Still a little scattered here. Expect this state of randomness to continue for the next two months. I will be posting, but don't think a fixed schedule works for me during this liminal stage, and it is liminal: a period of yes but not yet; a period between what was and what will be; an amorphous space bridging the person I both am and am-becoming, and the space that both sparks and reflects.
In the meantime, I shall entertain you with more mundane efforts.
I've been playing in the kitchen. It all started on a whim. Somewhere in my travels, I saw this jar of artichoke cream by Les Moulins Majoub and was intrigued. It ends up that I adore this stuff. It is wonderful on toast, with crudités, with an avocado for lunch. I could eat it by the spoonful.
Frankly however, it is a bit too expensive for my budget to accommodate it as a daily indulgence. I've looked up buying it online and the prices range from $12 to $17 a jar, not including shipping and/or tax, or not quite $2/ounce up to about $3/ounce. A rare indulgence then. I bought a second jar with an order of other pantry items from an online retailer. I love Knoxville but there are still things I consider essential that I cannot get locally. Some of things I can make myself. And yet there are other things I continue to order in, although far fewer than I originally anticipated.
I have never said I was not spoiled and privileged. But I also realize that life is a matter of choice. There are things each of us choose to emphasize, and things that are irrelevant in our personal priorities. I tend to opt for really good food, not necessarily always fancy, but high in quality. My food, music, and book budgets are high. Not so much the rest. Well, scratch that. At the moment my construction budget is high and everything else is scraping by.
But back to artichoke spread. One evening I scraped the last bits of my jar of artichoke spread onto a bowl of chili. I topped it with minced onion and bell pepper. I was in heaven. I eat chili regularly, at least during the fall and winter, but the artichoke made it seem more spring-like, more season-less. The truth is that although I now eat my chili plain, well sometimes with avocado or onion or peppers, I truly miss topping my chili with a dollop of sour cream. It is the one dairy item I actually miss on a regular basis. Artichoke cream might be a close second, and it will probably work as a dollop of something savory and creamy on top of other dishes as well
And so the experimentations began. I now produce my own artichoke cream. It may not be quite as good as the original. It may be better -- already my memory fails me. I suspect that Les Moulins Majoub uses locally grown artichokes at the peak of flavor and good local olive oil. I use frozen organic artichoke hearts. They add garlic; I do not. I use preserved lemon; they do not. Two pounds of frozen artichoke hearts, 16 ounces of a good fruity olive oil (I do not skimp here), preserved lemon, thyme, bay leaf, vinegar yields about a quart of artichoke cream. It works out to about 65 cents an ounce, still a treat, because I indulge myself with a generous spoonful, but a treat I can justify. This is beginning to become a staple in my pantry.
But it is not yet perfect. My artichoke puree is not quite as smooth as the original. I only brought a fine mesh chinois with me to the apartment. I need a coarser mesh, in either a chinois or Tamis, or perhaps a food mill, to produce a smoother cream. I have all those things, but they are in storage. So the final refinements are yet to come. But in the meantime, my artichoke cream is good. I am happy in the kitchen and in the dining room.
