Meatless Mondays: Sushi Night

You can put pretty much anything in a sushi roll.

Like tempura asparagus.

And orange segments.

And Mexican-style salsa.

No, seriously. The Texan and I have eaten all of these things and more in various rolls we've tried, and loved them all.  So we figured fishless sushi would feel like a kind of roll we just hadn't tried yet.

We found a recipe for quinoa maki (the type of roll that is made with rice and filling and wrapped in seaweed, or nori) with avocado and Cajun portobello fillets in The Conscious Cook by Tal Ronnen*. The author argues that quinoa is more nutritious than white rice and has an interesting texture to boot, so is perfect for sushi. I was a little skeptical, so I made some sushi rice just in case, but the Texan and I both really liked the quinoa rolls.

Also just in case, I seared some extra-firm tofu in a bottled teriyaki marinade, because I was a little worried the portobellos would be gross. Which they weren't. At all. I marinated them in a mixture of white wine, Cajun seasoning, white wine vinegar, and some spices, and later seared them so they would dry out a bit and get crispy-ish. Perhaps they were selected for a veggie roll recipe because they tend to have that slightly slimy-chewy-raw texture the way raw fish does, but these were no fish substitute-- these were just good in their own right.
 

A friend sent me a sushi mat and some chopsticks from Japan when she lived there, so our rolling efforts were, you know, authentic and whatnot. 

The Texan's roll of choice: tri-color quinoa, portobello, tofu, avocado, and carrot.

Our rolls were a little messy. We admit it.

Sushi Night #2: Veggie rolls with avocado and spicy mayo

I made some miso soup with little cubes of tofu and sliced scallions, the way they do in some Japanese restaurants.  I used yellow miso, never having used any miso before, and figured I'd try the middle-of-the-road strength for my first time. (Miso comes in three colors: white, the least fermented and mildest, yellow, and red, the most fermented and most intense.) I would be game to try red miso next time, for a little extra flavor.

The recipe calls for a little mayonnaise to be mixed with a tiny bit of sambal oelek (Thai chili-garlic sauce) and then rolled up with the rest of the fillings. I completely forgot to make it, but we have had sushi at restaurants that have drizzled something similar over certain rolls, and we like it a lot. The next time we make sushi we will have to try it. Yes, there will be a next time. Even the Texan said so.


Fishless sushi is ridiculously inexpensive to make. Packs of nori can be gotten for under $2, and contain 10-12 sheets per pack. Each sheet yields 5 or 6 pieces, so one pack makes at least 50 pieces of sushi. Sushi rice is a little more expensive than regular white rice, but not astronomical, and regular rice with some binder ingredients could be used in a pinch. I used only one portobello last night, along with a carrot, an avocado, a few pea sprouts, and half a pack of tofu. That's it. You can use whatever combination of vegetables (or fruit, if you are feeling especially avant garde) you like, but you probably won't spend more than a few dollars on all the fillings. Go Team Vegetables!



* The title makes the book sound like the hokiest bunch of hippie crap on the planet, but it isn't. And it contains recipes for dairy substitutes that don't involve soy milk, so I am all over it. Dairy and I just don't get along.

The Blender Room

A few years ago, I was finishing my Master's program and had to complete an intensive practicum that summer. I was holed up in a room with five or six other candidates, where we provided intensive remediation to students with reading difficulties in the mornings and wrote, debriefed, wrote, attended meetings, and wrote some more in the afternoons. I was fortunate to be assigned to a room with like-minded women who agreed that food was the only way to get us through the demands of practicum. We took turns bringing lunch throughout those weeks, and for my final turn, I thought smoothies would be the perfect light lunch on a hot, humid Chicago summer day.

So I brought a blender.

The news went viral, the old-fashioned way. Maybe it was the whir of the machine, or that we were walking the halls of the building with glasses (like, actually made of glass) of smoothie, but within a few minutes ALL the other candidates heard that we had a blender in our room and were making smoothies. Our professors heard about it from the others. One or two candidates may have asked if they could have some. The smoothies were legendary. Practically.

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L to R: pineapple-orange-banana, sweet potato, blueberry-banana, everything-but-the-kitchen-sink, spinach-kale-banana.

I started making smoothies around the same time I rowed crew in high school, and would come home from practice even hungrier than the average teenager. Ever since, I've been drinking them as an easily-digestible energy boost before or after workouts, and for breakfast or lunch along with some toast. They're ridiculously easy to make, relatively cost-effective, and lend themselves to endless combinations. I even know some meat heads who will drink them. But only at the gym.

I make mine with non-dairy milk of some kind: soy, almond, hemp, rice, etc. I almost always use banana as the base for my smoothie, in part because the potassium goes well with workouts, and in part because it helps thicken the smoothie. I throw in whatever fruit I have: fresh or frozen, berries or citrus, tropical or North American.

Lately, though, I've wanted to try something a little different. A friend happened to be making a vibrant green smoothie as I was standing in her kitchen, and while the ingredient list didn't make it sound very appetizing, it turned out to taste pretty good. She put several handfuls of baby spinach in the blender, along with some frozen pineapple, protein powder, flax seed oil, and coconut water. It was definitely one of the prettiest smoothies I'd seen in a long time, so I made my own version, adding some kale after seeing a recipe for a greens smoothie on wholefoodsmarket.com. I took the advice of some of the commenters on that site who suggested using a 3:1 or 4:1 spinach:kale ratio. I threw in a banana, a little frozen pineapple, and soy milk and now have a new favorite smoothie. The spinach and kale flavors aren't masked, exactly, but they somehow blend really well with the sweet fruit flavors. There are two things to keep in mind if you make this smoothie:

1. My friend makes this smoothie at night and puts it in a Thermos-type container in the fridge. She grabs it on her way out the door, and it becomes her breakfast while she drives to work. This is a brilliant strategy to save time in the morning while still eating a healthy meal. However, the beautiful green smoothie becomes seriously un-beautiful by morning, and the first time I saw her drink it in the car, I asked, "What IS that?"

2. Green things can get stuck in your teeth.

A fellow food blogger has several videos on her site in which she demonstrates recipes, cooking show-style. In one (episode 8), she makes a sweet potato pie smoothie with leftover sweet potato and a few spices. While I could do without the mmmmmmmmmmms and ooooooooooohs, I loved the idea, so made my own. I didn't use her exact quantities, but added dashes of this, that, and the other. I love the taste of the smoothie, but I haven't mastered the texture yet. Or maybe it's the temperature that isn't right: both times I've made it, I've cooked the sweet potato for the purpose of the smoothie, and so it was either warm or room temperature. If it were cold, and the soy milk were cold, it would probably taste more like a smoothie and less like baby food.

Even the Texan likes smoothies. A few hours after his workout, he makes a smoothie to fuel him until dinner. He uses plain or vanilla yogurt as his base, adds frozen berries, juice, a berry-flavored greens powder, and sometimes chia seeds (which, unlike flax, don't need to be ground to obtain maximum benefit from). The powder, he says, takes some getting used to, but also packs a solid nutritional punch, so a little grit is worth it.

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Not only did the news of the blender survive that day and become the talk of the hallway that week, it survived the summer. A few weeks into a fall semester class with a different professor, my friend Patti, who was one of my Blender Room mates, was discussing her practicum experience with the professor. As if little else mattered, she announced to the professor, "... and Mia brought a BLENDER!"

The professor's response? "So I heard."

Super Fresh

Sunset magazine meets hip-hop culture. Apparently. An article in their April 2011 issue is called "Super Fresh."

As in, "Yo, man, that's fresh!" Which means cool, hip, totally awesome. Not, just picked from the garden.

At least, that's my interpretation.

While I doubt most hip-hop stars would eat Salmon Sesame Salad, and I can't think of any who would eat my version with tofu instead of salmon, I wanted to make the dish anyway. Wearing my old-skool Pumas, of course.

I left out the crispy wontons that were supposed to get sprinkled on top of the salad, but only because I was hungry and didn't feel like taking the time to make them.  They look pretty, though: puffy from frying and sprinkled with sesame seeds.

The salmon in the recipe gets boiled, basically, which probably works flavor-wise because the dressing is poured over it, and salmon has enough flavor to hold its own in the salad. But because I was using tofu, I knew it needed extra flavor before going in the salad. I had some Very Very Teriyaki marinade, and put that in the pan as I sauteed the tofu pieces. I thought this was the perfect flavor addition to the entire dish, and went well with the spicier Lemongrass-Chile Dressing. And yes, I realize teriyaki is Japanese and sambal badjak is Indonesian. But this hip-hop salad is already a total culture clash, so I figured it worked.

Apples, pears, or Asian pears would also work in the salad.

Salmon Or Tofu Sesame Salad

serves 6 as a main course

adapted from Sunset, April 2011

1 1/2 lb salmon filets OR 1 pack extra-firm tofu, drained and sliced into 2-inch pieces

teriyaki marinade (optional)

Kosher salt

3 oranges, sliced (I cut slices in half)

1 medium head napa cabbage, thinly sliced

1/2 lb snow peas, trimmed and halved

8 green onions, sliced

1/4 C coarsely chopped cilantro

2 avocados, cut into 1/2-inch pieces

12 wonton wrappers

1 egg

2 TBSP sesame seeds

vegetable oil for frying

3 TBSP lime or lemon juice

2 TBSP packed light brown sugar

1 1/4 tsp salt

1 1/4 tsp sambal badjak OR sriracha

2 TBSP minced lemongrass

1 TBSP finely grated fresh ginger

6 TBSP canola oil

1. If using salmon, cook it in a large pot of simmering salted water, covered, until just opaque, about 5 minutes. Lift out and let cool. 

If using tofu and marinade, heat 2 TBSP marinade in pan over medium heat. Cook 5 minutes per side, or until browned crust forms on either side. Set aside.

2. If making wontons, pour enough oil into large pot to come up a half-inch on sides. Heat to 360 degrees. Meanwhile, whisk egg with 1 TBSP water. Brush wontons with egg mixture on both sides and sprinkle with sesame seeds. Fry in small batches until golden and puffy. Drain on paper towels and sprinkle with salt.

3. Make dressing: Whisk dressing ingredients together in small bowl. 

4. Assemble salad: combine cabbage, snow peas, oranges, green onions, and cilantro in a large bowl. Toss with 2/3 of dressing. Divide among plates. Arrange either salmon or tofu pieces and avocado on top of salad. Garnish with additional cilantro and dressing. Serve with wonton chips.

Family Feud

A Brief History of Italy
Northerners says risotto is made by dumping all the liquid into the pot at once and letting it cook without any fuss. Southerners says risotto is made by adding the liquid little by little and stirring every now and then.

A Brief History of My Family
My dad, being of southern Italian descent, taught us the slow, arduous method for making risotto. This is sometimes referred to as The Real Way.

Enter Adele
My dad's Significant Other is a Northerner. She is also an excellent cook. Her risotto comes out just fine. This makes enthusiasts of The Real Way uncomfortable.

I used The Real Way tonight to make a simple mushroom risotto. I realized, though, that I couldn't use the northern method until I figured out precisely how much liquid I needed, since adding too much would ruin the dish. I've never paid close attention to the amount, since I just kept adding some until the rice wouldn't absorb any more. So it turns out The Real Way is The Imprecise Way. Or The Lazy Way.

I usually use cremini mushrooms for this dish, though a number of varieties would work. Creminis are relatively inexpensive and easy to find, and add a bit more depth than button mushrooms. I used scallions in place of onions, partly because I had them in the fridge, and partly because I wanted a little extra texture and color in the dish. I used to make this dish with leeks, so I figured scallions were a reasonable substitute, but use whatever onion-esque option you have.

I also decided to throw in a little white wine this time, and it turned out to be one of the best risottos I've made. I used a very inexpensive Sauvignon Blanc I opened for another dish, and it was perfect. The flavor boost was especially helpful now that I don't use any parmesan, though of course wine adds a different note than salty cheese.

As I stood at the stove stirring the risotto, micro-managing the burner output, and adding Just Enough liquid, the thought creeped into my head that Real Way Risotto is a little high-maintenance. It can't be left alone for longer than a minute or two, because if it sticks to the bottom it's over. It can't get over-zealous liquid additions because if too much is added near the end it becomes soggy. Faintly, I could hear my dad's voice from my childhood in my head, high-pitched for dramatic effect: "I slaved all day over a hot stove, working my fingers to the bone to make this for you!"

And suddenly, I remembered the flavor of risotto we used to eat all the time: Real Way Risotto Infused With Guilt.

White Wine-Mushroom Risotto

The entire process should take about 30 minutes.

3/4 C arborio rice

1 3/4 C broth (vegetable or chicken)

1/4 C dry white wine

2 TBSP butter, divided

1 1/2 C sliced cremini mushrooms 

2 scallions, thinly sliced

2 TBSP chopped parsley

salt and pepper, to taste

grated parmesan (optional)

1. Saute mushrooms: heat 1 TBSP butter in a pan over medium heat. Add sliced mushrooms. Cook until dark brown and mushrooms have released liquid. Leave just a little liquid in the pan. Sprinkle with a pinch or two of salt and pepper, and a little chopped parsley. Stir to combine. Remove from heat and set aside.

2. Heat remaining butter in a medium sauce pan over medium-low heat. Add scallions and cook 1 minute. Add rice and stir well to coat grains with butter. 

3. When grains are translucent, add approximately 1 cup of broth. Stir to incorporate, making sure no grains of rice stick to the bottom of the pan. Allow rice to simmer for several minutes, stirring occasionally, scraping bottom of pan.

4. When nearly all liquid has been absorbed (do NOT allow rice to dry out completely), add another 1/2 cup of broth. Repeat process as in step 3. 

5. When nearly all liquid has been absorbed, add wine. Proceed as before. 

6. When wine has absorbed, add remaining broth a little at a time. You may have a few tablespoonfuls left over. Cook until rice is al dente. Add mushrooms and a little more fresh parsley. Adjust salt and pepper to taste. Garnish with parmesan, if desired.

Meat n' Wheat Free

L to R: yams with skin on, platanos fritos, brown jasmine rice with tomatillo-avocado salsa, black beans with jerk, and dinosaur kale. This is a salad plate, not a dinner plate, and after eating everything on it, I am 100% full!

My friend RSJ is a vegetarian. She is also gluten intolerant. Her husband KJ, a carnivore who likes his ground beef nestled between two rounds of wheat, sums up her dietary needs this way: "So basically, you need a meal that is meat- n-wheat-free." Indeed.

I'm not a vegetarian. I'm not gluten intolerant. I don't spend a lot of time thinking up meals that would suit RSJ's needs, especially since we live in different time zones now. But I do eat a few meatless meals each week and have thrown together un plato of sorts that is inspired by some of my favorite cuisines. Best of all, it is free of meat, wheat, and dairy. You know, the  way the other 99% of the planet eats.

There are those who believe that eating a meal with no meat in it is an utter waste of the energy it takes to bring fork to mouth. To this I say, quinoa-barley-seaweed pilaf doesn't really satisfy me either. But when I create meals that are not vegetarian versions of dishes I love, but instead are just good vegetarian meals, I am almost always satisfied.

The July/August 2011 issue of Vegetarian Times features an article on the best veg food trucks across the nation. The mention of one truck's coconut-mashed yams caught my attention, since I firmly believe that everything is better with coconut. Then the plantains ripening on the counter popped into my head. The free association-- I do this a lot when I am cooking-- continued with the jerk seasoning I haven't put on chicken yet, the black beans waiting in the pantry, greens in the crisper, and cilantro growing on the fire escape to go in the rice I wanted to put next to the black beans. (Yeah, I've heard that you don't have to eat these two together to make a complete protein, but I still like the combination.)

The prep and cooking time for this plate is super-fast, making it a good choice for I-got-home-from-work-late-and-I-don't-feel-like-cooking nights. Of course, if you choose to use dried beans and begin soaking them the night before and spend two hours cooking them when you get home from work late, well, hopefully you will earn some kind of Universe Points for your effort. For the rest of us, the beans, rice, plantains, greens, and yams are ready in under 20 minutes.

There are endless variations on this plate. The first time I made it, I added a little pineapple to the rice, along with cilantro. The second time I made it, I added tomatoes to the beans, used only about a milligram of cilantro, and didn't mash the yams. Or add coconut. But in all its incarnations, it is meat-n-wheat-free.

Not pictured: all the other maduros I ate that night.

She's Such a Granola

Last week, I was supervising three students while eighty-something of their peers went on an end-of-year field trip. As these three watched a movie, one began helping herself to a bag of granola that belonged to the teacher whose room we were using had broken into. A second student commented, "That stuff is so NASTY. Ugh. How can you eat that?" The first replied, "Well, Mr. [Granola Owner] loves it. He eats it all the time. So." The third kept quiet, but also didn't eat a single clustered oat out of that bag.

I was reminded of similar conversations at my own high school in which we labeled health- and environmentally-conscious students "granolas." I don't think I got labeled a granola, though I not only ate granola, but ate HOMEMADE granola, which is even more granola than eating the store-bought kind.

Years later, I craved my dad's homemade granola, and wanted to change the stigma of granola from Something That Burned-Out Hippies Eat to Something That Martha Stewart Would Make. I called my dad for the recipe, thinking he had invented his, or at least had modified it significantly from its original source. But no, his recipe was lifted directly from some 1970s vegan how-to-get-holy-while-chanting-naked-with-of-all-your-white-hippie-friends cookbook that was probably printed on reclaimed toilet paper and bound with recycled inner tubes. He told me he began making it during his kitchen shifts at sesshin, his Zen Buddhist meditation retreats. While he was fully clothed, I'm sure, this news was not any I intended to spread around my social circles, and would definitely not convince skeptics of the merits of granola.

Mr. Granola Owner Teacher, though, may be just the ally granola and I need. He happens to be in the middle of a health and fitness campaign whereby he has lost over 30 pounds and competed successfully in his first triathlon. All this, of course, is attributable to his love for and liberal use of granola. 

Non-flavored, Non-Naked Granola
adapted from Some Hippie Cookbook

4 cups rolled oats
1/4 to 1/2 cup sunflower seeds
1/2 cup walnuts (sometimes I like to add halved almonds too)
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 cup honey (I use agave)
1/8 cup oil, such as canola
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 cup raisins


Preheat oven to 325 degrees.
1. Mix together oats, salt, sunflower seeds, and walnuts. 
2. In a separate bowl, combine oil, honey or agave, and vanilla. 
3. Add wet ingredients to dry, and coat oat mixture evenly. Spread on shallow baking sheet. 
4. Bake for 20-25 minutes, stirring every 8-10 minutes. Mixture will be slightly wet but golden brown. 
5. Add raisins. Store in airtight container.

NOTES

*The original recipe says to add the walnuts at the end, but I like them toasted, so I include them in the mix to be baked. 

* You can add other goodies to the mix, such as cranberries, dried apple bits, or cherries. Other nuts work well, too. One of my recent batches included unsweetened shredded coconut. Fabulous.

*This recipe is fairly low in sugar, so it doesn't form the clusters that commercial granola does. This is great for those monitoring their sugar intake, but less great for teachers and their students who like to eat granola straight out of the bag. I like eating it as a cereal in the morning with a bit of milk. 

*Fresh fruit is fantastic in the bowl in the morning. Sliced banana and blueberries are my favorites.

Sweet Things Should Be Soft

A guy I dated said this more than once after I'd baked some sweet creation that was not to his liking.  While I disagree with the statement, and also find it the perfect metaphor for our difficult relationship (me= not so soft. Or is it me= not so sweet?), it happens to be true in one instance.

I had a hankering for caramels, and thought a little bag of hand-made caramels tied with pretty ribbon would make a great gift enclosure, so I looked in an old Fannie Farmer cookbook for a recipe.  And by old, I mean copyright 1937. The recipe seemed quite simple, calling for just 4 ingredients: granulated sugar, corn syrup, heavy cream, and vanilla extract. The directions said to boil the mixture a total of 3 times, never getting hotter than 244 degrees, which, according to my candy thermometer, is the "firm ball" stage. "Firm ball" seems to describe caramels pretty well, so I dove right in.

Chocolate-topped, pecan-crusted toffee.

Oooh, presents!

Part of the test for doneness, says this recipe, is to drop a small amount into cold water and see if it forms a soft ball (first boil/238 degrees) or a "decidedly firm ball" (last boil).  My mixture did form these balls, but not at the specified temperature.  No, mine formed the soft balls at maybe 225 degrees, and formed a hard-as-a-rock ball at 238 degrees. By 244 degrees, I had invented Caramel Life Savers. 

While I wound up with candy in gift bags anyway, I wonder what went wrong.  I actually followed directions this time, knowing that candy-making does not leave much room for improvisation. I found a new recipe today for salted caramels, and notice the ingredient list is much longer: 3 kinds of sugar (white, brown, and corn syrup). heavy cream, butter, vanilla, and sea salt.  Does the additional sugar help stave off the hard crack stage?  Does the butter? I admit I am totally confounded by the science behind this problem, and to add to the confusion, the new recipe calls for heating the mixture to 255 degrees!

Can anyone help with this?

Localvore

About a month ago, a friend handed me a bag with 4 unripe avocados in it.  I had no idea what I was supposed to do with them.  We were going to Santa Cruz with her family, so I wondered if I would be forced to eat hard green avocados on the beach, Filipina-style.  I doubt that's really Filipina-style, but whatever.

It turns out they were from one of the avocado trees in her backyard, which her husband planted and tends lovingly.  I waited patiently for the avocados to ripen, and gave one to my dad since I knew a) he'd like it; b) all four would ripen at once and I'd be avocadoed out. I put one in a bag to speed it along, but heeded the advice of my friend's husband: "If you think it's ready, wait one more day."  When it was finally ripe-plus-one-day, I cut open the freshest, perfectest, most deliciousest avocado I've ever had.

I stood in the kitchen, tasting small bites of the fruit, while trying to decide what to make with it.  I considered making guacamole, but figured that was just so expected.  I thought about adding it to burritos, but didn't feel like preparing all the ingredients.  I remembered the salads we had several nights a week with dinner when I was a kid, and how I'd always steal pieces of avocado off the top while my parents put the finishing touches on the rest of the meal.  But I wasn't really in the mood for salad this night.

By the time I contemplated and rejected several dinner options, I had only a quarter of an avocado left.  It was clear that there was only one thing left to do: polish off the rest!



Leilani and Gary, I can't wait for more avocados!

Oh, and it turns out that Filipina-style avocado eating involves cutting up the avocado and adding sugar and milk.  Hmmm...

Okinawa

I have a thing for purple.  My bedroom was a soothing shade of lavender for years.  I own more than one pair of purple shoes.  Heck, I was even Violet Beauregard in the school play in third grade.  So when an article in Vegetarian Times (January 2010) featured varieties of sweet potato that included a purple one, I knew I had to have some.

It turns out these are not easy to come by.  I finally found them at Berkeley Bowl, selling for almost three times as much per pound as every other variety.  But, I reason, I buy less than a pound at a time and I NEVER waste them.  No, I devour them.  They are the sweetest sweet potato I've ever tasted. They tend to be a bit drier and starchier than other varieties, but that just means I add a little extra butter and milk. Truth be told, most of the time I don't bother to mash or butter.  I roast them in the pan with chicken, so they get lightly coated with the drippings, and become so sweet and tender that they practically melt in my mouth. 

Mashed, with skin on.

Add these Okinawa sweet potatoes to a laundry list of purple foods I've been eating lately.  Tomatoes.  Radishes.  Cherries.  Plums.  Bell peppers at the farmers' market when I lived in the Midwest.  Asparagus comes in purple too, but I was sorely disappointed to discover that it releases its color and turns green when steamed.  Ugh, what a waste.

Purple is so unexpected in the realm of food.  It feels somehow extra-special, powerful, surreal, as if any food that accumulates such an intense pigment has to be other-worldly and somehow magical.  Not sure I'll develop X-ray vision or superhuman strength any time soon, but I will have fun trying.

Saving Some Serious (Star)Bucks

$2.60 x 5 days per week x 4 weeks per month x 10 months per year (I'm a teacher) = $520 worth of soy lattes from Starbucks.
OR
$140 (regular price) - 30% (sale) + $15 (cute cups) + $70 (a year's worth of beans from Trader Joe's) = $185 to make my own espresso.

Translation? I was spending an insane amount of money at Starbucks on coffee (and let's be real here-- you know I also got some lemon pound cake, or an apple-walnut muffin, or some oatmeal).  I'm not one of those omigoddon'teventalktomeuntilI'vehadmycoffee people, but I do become a nicer person after one cup in the morning.  It prevents headaches (no, I'm not addicted-- the headaches came first) and helps me focus, so Starbucks became an integral part of my job performance.  But on a teacher's salary, $500 is a BIG hit.  So I hit up Macy's instead.
 

Check out this bad boy!

The only downside to this machine is its height: it fits a demitasse cup under the spouts where the espresso comes out, not a regular cup.  One could argue that really, that's the way it should be-- an espresso-sized cup fits in an espresso-making machine.  But if I want to make a latte (and I do), I have to pour the espresso into a larger mug, and then I lose a little bit of the foam, which is the best part.  There are bigger problems in the world, I know.  But still.

I'm having just one problem.  Whenever I use non-dairy milk in my coffee, I notice a metallic aftertaste.  I don't like it.  I've tried almond milk (chocolate and regular), hazelnut milk (chocolate), and soy milk (unsweetened). I don't have this problem when I use dairy milk, and I make a darn good latte with all that foamy milk from my machine.  But a) I'm lactose intolerant;  b) if Starbucks can do it without the aftertaste, dang it, so can I!  So what am I doing wrong?   Help!

The key to really good espresso is the grind of the beans.  The big grinder at the store doesn't grind them up well enough, though it's a good start.  Enter my dad's 40-year-old Braun grinder, made in Germany and made to last FOREVER.

This thing is a classic!

The cute little red demitasse cup and saucer is the perfect indulgence in the morning, and makes me feel like I'm in un bar in Italy.  OK, not really-- I hardly notice it as I gulp down the espresso because I'm almost always running late.  

Un espresso (the crema is soooooo good!)

A dairy latte, with good foam.

Lemon pound cake? Stay tuned...