use real butter

Recipe: chicken tikka masala

It used to be that I would measure a mile by the number of times (four) around the track. Then it became segments of a route through a lush residential neighborhood during field hockey practice runs. When Jeremy and I met and began hiking and backpacking together, I loved to stand on a high point and look back at where we had started. A short six miles could wind up a valley, around a mountain, over a ridge, and climb to a pass. It’s one thing to read it on the topo map and understand this in a cerebral sense. It’s another thing entirely to behold the majesty of the landscape before you.

golden grasses and rocks mantle the peaks and ridges

We had not hiked Mount Audubon since my birthday almost four years ago. Back then, Kaweah was still strong enough to summit with us and I was unaware I had cancer. A lot can happen over the course of four years and yet the trail was as we remembered it, more or less. When we ski in the backcountry, we’re always looking up and around us. When we hike, we’re usually scanning the trail ahead. I remember that cairn, that split boulder, that bifurcation of the trail, that stream crossing, that trail junction. I know where to expect to see families of marmots, pika, and ptarmigans. I like to think of the mountain structures changing on their geologic time scales – that is, they seldom change in our lifetime – and the mountain environment changing with diurnal or seasonal cycles due to avalanche, rock slide, fire, rain, vegetation, freeze and thaw, wind.

this pika is harvesting plants for the long winter ahead

adolescent ptarmigan in hiding

another pika checking us out at 13,000 feet

jeremy on summit

New trails are exciting, but familiar trails are comforting for me. I suppose it’s like that for cooking or anything for that matter. As far as food goes, my usual progression is to like a dish that has been served to me and then crave it such that I want to learn to make it myself. Except with Indian food. I had this mental barrier. Despite most of the ingredients being things I’ve used or at least heard of, I just didn’t know where to begin. My good friend, Manisha, has been so patient with me. I ask her the same stupid questions over and over and she patiently replies over and over and yet I still didn’t have the guts to make my own Indian food… until last week. It’s such a westernized Indian dish, but it is a favorite to be sure. I had to make chicken tikka masala.

chicken, yogurt, lime, garlic, oil, and spices

mince the garlic, juice the lime, dice the chicken

Everyone says it’s easy to make. They’re right. It is. It’s just a pain to make it for the first time and shoot it too. I tripled the batch to make up for the time investment (hey, you can freeze it). First marinate the chicken in a mix of plain yogurt, lime juice, oil, garlic, and spices. The range was 1 hour to 24 hours. I like the idea of marinades, so I went for 24 hours. Booyah!

put it all in a bowl

mix well then refrigerate

When the chicken is ready, you can either bake it or grill it. I chose to grill it. Just skewer the cubes without packing them too tightly together (because you want the chicken to cook evenly) and grill or bake until they are cooked. Turn them over half-way through the cooking time. On our grill it took a total of seven minutes: four on one side and three after flipping the skewers. Lovely.

skewer

grill (or bake)

**Jump for more butter**

Recipe: bourbon peach hand pies

use real butter was on CNN’s Eatocracy blogger spotlight yesterday if you want to check out the post.

It wasn’t a typical autumn hike, but then again – what’s typical? Autumn can be moody, so pick your permutation: sunny, windy, hot, dry, cool, rainy, overcast, misty. This day was rainy, misty, chilly. We chose a mostly valley hike in the trees with the last mile or so rising above treeline to an alpine lake nestled against the Continental Divide. There is something to be said for walking out into the woods, the mountains, the weather. I like to do it for exercise, but there is so much more than the physical benefit that gets me outside. The clutter in my head dissolves which allows me to think with greater clarity about those things that are important. As I’ve said in the past, I am insignificant when I’m out in Nature. It feels good. It feels right to me. It makes me happy.

young aspen collecting beads of rain

autumn is coming – just look at that glorious red fireweed

Alright, it doesn’t always make me happy. I’m a fan of fun #2, remember? Fun #1 is stuff like lounging on the beach sipping fruity cocktails or stuffing your face on a cruise ship. No interest whatsoever. Fun #2 involves some amount of pain and suffering which is eventually forgotten in favor of “Yeah, we really DID have fun, didn’t we? Right? Right?!” We hiked in a steady, soaking rain in 40°F for several miles up a few thousand feet. The trail became a stream where it was steep and deep puddles or thick mud where it was level. Perfect hypothermia conditions. Arriving at the lake, we saw that the Divide was obliterated by thick clouds that were pouring into the basin. And then I noticed a subtle change in the sound on my jacket hood. Tat tat tat became splat splat splat.

snow at 11,650 feet

jeremy gets bonus points for suffering my photography in the wet and freezing cold

Snow!! The winds were picking up above treeline, so we decided to head back before the weather worsened. We hadn’t seen anyone on the trails all day and then I heard Jeremy call out “hiker!” I looked up and saw a short woman clad in rain gear making her way up the trail toward us. We stepped aside to give her room. She stopped and asked where we had come from, beginning a friendly conversation as the rain continued to fall. Her friends were further back. She told us she had started ahead of them because she’s slow, that she had just recovered from a serious illness.

I looked at her closely. Her face was wrinkled, her hair gray. She had no eyelashes. Her eyebrows were thin… thin in that way I recognized. She referred to her illness in this code language. After a few more exchanges on the wildflowers, the weather, the glorious mountains, I softly asked if she wouldn’t mind telling me what her illness was. I suspected. I was right. She had cancer, had undergone her treatments recently and now she was out in the Colorado high country – in the freezing rain and snow – loving the beauty and feeling rejuvenated. I smiled and nodded. I placed my gloved hand gently on hers, “Yes, I too felt that after my treatments.” I still feel that today.

It’s not something I care to discuss with people unless they ask, but the empathy I shared with this tiny woman – a stranger – moved me to let her know that I understood. She’s had cancer three times and she is seventy-six years old. A fighter in her own quiet way, just trying to live and appreciate this amazing life. And basically kicking ass! I want to be hiking like her if I ever get to seventy-six. She shook her head and gazed at me sadly, “You’re much too young to have had cancer, my dear.” We smiled through quiet tears under the rain. We hugged. I squeezed her hand and she squeezed mine back. Strong. I think we just want to be assured that everything will be okay, except you don’t ever really know. That may be why she and I appreciate our time outside the way we do.

Not more than a few hours later I’m warm and dry at the Boulder Farmers’ Market, selecting perfectly ripe Colorado peaches while telling the farmer at the stand that it was snowing on the Divide that morning. I get to have snow AND juicy, sweet, organic, local peaches in the same day. That’s a mingling of seasons right there, folks. I wanted more peaches because I used up the last batch making something wonderful.

say what you will, but i swear colorado peaches are the best

flour, butter, sour cream, lemon, peaches

I grew up eating a lot of fruit. Fruit was usually our dessert if we had any dessert at all. I still operate in that mindset, although I must admit that the one dessert that really hits me at times is pie. Why not put some of that summer fruit in a pie? And then sometime during the planning of the pie, I’ll just eat the fruit outright and that’s the end of that. But this time I found a recipe for bourbon peach hand pies from Smitten Kitchen that I had to try because I needed an excuse to buy a bottle of bourbon and test a new flaky pastry.

cut cold butter into the flour and salt

whisk sour cream, lemon juice, ice water together

pour in half the liquid

mix it with your hands

pat the loose clumps of dough together into a ball

**Jump for more butter**

Recipe: watermelon frozen yogurt

Note on the raffle: I’m extending the deadline for entering the raffle for a fine art print to midnight MDT, Monday, August 29, 2011.

Jeremy and I generally avoid going to town (Boulder) on weekends because we like our mountain solitude and because we’re in Boulder during the week for work as it is. But my parents made last minute changes to their Yellowstone vacation due to Hurricane Irene and decided to head home to Virginia to check on their home rather than continue on to Portland. This put them in Boulder for the night at their condo. We decided to drive down to meet them for dinner at The Kitchen so they wouldn’t have to worry about cooking and cleaning up before having to leave for the airport in the morning.

first course: roast beef with heirlooms, rabbit sausage and cabbage

second course: local melons drizzled with oil, basil, hawai’ian volcanic black sea salt

second course: gnocchi, pesto, and local tomatoes

veal chops on mashed purple potatoes with sweet peppers

wild salmon on succotash with basil and fresh tomato purée

There was dessert too (Eaton mess and chocolate nemesis cake), but I was in too much of a food coma to grab a pic. That and they turn the lights waaaay down at sunset for some reason. On the drive home, I told Jeremy how delighted I was with the meal. And that got me thinking… There are some fantastic dining deals to be had in Boulder whether you’re a local or just visiting. Here are my favorites:

1) Community Night at The Kitchen: $35 per person (does not include beverages, tax, or tip) for dinner at a table of ~20. Maximum party size is 6 so you can get to know your community. Set menu (decided by the chef that day). Several courses, usually anywhere from 9-13 different plates served family style, locally sourced as much as possible, fresh, simply and perfectly prepared. Excellent staff. Great wines and cocktails. Monday nights. Call at least a few weeks ahead for reservations. AMAZING.

at the community night table

2) Wine Dinners at Frasca: $50 per person (does not include beverages, tax, or tip). Cuisine inspired by Friuli, Italy and impeccably executed. Set menu for four courses: antipasto, primo, secondo, and dolce, individually plated. You don’t come here to consume food, you come here to savor it. Modest servings are paced throughout the evening. Terrific wines. Flawless service. If you’re lucky, charming owner and master sommelier, Bobby Stuckey, will come by and say hello. Monday nights. Reservations recommended.

team food and light at frasca’s wine dinner

3) Family Dinner at The Kitchen: $47 per person (does not include beverages, tax, or tip). The set menu is decided by the chef that day and served family style for the entire party. Four courses consisting of two plates for each course: appetizers, salad and/or pasta, mains, and dessert. The same superb fare and service you come to expect from The Kitchen time and time again. Served any night. (They don’t take reservations for parties under 5).

4) Happy Hours around town are something else in Boulder. There are a lot of them and they not only serve discounted drinks, but truly delightful food. Some of my favorite happy hours include: Bacaro, Brasserie 1010, The Med, The Kitchen Upstairs, Jax Fish House and many many others.

diane loves happy hour oysters at brasserie 1010

If you’re a local, I’d love to hear about your favorite deals on other great eats!

Now here I have a summery recipe for you, to be sure. I walked into a relatively new frozen yogurt joint in Boulder one very very hot day this summer. Spooners lets you sample the dozen flavors they have on tap. I went around tasting the fruity flavors, because I’m all about fruity. But their watermelon fro yo stopped me in my tracks. It was real watermelon, not the fake Jolly Ranchers watermelon flavor. I was obsessed with it. This was a bad thing. Every time I drove down to Boulder I began to crave that yogurt. And then when I finally allowed myself to return a few weeks ago, I discovered that watermelon had rotated out. Dang! So I did what any self respecting food blogger would do…

organic, seeded, and oh so sweet watermelon

dice up two cups’ worth

**Jump for more butter**