Comunidad Health Foods

Are you sick of jicama yet? I might be, a little, but only because I pretty much single-handedly went through that monster of a root on my own the other week. If people are what they eat, right now I’d  definitely be a big, dense brown root veggie about the size of a small child’s head. So then why am I telling you about more jicama, you ask? Well, mostly because I thought this Thai Jicama Slaw would be a nice segue way between the cilantro jicama recipe from last week and the Thai chicken recipe I have coming up. Plus, a lot of the recipes I’ve been trying lately need some more tweaking and aren’t really blog-ready yet, making it slim pickins around these parts for blogging.

This recipe really came out of my own head with the help of what (little) I know of Thai cuisine and a session of perusing the world wide web. Most jicama recipes you see will incorporate lime and cilantro, and while that’s fabulous (see Heck of a Jicama Salad for proof), I had just gotten through an entire Tupperware container full of that particular recipe. If I didn’t try something new and different, I was going to experience jicama burn out, fast. Thankfully, I also discovered during my research that jicama pairs well with Thai flavors. It just so happens that I had half of a red bell pepper, half of a cucumber, some carrots, sesame oil, and peanuts that I was trying to use up. Clearly, this was fate.

I’m just now realizing that I also had a Thai curry paste sitting in my fridge that I’m trying to use, that would have worked well in this, too. Can’t win ‘em all.

What came out of this abundance of jicama and odd other ingredients I wanted to use was pretty great! It’s not what I would call spicy food, but there is a kick that you get every couple of bites from the crushed red pepper. It’s just as crisp and fresh tasting as other wonderful jicama slaw recipes, yet it’s different from a lot of the flavors you tend to find in them. You could scale back the dressing if you want – it’s pretty heavily dressed, but even the fats used are healthy so don’t let it scare you too much. A lot of jicama recipes don’t call for oil at all. You could also use less jicama and more other ingredients – this would make the slaw a little more vibrant. I just used what I had on hand, and encourage you to do the same.

One Year Ago: Lazy Balsamic Chicken Skillet

Yield: 6 servings

Prep Time: 15 minutes plus approximately 30 minutes to cut jicama¹

Inactive Time: 1 hour

(printable recipe)

3 tablespoons sesame oil

2 tablespoons lime juice

¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

freshly ground black pepper, to taste

375g sliced jicama (approximately half large jicama)

75g cucumber, julienned

40g shaved carrot (approximately 1 carrot)

65g red bell pepper slices

45g chopped snacking peanuts (approximately ¼ cup)

Whisk together the sesame oil, lime juice, red pepper flakes, and black pepper. Add the remaining ingredients and toss well to mix the vegetables and fully coat them with the dressing. Cover and place in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour before serving. Slaw will keep, refrigerated, for up to 2 days.

¹For instructions on how to cut a jicama, see this how-to post

Today is National Caviar Day, the epitome of haute-cuisine and food snobbery, so naturally I planned to write about one of the least sophisticated recipes you could possibly imagine. French Toast is what happens when old food and stinginess come together in one kitchen. Sure, you can get fancied up versions at some of the most upscale brunch venues, but deep down, you know what French Toast is. It’s stale bread made edible with some cheaper still ingredients – eggs and milk. Who would have thought that stubbornness to not waste old food could lead to such a delicious meal? 

It all started last Friday night when we pulled half a loaf of homemade challah (yes, I am holding out on the recipe – I’m still trying to tweak it to get it just right) out of the freezer from 2 weeks before, since all of this internship prep work has left little time for experiments in the kitchen. After one bite, I wrinkled my nose and shook my head – the freezer had not been kind to these slices of once-delicious, eggy bread. There was only one solution: quickly swap out the old challah for a fresher (though not homemade) loaf of bread, and transform the stale bread into French Toast for a leisurely, frugal Saturday morning breakfast the next day.

I found a quick recipe on Eliza Domestica for overnight French toast casserole, which seemed the perfect way to ensure that the challah became fully saturated with the liquid in the recipe, and changed it slightly in the hopes of making a more exotic dish. Within about five minutes I had the casserole in the fridge, ready for the next day. I dirtied 1 liquid measuring cup and about 2 measuring spoons, plus the dish that I baked the casserole in the next morning. If I ever were to have a big group of people over to stay, or for a mid-morning brunch, this is the recipe I would turn to. No questions asked.

It was supposed to be tropical: coconut-almond milk, rum extract, you know. Fancy French Toast. My mom swears she tastes the coconut, but L and I are convinced that she’s just one of those super tasters. You can’t get anything past her. To us, it just tasted like French toast. Delicious French toast, but definitely not Fancy French Toast.  L says he prefers his mom’s, but I think the fact that it came in casserole form and didn’t look like regular French toast weirded him out a little bit; I got a little upset but didn’t let it stop me from enjoying several slices. It’s not overly sweet on its own – but a drizzle of syrup or a pile of fresh fruit (try pineapple chunks and shredded coconut to bring out the tropical flavors I was going for!) is all it needs to make it complete. And once you bite into it, I don’t think you’ll care that deep down, this French toast is more frugal than fancy. 

Most of Rachael Ray’s recipes are fuss-free. They’re straight-up, straight-forward, and downright simple. Mostly. I like this about her recipes. Sometimes, I like putting on heirs and pretending I’m some gourmet chef who owns half a dozen Zagat-rated, 5 star restaurants peppering the entire globe. Like when I decided to make that ridiculously elaborate graduation cake. But a lot of times, it’s just nice to get in the kitchen, throw around some pots, pans, and ingredients, and come out with something perfectly edible though perhaps not all that photogenic.

I was a little surprised, then, when I encountered this recipe in Rachael Ray’s cookbook – couscous and vegetable stacks seemed entirely too fussy amidst the burgers, “sammies,” “stoups” and semi-homemade (oh wait, that’s another FoodNetwork show…) desserts. As good as the dish sounded, it took a while for me to get up the motivation to attempt it.

Rachael Ray’s approach to the stacking process is cumbersome, and antiquated as it tells you to use metal cans with their tops and bottoms removed. Cans aren’t made that way anymore – the bottoms don’t come off. Believe me, I tried. And tried. And handed the can to my mom to try some more. Don’t bother. Really, it’s way more involved than it needs to be. In the final throes of cooking, as I became more and more desperate to get food on the plate and into my belly, I did the biggest hack job of stacking I could think of – I just threw it on the plate. Almost, very nearly, quite literally. And you know what?

It worked. Beautifully.

So take that, Mr. Fussy Veggie Stack. This is how we do things Floptimism style.

Also à la Floptimism, I changed a bunch of the ingredients. It tasted fantastic. I also paired it with some chicken (for the parents) and a nice chickpea and almond salad (for all of us, but really, mostly for me).

This vegetarian dish is light, healthy, and bursting with summer-ness. That is, it would, if it were possible for a food to burst of a season. It is mildly labor intensive, but a lot easier to put together than the original and overall very doable. Enjoy!