Danielle Marie

Sweet and Sour Eggplant Salad

September 29, 2015 By Danielle 2 Comments

The earth releases a pleasant and deep sigh and then it is autumn. The heat has escaped calmly and slowly, easing itself out backwards. In its place: a caressing breeze, an azure-sea sky, turmeric-golden tree leaves, and the definitive shift of pressures and change of season. The air that cradles our lungs is crisp, and we feel as though we could stroll forever – bleeding seamlessly into the atmosphere and fall landscapes. This is fruition to me – my favorite season. A lightness, a fullness, a sweetness, a spiciness. A period of harvest, farewell, greeting, and contentedness. A beautiful vehicle to the season of hibernation and quiet. We are kindred in spirit.

We’ve been enjoying the final whispers of our eggplants. They were very good to us this year – instrumental in producing all shapes, sizes and colors. As the inevitable frost will be the finality of some crops – it will bring a revitalization to others – such a harmonic aspect of the garden. Kale, for instance – an undeniable sweetness is invited to its leaves once frost has been tasted. But indeed we are bidding our eggplants a final descent. And to myself and them I muse – why not allow them a presence in the seasonal atmosphere?

I entitled this dish as a salad because I was generally at a loss. It’s lovely, seasonal, somewhat conversational, and a delight on the taste-buds. I think it’s best served atop rice or over a bed of spicy greens. Good tidings brings sweet and sour eggplant, coupled with fennel, green apple, and walnut.

Is it autumn where you are?

Sweet and Sour Eggplant Salad

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Author: Rooting The Sun

Ingredients

1 lb eggplant sliced thin/diced (depending on size)
1 tbl grapeseed (or preferred) oil
Sweet and Sour Sauce:
2 tbl rice vinegar
1 tbl tamari
2 tbl brown sugar
¼ tsp fish sauce
¼ tsp arrowroot powder
½ bulb fennel sliced thin/shaved
1 green apple cored and diced
½ cup walnuts lightly crushed

Instructions

heat oil in a medium skillet and sautee eggplant over medium-high heat until golden/brown, 5-7 minutes.
whisk together ingredients for sweet and sour sauce.
lower heat, make a well in the center of the sauteed eggplant and pour in the sauce.
allow to bubble and thicken slightly and incorporate the eggplant into the sauce. if it becomes too thick add a tablespoon or so of water.
combine sliced fennel, apple, and walnut. add eggplant.
garnish with fennel frond and sesame seeds
serve with rice or atop a bed of mixed spicy greens

Notes

use ingredients and measurements as a guide, adjust accordingly to taste and stock.

Double Chocolate Orange Zucchini Bread

September 26, 2015 By Danielle 6 Comments

As we gradually get to know one another I have to make a slightly shameful admittance: I am not the biggest sweets person you will ever meet. I have always had an affinity for the savory: willingly coating my tongue in herbs and spices before ever dressing it with sugar. This is not to say they don’t have their place in my life: cosmically syrupy breakfast, a slice of heavenly pie, the natural enticement of fruit. I’ve always admired those who are able to craft divine desserts (hi audrey) – and it’s an endeavor I celebrate occasionally in my kitchen (as I think making most desserts is quite relaxing) – but we come to the junction once more of taste and tongue.

My second slightly shameful admittance (what a weekend!): I am not a huge birthday person. It’s something that is celebrated lovingly when you’re a child, to embrace your years of health, happiness, and growing intelligence for the surrounding world. Though as I’ve grown, I’ve shared my mixture of all-out birthday week party to reminiscence to meditation to general apathy (what a gamut right?). At the end of every September it’s always been a surprise – though my gratitude for my life and my parents remains unwavering.

However it seems that I am supposed to be thinking about my birthday this year, as we are in line for a lunar eclipse. And while there are lunar eclipses throughout the year, we are having one that hasn’t occurred since the eighties (before my birth) – and the next isn’t slated by our universe until 2033. A super-moon eclipse, also referred to as a blood moon. This occurrence has truly captivated me. So with a deep sigh of release and relief we are going to celebrate the equinox, the moon, and my birthday by way of tent and hammock in our black hills deep and tall.

My birthday to you is a lovely zucchini bread to fulfill the sweetness in your life. And while I’ve used dark chocolate all around, I welcome you to substitute with your favorite. We had somewhat of an unruly squash patch this season, but who is to lament a surplus? Harvest is such a revelry in itself. Both zucchini fritters and zucchini bread are an amazing kitchen treat, one that I never seem to tire of across the years. So without any further ado sweet darlings, friends, farmers, guys, and dolls – happy weekend to you, happy equinox, happy lunar eclipse, and happy.

Double Chocolate Orange Zucchini Bread

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Author: Rooting The Sun

Serves: 1 loaf

Ingredients

Dry:
1¼ cup white whole wheat flour
½ cup dark brown sugar
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
⅓ cup of dark cocoa (I used 100% cacao)
Wet:
2 eggs lightly beaten
⅓ cup honey
1 tsp vanilla
zest of 1 orange
1 cup plain yogurt
½ cup coconut oil melted
2 cups shredded zucchini
1 cup dark chocolate chips
½ cup finely chopped hazelnuts

Instructions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Lightly oil one 9x5 loaf pan, or you may use two smaller ones if on hand.
Shred zucchini and allow to drain in a colander or mesh strainer in sink.
In a medium bowl mix together all dry ingredients.
In a separate large bowl mix together wet ingredients.
Slowly incorporate dry ingredients into the wet. This particular batter will be on the thicker side.
Squeeze all excess moisture out of the zucchini by hand or paper towel.
Once batter has formed, add and combine both zucchini and chocolate chips.
Add batter to loaf pan(s) and sprinkle top with hazelnuts.
Bake in oven 45-60 minutes - or until an inserted toothpick comes out clean.

Tomatillo Habanero Pear Jam

September 22, 2015 By Danielle 6 Comments

There is a cricket right outside of my window. He has seemingly taken residence. This I only conclude as it’s been several days and his chirping is persistent and sincere. I’ve admittedly tried to knock on the window and the wall to rouse him, but to no avail. The most curious fact is that his chirps are slowing. Slowing their tempo and separating from the chorus. It is officially fall now and he knows it. If you have a resident cricket and you like experimenting with simple science check out my about me page – I have a way to (generally) tell the temperature by vehicle of cricket song.

Other souls have been anticipating the cooling of temperature – the tomatillos in the garden. Each year we seem to plant too many – but I always ask myself when they finally fruit, what constitutes as too many? They grow tall and bushy and proud. They stretch out and flower and drop their husky lanterns. This year we planted both green and purple varieties – which if you practice patience with your fruits to purple you will not regret the taste. They spend the summer growing tall and deep – but it’s only when the coolness begins that the husks begin to fill in and occasionally drop to the ground below. The tomatillos have arrived in mass.

What’s a cricket-listening soul to do with such an acquiring? So many things come to mind that I may not possibly silence in the oncoming weeks – this is definitely not a finality. However, my initial intrigue is in the time and space of jam. Tomatillos naturally have high pectin levels that allow them to gel easily. And not only do we aim to root the sun, we aim to root spicy things to our taste buds constantly. A tomatillo pear and habanero jam, respectively.

The flavors are cohesive, they work lovingly alongside one another. The method is simple and the results are pure. Your yield is a tangy, spicy, sweet mixture that is best spread on toast or swirled into yogurt. I recommend the presence of the habanero, but even just the tomatillo and pear sing brightly. If you wanted to exclude the heat you could easily do so.

Happy fresh autumn friends! The leaves are starting to expose their souls.

Tomatillo Habanero Pear Jam

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Author: Rooting The Sun

Serves: 1½ - 2 cups

Ingredients

1 lb tomatillos, husks removed and halved
1 lb of pear (about 2 large) roughly chopped
1 habanero, finely minced
1 cup of sugar
1 cup water

Instructions

Gather tomatillo, pear, and habanero into a medium heavy bottomed sauce pan.
Add sugar and water and stir ingredients to lightly combine.
Heat over medium high, bring to a boil, then lower to a warm simmer for 40 minutes to 1 hour. In this period the fruit should break down and gel. If needed, help fruit mash.
Enjoy with toast, yogurt, ice cream, or any way you can dream.

Heirloom Tomato and Carrot Soup with Harissa

September 19, 2015 By Danielle 4 Comments

Out of all the vegetables you can potentially cultivate for yourself or others – I think tomatoes are some of the most fulfilling to produce. If we were never exposed to these practices as children, then the most one is familiar with are the polished hot house varieties stocked to the ceiling in grocery markets. I’ve spent many hours staring at them, pondering where their blemishes are – a hint of imperfection; of a life worth living. They never get soft or bruise, and there is that underlying plasticity element – their taste hardly registers on the tongue. To gain the exposure to the deep and wide variety of heirlooms is to properly be acquainted with the tomato. Any farmer will ecstatically chat for hours on end about the varying beauties that comprise the vast tomato family. If you are ever considering the beginnings of a vegetable garden – do begin with a tomato plant.

What fascinates me this time of year is the sky. It almost seems that as soon as the temperatures begin to fade that the sky transforms into the bluest ocean it’s ever been. The haze from the heat and smoke from the fires retreat and clarity is abundant. The nights are bold and clear, and the stars hang low and plentiful. The wind is just a breeze right now (no sooner to become the roar of winter), and it caresses our cheeks on strolls and jaunts. It is the altogether brisk feeling that accompanies this season that lightens my heart effortlessly. The earth is readying itself to slumber or pass on, and the clarity that reckons this event is all-encompassing and strong.

Undoubtedly our conversations turn to soup. It’s necessary, communal, nourishing, and widely embraced. One of us makes soups for part of their living. We will spend the entirety of the winter talking about and making soup. The elements that comprise a bowl are endless and worth a lifetime. The comfort one receives from said bowl is gratifying and nurturing. The basic and nude idea of containing complete sustenance in a bowl is real. This will not be the last time I gush my fountain of soupy praises – merely it is the first.

And the tomatoes are slowing down. They must realize that the equinox is upon us. This year our main concentration was between pineapple tomatoes, black krims, and the inevitable brandywine (all pictured above). To not devote our respect by way of summer’s end soup is to not breathe the autumn air. The tomatoes roasted in with a few leeks, and the house smelled divine. We also grew baltimore carrots (pictured) – which proved themselves in volume and verse. A beautiful and delicious variety. Sauteed with some home crafted harissa paste, and the house smelled divine.

I share a recipe that embodies this transitional period of satisfaction, gratitude and equinox. May your skies be washed blue where you reside, and the air crisp with the welcoming of season.

5.0 from 1 reviews

Heirloom Tomato and Carrot Soup with Harissa

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Author: Rooting The Sun

Ingredients

5 lbs of heirloom tomatoes
2 leeks, bottom halves - green and white parts
olive oil
1-2 tbl grapeseed oil
6 carrots chopped into coins
1-2 tbl harissa paste (personal taste dependent)
2-4 cups of vegetable stock

Instructions

Peel tomatoes from their skins. This may be achieved by introducing them into a boiling pot of water for no longer than a minute and transferring them to icy water. The skins will slide right off.
Split leeks lengthwise and be sure to clean them from any residual silt or dirt.
Brush tomatoes and leeks lightly with olive oil, salt, pepper. Roast on a large sheet pan at 400 degrees for thirty minutes.
Post roasting, heat grapeseed oil in large, heavy bottomed pot on stove. Add carrot and stir to coat. Cook carrots five minutes on medium high until only beginning to soften. Add harissa paste and heat until fragrant and evenly coated on carrots.
Chop leeks and with roasted tomatoes add to carrots in the soup pot. Start by adding two cups of vegetable stock. Bring soup to boil and reduce to a simmer until carrots are readily tender, about thirty minutes. During this time if the soup begins to thicken on you add more vegetable stock.
Working in batches if necessary, blend soup using desired method until smooth.
Garnish soup with caraway seeds, pine nuts, dried tomato, cream.

Notes

harissa is a spicy north african chili paste. you may find it prepared in the store with other condiments, or you may easily prepare it yourself at home. if spice is an unwelcomed element in your diet, you may easily omit the harissa and still enjoy a lovely tomato and carrot soup.

Spicy Vanilla Cornbread with Plum

September 17, 2015 By Danielle 6 Comments

It’s exciting being able to call tomorrow Friday. An energetic sway resides in my bones, and the extent of my animation is even deeper than it already is (a difficult concept). We’re going to officially have our first day of fall weather (summer you’re still right here) tomorrow – fifties, rain and wind. This will most certainly introduce an interesting element – although I’ve always been partial to the rain, no matter the seasonal situation. What is even better is that on Saturday the rain will cease and leave us with a weekend of sun and seventy degree weather – and to this we are fleeing (running, flying, flapping, swimming) for the hills yet again. It’s so natural to bleed into the landscape this time of year. What our skin and senses absorb will oxygenate our minds.

A really lovely thing that happened recently was a score of italian prune-plums – how splendid these fruits are. The ones I couldn’t resist biting into I lovingly decided on baking with (they just beg for it). And cornbread is love unending.

This cornbread is delightful on several fronts, but most notably that it contains elements of sweetness and spice. We grew a remarkable breed of median heat peppers this year, affectionately dubbed ‘garden salsa’ peppers. They grew into long witch boots and gradually their maturity was emblazoned on their skin – a rosy and deep blush. It only seemed like justice to add them into the cornbread batter along with a nice dose of vanilla. Combined with the tartness of the plum: a cornbread made to smile about. I understand that not everyone is cultivating garden salsa peppers, so substituting for another middle heat pepper is an absolutely acceptable approach. And it’s hard for me to say this – but if you aren’t privy to the taste of plum, feel free to leave them out and you’re still left with a banging cornbread. Cheers sweet friends, I hope that your spirits are high.

Spicy Vanilla Cornbread with Plum

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Author: Rooting the Sun

Ingredients

Dry:
¾ white whole wheat flour
1¼ cup ground yellow corn meal
½ tsp baking soda
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
Wet:
2 eggs lightly beaten
½ tsp vanilla extract
1 cup vanilla greek yogurt
1 cup milk
4 tbl melted coconut oil
1 tbl honey
size and taste preference dependent: 1-3 medium chili peppers minced
10 italian prune-plums, pits removed and halved.

Instructions

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place a 10 inch cast iron skillet in the oven to heat.
Mix together dry ingredients in a large bowl.
Mix together wet ingredients in a separate medium bowl.
Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and slowly add the wet ingredients in to combine. Add the chili peppers to the batter and stir all until just combined, a slightly bumpy batter is ok.
Carefully remove skillet from oven and rub with coconut oil.
Add batter to skillet, and then add plum halves to the top of the batter.
Bake in oven for 20-30 minutes or until golden brown.
Allow to cool before enjoying.

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