dan Savage thinks we should approach monogamy. That is, we should think about it like we think about sobriety: you fall off the wagon, and then you get back on.

Thanksgiving...

... was yesterday, but it seems a good way to start. This space is largely an exercise in soliloquy, and counting your blessings is a good thing to do when talking to yourself.

My kitchen is newly yellow, and I'm thankful for yellow kitchens and yellowness generally. It's clean now too, and clean kitchens are the epitome of simple pleasure.

I'm thankful that my mate is having a better day today than yesterday. We began the day with a hug instead of a scowl.

My rescued pitbull pup is happy. He wags his tail and smiles, whereas two months ago he was prone to frequent cowering and the occasional growl.

I'm grateful for fall vegetables: delicata squash gratin with chipotle, maple-mustard braised brussels sprouts, roasted parsnips, Fuyu persimmons perfectly crisp, steamed green beans in butter and garlic.

I'm grateful for health insurance. (I have it now, for the first time in years, and that feels good. Just got my card today.)

I'm grateful that both my parents are present and accounted for, for today.

I'm grateful that the world hasn't ended yet, and might even be called a more hopeful place than it was this time last year.

I'm grateful that food in particular is ascendant in the public consciousness, and grateful for the privilege of the work I do at this time and in this place. I feel like change is happening -- perhaps slower than it needs to, but happening -- and I'm glad to be part of that energy and shift.

I'm grateful for all patches of fertile soil. Especially for Alemany Farm in San Francisco.

I'm grateful for my little house, and for the privilege of time... to make this a deliberate home, and then to make some sense of it all by writing about it.