About 
Hi there, I'm Rose. I love to cook food - and eat it. If you have any questions concerning any of my recipes, drop me a line at:
Contact:
rose [at] avocadobravado.net
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We’re experiencing a heat wave of sorts here in San Francisco. I even have something of a tan going on. I don’t even remember the last time that’s happened. So what’s a poor ol’ internet nerd supposed to do when it gets this hot? Why, make chocolate bourbon popsicles, of course! When summer rolled around, I decided I just had to have a set of popsicle molds. I used them once and completely forgot about them. Until last week, that is. I wanted to make popsicles that incorporated both chocolate and bourbon. When I bought a bottle of bourbon in July for Cory’s birthday bread pudding, I bought the cheapest bourbon I could find. The bread pudding was incredibly delicious, but the bourbon on its own was pretty vile and more or less undrinkable. So, I’ve been looking for ways to incorporate the rest of the bourbon in various dishes. I really love the flavor that the bourbon brings to the popsicles, but the pops are all about the chocolate (well, mostly!). Your chocolate popsicles will only be as good as the chocolate you decide to use. I decided to go dark. The darkest I could find. 85% cacao. Oh yes. These popsicles definitely fit the bill for these warm summer nights.
Chocolate Bourbon Popsicles
(adapted from Dying for Chocolate)
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2 1/2 cups room temperature water
pinch of salt
1/4 cup cocoa powder
3 oz chocolate (I used 85% cacao)
2 tablespoons sugar (double if you prefer sweeter)
2 tablespoons bourbon
Add a 1/2 cup of water, salt, cocoa, chocolate, and sugar to a medium-sized saucepan. Bring to a gentle boil, whisking constantly until the chocolate has melted. Remove from the heat, stir in the two cups of room temperature water. Take a taste and adjust the flavors, if necessary. Stir in the bourbon.
Transfer the mixture to 4 cup measuring glass, or any other container that will ensure easy pouring. Divide the mixture into popsicle molds and freeze for at least four hours (took about 5 hours for me. Maybe because I’m so impatient and I kept opening the freezer every half hour to see if they were ready).
Makes 6 popsicles from Tovolo popsicle molds
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I adore lentils. Recently, I feel like I’ve seen a lot of food bloggers bemoaning how ugly lentils are, but I’m so blinded by my love for lentils it doesn’t matter to me what they look like. A touch of pomegranate molasses is the secret ingredient to this salad, as it adds a wonderfully sweet and tart kick. Pomegranate molasses can easily be found at Middle Eastern groceries, co-ops, and gourmet groceries like Whole Foods. There’s always the option of making your own pomegranate molasses. In fact, it’s not even molasses at all, but a syrup made from pomegranate juice and sugar. Elise of Simply Recipes has a recipe for it here. Also, I found that this salad needed very little salt, since feta cheese is so salty.
Lentil Salad with Feta and Sun-Dried Tomatoes
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1 cup black beluga lentils (brown lentils and French green lentils can be used as substitutes)
1 small red onion, chopped
water, for soaking (optional)
1/4 cup sun-dried tomatoes, chopped
1/4 cup freshly chopped herbs (one or more of the following: parsley, mint, basil)
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese
2 teaspoons pomegranate molasses
2 tablespoons olive oil
salt & pepper, to taste
Give the lentils a quick rinse and add them to a stockpot with three cups of salted water. Bring the water to a gentle boil and simmer the lentils for 15-20 minutes, or until ‘al dente’.
Meanwhile, chop the onions, place them in a colander, and give them a quick rinse in cold water. This step is completely optional, but doing this helps take off the edge from eating the onions raw. Transfer the onions to a large mixing bowl.
Now, chop the tomatoes and the herbs and toss them in the large bowl, along with the feta cheese. Once the lentils are ready, drain them in a colander and gently fold them into the mixing bowl. Gently stir in the pomegranate molasses, olive oil, salt, and pepper until everything is coated. Season to taste, adding a little more oil or salt, if needed. Serve warm or cold.
Serves 4-6
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A couple weekends ago, Cory and I made the trek to the Mission to pay a visit to Rainbow Grocery, a food co-op. We only make a few trips to Rainbow a year, so whenever we’re there we stock up on stock up on pantry staples such as lentils, quinoa, couscous, oats, wheat berry, coconut flakes, coconut oil, honey and sweet treats like dried fruits. I rarely ever stray outside of the bulk section (which by the way, is massive), but I was lured into the produce section and quickly laid my eyes on a beautiful bunch of red Russian kale and tossed it in my shopping basket. By the time we arrived home, we were hungry and I quickly prepared this salad to serve with leftover chicken and roasted broccoli. I loved the salad so much that it became a recurring side dish for the rest of the week. It almost feels like a cheat to post this here since it’s so simple, but it was such a delicious and no fuss salad. And of course, I don’t need to tell you how good kale is for you. We quickly ran out of red Russian kale over the course of a few days, so I bought green kale to make even more of this salad and that worked just as well.
Kale Salad with Honey Dressing and Pine Nuts
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For the salad
1 bunch kale (green or red Russian)
1/4 cup pine nuts
For the dressing
1 tablespoon honey
2 teaspoons red wine vinegar
salt & pepper, to taste
red pepper flakes (optional), to taste
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Chop the kale by folding the leaves in half and slicing off the ribs. Cut the kale into small pieces and transfer to a large bowl.
In a small bowl, whisk together the honey, red wine vinegar, salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes (if using). Slowly drizzle in the olive oil, whisking constantly. Take a taste and adjust the flavors, if necessary.
Heat a skillet over medium-low heat (there’s no need to add any extra oils). When hot, add the pine nuts. Stir them constantly for 3-5 minutes, or until lightly browned. Remove from heat.
Toss the dressing to into the kale. Serve on individual plates and garnish with pine nuts.
Serves 6-8, as a side dish
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Look, it’s meat! Growing up, I had a conflicted relationship with meat. Not in a Lisa Simpson sort of way, I just really disliked the taste and texture. I was the picky (and weird) kid at family gatherings who ate hot dog and hamburger buns with only ketchup. My mom considered it a minor victory that I ate chicken nuggets and Shake ‘n Bake chicken. Besides the strange phase in middle school where I’d request my mom to cook livers for me, I went through much of my life meat-free. And that was mostly because I had no idea meat could be served in a way that was appetizing (sorry, dad!).
I’ve since come to really like meat, but I mostly see it as a side dish or hide it in a soup or stew rather than treat it as the centerpiece of a meal (and if I didn’t live with Cory, I’d only eat meat a couple times a month). Every once in awhile though, I find a recipe that captures my culinary heart. When I saw this recipe for pork loin with cumin and paprika, I immediately left the house to buy pork. Once I popped the pork into the oven, it filled the apartment with the scents of cumin, cinnamon, and nutmeg. When I took it out of the oven, I stared at it in awe. Who knew pork loin could be so heavenly? I waited patiently for Cory to arrive home to finally dig in. This is definitely going to be my go-to pork loin recipe, for the times I start craving hunks of pork.
Oh, and before I share the recipe – I want reintroduce you to Evie the Corgi AKA Cory’s brother’s puppy. She is an angel from doggy heaven. The embodiment of all that is good in the world. The epitome of cuteness. When I first posted a picture of her two months ago, she was about 8 weeks old. Now she’s about 4 months. Before you know it, she’ll be voted prom queen and walking down the aisle. They grow up so fast… She lives all the way in Indiana, so we’ve yet to meet in person. But I have a feeling we’d be the best of buddies. Those big rabbit ears and stubby little legs, they kill me, I tell you. I feel like if I stare at pictures of her long enough, I’ll spontaneously combust from the cute overload.
Roasted Pork Loin with Cumin and Paprika
(adapted from One Tree Past the Fence)
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For the pork:
1 3/4-2 pounds boneless pork loin
freshly ground black pepper, to taste
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon paprika
1/4 teaspoon cayenne (or to taste)
1/8 teaspoon grated nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon grated cinnamon
For the sauce:
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1/2 cup chicken or beef stock (or water and a splash of soy sauce)
2 tablespoons sour cream or crème fraiche
Preheat oven to 375 F.
Rub the pork with generous amounts of pepper. In a small bowl, whisk together the olive oil, cumin, paprika, cayenne, nutmeg, and cinnamon. Place the pork on an oven-proof skillet and brush the pork on all sides with the spice mixture. Heat the skillet over medium heat and cook the loin for a few minutes on all sides, or until no longer pink. Transfer the oven-proof skillet to the oven and bake for 15 minutes. Turn the meat over and bake for another 10 minutes.
While the pork is in the oven, whisk together the mustard and garlic in a small bowl.
Remove the pork from the baking dish and transfer to a plate. At this point, you can either pour off the fat or leave it in the skillet. I left the fat in the skillet because pork fat is incredible and magically delicious. Heat the skillet over medium-low heat and add the stock, scraping up any brown bits from the bottom. Transfer the pork into the oven and bake for another 12 minutes, or until the meat thermometer reads 150 F.
Remove the pork from the skillet and heat the sauce. Stir in the sour cream or crème fraiche and mustard. Cut the meat into thin slices and serve with generous amounts of sauce.
Serves 4-6
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Five years ago, I picked up French Women Don’t Get Fat by Mireille Guiliano. I wasn’t fat, but I definitely weighed more than I would have liked. About 30 pounds more. I wanted to maintain a healthy and balanced diet, but I had no idea how to even begin such a thing. I had no relationship or history with real food. I didn’t know how to cook. I didn’t know the slightest thing about nutrition. Like a lot of American kids who were born in the 1980s, food meant Happy Meals, Lunchables, and blue moon ice cream (okay, maybe blue moon ice cream is a Michigan kid thing). I was still in the mindset that if something was “organic”, it was better for you. In my case, that often meant justifying eating a box of cookies a tub of ice cream every week because it was organic.
The main message I took away from French Women Don’t Get Fat was that I could eat anything I’d like - in moderation. As far as I was concerned at the time, I ate in moderation, especially compared to my childhood. I’ve since grown to really hate the term “in moderation” because it means something different to everyone. Does moderation mean fast food twice a week instead of everyday? A 20-oz soda a day instead of a liter? There are now just some things I absolutely will not consume at all. Like soda, Happy Meals, and Lunchables, though I’m still on a quest for the perfect homemade blue moon ice cream. I did end up shedding those 30 extra pounds once I learned how to cook, so I guess I have a different meaning of what “in moderation” is now (whatever that means).
In the book, Guiliano recommended a 48-hour diet of a “magical leek soup”. The leek soup consisted of nothing but boiled leeks and water. What a great idea! At the time, I didn’t know what leeks even looked like, but decided to go ahead with the “diet” anyway. I blindly went into the grocery store, searching for leeks and was a little disappointed when I found them (“so, they’re like big green onions?”). I made the soup. Probably the first soup I ever made from scratch. I had a bowl and gave the rest to my dad. I didn’t touch leeks again for another three years. I’ve since grown to appreciate leeks, though I certainly don’t think I’ll torture myself with the “magical leek soup” again. I made this chickpea and leek soup earlier this week to accompany dinner almost every night. It was light, smooth, velvety, and incredibly budget-friendly. Really, it was probably in the $5-6 range for about 8 servings. Of course, I had to throw in a bulb of roasted garlic to the soup, since I can’t get enough of it.
Chickpea and Leek Soup
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1 bulb of garlic, roasted
1 1/2 cups dried chickpeas, soaked overnight
or
2 15-oz cans of chickpeas, drained and rinsed
2 tablespoons cooking oil
5 leeks (white and pale green parts), sliced
4 cups water, chicken or vegetable stock
1 bay leaf
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
salt & pepper, to taste
optional garnishing: chopped fresh herbs (chives, parsley, rosemary, thyme) and/or parmiggiano reggiano
If using dried chickpeas, soak them overnight in a large bowl with a quart of water. Rinse and drain the beans and cook according to package directions. If using canned chickpeas, rinse the beans for 30-45 seconds over cold water, this will remove 35 to 40% of the total sodium from the canning liquid (source).
Preheat oven to 350F. Slice the top of the garlic bulb open, revealing the tips of the cloves. Place the garlic bulb on a sheet of aluminum foil and drizzle a teaspoon of olive over the top. Wrap the bulb in the foil, place on a baking sheet, and roast for 35 minutes. Remove from the foil and let it cool until it’s easy enough to handle.
Meanwhile, heat oil in a large stockpot over medium heat. When hot, add the leeks cook until softened, about 5-7 minutes. Add the water or stock, bay leaf, coriander, thyme, salt, and pepper. Lower the heat and bring to a gentle boil and simmer for 15-20 minutes.
When the roasted garlic is cool enough to handle, pop out the cloves into a small bowl and mash with a fork until they form a paste. Mix the paste into the stockpot.
Discard the bay leaf from the soup. Working in batches, blend the soup in a food processor or blender until smooth. Return the soup to the stockpot, add more salt and pepper, if necessary. Ladle into bowls and garnish with freshly chopped herbs and cheese, if desired.
Serves 6-8
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