Coffee and Cake

I'm not a coffee drinker by nature.  Something about the potency of caffeine doesn't agree with my ultra sensitive digestive tract.  I do, however, like the idea of coffee.  I like that it gives millions of people everyday an excuse to be late to work (long line at Starbucks), to take a break from work, even to be jittery at work, all in the name of a good bean.  


Many moons ago, when I used to visit my grandparents in the summers, they would always have coffee and cake at four o'clock in the afternoon.  Exactly four o'clock.  Everyday.  If we went to a cafe as a special treat, there would inevitably be the long list of lattes, espressos, and cappuccinos that puffed with clouds of steamed milk.  When I think of my grandfather, I believe that some of his happiest moments were in cafes among friends with a cup of the strongest coffee they served.


So, I'll pass on the coffee, but I'll always take the cake.  Coffee begs for a slice of something dense yet moist, flavorful yet simple.  It almost should be dunkable.  Earlier this week I tried a chocolate chip sour cream coffee cake recipe from Smitten Kitchen.  It makes a good amount of cake, so my colleagues at work were the lucky beneficiaries and Jim is still snacking on it.  You could eat it for breakfast with your coffee without a care in the world.  You could eat it at exactly four o'clock in the afternoon, or you could call it dessert and drop a spoonful of cream on top.


I don't think I am missing out in life by passing up on a drink beloved the world over.  If you were to come for a visit, I'd still put two cups on my table.  And there would always be cake.  

In the spirit of respectful ownership and reverence to a fellow food blogger, I won't publish the recipe, but you can find it here.

Lunch Break

I don’t know about you, but the lunch hour of my dreams rarely happens in a typical work-week.  Rush-rushing all morning long usually means I’ll have one hand holding a half-sandwich while the other hand types.  If by chance the day goes well and the sun is bright and the stars line up, I like to find a quiet spot outside to balance this bowl of spring’s bounty on my lap.  Add a nice hunk of chabatta bread on the side, maybe even a good book or magazine, and you’ve got a lunch break envied by secretaries the world over. 

The best thing about this salad is the ease of preparation and the infinite combinations of bottom-of-the-fridge and kitchen-sink ingredients you can use.  I’ve even been known to toss diced red bell peppers into the mix.  My only recommendation is to not substitute the green onions and goat cheese.  They really do give this salad the exceptional Mediterranean flavor that I love.  Make it in springtime when herbs and onions emerge, then make it again in the summer when tomatoes are sweet and plump.   

Garden Herb Couscous Salad

1 cup plain pearlized couscous

2 ½ cups water

1/3 cup good quality extra virgin olive oil + 1 Tbs

1 tsp salt

1/8 tsp ground black pepper

3 green onion stems, finely chopped (both white and green parts)

5 basil leaves, finely chopped

2 Tbs parsely, finely chopped

1 cup grape tomatoes, sliced in half

½ cup pitted kalamata or black olives, sliced in half

¾ cup crumbled goat cheese

Place  the water, 1 Tbs olive oil, and the couscous in a medium sauce pan and bring to a boil.  Lower the heat to medium-low and cook for about 10 minutes, stirring frequently.  Drain the couscous and run under cold water to stop the cooking process and prevent sticking.  Drain well again.

Place the drained couscous in a medium sized bowl and add the olive oil, salt, and pepper.  Stir well to coat the couscous in the oil.

Add all of the remaining ingredients and toss to combine.  Taste for additional seasoning if needed.

Vermont

I can still see it now, from the window of room #3; the light that crept above the mist.  It was the first sunrise I followed from the start.  We were quiet and sleepy and drawn in.  I'm not usually superstitious or very religious, and I'm not even sure if anyone heard it, but I made a wish at the moment this fireball punctured the horizon...


...and I hope it made a difference.