It’s also 4:30. Really?

Gag me. Daylight savings time has just ended.

I’ll get over it. It just takes me a few days. The highlight of standard time is, of course the fact that the mornings are a little brighter. (And it’s a good thing, I was beginning to feel like a farmer when my alarm went off.) Bright mornings mean bright breakfasts, and that to me means granola. Granola that’s just the slightest bit naughty.

How is this granola naughty you might ask? By the addition of cocoa nibs– roasted and cracked cocoa beans. I love a good nib. They give you a hit of chocolate flavor, without being sweet. In fact, I have always thought that they were rather fruity. A nib is crisp, dark, mysterious– and perfect for making granola.

The nibs in this granola are sort of like an additional nut, and tossed with tangy dried apricots it makes the perfect not too sweet granola. I would even call this granola restrained. (If you think that eating chocolate first thing in the morning is restrained.)

Cocoa Nib Granola

2 cups rolled oats
1/3 cup cocoa nibs
3/4 cup shredded coconut, unsweetened
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon honey
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup chopped raw almonds
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
pinch of salt
1/4 cup chopped dried apricots

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees.

In a medium sized bowl toss oats, nibs and coconut together. Set aside.

In a saucepan over medium heat, melt the oil and butter. When entirely liquid, add the brown sugar, honey, and almonds, and cook for about 2 minutes, or fragrant. Turn off the heat and add the vanilla and the salt. Pour this mixture over the oat mixture. Toss well to coat, creating clumps of oats.

Pour onto a baking sheet and bake for 10 minutes, toss well, and then bake for an additional 10-15 minutes. Add the apricots, and toss again. Cool completely, and then store in an airtight container. Granola will last for quite some time, 2 weeks if you’re lucky.

I’ve made some changes, like adding categories, tags and a more robust search. I think when all is said and done, the site will be easier to use. I’m in the process of categorizing everything. I’m over half-way complete, and I’m hoping you’ll have more luck searching for recipes, and even discovering some you hadn’t known about.

Most likely, you will be searching for salad– because apparently that is all I eat and “cook.” When searching, go to the vegetable (or fruit at times) category, and I have tagged all of the posts, salad. Daikon salad? Done it. Thai melon salad? Got that too. What about three bean? That’s there also. Salad, salad, salad. I heart you.

Happy searching!

Sure, we all know the typical chips and salsa pairing, and it’s great– a standard. But as an accoutrement to chicken cutlets, pounded, aggression-releasing, with a kitchen mallet, then dredged and fried in crisp cornmeal, what could be better? Or what about baked, as the liquid to savory Mexican-style rice, sound good? I haven’t thought of a way to incorporate the salsa into a dessert, but give me a bit of time.

Tomatillos, the star of this condiment, are like tomatoes, in that they are members of the nightshade family; but that is where the similarities end. Tart and acidic, they are the green fruit that you taste in many Latin American dishes. Ranging from 1-2 inches in diameter, with a papery, inedible husk, tomatillos are relatively easy to find in American grocery stores, and most definitely in Latin American markets. A good thing because I know that you all will be running out to purchase them as soon as you know how simple the salsa is to make.

The only things required in this assemblage are a blender or food processor, and your oven, since this is a cooked salsa. With just a handful of ingredients, you can make up a batch of tomatillo salsa anytime you choose. The recipe I used comes from the incomparable Mary Sue Milliken and Susan Feniger restaurant The Border Grill, and can be found in their cookbook Mesa Mexicana.

Roasted Tomatillo Salsa
from Mesa Mexicana

Makes 2 1/2 cups

1 pound tomatillos, husked and washed
6-8 garlic cloves
1-2 jalapeno peppers, stemmed and seeded if desired
1 bunch cilantro, leaves only
3/4 cup water
1 teaspoon salt
pinch of black pepper

Preheat the broiler. Place tomatillos, garlic, and jalapenos in a baking tray. Broil, turning frequently, until evenly charred, 15 minutes. The trick to keeping the garlic from burning is to tuck it under the tomatillos. Remove from broiler and set aside to cool.

Transfer the roasted ingredient to a food processor. Add cilantro and water, and puree until smooth. Season with salt and pepper. Store in the refrigerator for 3-5 days, or the freezer for weeks.

I had eaten chestnuts, fresh from the shell once before as a child. I had taken winter holiday with my family in England. We were out for an evening stroll at a holiday fair, the air was bitter cold, my nose was turning rosy from the temperature, and my hands were jammed into my dad’s pockets. (His hands were always warm, no matter the temperature outside.) My dad stopped to buy a little glassine bag of chestnuts, that truly were roasting over an open fire. Quickly I grasped the bag, anxious to receive any bit of warmth from this new snack food. Slowly I pried the nut from its hardened exterior and tasted the mellow, sweet flesh. I remember holding the nut on my tongue for far too long as it grew soggy and began to disintegrate, but I was hoping to warm myself from the inside out.

It’s funny how I had forgotten this memory until I was at the market last week, and literally bumped into a container of imported Italian chestnuts. Shiny and raw, they were simply crying out to be taken home. But what to do with a chestnut and no open fire? Well roast them in the oven that’s what, and here’s how: It is important to score the bottom of each nut with an “X.” This causes the steam to be released, and the nut becomes much easier to peel. Then roast in a 425 degree oven for 20-30 minutes, or until the shell begins to blister and crack. Remove from the oven, and peel to your heart’s content, when the nut is cool enough to touch, but still warm enough to make your mouth purse when you take that initial bite.

Chestnuts are so pleasing when peeled. They look like golden little brains, and are delightfully simple in taste– rich, slightly sweet, and meaty. I ate some unadorned, standing in the kitchen, peeling then eating, peeling then eating, a gentle rhythm guiding me through the process. When I had my fill of eating, I continued to peel. I then crushed the remains, and had them that evening sauteed in butter, and added to brussel sprouts– a true winter time treat!

If you haven’t had roasted chestnuts yet and want to give them a try, have no fear now that Christmas time is over… There is always New Year’s!

My brother-in-law is English, so whenever he and my sister travel to the U.K. to visit family, I always have a few requests to be filled. Marks and Spencer underwear, because they make VPL moot; British milk chocolate, so smooth and creamy; and of course, crunchy crisps, so delightfully bizarre. And this year they delivered.

Compared to the Brits, our Classic, BBQ, Sour Cream and Onion, and if you get really racy, Ranch Style, seem so tame. Now that is not to say that roast chicken flavor chips, chock full of preservatives, brimming with salt and MSG are necessarily good for you, but they do present an interesting side note. Just what is a junk food anyway? Sure chips are garbage, but when they are flavored with something as wholesome as roast chicken , or as avant as Peking duck, it makes the chips seem almost good for you.

Oh… and these meat flavored chips are bizarrely vegetarian– —yes even vegetarians can enjoy an additive laden, chicken dinner chip, without the guilt. But is the American palate ready for a side of Hoisin sauce with their hot dog and Coke? Something tells me no.

Anyone who has made the cross-country move knows what I mean when I say, “It’s a giant pain in the ass!” With packing up belongings, finding a place to live, waiting for the said belongings to reach NYC, etc., it’s going to be a little difficult to get around to cooking, and to blogging. As I pack away my pots and pans, I think about favorite dishes that have been made with them. Having been born and raised in the Bay Area with a wealth of California produce, I am sad to see the local spherical summer fruits roll away. But I am excited to explore a new city (one as rich and lively as New York), to sample new cuisines, and to buy new groceries.

So until I return to the blogosphere (which won’t be too terribly long, I hope) I leave you with the Dancin’ Man from Central Park. Obviously, he’s excited about the move as well.