Na gaveta

It’s always surreal when what was once a conscious, waking experience wears itself into a dull memory.  The distance between my life in Brazil and my life in the states has grown perceptibly in the last couple of months, and I find that my thoughts have begun to drift towards a fictitious place where scenes from both countries seamlessly combine.

Café do Brasil

My final month in Paris (back in 2010!) was spent primarily in the company of a few very fine Brazilian friends in an apartment in the Marais. I'd wake to the bright metallic blue skies of the Parisian summer, slip on a pair of socks, and pack out the grounds of what to me at the time was pure gold into the Italian espresso maker in the kitchen. I'd set the metal device on the stovetop and glance over at it every once in awhile until it began to sputter and bubble. I would then place the espresso maker to the side at what I arbitrarily deemed to be the "right moment" and pour the contents haphazardly into a mis-matched cup from the set that came with the apartment. At that point, I would clutch the cup dreamily to my chest as I imagined what pastry I would purchase that morning.

The golden substance in question was none other than coffee that my friend had carried with her all the way from Brazil. I loved the deep flavor and rich body of the coffee, and the fact that the caffeine content didn't knock me to the floor. When I returned to the states, my friend spooned a good deal of the grounds into a disposable bag and tucked it away in my backpack for good measure.

 On a professional and academic level, my image of Brazilian coffee production has always been of large-scale fields of identical trees with merciless mechanical harvesting equipment scouring overhead. I have yet to visit a farm (although I've passed them on many a bus ride) but I do realize that the diversity of production here is far greater than I had ever imagined prior. As I love the taste of the coffee here, I have since decided to fully embrace the substance for its flavor and absolute necessary place in Brazilian culture.

It seems that even within the span of the last few years coffee culture has ballooned into an industry of cool. The latest single-farm, small batch-roasted varieties line the shelves of hip cafés safely within the confines of their recycled paper packages. The shiny metallic and glass-framed apparatuses designed to reap the best flavor profile out of such coffees stand by, effortlessly gleaming in the streamy café window sunlight.

And there I am... in awe of it all, trying my hardest not to succumb to the trend, but fully immersed in the very culture of the whole thing. For when I have a really good cup of coffee, I fall hard.

 That brings me to São Paulo, a city full of untapped treasures to both the shrewd traveler and the untrained eye. My dear friend Elle and I have been trouncing about discovering the best places to grab a cup of this luxurious joe. Two of which I'd like to highlight below:

1. Santo Grão

Although it boasts many locations, the one which I prefer the most is in the chic Jardims district of the city. We discovered it on a lazy friday spent sipping happily at a french press while reading the paper.  This particular location is reminiscent of a French café, with tiny circular tables, wicker chairs, and a nice breeze magically flowing around the tables. It's worth a visit to taste the hand-selected cafés from Minas Gerais and read the paper with an excellent cappucino at your side.

Santo Grão   
Rua Oscar Freire, 413  
Jardins - São Paulo SP
http://www.santograo.com.br/ 

2. Coffee Lab



Coffee Lab reminded me of a treehouse dedicated to coffee preparation, with a nonchalant atmosphere and an unpretentious staff happy to demonstrate how they roast and prepare coffee for customers. They also offer free classes to those wanting to increase their knowledge about Brazilian coffee!  This photo is courtesy of the wonderful Elle :)

Coffee Lab

Rua Fradique Coutinho, 1340

Vila Madalena - São Paulo/SP

http://raposeiras.com.br/

The Moments When Everything Makes Sense

Dinner: Broccoli with a mustardy vinaigrette

Dessert: Home-popped kettle corn

Conscious Ingestion

I like to think that each person has the first line of his or her particular novel hiding away somewhere, perhaps resting along the soft part of an underarm or tucked behind the pliable back of a right earlobe. I used to have multiple one-liner story starters in mind, and, as my mother once thumbed through a rolodex for contacts, I would shuffle through these beginnings in order to find the appropriate trailhead for a path of unconscious and consciously driven thoughts during a long walk home.

I am currently living in Brazil, which is an enormous change from any place in which I've lived prior! It seems to me that the heat and the adjustment period has dulled the influence of these thoughts.  After all, once must conserve energy when faced with an unforgiving sun and a constant stream of wonderful people.

This space has been all too quiet during the past year. Life took some amazing turns, but left me so busy that my previous prolific writing style dried up like a summertime California creek.  In the meantime, I noticed the world, especially in terms of blogging, began to change.  Blogs have become dynamic, lifestyle-oriented places, filled with tips on fashion, food, life, culture, and a grandiose slew of other items. That's not to say that I'm done here... I'm far from it.  However, I'm constantly in awe of the dynamic nature of life as technology grows with it. Consequently, I was rendered mute as things changed around me. Stagnancy is no state to stay in :)

Today, I was pleased to have a thought about a first liner and I wanted more than anything to share it in this place.  In living in three different countries, I've noticed the importance that each culture seems to place with sharing meals. I want to give this concept a name that sounds a lot more scientific than it really is- conscious ingestion.

It occurred to me that humans are constantly in a state of ingestion and digestion.  In order to live we require vast amounts of oxygen, nutrients, and attention.  It was through yoga that I realized that the air that I breathe was something that I should be conscious of and grateful for. This concept led me to believe that we should be more aware about how we consume- why stop at air?  Food presents a much more interesting terrain.

Brazil has taught me to look at how and why I eat.  My ever-harried Paulista friends take time each Saturday to sit down to an incredibly rich and delicious meal of feijoada or muqueca (both stew-like dishes with meat and vegetables), accompanied by icy beers and capirinhas. They talk, they look at one another in the eyes, they give the sun some time of day, and then they rest before picking up again with their busy schedules.

In California I was more of a conscientious consumer- I could ingest in such a way because I had the luxury to be able to choose between organic and conventional produce, responsibly sourced materials and otherwise, etc.  In foreign countries, this isn't so easy.  So I return to the conscious aspect of the ritual, which I believe every culture, as the Brazilian demonstrated above, has its merits and forms.

So here's to capturing more of these moments, whether here or in another space. I'll keep you posted!

And below is a salad to celebrate- tomatoes are somehow in season here, so I'm using them... but feel free to substitute them with cooked beets, radishes, or other vegetables that come to mind.

Melon and Tomato Salad

Inspired by this

1 medium-sized melon (cantelope is best, but I used a green melon here with success!)

2 persian cucumbers

3 medium-sized tomatoes

2 large limes

olive oil (an improvised amount)

1 bunch parsley with a select amount chopped and set aside

1 bunch mint with a select amount chopped and set aside

a dash of red pepper flakes

Salt to taste

Cube the melon, peel and slice the cucumbers, and chop the tomatoes into recognizable chunks.  Combine in a bowl and mix with the juice of the limes and a glug or two of olive oil.  Add the chopped herbs, salt, pepper flakes, and anything else you can think of to taste. Voilá! You've got yourself a salad.

Bon appetit!

Inspiration struck

Until quite recently, kale was only familiar to me as a decorative vegetable, sheltering the lines of slice-able meats and sausages at the deli counter which I was to meticulously stock for work.

Yet today, kale proved to be an insightful muse, balancing the bright parsley, thinly sliced fennel, and sweet carrots in a metal bowl that I unceremoniously clanged against the counter and filled to the brim with this tough yet nutrient-laden vegetable of a purple hue.

It's delicious, filled with texture, versatile, and so packed with so many good things that you'll feel more satisfied than you would if you had eaten a giant steak. Try it!

I find myself listening more these days to the sounds that a day emits between the various stopping points that we have collectively established (breakfast, lunch, and dinner of course :)) There's a music behind the hum of the public transit systems, sputtering car engines, playful shouts of children, seemingly all-knowing caw's of the birds. There's also a beauty in those brief moments of silence where columns of noise seem to stop vibrating and stand still. It is in these moments that I realize that despite the fact that there are billions of people teeming on this earth, sometimes nobody has anything to say. And that's quite alright with me.

Anyway, onwards to the kale!

Summer Kale Salad

Consider this a base, and add anything from pumpin seeds to avocado

One bunch kale

One fresh fennel bulb

2 carrots

handful of parsley, chopped

2 green onions (*optional)

juice of one lemon

1 teaspoon agave nectar syrup

salt and pepper to taste

Wash the fennel and slice against the grain into thin pieces, add to a large salad bowl.

Rinse the kale in a colander and let sit for two minutes (so that any dirt falls to the bottom). Dry the kale and either chop or tear into small-ish strips, add to the bowl.

Wash and slice the green onions and carrots, add to the bowl.

Squeeze the lemon on the mixture, adding the agave nectar syrup, salt, and pepper to taste.

Toss and enjoy!

What is fluttering beheath my lashes

Lightly gracing the dull carpet of my room are the soles of a pair of brown leather oxford shoes, laces undone, thin tongues slightly turned in, and interiors looking prim and neat.

I purchased the shoes here, in the US, but I find that they represent some part of me that still resides in Paris... mentally at least.

Before I left that city, I scoured each window display (of which there are many) for the perfect pair of oxfords.

And I won't be the first to tell you, a window display can break your heart.

But this blog isn't about shoes. It's not about those little tears at the seams that occur when normally reticent thoughts somehow submerge around midday. No, no. It's about food, but somehow those lingering Parisian thoughts kept me from coming back here for months to describe my new home turf.

And these days I find myself humbled by a simpler cooking routine, inspired more so by the homely than the ambitious. You'll find me hovering over a small pan, filled about one inch deep with steamy water. Small bubbles hesitantly release themselves from the bottom of the pan, only to hover haphazardly upwards towards the choppy surface. They invariably dissipate into the air.

I pinch the egg shell open with my hands and watch as the mass of transparent protein plops into the water. Magic ensues. I fish the poached egg out of its incubating bath, splay it out against a rough bed of grainy toast, and devour it whole. Then I put on my oxford shoes and bound out into the world.

I promise that I'll be returning shortly. For both of our sakes.

Guest Post by Jordan: The Fifty Dollar Chopped Salad

I think I've told you before, but my twin brother Jordan is an incredibly talented character. He's an amazing source of humor and inspiration for me, even when whole oceans or endless stretches of land seem to surface between us. So here he is with a tale of the family, and of a particularly special salad...

Some iteration of this sentence has surely appeared in the stream of consciousness below: There are two things that my family likes to do--play tennis and eat really good food. Neither my twin sister nor I had the attention span to endure anything beyond the youth tennis camps our mother so happily forced us to partake in; however, we both did come to love eating, and what better setting to do so in than at the all too frequent five-o-clock dinners our family has whenever we're both home. Then we were naive children who were unaware of our future as gourmets. Now we are mistakably pretentious (or as we prefer to say, passionate) about really good food. What facilitated the transition were the dinners we had with our family that exposed depth and intricacies of food. I might add that our family loves to characterize the behaviors of each of its members--so naturally, everything from Uncle Terry's classic ice-down-the-back to our Mom's erratic photo-shoots (look at our fridge the next time you make it to the Orinda house) sends our twin-telepathic hilarity into overdrive. Yet, the end product of these lovely gatherings is always the same: a massive feast and a great deal of laughter.

Living on my own and supporting myself the past few months has afforded several great life lessons. Always take the subway ten minutes before you have to, because if you don't the train will probably break down and you'll be late to work. Don't borrow your best friend and roommate's car while he's studying abroad in Germany if you're probably going to rear-end another car and end up with a big bill to pay. And, if you get invited to a potluck with your coworkers make something that they will remember. Well, when I was invited to attend my lab's cookout it wasn't difficult for me to decide on an unforgettable dish.

The heat of a Boston summer is unforgiving and oppressive. The humidity weighs you down so much that you'll avoid eating anything that you might feel sitting in your stomach afterwards at all costs. So what better to bring to a cook out than a colorful chop salad. In fact, the chop salad I had in mind was the one that my Uncle Terry typically prepared for our summer dinners. He was flattered to give away the recipe because, as he said, "Nobody asks for my recipes"! Well, a $50 trip to whole foods (who knew cucumbers were so damn expensive!?) and a few hours of chopping later I had a wonderful salad. So blow off some steam from your long commute home from work where you're the only non member of the army of mesmerized blackberry and iphone users. Look at the recipe below and write it down. Go buy the ingredients and don't open your computer until after you've enjoyed this wonderful salad. We all need a break from our overly connected lives, better to do it eating a great meal!

Uncle Terry's Chopped Salad

2 avocados
6 tomatoes
5 small cucumbers
6 green onions
2 bed bell pepper
4 radishes
Parsley
Salt and Pepper to Taste

Optional: Bacon

Chop the ingredients into small cubes and garnish with a Balsamic Vinaigrette. The final tossed salad should be colorful, textural, and tasty.