I know that I always talk about how picky of an eater I used to be, almost to the point where I’ve become redundant. But the more I cook and the more I expand my tasting horizons, the more I realize how much I’ve missed out on over the years by being finicky. For example: this salsa would’ve been Nopes-ville for me a few years ago, thanks to its inclusion of raw red onions, green peppers and (the dreaded, soapy-tasting) cilantro. And now, I can’t get enough of it. After begging for the recipe, I’ve made it three times within the past month alone!

The reason I love this recipe so much is because it represents how far I’ve come; now when people ask me if I’m picky about food, I can proudly say “no”! Well… I still can’t stomach raw celery, blue or goat cheese… but I’m working on it.

Actually… I’m pretty sure I’m always going to hate celery, so we can just leave that off the list… please.

Whoops, I digress–let’s get back to the salsa! It’s best with fresh or frozen corn, but if you’re in a pinch you can definitely used canned corn… don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I’ve used both canned and cooked lentils with similar results, so long as you drain both very well. And if you’re a fan of heat, feel free to mince half a jalapeno pepper (de-seeded of course) and toss it into the mix. I prefer to leave it out in case people are not heat-inclined.

Lastly: I know that the pictures feature yellow bell pepper, but that was during one of my trial runs for this recipe. I definitely recommend green bell pepper instead.

We were hanging out at a friend’s house playing board games when hunger struck–painful and relentless, as always. Since it was already nearing the wee hours of the morning, she jumped up to take a peek at her pantry and found a bag of Sichuan peanuts from the local Asian market.

I was wary at first–I’m a fan of heat, but the word “Sichuan” (or Szechuan) has always been a red flag. I can handle spicy, but can I handle Sichuan spicy? As soon as I took my first bite, however, all of my fears dissipated and were replaced by my need to eat the entire bag. My tongue and then my entire mouth went numb, and I was still as happy as a clam. I devoured the peanuts dutifully, as if they were an additional objective to winning the game.

Sichuan flavors are bright, unapologetic and brash–the dishes are almost always spicy, but it would be insulting to say that Sichuan cuisine is a one-trick pony that only relies on heat to convey its flavor. The red oil that is so easily recognized in many Sichuan dishes is a rich mixture of cardamom, star anise, five spice and Sichuan peppercorn–as well as the tried-and-true aromatics of garlic and ginger. The Sichuan peppercorn is the reason that your mouth numbs and tingles after a few bites–hence its literally translated name “prickly ash”.

James and I found the bag of Sichuan peanuts at the store shortly afterward, but I wanted to try making it on my own–and I think I’ve found a worthy home-made alternative to the store brand, minus the inevitable MSG and additives that are usually included in most snack foods. I’ve even added orange peel, which brightens the flavor of the peanuts and adds a sharp, almost floral contrast to the spiciness of the peppercorns.

I’ve made this dish twice now, and I need to emphasize the importance of using kosher salt or a finely-ground salt; otherwise the peanuts are spicy but bland. If you want a little bit of heat but not a lot, reduce the number of dried chilies and peppercorns. Lastly, I should note that you’re not going to easily find Sichuan peppercorns at your local grocery store; you’ll probably need to head over to a specialty spice store, Whole Foods, or a local Asian market. (I recommend the latter; the prices will be much more reasonable.) This is a great snack for guests–and a better alternative to potato chips if you’re a snacker. I personally enjoy them while playing games myself… and even more so when I win them!

I recently put chalkboard paper on some of my kitchen cabinets to make the kitchen look a little less plain and a little more interesting. A grocery list here, some inspiring quotes regarding food, cooking and the pursuit of happiness there… and at the bottom, a funny little list titled ‘What Would James Eat?’. James is always asking me to make something or other–and while I am always up for the challenge, I tend to lose track of his numerous requests. So I decided to honor his insatiable appetite (and my burgeoning attempts at interesting dishes) by giving him some space in my kitchen for a list.

(What’s on the list, you ask? Homemade pho and Taiwanese beef noodle soup, among other things. But those are other recipes for other entries!)

Magic mushrooms have been on the list since before the list existed, however, and I’m glad I was finally able to deliver with a version all my own.

Magic mushrooms are our favorite appetizer from Hapa Sushi, which is a fusion/nouveau-type sushi restaurant in the Metro Denver area. Whenever we visit Denver, we go to Hapa and order this appetizer without fail. However, it’s been well over half a year since the last time we’ve managed to patronize this sushi joint–so I only had my memories as reference. If you’re a Denver native or you’ve eaten at Hapa before, you’ll have to tell me whether I’ve managed to create a worthy copycat recipe, okay?

I would advise you to make sure you have a nice, sharp knife before attempting to make these; a dull knife won’t be able to create the thin slice necessary for the rolling of the salmon around the avocado. Additionally, this recipe requires vigilance: you can’t really walk away from any of it while it’s cooking. There’s not really much I can offer in the way of a shortcut other than buying the sweet soy sauce (or unagi sauce) at the store instead of making it yourself–but the consistency will be thinner.

Even if these mushrooms taste nothing like the ones at Hapa, I still think they’re pretty damn tasty. You’ll be dismayed at how quickly they disappear relative to the amount of work it takes to make them–but hey, you’ll get credit for being an awesome cook, so all’s well that ends well!

James and I are fortunate enough to live near Little Osaka in West Los Angeles–honestly, we probably patronize restaurants on this street at least twice a week. It is invaluable to have such a great array of places to eat near us, especially because traffic in LA can be so restrictive! It’s almost to our detriment that we live so close by; at times, it’s hard for me to muster the energy to cook something when I know we can eat delicious food for relatively cheap prices on Sawtelle. Our proximity to Little Osaka has also made me quite content to dine out for a lot of my favorite foods instead of trying to create them at home.

The only time I do try to make some of the dishes I enjoy at home, however, are when I think that the cost of eating out is grossly imbalanced with the effort it takes to make the dish. Corn potage falls into that category quite easily, as the ingredients are easy to obtain and the recipe itself is quite easy to make.

We first encountered corn potage at Curry House on Sawtelle and instantly became enamored with its sweet, creamy flavor and thick texture. Japanese cuisine has embraced corn and tends to highlight it in peculiar ways–yes, I’m talking about corn on pizza and ice cream–but this particular preparation has been lovingly adapted from French cuisine. The word “potage” is an old French term for thick stew (potted dish, literally); as for how potage mades its way to Japan, well… I came up empty in my cursory research. Musings aside, corn potage has become a very popular Western-style food in Japan–but maintains its French origins in its preparation by building its flavor from a basic roux of butter and flour. Blending the corn into the broth creates the mushy consistency that normally takes hours for traditional potage soups, making for a soup that is hearty but altogether different than corn chowder.

I absolutely love corn potage with crusty bread, as a side with katsu curry, or even by itself–but then again, I am nuts about corn in general and love eating it in just about any preparation or style. Even if you don’t necessarily feel the same way, I hope you give it a try and enjoy it!

Recipe adapted from Little Japan Mama.

It’s that time of year again: when the all of your favorite machines at the gym are occupied no matter what time you try to beat the crowds. Taking high-quality pre-workout will give you energy for intense gym sessions. (Well, let’s pretend that we were the ones going to the gym during the holidays, shall we?) Additionally, if your natural collagen levels have declined, then you may consider trying collagen products from NativePath. Fitness pictures and memes dot your Pinterest page; your fridge is stocked with fresh healthy fruits like Rotab Mazafati Bam Dates and veggies, just begging to be blended into a nutritious smoothie. You’ve waved a tearful goodbye to your holiday leftovers and chips that you love to crunch on whilst watching your favorite show. All is well in January… or so you think.

Then February hits. The gym is looking post-apocalyptic: deserted and with a few determined stragglers. You are sick and tired of disguising kale and spinach with copious amounts of banana and strawberry in your smoothie, and those chips are looking mighty good at the store when you stop by after work. You’re back to pinning amazing cupcakes on Pinterest. Where, oh where hast thy resolution gone?

Don’t get me wrong–I’m not dissing on resolutions. I think that they’re great. But creating one that is realistic seems to be the hardest part. So why don’t we start with trying to eat just a bit healthier? But healthier is expensive, is more time-consuming… and those chips…

That’s where this spring pea soup comes in.

I first discovered this recipe in Dorie Greenspan’s book Around My French Table (which is now becoming dog-eared on my shelf) last year, when I was desperately trying to get fit in time for summer. And even though the other fad no-carb recipes have come and gone, I still make this soup regularly because it really is that good (delicious)–and easy (only 15-20 minutes!)–and most importantly, healthy!

Please give it a try; I think you’ll find that even if your resolutions fall by the wayside–as mine inevitably do each year–you will keep this in your recipe box.

Recipe adapted from Dorie Greenspan’s Around My French Table.

A friend of mine has been extolling the wonders and deliciousness of a particular empanada stand at the Century City Farmer’s Market (for locals, it’s on Thursday mornings/early afternoon). And while I’ve been meaning to go for a while, I kept putting it off for some reason or another. Anyhow, we finally made our way out to said farmer’s market last week for these famous empanadas… and guess what? The fryer is broken! What a bummer.

Oh well–we were already at a farmer’s market and needed produce anyway, so we might as well take a gander at the local farm stands. Although people were starting to close up shop, we happened upon a particular stand with big, beautiful heirloom tomatoes with vivid colors. The perceptive grocer saw me stalling at the tomatoes and made me a fantastic deal… and the rest is history.

Before we left with our bounty, however, he warned me that he could only guarantee the quality and flavor of the tomatoes “for use either today or tomorrow” because of their ripeness. And the first thing that came to mind as I walked away was a delicious bruschetta (pronounced broo-SKET-ta)–minimal preparation on the tomatoes to really highlight their flavor.

Now, I know that heirloom tomatoes are far more expensive than their (genetically modified) counterparts. And technically, you can use plum tomatoes (or any old tomato, really) for bruschetta if you wish. But if you haven’t had an heirloom tomato yet, I highly suggest you try one. I’m not the biggest fan of tomatoes myself, and I love heirloom tomatoes. They are sweet, soft, and have a wild tang to them that you just can’t replicate using the other tomatoes available at most grocery stores. They are also notoriously hard to grow and don’t keep well, which drives up their price. But I can assure you–this is what tomatoes are supposed to taste like.

I looked up a few recipes online, then took what I liked from each one and made this recipe. The rubbing of the cut garlic on the bread slice in particular is my favorite aspect of it apart from using heirloom tomatoes; it imparts a strong garlic flavor without the unpleasantness of biting into a clove by accident. Overall, this bruschetta is sweet and tangy, with the raw garlic imparting a sharp flavor as you bite into the crusty bread. A harmonious mixture of soft tomatoes and crunchy, chewy baguette. I hope you like it!

Unfortunately, I was unable to keep to my regular posting schedule because of a little thing called life.

I flew back from Boston to LA on Thursday night, completely negating any kind of follow-up post I intended to make about Boston on schedule. After that, I was busy with James’ surgical year-end banquets/get-togethers/etc. (Surgeons like to party—and why not? They have it pretty stressful 99% of the time!)

When James was away on Sunday for one of his last calls of the year, I was sure that I’d be able to make up for lost time. And then I got sick.

I hate how unproductive you must be while sick in order to get better. I languished on the couch, unable to read anything because of a headache and unable to sleep because I oscillated between being too hot and too cold. When your immune system is kicking into overdrive in order to fend off whatever is causing your illness, your body is left with exactly zero percent energy. I kept fading in and out of consciousness, hoping that each time I awoke next I would feel better.

As James pointed out later, I probably exacerbated my sickness by not allowing myself enough to eat—did you know that your body needs 1.5x as much food intake as you normally eat because it expends so much energy in rising your overall body temperature? By the time he came home from call on Monday, I looked like a specter. Luckily, he had enough sense to force feed me despite my protests; as much as I hate to admit it, that reason is probably why I managed to recover today.

So what does any of this have to do with food?

Well, less than an hour before I came down with said illness, I had been trying out a new recipe for baked chicken nuggets. Unfortunately, they ended up being the only solid food I managed to eat on Sunday—certainly not enough for a sick person’s metabolism. But as for a healthy alternative that’s low in calories—great for everybody else!

The best part is that you can make a large amount in advance all at once, freeze the leftovers, and use them later at your discretion. No more excuses about healthy food taking more time out of your day—and no more deep-fried pink slime McNuggets. (I’m guilty of loving them as much as anybody else, but I’m moving onto healthier pastures.) My favorite condiment with these nuggets is plain ol’ ketchup, but anything you have on hand will be delicious, I’m sure.

My first memorable experience with scallion pancakes (蔥油餅, cōng yóu bǐng) was with James at his family’s restaurant six years ago. I remember being initially enchanted by the aroma of sesame oil and the scallion-flecked surface of its golden crust. Once I took a big, crispy bite, the crunch was then followed by chewy layers of green onion and dough. Whether I chose to dip each slice into the sauce provided or not, I was in heaven. Delicious, fried doughy heaven.

We’ve since moved to Los Angeles and have a veritable gold mine of authentic Chinese/Taiwanese food at our fingertips (hello, San Gabriel Valley!) but whenever we feel too lazy to make the drive out east, we make whatever we feel like eating at home. I’ve slowly increased my repertoire to include three-cup chicken (三杯雞, sān bēi jī) and mapo tofu (麻婆豆腐, má pó dòu fu), but only recently tried my hand at scallion pancakes. I’ll be honest—the first few attempts were less than fruitful. Too crispy, not enough layers, not enough flavor, not enough scallions… I was especially frustrated at my inability to capture the crispiness of the outside compared to the doughy, chewy layers on the inside.

Eventually I found a way to make scallion pancakes that satisfied my cravings and earned a thumbs-up from James (which meant a lot to me since he grew up making them after all!). It’s a little more time-consuming because it involves brushing layers of sesame oil and re-rolling the dough for each individual pancake—but getting the consistency just right was a triumph in itself for me.  I would never claim that these could trump the restaurants here in Los Angeles that have been doing their amazing scallion pancake thing for years– I’m looking at you, Sin Bala and Earthen Restaurant—but you’ll be pretty darn close for a first-time attempt. And for those of you that don’t have the convenience of living 20 minutes away from Chinatown—this will be a delicious, authentic discovery.

A few notes (as always):

• Do you like onions? I do, so I included the white part of the green onions in the recipe. If you would prefer a more subtle flavor, just use the green part of the onions and compensate by using 4 stalks instead of 3.
• Boiling water is necessary for the initial mixture of flour, salt and scallions because it encourages the dough to stick together much faster than cold water.
• Be careful after your dough comes together! Poke it first after you initially turn it onto a work surface to knead. If it’s too hot, give it a minute to cool and try again.
• The dough will be extremely sticky to work with, but try to be as sparing with flour as possible. Using too much flour will dry out the dough and will make the final product more like a cracker than chewy.
• If you want to try for more flaky, chewy layers you can add more layers of sesame oil after the initial two that I list in the recipe—I found that two was sufficient enough to get the consistency I wanted.
• Scallion pancakes are oily. I know, I sound like Captain Obvious, but seriously—you can place them on paper towels after pan frying, but don’t press the oil out of them or blot them of oil. Otherwise, you’ll get scallion crackers.  Yes, I am (unfortunately) speaking from experience.

Isn’t this great? I make the mistakes so you don’t have to! May your scallion pancakes be crispy, chewy and delectable…