Choose your own chicken tagine.

Cooking dinner is my most valued time of day.  That final moment of my morning workout routine and the following gulp of savory coffee is almost as satisfying, but it is the chopping, sautéing, seasoning and plating of the dinner meal that is my favorite.  For me, luckily, the work day is well finished by the time dinner ingredients are pulled from their hiding places and a glass of wine is poured. The anticipation of satiating my swelling appetite drives my slicing and dicing and quiets my mind.  In a meditative state, I am now the ultimate multi-tasker!  Emptying the dishwasher while stirring sweetly caramelizing onions and keeping an eye on the tray of vegetables in the oven; stealing a sip of wine while measuring spices and picking parsley.

That sense of accomplishment on a meal well served is greater than most, for me at least.  When it works.  I dabble in poetry and can doodle like a champ, but throwing together a meal is my real creative outlet.  It begins with a single ingredient and morsel by morsel I sometimes manage to make it all rhyme.  I coax out my narrative arch and create meals that are stoked by adventure, love, anxiety, and devotion.  No meal nor song is performed exactly as it was dished up before, but we delight in the tweaked harmonies and relish a turn of phrase previously overlooked (or undercooked).  Understudies are given the limelight they deserve and lovers fall harder this time around.

My chicken tagine is that same old story with a different ending every time.  I find the beginnings of the dish (chicken, spices, and broth) to be a simple enough melody for my own endless alterations, edits, and contributions.  Although the finale is always new, it is continually gratifying and warm and wholly satisfies my ravenous imagination and my aching belly.

So here I provide you with a palate of ingredients to bedazzle your blank plates.  Mix and match to your heart and hunger's delight.

Choose your own CHICKEN TAGINE
serves 4

8 boneless, skinless chicken thighs
1 onion, diced
ginger, minced or grated
carrots, diced
castelvetrano olives, pitted and sliced in half
dried Turkish apricots, sliced
cumin
turmeric
coriander
cinnamon
ground fennel
cayenne
flour
orange juice 
chicken stock
parsley
slivered almonds
lemon wedges

In a heavy bottomed sauce pan, brown your chicken thighs and then set aside. 

Saute your diced onion until starting to turn translucent.  Add ginger and cook until fragrant.  Add the carrots, olives and apricots and cook for just a minute more.  Add spices and flour, stirring to coat the vegetables.  I usually add twice as much cumin and half as much cayenne as the other spices, but you can do as you like.  Free expression.  Be cautious at first, taste, add more if needed.  1 - 2 tbsp of flour should do the trick.  If you want at thinner broth, add less. 

Pour in your orange juice (about a cup should do) and another cup or two of stock, all depending on how soupy you like your tagine.  Let the mixture come to a slow simmer so the flavors can start to mesh.  Add your reserved chicken and half of the parsley.  

Cook at a simmer until the chicken is cooked through - probably just a few minutes more.  

Serve ladled over quinoa or couscous and top with slivered almonds, more parsley and a wedge of lemon.  

Best if made a day ahead of time, if you can stand to wait.  

Additions, substitutions, alternate endings: try adding red peppers or spinach; omit the orange juice and just go for chicken stock alone; omit the chicken and make it vegetarian; use cilantro instead of parsley; golden raisins instead of apricots; pine nuts instead of almonds.  The list goes on and on, get creative!

Inspired Sundays

Welcome back everyone!  Don't worry - we've survived the holidays and embraced the start of 2014 with good cheer, happy hearts, and a whole lot of oysters.  Obviously.  I adore a good celebration and encourage every opportunity for fancy dresses and pouring something special, which we've been doing with great enthusiasm since November.  However, now that holiday partying is winding down, I'm in need of lazy Sundays spent cooking and crafting.  With the fire roaring and our perfect Christmas tree still watching over our little cabin (Christmas celebrations are extending into January this year - the pleasures of having a bicoastal family!), this past Sunday called for a long brunch and an afternoon dedicated to our annual ornament challenge.

A few Christmases ago, while still living in Brooklyn, Daniel and I selected our very first Christmas tree together.  We had it easy by city standards - just around the corner from our apartment a man had set up his temporary tree shop on the sidewalk.  His makeshift forest was full of decent trees and after looking each up and down, we finally chose a little one with some personality.  Following the obligatory haggling, we handed over $40, trudged home and hauled the tree up four flights of stairs.  And yes, this is easy by city standards.

To our dismay our tree had a trunk quite a few sizes too small for the stand we had bought, but after some troubleshooting and creativity (and quite a bit of broken glass) we had the little fella fully upright.  Lights were strung and our teeny studio was suddenly brimming with all sorts of Christmas cheer.  But!  We had no ornaments to adorn our new friend.  Zero.  And we were absolutely not going to buy gaudy, shiny ornaments, more due to frugality than taste.  But thriftiness breeds brilliance, right?  We decided to challenge ourselves with a new medium each year.  You can see our first creations here: http://forkglassplay.blogspot.com/2011/12/holiday-cheer.html

This year we agreed to make teeny tiny paintings.  Despite each starting with a completely blank canvas and without discussing or sneaking a peak, we both came up with a little couple hanging out under a tree.  Odd, amazing, and a bit too cute.

But the day's creativity didn't start with a brush stroke.  We don't spend every Sunday morning eating brunch together in our pajamas, but there is something very comforting about rolling out of bed and into a cup of coffee and a feast for just the two of us.  Usually I turn to avocados, soft-boiled eggs, and toast, but our fridge was overflowing with random veggies and plenty of eggs.   Recently I was inspired by Ottolenghi's baked egg recipe in his dreamy cookbook, Plenty, so I knew what to do.

His recipe calls for arugula, spiced butter, and fresh yogurt, but given my ingredients at hand, I made a few substitutions.  Spinach stood in as the sautéed green, leftover roasted potatoes and onions were added to the mess, and instead of butter I added a few spices to my greek yogurt.  Everything was topped off with fresh parsley and a sprinkle of flax seeds.  Beyond looking gorgeous, this made for a complete and filling start to the day and provided ample fuel for our imaginations.

This recipe is more of a guide than a real recipe.  I didn't pay attention to measurements and the ingredients are all interchangeable based on what you have on hand.  The beauty of baked eggs is that they compliment almost all veggies.  Just don't forget that yogurt and be sure to add a pinch of salt and pepper!

BAKED EGGS with SPICED YOGURT (master recipe)
serves 2

Sauteed greens of your choice.  Spinach, kale, mustard greens, arugula, etc. 

Handful of roasted vegetables.  Potatoes, squash, onions, sunchokes, broccoli.

4 eggs

1 cup plain greek yogurt

cumin

aleppo pepper

sweet paprika

Handful fresh parsley

Sprinkling of toasted flax seeds (optional)

Salt and pepper

Preheat your oven to 300 F.  In a cast iron skillet combine sautéed greens and roasted vegetables.  Make four little divots and carefully crack eggs into these holes.  Bake in the oven for about 15 minutes, or until the egg whites are set. 

Meanwhile, make the spiced yogurt.  Combine yogurt with cumin, aleppo pepper, and paprika to taste.  Adjust seasoning to your liking.  Add a pinch of salt and pepper. 

When the eggs are set, remove from the oven and scoop yogurt in the middle.  Top with flax seeds and fresh parsley and serve immediately with toast.