BELLY

… throughout my career, i have found that to be the case.  whether we are talking about petulant diners, or crazy-making bosses, i have always found that shit always becomes more hectic than it ever needed to be w/a hungry nigga in the mix.  the energy - desperate/unfulfilled/survival mode isn’t really good for much.
& when we are no longer speaking of mouth/stomach hunger but soul/gonad hunger?   take that result & multiply it exponentially:  horny niggas are the worst…

 experiment with kissing first.

so happy valentine’s day, lovies!!!  this is the post i’ve been waiting for my damnself - since my lit-kitchen idol vertamae refused to give up the info on such things in vibration cooking - she said something like,  ‘& i won’t even get into those secret ingredients;  either they won’t work & y’all will be mad, or i’ll end up on the list of house un-american activities…’  i am paraphrasing…

still, that one line lit such a fire under my ass to find REAL aphrodisiacs, that it was w/a strong sense of acid-trippy-ness that i sat in the presence of my most devastatingly sexxxy grrrrrrl, who is now a trained tantrika (daughter/practitioner of the tantric arts), in the white tiger sect, as she broke down to me what foods  open the  gateway to nirvana.  so without another moment of introduction, here it is, y’all, (w/the help of my sensuous sis, D)

 then use your hands; feed each other

aphrodisiacs…  a couple of questions, a couple of answers:

belly:  do real aphrodisiacs exist?
sexxxy D:  yes. They are real chemicals & stimulate natural substances in the brain - ones related to arousal.  Some of the most potent ones are the ones that resemble genitalia:  (Figs - I feel they look just like nut sacks, & that’s true externally, but when dissected, my tantrika grrrrrl emphasized, they look more like female genitalia. “Clams then!” I exclaimed.  Oysters, was the reply. Not only do they basically mirror the feminine genitalia, but the pheromones of the oysters are proven) b vitamins, found in oysters, for example, are essential to testosterone/estrogen production are what to look for when providing a sense igniting feast to your lover.

b:  what is tantric food?
D:  foods that activate the five senses foods & are designed to put you in an awareness of the five elements as they interact with your body. Sex is a creative force that moves throughout our bodies & feeds our emotions, our thoughts, creating feelings of desire.when we experience sexuality we experience it as raw, unrefined. this is how we want to think about food when we are trying to create a pleasurable sexual experience. it’s very much about understanding the physical/spiritual balance w/our food & our sexual essence, so it goes much deeper than the physical. Sex happens whether we are aware of it or not. So the point is to raise the vibration to realize that however we get off, that the energy is a force that we need to learn to move it consciously throughout the body as a healer & a manifester. sexual energy is kidney related, so foods that positively affect our kidneys, positively affect our sex lives.

 incorporate the touching while you do this:  explore every sensation with your entire body/being

b:  How does this relate to food?
D:  1 -  Heart energy is directly connected to communication.
2 - Communication is directly manifested through the tongue. This is why food is a direct path to the heart, but but the heart is pumping that love energy to the brain, & the brain controls all. Aphrodisiacs are about working w/ the direct essence of sex - through the brain, which processes all sensation, including & especially those related to taste/smell.

b:  How does the food we eat affect the energy that we connote to our partner?
D:  1 - the healthy function of our organs is directly connected to the healthy function of our genitalia.   with chocolate, the love chemical dopamine is released when you eat it, as when you are peaking in orgasm - it is associated w/attraction/euphoria.  so since food directly affects our energetic structure, the vibrations that this produces are what affect your partner.

in relation to this, & for your (erotic) pleasure, dear friends, i have for you today,

fondue for fornicators!

melt chocolate in a double boiler.
add cinnamon, cardamom, powdered rose petals, & honey

fruits are bananas -
oranges
strawberries
& of course, figs

dip. paint. eat.  feed.  please.  enjoy.

serve w/jasmine green tea, & champagne  - the champagne & jasmine for the aphro qualities, the green tea for the much needed caffeine - if this goes the way it’s supposed to, you’ll be up all night -   

really focus on the sensations of the textures on your skin in your mouth and then progress to eating off the body 

Happy Valentine’s Day, lovies!!!

thank you for your time!

actual writers started to reach out, y’all.  & a nigga was shook.  among those writers doing the reaching was SRP, a grrrrrrl whom i never thought would have any interest in me whatsoever.  she?  is of course brilliant, of course adorable, of course Zora-ish,  a southern grrrrrrl who came north to study, oh, Harlem, & to take poetic notes on the state of the ‘lem (is that corny? - calling Harlem the ‘lem???   b/c my friends broke on me without mercy when i debuted it, yet i still think it’s DOPE).  & a number of awards, book tours, & Vogue interviews later, she is a rock. mothafuckin. star.  so why would she be interested in my lil ???  my puzzlement was only amped up further when she approached the aforementioned mac- diva who heads Witches Brew & People’s Kitchen, my catering company, to provide sexy apps for the Transitions party in the west village.   Transitions was founded 50 years ago, & is a Ugandan magazine.

Ugandan, huh?  no, i am not a fan of Idi Amin, as S wanted to know.  @ which point i became aware of what a dick she must have thought i was for even asking her to assist me on the job.  “i’m Paki/East Indian.  or didn’t you get that?” she barked.  & she was so, so, right - but Idi Amin notwithstanding, (& who, let us remember, committed so many crimes against - humanity for chrissakes which includes Africans as well as East Indians) the Transitions party had to get done.  Ironically, Transitions was started by an East Indian person, & apparently, although most of them were cast out, during the cat’s disgusting/infamous financial/ethnic “cleansing”, Indian food is so dope, that Ugandans still held the food close to their hearts. This created one of the most organic fusions there are: Afro/Indo…  now this is not fusion that is created by some bored elistist chef.  this is fusion created by history;  by life.

the menu had to 3 be things:

1 - hors d’ouvres-ish,

2 - true to Ugandan exoticism, &

3 - hot. to. def.

100% sure you’ve heard the term petro, right?  it means scurrrrrrrrrrred.

an extensive online search revealed the national dish, Matooki.  Matooki (i love saying that.  matooki.  who wouldn’t want to eat that?) is defined by soft, stewed or pureed plantains, w/highly flavored meat/fish/poultry.  traditionally, Ugandans like their matooki steamed in banana leaves; but i don’t love the taste of banana leaves.  so a substitution w/cabbage was key:

Matooki:

Ugandan Meatballs w/Yogurt Sauce:

8 oz.  plain yogurt

1/4 tsp salt

1 hot red chilli, finely chopped

3 tbsp chopped parsley

3 slices wholewheat bread

3 eggs beaten

1 tbsp Worcestershire sauce

280g dry breadcrumbs

200g deep-fried onion slices

3 garlic cloves, minced

2 tbsp freshly-grated ginger

1/2 tsp ground cumin

1/2 tsp crushed coriander seeds

4 tbsp chopped fresh parsley

1 hot chilli, de-seeded and chopped

2 lbs. minced beef

 26 oz. vegetable oil

Method:

mix together the yogurt, salt, first chilli and 3 tbsp chopped parsley in a bowl. Set this dipping sauce aside.
meanwhile soak the slices of bread in water for 3 minutes. Remove from the water and squeeze out the excess water.
Crumble the bread into a large bowl then add the eggs and Worcestershire sauce. Mix-in the dried breadcrumbs, fried onions, garlic, ginger, ground cumin, coriander seeds, remaining parsley and chilli.
Add the beef and work with your hands until completely combined. Roll the mixture into walnut-sized balls and place in the fridge for an hour to set.

Heat the vegetable oil in a wok, until almost smoking, then cook the meatballs in the oil a few at a time until brown and crispy on the outside (about 4 minutes).
Remove from the oil with a slotted spoon and place to drain on kitchen paper.

Insert a toothpick in each meatball and serve with the yogurt dipping sauce.

smoked fish Matooki:

6 green plantains

3 pounds smoked fish of your choice, whitefish or other, flaked off the bone

2 ½ tablespoons ghee, or margarine

1 cup flour

1 medium onion, sliced

2 medium tomatoes, sliced

1 cup stock

A little milk and butter

Salt and pepper to taste

Melt 2 tablespoons of the ghee or margarine in a pan.  Sprinkle the flour on a plate and roll the fish in it, and then cook them in the fat until they turn golden brown.  Remove from the pan and set to one side.

Now soften the onion in the pan for 5 minutes and then add the curry powder and, after about 1 minute, the tomatoes.  Let them cook for a few minutes and then put the fish pieces back in.

Next, pour on the stock, add the salt and pepper and simmer, covered, for approximately 30 minutes until the smoked fish is tender.

While that is happening, boil some water in a saucepan and cook the plantains in their skins for 20-25 minutes until they are soft.  Then take them out of the pan and let them cool a while.  When you can handle them, peel off the skins and mash the plantains in a bowl, adding a little milk and butter, salt and pepper.

Put the plantain mash into the bottom of a serving bowl.  Place the cooked fish pieces on top and pour over the sauce.  serve.

the chicken matooki is made much the same as the fish but w/chicken:

6 green plantains

3 pounds chicken skinned and cut into joints

2 ½ tablespoons ghee, or margarine

1 cup flour

1 medium onion, sliced

2 TBSP. teaspoon curry powder

1 cup stock

coconut milk

Salt and pepper to taste

same method as above

& although a nigga was already pressed, & although a recipe test had yet to happen, i always find that the best time to explore uncharted territory w/a brand new recipe is the night of a really important catering job, right?

right.  heh-heh.

gulab jamun, then:

1 cup dry milk powder

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons ghee (clarified butter), melted

1/2 teaspoon baking powder1/2 cup warm milk

1 tablespoon chopped almonds (optional)

1 tablespoon chopped pistachio nuts (optional)

1 tablespoon golden raisins (optional)

1 pinch ground cardamom

1 quart vegetable oil for deep frying

1 1/4 cups white sugar

7 oz.. water

1 teaspoon rose water

1 pinch ground cardamom

in a large bowl, stir together the milk powder, flour, baking powder, and cardamom. Stir in the almonds, pistachios and golden raisins. Mix in the melted ghee, then pour in the milk, and continue to mix until well blended. Cover and let rest for 20 minutes.

In a large skillet, stir together the sugar, water, rose water and a pinch of cardamom. Bring to a boil, and simmer for just a minute. Set aside.

Fill a large heavy skillet halfway with oil. Heat over medium heat for at least 5 minutes. Knead the dough, and form into about 20 small balls. Reduce the heat of the oil to low, and fry the balls in one or two batches. After about 5 minutes, they will start to float, and expand to twice their original size, but the color will not change much. After the jamun float, increase the heat to medium, and turn them frequently until light golden. Remove from the oil to paper towels using a slotted spoon, and allow to cool. Drain on paper towels and allow to cool slightly.

Place the balls into the skillet with the syrup. Simmer over medium heat for about 5 minutes, squeezing them gently to soak up the syrup. Serve immediately, or chill.

 ***note:  i added a good deal more flour to these to make the dough more silky - i’d advise you to do the same - 1/2 cup to 1 cup more, depending on your humidity, altitude, texture preference…

b/c i was making my own samosa skins (& b/c of the gulab jamun above, i had to make a visit to my favorite people, India Spice & Sweet (in the aforementioned curry hill, east 20’s).  the owners are two:  1 grumpy bespectacled salt-&-pepper-haired cat, sturdy build who doesn’t like people or talking to them, & 1 lean, dark haired, wide-eyed sweetie who is always kind.  i love them both.  many years ago, after a pro-kitchen-induced 19th nervous breakdown, while reneging on yet another promise to NEVER return to kitchens again, i was once again smelling/fondling musing on spices/flours/dal for a party of 100.  i felt out the game, seduced, & was riddled w/pre-party jitters/performance anxiety.  the grumpy one made his way over to me, looking down over his spectacles. while i braced myself for some sort of quasi-racist/patriarchal BS, he wished me well.

“good.  after such a long time, you are cooking again.”

i turned my head away from him to hide the emotion/tears in my eyes. (- b/c it was true!  it had been forever - @ least 3 months - since i had made a bunch of beautiful food for a large group of people.  & during that time, my life felt… bloodless -)  when i turned back, my mind was crystal clear.  ‘yes’, i knew,  ‘this is what i am meant to do’.

the job/samosas went as smooth as silk.

Samosas (india) or , Sambuzas (uganda) in any language, a must:

This recipe will make enough skins for 24 samosas and you will need:

2 cups plain flour

2 tsp. salt

2TBSP. vegetable oil

scant 3 oz. warm water.

Mix flour and salt into a bowl. Make a well into the centre and add the oil and enough water to make a firm dough. Knead the dough on a floured surface until smooth and roll into a ball. Cover in plastic wrap and set aside at room temperature for 30 minutes.

Divide the pastry into 12 equal pieces. Roll each piece into a ball and roll out into a circle of 6 - 8 in.. Divide this circle into two equal pieces with a knife.

Brush each edge with a little water and form a cone shape around your fingers, sealing the dampened edge.

Fill the cases with a TBSP of your chosen mixture and press the two dampened edges together to seal the top of the cone.

Deep fry the samosas in hot oil until crisp and brown take out and drain on a paper towel.

3 Potato boiled, then peeled & diced

2 cloves of crushed garlic

1 Onion finely chopped

2 TBSP minced scallions

1 TBSP vegetable oil

2 tsp. curry powder

1 -3 curry leaves

1/2 tsp. mustard seed

Salt, Pepper to taste

Heat the oil in a frying pan, add the onion and garlic, curry leaves & mustard seed, till popping.  mix in  the spices and fry until soft. Add the curry powder potatoes & stir well until coated. cover & simmer on extremely low heat  for 30 minutes until cooked.  see recipe above for filling directions ***note*** the sauteed onions should add enough water, but if the liquid dries up, you may add coconut milk to moisten, or veg stock.

thank goddess i was in the process of revisiting the fearless, inspirational writings of my lit-kitchen idols, Vertamae Smart Grosvenor.  my grrrrrrl N,  the hot to def blogger who puts out  http://thehotness.com/  was kind enough to offer me the opportunity to review her seminal cookbook/memoir Vibration Cooking for her site.  again i thought, N’s a real writer.  a review from me.  really?

a few years ago, while catering a book festival @ http://www.faisonfirehouse.org/index.php thrown by my grrrrrrl, the epic M, i met a gorgeous, lanky sis.  we were shooting the breeze on things culinary & such, & she was kind enough to hear out some of my food philosophy.  just as i got to the part about how ancestral food moves souls from place to place, she sneered, “oh christ. another food freak.  you’re a real weirdo.  you’re just like my mom.”  “well, what does your mom do?” i queried, praying the woman wasn’t like, an accountant who cooks for fun on the weekends, then crows about the recipes for months afterward.  her slow sideways smile revealed itself.  she said, “Vertamae Smart-Grosvenor.  that’s my mom.”

i.  died.

Vertamae is the BOMB!  she has been the wind beneath my wings (sorry Whitney…) for damn near as long as i’ve been cooking/writing.  she is a woman who continued the legacy of cookbook memoirists, a special niche; part of a teensy club of women who write this way:  MFK fischer (non-fiction) & Laura Esquivel (magical reality/fiction) among them.

 Verta is the rarest bird:  number one, she one of the extreme few black beats i know of.  there are other lady beats:  Hettie Jones, Diane DiPrima, Joyce Johnson,  et al. she, however is the only black grrrrrl.  beats are the cultural predecessors to hippies or freaks.  they were way ahead of their time: an introspective group of counterculture artists who obsessively documented themselves/the shifting world around them through film, literature, theater, & visual art.  They pre-dated every group of hipsters w/regard to sexual experimentation, the embracing of eastern philosophy/religion/theosophy, & of course, the liberal use of hallucinogens.  They are the original beret-wearing (a sartorial nod to a french/existential aesthetic) poetry performing (the early 90’s spoken word takeover is a grandchild of this movement), finger snapping (clapping is SO uncool), interracial dating hipsters.  She is a member of a movement that includes Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Amiri Baraka. 

She lives her philosophy, attracting all types of people (like Charles Fuller, Archie Shepp, & Lou Gossett jr.) into her kitchen/life, & a visit w/her is nothing if not enlightening…

Vertamae freed me from the shackles of the printed word/image & allowed me to create my culinary world @ will & she will free you, too, so that any cookbook becomes a template - to be revised for the free expression of the food of your soul  - she doesn’t quote any japanese recipes, but i’d be lying if i said that she had nothing to do w/my decision to make sushi - while having the nerve to be both black & a woman.  (i’mma write a book called ‘having the nerve’ one day… an ‘as told to’… ya.)  it was strictly through Vertamae’s irreverent meanderings that i gathered up  the courage to think to myself:  ‘now all the fabulous home cooks in japan are not cookbook authors;  hell all the fabulous professional chefs in japan aren’t either.  but millions are happily eating delicious food there every day.  maybe if i learned the concepts…’

&   that’s how it all began.

which leads me to the next toe-curling suspense of the next job, procured, according to Mac Diva/Witches Brew, when one of the management of the so SO fly Urban Bush Women attended the Transitions party, & decided that we should handle the food/drinks for UBW’s 25th anniversary. - talk about honored.

a charmed event all around, i served sushi, which is cited in the death/redemption post on this ,  & an encore of the gulab jamun.  & even though i had a great time, w/the dancers & Mac Diva mocking me for part time wrapping sushi, & part time boogie-ing down to the ground (the best DJ!!!  this grrrrl was smokin.) - who could hold back tears @ Jawole’s exhortations to the revelers:  “please dance to 1 james brown, 1 parliament funkadelic, & please be happy”…  but y’all know what a crier i am.

why are all of these things converging @ once, i asked my self. & then it began to dawn:  the realization that spiritual/extended/creative unconscious-wise, we outspoken/renegade/creatrixes are all daughters of Vertamae, whether we are aware of it or not, in the way that Thelonious Monk & Mingus are children of Duke Ellington.  in the same vein as  Prince/Michael Jackson/All of Hip-Hop are sired by  James Brown.  like how Macy Gray & Erykah Badu are both spiritual/vocal progeny of Billie Holiday.

we black bohemian grrrrrrrrrrls - the Siren, S, KRG, Mac Diva, SRP, N, et. al., are all children of the joy of Jawole, which was preceded by the genius that is Vertamae, which was preceded by none other than Zora herself.

this is our legacy. -

speaking of legacies, i never doubted that i was my mother’s daughter.  & the potty mouthed chef  MUST have gotten it from somewhere, right?  but this rant cements forever in my mind the adage, “i get it from my mama”

we were discussing the sorry-assed state of affairs when a fat, unnatractive prick like Rush Limbaugh gets to, for any reason whatsoever, critique the looks of our grrrrrrrrl Michelle:

“I know right? How DARE them mothafuckas - when you KNOW the president’s wives have traditionally been butt-ugly - let’s go back as far as i can remember - Theodore… what is it again?”

“Roosevelt?”  I sputtered, already reduced to pee-type laughter.

“That’s it.  whose fuckin’ wife looked like she she escaped from a zoo.  Talkin’ bout he had polio.  He ain’t had no damn polio.  She beat the shit outta him after she prolly caught his ass w/the babysitter or some shit.  & what enquiring minds really need to know its, how could he have done that without the help of the secret service?  the president is constantly shadowed.  & please.  don’t even get me started on Jackie O.  Niggas wanna be like ‘she’s so beautiful’.  Glamorous - now i’ll give her that.  But that was one weird looking little bitch!”

@ this point, the whole scenario has me literally choking.  how did we get here?  i wondered as i reached for a glass of water & waited to stop laughing long enough to drink it.  but mom was relentless.  i did want to know one last thing:

“Did Teddy Roosevelt die of polio?”

“I already told you!  he ain’t had no damn polio!  That horsey-looking broad - & you know she was some sort of distant cousin of his, right? - which makes sense, b/c how else were they going to marry that ass off? - & you know they do that gross shit to keep the money in the family…

Mmm Mmm Mmm… & they wanna talk shit about Michelle…”

the apple doesn’t fall far.

& speaking of moms.  check out my brief interview w/Mrs. Knowles about menu planning, in this month’s Uptown Wedding issue!

http://uptownmagazine.com/2011/12/weddings-travel-mother-knowles-best/

thank you for your time!!!

Happy Solstice & allathat…

& love, of course.

You knew it was coming and here it is! The first book review in theHotness “Reading is Sexy” Series. Written by the self-described ‘potty-mouthed chef,’ mom & blogger, Stefanie Kelly, this review will break down the best of “Vibration Cooking” and make you a believer in hot skillet spirituality.

Vertamae Smart-Grosvenor is a charmed culinary master. She is the engaging and evocative author of “Vibration Cooking: Or The Travel Notes Of A Geechee Girl.” We love Vertamae for a number of different reasons. Among them: she is a world traveled grrrrrl from the geechee south. she once danced and sang with Sun Ra’s Afro-Futurist Arkestra. and she burns like a pyromaniac.

From her Southern beginnings she evolved into a fearless visionary who became both worldly and otherworldly through her self-education, bravery, and paradoxically, through her firm, sure-footed grounding in her original self. After befriending an almost famous young Nina Simone  , she took it upon herself to migrate to Paris. In a series of the hilarious stories and vignettes that make up her cookbook/ memoir, she mentions that she was tall, and ungainly, that she fled the south to not feel this way. By the time she’d returned, having lived in Paris and NYC’s legendary L.E.S. in the early ’60′s, and even though she’d grown at least another inch, she no longer felt odd. This wanderlust is one of the most important reasons for the special place she holds in my heart.

And with regard to free-thinking cookbooks , she broke the mold. Apparently, she came to the art of cookbook writing because, as a true renaissance woman, she wanted to show her creativity and having mused on the axiom write what you know, she borrowed a friend’s typewriter and birthed a legend in 1970 when her “Vibration Cooking” was first published.

she is a freedom fighter~

Her weapons: the spatula and the pen. When a supercilious jackass from Time Magazine put down soul food as “fatty, overcooked and under-seasoned,” our grrrrl did not mince words: “Sirs: You have the bad taste to say that soul food is tasteless. Your taste buds are so racist that they can’t even deal with black food. Your comment that the ‘soul food fad’ is going to be short-lived is dumb. But then your whole culture is made up of short-lived fads. So you white folks just keep on eating Minute Rice and instant potatoes… and stick to your instant culture. And I will stick to the short-lived fad that brought my ancestors through 400 years of oppression.” It is this blending of the down home/erudite sophisticate that informs her life and in turn the book, and the mix is intoxicating.

With chapter titles like “Nat Turner Apple/Pork Thing” and “Forty Acres and a Jeep” how could “Vibration Cooking” be anything else but magical? The recipes are about her thoughts leading up to the food, the situation(s) surrounding the food, the people who ate the food— they are about the experience of life. For example, “Forty Acres and a Jeep” is a train-of-thought musing on modern society’s way of “treating their cars better than their children,” which turns into a mention of society’s ills: “What, exactly, is a second-class citizen? Either you’re a citizen or you are not… talking about they can’t feed all the people here. Why? And that reminds me of my forty acres and a mule. I’ll take my forty acres and a jeep.” The way she weaves her ancient understanding through each recipe, is what I think makes the book a glowing, relevant, supernatural force that is so ahead of its time, that it could have come out this year and still been miles over folks’ heads. I guess that’s why it was just re-published last summer.

As a very young chef, I was, for a brief, unfortunate period, married to, yet intimidated by cookbooks. I was afraid to revise recipes, afraid to be without every single exact ingredient that I needed for a recipe. I’m sure it had something to do with my neurotic Virgo soul, but for whatever reason, I lived in abject fear that without a precise replica of the directions on the page, my food would be a failure. This attitude is soul killing and allows for no creativity. Vertamae freed me from this compulsive rigidity with her loose recipe style and love of revisions. Many of the recipes are annotated in such a way that they give a lot of versatility and can be translated anew each time, giving freshness and novelty.

she is a grrrrrrl you need on your side~

She uses no measurements, so that whatever you make under her tutelage, is made up of your own vibrational desires, which changed the game for me. You see, I’ve always been terrified of ganache. If you’re not careful ganache can end up, through the simplest of mistakes, a grainy, runny mess. Her recipe, “Mrs. Jackson’s Chocolate Cake,” cleared that right up. Something about the way in which Ms. Smart-Grosvenor writes/vibes, made this young chef feel as though Mrs. Jackson was right over her shoulder. As if it really was such a simple thing to hook up an ersatz (ok, janky) double boiler and go for it until I got it right. And her lead-in to each recipe, like her chocolate cake, which is found in the chapter titled “Bon Voyage Parties,” is always a mesmerizing journey reflecting the quirky souls that inhabited her life:

I thought I would be out of the country for good so I invited EVERYBODY! Black folks, white folks, the man from the candy store on third street, militants, Uncle Toms, racists, Black Nationalists, Yorubas, hustlers, actors, husbands, wives, ex-husbands, ex-wives, mistresses, ex-mistresses, and so on. Well the party was a smash… everyone showed up… Bob Stocking brought his camera and a bottle of gin but forgot to bring his film… Mrs. Jackson was going to bring some sweet potato pies, but Johnnie Mae thought that would be too colored. Mrs. Jackson can cook chocolate cake. Lord can she cook chocolate cake: Mrs. Jackson’s Chocolate Cake – sift 2 cups flour…

The recipes in “Vibration Cooking” are a potent mix of high/ low/ everyday/ arcane. From sweet potato pie to alligator tail, feijoada to jambalaya, all learned in their native towns from Brazil to the American back wood, nothing has escaped this lucky grrrrrl in her travels. Her down to earth, matter-of-fact steez has echoed in my soul and guided me from stressed to blessed more times than I can name. Like Edna Lewis, another worthy lit kitchen idol, she legitimizes soul food and puts it where it belongs: on the world stage of great cuisines. Not only that, but she freely experiments with food from anywhere in the world in a fearless, authentic way that highlights the world’s commonalities as opposed to its differences.

she is a genius ~

–Written by Stefanie Kelly

Stefanie is the proprietress of People’s Kitchen Catering and is currently at work on her own cookbook/memoir. For contact information, recipes and the arcane thought or two follow her blog BELLY.

stories & recipes by chef/healer stefanie kelly

the tribe, got-dammit.  so necessary.  my friend, cultural critic/band conductor/all around prolific genius in general, GT, says about the people closest to us, that although they are the loves of our lives, inspiration when there is none, even the blood that runs through the veins, that in real life & operations, we tend to only check on our niggas to assure ourselves that they are still alive every 6 months.
which is why i had to, by hook or by crook, end up back in NY for the evening of thanksgiving, post thanksgiving @ moms.  yes, it’s weird to travel on the holidays, & i always felt above the fray b/c my immediate family was always in the city.  but since mom retired to a condo outside the city, this holiday i became one of them: black jacket wearing, cell phone checking, path train riding ON thanksgiving tourists, seemingly intent on climbing out of my skin, if that’s what it took to get me back to NY faster.  i was on a mission, you see:   we were in flight to the  house, of my kitchen brother, to pull him back from the brink.

my daughter has 2 godfathers.  one is the nicest cat you’d ever want to meet.  the other, a life-of-riley living lothario.  one who’s job makes him part & parcel, a member of the city, & brings him into close touch w/the city’s musicians, puppeteers, thespians & poets, all of whom would die to get next to homeboy.  the other’s vocation/hobby is whoring in the exotic locales that his job as a rock/art/star ferries him to, w/such regularity that my first question to him (when he deigns to call) is, ‘are you in NY, or what?’

now, don’t get me wrong.  both are sexy for days, tall, powerful, & fine as a fuck.  both love nashira beyond reason, & trade barbs on the subject whenever fate’s misfortune puts nashira, & the two of them in a room together - gems from the sparring, you ask?  some of my favorites:
when the frequency of the lothario’s visits became an issue due to his incessant jet-setting, the good one, who shall now be known as F, seized the opportunity to cast aspersions when we all found ourselves @ one of my catering jobs - “i’m sorry,”  he once crowed @ nashira, so bitchily (& hilariously) “little mama - what did you say?  you only see that scumbag once a year?  that’s okay. one of the things about santa claus, honey, is that when you grow up, you realize that santa was actually a CREEP, who never actually BOUGHT shit for you.  don’t you worry about that fraud, god-baby - what you don’t know can’t hurt you… .”
“& the less you know about that flea bitten beard, the better, gorgeous”, lothario crooned @ nashira as he snatched her up, while @ me he sneered, “you couldn’t have settled on a secondary god father - yes secondary & mediocre - other than fuckin jesus christ 3,000 years later?”  & on & on…

the fact that they are actually quite chummy, & have known one another for years, matters not.

in any case F, the saintly one, about whom no one i know has ever had a shitty thing to say, was in the dumps… the holidays are always hard, but never more than when one has lost a loved one.  that’s all i want to say about his personal trials, w/the point being, that i spoke to him a day before thanksgiving.  & the convo was NOT right.  in fact, nothing had ever been so wrong, as far as i was concerned.
a word about F’s parties:

bacchanal.
the only word to describe two of the most important social events of the year:  thanksgiving, & F’s birthday party.  thanksgiving has historically meant, hook or crook, hell or high water, a sweet, sensuous, prolly 500 person shindig wherein all roads meet.  if you haven’t seen someone you really love all year & are desperate to, you will see them @ F’s b-day jam, & if not there, then @ the thanksgiving ting - yes.  ting, no ‘H’.  b/c they are off the hook.  usually, F & i will handle the food @ the thanksgiving one.  but last year, i’d dropped the ball big time, showing up @ his house @ like 10pm, which, as my grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl the kundalini-enchanting/diva/siren who made it her mission to do the re-con w/me chided, is pretty much like not showing up @ all on thanksgiving.  & she is so right.
something in me suspected that i might have to do some convincing to get homeboy back on board.  but no one was prepared for his dull lifeless voice on the other end of the phone talkin ‘bout, “it just doesn’t matter.  nothing is the same.  y’all can do whatever.  i might be in afghanistan for the holidays this year. something really exotic.”

fuck. this was not a game.

i put a call in to the siren.  “i NEED your help.  i think F is really planning on sitting in a semi-dark room, studying that crack on the wall - you know which one - on THANKSGIVING…”
“oh NO.  that is NOT going to work.  you keep stalking him.  i’ll get on it, too.  we don’t have much time.” & we really didn’t especially since i had been inviting people to his crib all month.  i should mention here that the siren is also a game raising producer par exellence (she produces for real, but also produced my baby shower!!!).  & she had officially shifted into that mode.
producer or not, as a diva, she is sometimes almost as challenged around timeliness (although no one on earth could really be THAT bad - my idea of officially late is if i leave @ the same time i am supposed to BE there) as i am.
which is why, on thanksgiving, after having finally gotten a grudging, albeit heroically hard-won “y’all can come if y’all want to” from homeboy, we were more shocked than anyone to find ourselves early to Fairway, & even had time to stage a mini photo shoot (as proof/celebration) before F arrived, uncharacteristically tardy to the party.

it was a blizzard of activity, since we got there one hour before fairway’s scheduled holiday closing.  how humiliating!!! - we even came across a normal family, who, they informed us, had already eaten dinner, & were out to simply shop for the weekend, but still, were completely supportive of our insane efforts - “‘bring it!!!” exhorted the wife in front of her toddler -  “you may be eating @ midnight, but fuck it!”  & yet, from the moment i got into NY 4 min early, w/barely enough $$$ to accomplish a damned thing ($80), despite mercury retrograde, i knew that it would be a charmed evening.  & although F started out mad listless, intoning in a doomsday-ish way shortly after arrival that although he was contributing, that he was not cooking, i could see a bit of mirth tugging @ the corners of his mouth.  for F & i, it was impossible to be in fairway w/out falling in love w/life all over again.  by the time we had worked out our budget, (deciding that since we each had 1/3 of the money we would do $75 on meats, $75 on veg, & $75 on incidentals,) & started fondling $30 worth of teensy racks of lamb, paralysed w/indecision, F showed us a peek of the nigga i knew remained, & shut the game down forever.  “bitches, fall back,” his grin screeched, as he snatched up our pathetic (& did i mention miniscule???) rack of lamb & thwopped a ginormous & truly lovely filet mignon into the cart.  this was the moment of realization that F, & his cock, (“b/c wasn’t it just so PHALLIC?  blam!!! - he may as well have just tossed his dick into the cart, yo!”  i squealed later on, only to get shut down by the siren, who was mortified on our cabbie’s behalf) were back in the mix.
we were off.  back to F’s house where we knew we had to boogie if we wanted to throw dinner on the table before midnight.

luckily, the siren proved to be not only an amazing prep-onista, but as well, the best papparrazzi in town, alternating between chopping vegetables, & shooting really magical pics of all of our guests (& some of the best pics of my food ever in life!!! - see above & below) as they came in.  these are some of the folks i hold dearest to my heart, but also some of the peeps that i see so much less than people who are not as important to me.  so it was about raising F’s flagging spirits.  but, that night, i realized, it was also about the healing of each of our individual souls.



“why do you think it went SO well?” the siren quizzed me the next day. i thought back to F’s changing mood, to the state he was in when we arrived, to the last sounds i heard upon leaving his joint @ 3AM the next morning:  his cackling laughter, wafting into the hallway behind us, good wishes till the next gathering; the wind @ our backs…
“i think it’s b/c we are all givers, & fly-assed motherfuckers, creative, but also gentle, & the world doesn’t always know how to treat us.  so when we get together, & can give all of that to each other, it means a lot.”
not exactly words of wisdom, but you get my drift, right?

le sigh.

recipes, anyone?

The Turkey!

we were lucky enough to get a lovely kosher 10 pounder:

pre heat the oven to 425

10# turkey pref. free range or kosher
1 head garlic pureed
1 head garlic, whole
1 whole shallot
thyme
rosemary
1 lemon
remove giblets & make stock w/them, 1 onion, @ least 3 stalks celery, 1 carrot, thyme, rosemary & 2 quarts water)
sea salt & freshly ground pepper
butter sliced thin & slid between the meat & skin of the bird along w/the garlic puree.
load the cavity w/the whole head of garlic, the herbs & the lemon. 

the packaging said 3 hours, 20 min, but this method will get you to 2 & 1/2 hrs.
start the bird on its breast, let it rip for 30 min.  then turn the oven down to 375.  *flip the bird (lmbao!!!) after 1 hour & turn the oven down to 325, then baste for that last hour.  after 45 min, move the leg around in the socket.  if it’s loose, well then your *goose, i mean turkey, is cooked.
*sorry - but not really - about the bad puns, y’all.

The Gravy:
the drippings from the turkey, (surprisingly more than 2 cups, w/the 10 pounder)
perhaps 1 - 2 cups turkey stock
flour, about 1 cup
thyme & rosemary, & sage, also parsley if it’s hanging around
skim the fat from the top of the gravy drippings, about 3 TBSP.  add to this 1 TBPS butter.  stir & fry the flour in this till runny & toasted about 5 - 7 min on med - high heat, then add the drippings, & if necessary, 1 - 2 cups of your simmering stock.  cook till reduced, from 20 - 30 min.

The Stuffing:
1 whole wheat baguette
1semolina baguette
butter
garlic
sage, fresh, chopped 1/2 - 1 whole bunch
toss all together & bake @ 375 till golden brown then add

3 - 6 turkey or chicken sausages, removed from casings, & sauteed to light brown doused w/
3 cups turkey stock
& 2 tbsp cold butter

then bake once more, @ 375 till all liquid is absorbed, & the top of stuffing is light brown 35 - 40 min.

Freedom Greens: (vegetarian, pure brilliance - intead of any smoked meat, sesame oil - the BOMB, & not my invention)
4 bunches collards, washed 2X, by immersing them into a sink full of ice-cold water, then pulling them out, & once more, refilling the sink, & torn roughly, removing most stems & discarding
8 - 10 TBPS sliced garlic
2 shallots, diced
2 green peppers, diced
1 red pepper diced
1 orange or yellow pepper diced
2 jalapenos diced
1 or more kitchen spoons soy sauce
1 kitchen spoon sesame oil
a touch lem j
2 TBSP vinegar preferably live apple cider
1 bay leaf
fresh rosemary
fresh thyme to taste

saute all veg - garlic, too, except collards when fragrance starts to come off the garlic, & the oil is popping hot again, add the collards, & all remaining liquid.  simmer to preferred doneness.

Macaroni & Cheese:
1 lb macaroni (or penne in this case)
1/2 lb. ricotta
a four cheese mix - asiago, parmesan, mozzarella, cheddar about a pound plus 1/2 lb cheddar, all grated
1/2 lb butter
breadcrumbs
1/2 cup flour, 8 oz heavy cream,  8 or more oz milk
thyme
1 doz eggs

while boiling pasta - to al dente - in copious, salted water, make the bechamel:
melt the butter w/the thyme.  add the flour, & stir continuously till light brown uniformly.  add milk & cream,& whisk, stovetop, till smooth.toss the pasta in this mixture, then add 3/4 of the grated cheese, then the eggs - this is important, order, b/c you don’t want the eggs to scramble. sprinkle the rest of the cheese, then breadcrumbs on top.  bake @ 375 for 1 - 1 & 1/2 hrs.

Mashed Potatoes:
8 large idahos - make an x on either end w/a knife, not too deep.  then boil.  when cool, skins will slip right off.
20 cloves roast garlic  (honestly, i was in a time crunch, & christopher ranch does a bangin pre-packaged roast garlic - otherwise, roast 20 cloves of garlic in a 375 degree oven till golden brown, around 45  min.)
10 oz heavy cream (- do i have to mention, pref. grass fed here? really?)
10 oz milk (see above)
sea salt & pepper to taste
1/2 pound butter

simmer milk & cream w/the roast garlic till garlic mostly dissolves, about 45 min.  then puree in a blender or w/a wand blender.  mash w/hot cream garlic mixture.  whisk in butter, salt & pepper. - it’s once a year for goddesses’ sake.  stop bitchin.

there’s a story within Like Water For Chocolate, which talks of the main character, losing her mind w/grief, along w/the ability to talk.  she’s not being a bitch she just, can’t talk.  or cook.  she spends months gazing @ her hands, until an old friend comes over to loosen her tongue w/a traditional beef stew.
welp, friends, it only took a really, REALLY long filet mignon to resuscitate F, & this is what he did w/it:

mixed it w/copious sliced garlic, rosemary, & a mysterious ethiopian spice, & let it marinate for about an hour.  he then sliced it into perfect rounds of about a 2-inch thickness, & seared each one to rare, about 5 - 7 min each, then let the meat rest about 15 min before serving.

if you really want to please the kitchen goddess, you then feed the slices to your good, foul mouthed friend/kitchen homie, after you have both collapsed from exhaustion.


happy whole holiday season, y’all, & thank you for your time!

sun in scorpio, y’all, not a game.

a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, i was catering for a media group - they were throwing a party for Trace Magazine. (black grrrrrrrrrrrls rule, incidentally) this was in a luxurious brooklyn brownstone, steps from where lisa price’s Carol’s Daughter empire was built on washington ave in bed stuy.folks were living good on the ave back in the day, unbeknownst to the gentrifiers.  @ the time, the lovely, luxurious, well-appointed brownstone was full of a group of movers & shakers who called it the batchelor pad, in reference to one of their names.  the parties were off.  the.  hizzy.  my grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl, a sexy/genius producer/writer w/a serious rack (sorry, grrrrrl, but it’s true!) was the manager/producer/grrrl friday/conscience of the group.  together, we were twin flies on the wall of their testosterone driven bacchanal.  i had such a great time people watching, & feeding this roots/blingy set.  & you never knew who you would bump into.  in addition to more than one hip-hop luminary were various lyrical poets, hot actors, sumptuously beautiful designers, all kicking back & there to get their grease on.  my hosts always treated me like family, & were happy to let me cruise the party after i was finished cooking.  my grrrrrrl was always happy to lead me from secret room to secret room, where something odd was always happening, depending on what door we chose to open.  on one of these luminous, sweet evenings, when my work was done, praises heaped, & the rod (of pre-job stress) in my back dissolved, i happily settled into a vicious debate w/a rock star japanese DJ. who was flown in for the occasion, & who shall remain nameless. it all started w/his distracted musings on his ex-grrrrlfriend, whom i apparently reminded him of.  according to him, she’d been a “beautiful grrrrl.  beautiful ass, beautiful titties, but didn’t cook, & didn’t clean.”  i would have been an upgrade from this situation. 

no.  i didn’t punch him in the mouth.  but i wanted to.  in any case, he mentioned, that if, in japan, anyone wanted to serve soul food, he would put them on to me.  always looking for a way to get to japan, i said, “sure! - but soul food is only a small part of what i do.  what if i wanted to make sushi?  who would teach me?”  he LAUGHED @ me, & w/a condescending tone that produced, for me more fantasies of putting my fist through his grill, said, “…no.   i don’t think so.”  & giggled the fuck some more.

i got up, walked away, & after drilling myself on rice (making it over & over till i got a reliable product) began featuring sushi on every catering menu i could the following year.

apparently there are reasons for the sushi bullshit in japan:  one B.S.  excuse is our menstrual cycles:  they make us too ‘hot’ to handle the rice.  another that our hands are not scaled correctly - do you BELIEVE this bullshit??? - & all of it sounds like one big, fat, misogynistic mess.

 fuck.  off.

women do haute cuisine.  & any readers who want to be intimidated by the myth of a culture that wants to restrict what you experience of it?  don’t listen to prejudiced haters.

which brings me to my weekend.  it started off w/the memorial service for the father of one of my most loved, closest sis’s (mentioned @ length in my ‘i am not a movie critic piece published in coon bidness, & also in my cookbook/memoir, HEAT) that i NEVER see enough.  her taciturn, not trying to play jamaican father, whose hotsauce burned the skin off my lips (& please believe this did NOTHING to deter me from eating it) as a teenager had died.  there are so many things we do not know about the people closest to us.  apparently her dad  had been a prominent civil rights activist who’d won serious gains in the movement, had marched alongside MLK.  but when my grrrl took the mike in his honor, & described his veal parmesan, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.  there are not many people on earth that i have loved as much as i loved her that day, her lovely smooth skin, teensy waist (in spite of her gorgeous 2-&change-year old) & long shiny black locks, riffing on daddy’s grub.  a grrrrl any parent would be proud of.  & w/good reason.  @ the repast, she’d taken his life/food legacy a step further:  she’d been up all night - hell, all month - reprinting pics from the different eras of his life, & since he was 91, there had been a few seasons; but the most touching part of all was the recipes.  i’d been eating his food for years - we are both virgos - & as i was staring @one of the recipe/posters, my grrrrl came up behind me & said that although these were great, that really, he cooked from 4 different books @ least, & then added his own twist.    wow.  ‘he cooks like me!!! - alright i cook like him; - we ARE both virgos..’  i thought. me & nashira had a stone cold ball, do you hear me? & stayed to clean up.  we had to take the posters down, & all the pics.  easy work for the 10 people that remained, (among them, another truly brilliant member of our crew - an elegant grrrrl who, although she, for many years, made her living as a dancer for urban bush women, is not above demo-ing every hood dance from every borough circa early ‘80’s to present - can you spell wheezing w/laughter???) & the secret perk??? recipes, mofos!!! i had a nice stack set aside, that i knew Lincoln would have wanted me to have - or so i told myself - later, when i saw some bandit packing up a stack of MY recipes - i restrained my emotions, as i saw him bag them up & walk.  it would not have been good for me to act out my feelings on an occasion like this.

imagine my surprise, then, when my grrrrrrl dumped a GIANT stack of them in my lap, all “don’t say i never gave you anything!” about it.  verklempt, we went through the stack together.  “let’s look @ the ones i happened to gather up for you,” she said.  & even though she KNOWS what a crier i am - & her too, dammit -she’s a scorpio! -  we went through the stack.  a bunch of papers describing virgo was in the stack she erroneously snatched up for me.  cod fish fritters, real jerk, callalloo, rice & peas, beef patties, hot sauce, & scribbled across the the words love, & miss you… - can you spell sobfest???

Rest In Power, Kind New Ancestor, Mr. L…  b/c of you, i will be seeing your daughter a lot more… who else would be the one to re-create those dishes for her?

ya.

& even w/all that going on, a negress STILL had to cater the Burnt Sugar Smokehouse the next day, chile.

y’all already know the pure, pure love i have for the band.  & again the music burned down the house. - shameless plug:  (if you can make it, friends, we’ll be there every sunday from 4pm on - it’s a jam session for the band w/food: Time: 4:00pm. Admis­sion: $7 show $7 plate. Address: 56 Walker Street (btwn Broad­way & Church). 4-9pm. A Prop­erly Rau­cous Evening of Fine Din­ing, Danc­ing + Free­dom Jazz Con­duc­tions Food by Mas­ter Chef Ste­fanie Kelly @ $7 per serv­ing. – With Micah Gaugh, Andre Las­salle, Burnt Sugar, Ver­non Reid/Greg Tate Lap­top Light Saber Duet)

so let’s just get to the menu:

spicy yellowtail rolls

spicy salmon rolls

spicy tuna rolls

1/2 # salmon steak, briefly - about 20 min. - marinated in 1/2 soy sauce, 1/2 apple juice then seared or broiled  w/the skin on, & crispy

for the spicies:

cube the fish to 1/4 inch, keeping it as cold as possible

add sesame oil to coat,

few dashes wasabi oil

pinches of sriracha

few dashes yuzu juice

chopped scallions to taste

1 - 2 TBSP soy sauce

mix together, let rest in fridge for @ least 15 min, then use for rolls

vegetable tempura rolls:

first, make the veg tempura - grapeseed or safflower oil, heated to popping & (- you know what?  i’m not going to lie - i got seduced by a tempura mix @ sunrise, & was ECSTATIC w/the results, so - once i break it down to scratch - i’llpost the recipe but yes, @ sunrise mart, in the flour section, there is a bag of tempura flour mix that will knock your socks off, homies - only thing is, the instructions are in japanese, so i followed the pics:  a cup of the mix to 3/4 cup water for a loose paste, let the veg swim in this for just a sec, then throw into the hot oil.  have i already used the word superlative?)

butternut squash - peeled, & cut into 1-inch cubes

zucchini - sliced crosswise or on an angle

eggplant - sliced crosswise, salted, drained & rinsed

broccoli - cut into florets

cauliflower - same as above

avocado - sliced into thin wedges

umeboshi - lightly mashed, peeled off the pit

gobo - jullienned

peeps, the flavors of japanese cuisine are so simple, gentle, elegant, & pure that getting every detail right is not preferable, but imperative.  & that is really, all about practice.

the rice:

3 cups sushi rice Tamaki, Kokuho Rose, or a rice that you feel good about @ sunrise mart (my FAVORITE.  a bright spot of goodness on 9th & cooper, this is the place to go for real wasabi flown in from japan when the season permits, same for yuzu, same for fine rare ingredients like gobo {pickled japanese burdock} - any of the secret ingredients the will make your soul croon:  japanese!)

water

1 TBSP sea salt - i prefer japanese sea on this - the better to get the water to taste japanese - w/the minerals & salts from the cooking water -

4 & 1/2 cups water pref. filtered or japanese mineral

again, very simple:  wash the rice till the water runs clear.  then add the other ingredients, cover, bring to boil, then turn the flame all the way down to a whisper.  leave to steam for 17 min.  then let rest for another 15 min.

2 TBSP rice vinegar

1 TBSP honey

4 TBSP soy sauce

mix all together till blended, then stir into hot rice till each grain is coated, & shiny, keeping in mind that you don’t need to use all the mixture - just enough to coat each grain.

break out your sushi mat, as well as
wasabi oil
sliced gobo,
scallions
jullienned shiso

& your spicies:  tuna, salmon, & yellowtail - freshness is a must, so while working w/one, keep the others refrigerated.



& lay 1 sheet of nori on top of your mat.  then add the rice, smoothing it over a third of the seaweed, dipping fingers in cold water intermittently to keep the rice from sticking. 
add a strip of gobo, scallion, & seared salmon to the center, all horizontal, then roll the sushi, using the mat as a tightener/guide.
play w/each of the ingredients, or in combinations that suit you, like avocado tuna, or any of the veg tempuras, cut into strips.

your first few rolls will be, well, embarrassing - some of the most delicious mistakes you will ever make.  keep trying.


marinated kale

chopped kale, 3 bunches
vinegar
garlic mashed
lemon juice
rice vinegar
about equal parts of all liquids & to taste, just toss the kale in this mixture & let kale absorb for @ least 20 minutes.  serve.

romaine salad w/umeboshi vinaigrette

2 large bunches romaine
wash & tear the romaine into bite-sized pieces
3 TBSP rice wine vinegar
1 TBSP yuzu juice
1 inch knob prepared wasabi
2 scallions, minced
8 umeboshi
2 TBSP soy sauce
olive oil

blend to a paste.  season salad to taste.

&   inscrutably, curry chicken:

3 3# fryers, cut into pieces or 9# wings
marinate in:
6 TBSP crushed garlic
1 jar patak’s curry paste
6 TBSP curry powder
3 TBSP garam masala
1 qut buttermilk
6 curry leaves
2 TBSP ginger, pulverized

sautee in a large pot:
6 cloves sliced garlic
2 curry leaves
1 bay leaf
2 sliced onions
3 sliced green peppers
(optional - black cardamom, extra ground cumin, or coriander, or turmeric - go by taste
even mushroom paste, if you have any shrooms on hand that you want to use up are perfect other add ons can be scallions, shallots, or chives - & these are to color the curry to your palate - but the straight recipe is a satisfying experience on its own) 

add the chicken & its marinade, + 1 quart chicken stock.  simmer for 45 min - 1 hr on a medium flame.

i served this as a soup, but if you want to serve basmati w/it, who would ever be mad???

basmati rice:
6 cups long grain basmati - (if you’re using brown basmati, please triple the cooking time & double the water/stock/coconut milk)
3 cups water
3 cups coconut milk
3 cups chicken stock
6 TBSP butter or ghee
2 tsp sea salt, preferably pink himalayan
1 bay leaf

saute the bay leaf, & rice in the fat till every grain is coated
add liquids, cover bring to boil over high heat - turn the flame so low you can barely see it, & do not disturb for 20 min.  turn off flame, let sit for another 20, then fluff w/additional salt & butter.

…may have mentioned in previous posts how much higher my daughter’s cool quotient is than mine…
but no one could be ready for this one:  we’d had such a long weekend; she was by my side pretty much the whole time, except when, while frying, i banished her from the kitchen, as anything can happen, & i like her face… the way it is.  she left the kitchen on the arm of one:  Ms. Blackbushe, one of the chakra igniting sirens that make up the band, & when the sis had to leave, i went to look for nashira.  this is Black Rock Coalition, so i was a little nervous that she might be off-put by the noise level.  i found my grrrrrrrrrrrl perched on her seat, fully attentive, eyes like gleaming saucers w/her sippy cup on the table next to her, eerily resembling a class of pinot.  i crouched down next to her & asked if she wanted to come back downstairs w/mommy.  “i’m enjoying the show, mama,”  she was clearly non-plussed @ my interruption. & she returned her attention to the musicians onstage.  poise personified, her fat little cheeks in profile.

dimissed!   

a single tear rolled down my cheek - b/c i saw her! in the future!  as a food/cultural critic, or maybe just as a rude bitch who never wants her mom to enjoy the concert w/her…  awww!!!  who knows, but talk about poignant.

thank you for your time!
all rights reserved:  stories & recipes by chef/healer stefanie kelly

stories & recipes by chef/healer stefanie kelly

i know i’m not the only heifer out here who worries about money all the time - heightened by an awareness/guilt that i’m @ LEAST (& i do mean @ least) able to tie a few ends, sometimes for chrissakes/have not cast it all to the wind to move in w/my sistren over by occupy wall street.  & with all that in mind, i have been thirsting, the last few weeks to bring a giant pot of mushroom barley soup down to occupy.

you & i both know that it was inevitable that my rabble-rousing-rebel grrrrrrrrl Infamous S, would be the one to firmly entrench herself in the thick of the wall street protests.  when she asked for my herbal support on consulting w/resident healers, i was only too happy to oblige. i only wish that i had the time/money/resources to fully engage.  so for the last three weeks, literally, i have had to abort my beloved plan to bring a few gallons of bone warming (due to the chicken stock), healing (due to the cordyceps) mushroom barley soup to the protesters. this soup has really special meaning, as it is sacred to the tarot card 5/pentacles, & as far as i’m concerned, 5/pentacles is the state that the country is in right now.  when you read the meaning below, i am 1000% sure that you will concur.

with all of that in mind, i am also working on a tarot deck with healing recipes that relate to each card, as i might have mentioned in my ‘word, rock, sword’ post.

so in honor of the adjustments that we all must make to accommodate the earth plane’s fluctuations, i am debuting “The Urban Tarot & Recipe Book” here.  (working title - feedback???)

5/pentacles: 
worry. insecurity, pressure, destitution, adversity, discomfort. physical concern; changing circumstances. (exists as a barrier to the 6 of pentacles/success) can you make something out of nothing? how will you use the lean times? as obstacle: you have to make a change but refuse. herb: mugwort (to see clearer physic dreams).
planetary:  mercury in taurus       
lots of times, what has caused these financial problems is a matter of your own emotions/core beliefs – greed will lead to loss, anxiety will lead to error, possessiveness will lead to solitude.  focusing only on the material can make you lose sight of your spiritual development. you can be rich  all you want, but this means nada if you learn nothing.
socially, 5/pentacles can also point to a time of being alone, feeling abandoned, ignored and unwanted. you may be excluded from group events or you are being ostracized by others.  you need support and comfort from those who actually care.  know that the community exists, & ask for help!!!  in the psyche, 5/pentacles points toward difficulty with your relationship to money and material things. if money is the main/only motivating force in life and the gauge by which you judge your worth, the lack of it will 1) make you crazy, & 2) give you a sense of being excluded from the good life. if your financial difficulties are rooted in the loss of a job or an investment gone bad, you may have lost faith in your ability to rebuild. you’re going to need to consider your actual financial circumstances but also your attitudes toward money. examine your fears around money and wealth.  ask yourself honestly if one of your core beliefs is anxiety around never having enough, or do you have faith in your ability to manifest what you need to live a prosperous, fulfilled life no matter what your circumstances? now is the time to synthesize the lesson of worry, & create wealth consciousness.  affirmations are extremely powerful here.  the element of writing/the spoken word is ruled by air.  but your body (earth) is the instrument that brings the magic to life.  use the lean times well, & you will gain a lifetime’s worth of skills to create a reality in which you no longer experience lean times @ all!

ps:
years ago, i was down on my luck.  i didn’t even know how i was going to pay the rent. (5/pentacles, worry, etc.) i was depressed, but had skills that needed to be used to transmute my circumstances (the mining of talents that 5/pentacles inspires).  blessedly, w/the help of one of the most inspired fly-assed poets (a real one, not an open mike amateur) i have ever known, a grrrrrrrrrrrl whose literary depth makes her appear to float, put out a call to a # of our collective sistren:  we’re paraphrasing here, but it was something like - “aiiight alla you sexy-assed witches - come git ya soul cleansed (learn how to read tarot) w/one of the flyest (pun intended) witches i know, stefanie kelly…” (this is a perfect example of the community of assistance that awaits all who are caught up in 5/pents influence) there’s no way to describe the honor felt when a luminary calls you out as fierce.  so why try? but lemme tell ya this -  @ first, i didn’t know what my student’s thoughts were - & for me? it was one of the most transformative experiences of my entire life.  i learned that although i had not sold my soul to the board of ed, that i was a teacher.  & learned that i had something to teach.  the lovely, beaming faces of 10 - 15 of my sistren radiated a brilliance of intent that was contagious, & inspiring.  @ the end, w/so many laughs, prophesies & magic in the mix, my only sadness was that i wouldn’t know how to re-create the class should i need to.  probably simultaneous to this thought, ‘the mixtress’ a grrrrrrrrrrrrl so fly that she should have wings, walked up to me all lovely, glowing, her air sign wit alighting the air around her & handed me a sheaf of papers.  it was the tarot seminar.  she had copied down every single word. (the new skills/wealth that should accompany the successful handling of 5/pentacles energy pattern)

you know my corny ass burst into tears immediately.

p.p.s.  & BTW - do you know that the seminar paid my rent???

that is 5/pentacles.

speaking of which:

no worries wild mushroom soup:

2 Ounces Dried mushrooms, e.g. porcini, morel, chanterelle, 6 TBSP cordyceps
2 Cups Warm filtered water ¼ Cup Brandy 14 Cups Chicken stock 2 Tbsp Worcestershire Sauce 1 Cup Pearled barley 2 Large Onions, diced (approx 3 cups) 4 Ribs Celery, diced (approx 2 cups) 1 Lb. Carrots, diced ( approx 3 cups) 8 Cloves Garlic, minced 2 Each Bay leaves 2 Tbsp Oregano, fresh, chopped 1 Tbsp Basil, fresh chopped 2 Lb. Fresh cremini or button mushrooms, sliced To taste Salt and white pepper 2 Tbsp Parsley, fresh chopped method:
put the dried mushrooms in a small bowl & cover with the warm water. Let stand for 15 minutes or so to re-hydrate. When hydrated, squeeze out any excess water & place mushrooms in another bowl, rinse them under several changes of cool water to remove any grit. Toss the mushrooms with the brandy, allow to soak for 1 hour. Gently turn and mix the mushrooms & brandy several times to evenly soak. Once the dried mushrooms are hydrated, line a sieve with a coffee filter or paper towel. Strain the mushroom water into another bowl to separate any grit.
while dried mushrooms are soaking, add the chicken stock to a large stockpot &  add the Worcestershire Sauce & bring to a boil covered.  add the barley. continue to boil for 30 minutes over medium heat covered.
add strained mushroom water to the soup.  add the onions, celery, carrots, garlic, bay leaves, oregano, & basil, bring back to a boil, reduce  heat, & continue to simmer for 20 minutes over medium heat covered. add the sliced fresh mushrooms, stir well, & continue to simmer for 15 minutes covered.
chop wild mushrooms, add them to the soup with the brandy, the 6 TBSP cordyceps & simmer another 5 minutes.

(a brief word on cordyceps - chinese superfood.  amazing for lung capacity, energy, general healing - great for winter!)
season to taste with sea salt & white pepper, then garnish with the chopped parsley.
if i am successful in my attempts to feed some part of occupy wall street, you’ll be the first to know, friends…  (pics, too!)

thank you for your time!

for returning the nobility to our traditional southern american foods, we love them - for taking cans out the mix, we love them & of course their cute prettiness!

love.

stories & recipes by chef/healer stefanie kelly

in 1991, i was in the middle of my own culinary renaissance.  living in LA, my ex-husband & i were certain that there was precious little food available that couldn’t be made better @ home.  except for mexican.  nothing can compare w/LA mexican.  partly b/c of ambiance:  seated @ any table @, say,  La Luz Del Dia on, say… Olvera, the only thing that you will focus on, are the tetas of my grrrrrl, (the tortilla maker) partially b/c those are all you see.  literally - she is positioned behind a traditional mexican oven w/a vent above, (that blocks her face) & a clay base (that cuts her off @ the torso, & frames only her hands making the tortillas).

titties, & vittles.  #winning.

was i mad?  no.  fully tickled.  very sexy.  which is why i wasn’t offended when my own videographer (the aforementioned, & scandalous S.) handed me this:

from a small party @ which i made vinaigrette for a friend’s birthday.  “i’m sorry.  i just couldn’t take my eyes off of them.”

shameless.

this is not the only time that body parts & food have found themselves uneasy bedfellows in my life.  one night, in fact, as i was running the line @ Soul Cafe, (now defunct brainchild of the cash money clique that created shark bar) & was feeling particularly  verbally abusive (virgo’s forte).  it was, as usual, an all-male line, except for me, & the fact that i was expediting (controlling the flow of the food, {& by extension, the actions of the people making the food} to the dining room) from behind the line did not endear me to my colleagues.  it was so hot that night.  & these dudes were not trying to keep pace.  i am also not the most patient broad alive.  which is how i ended up screeching, @ points, things like, “what a bunch of bitches.  is  it really?  that time of the month?”  &  “pick it up, ladies.  this is so embarrassing - don’t you want to be able to look your own selves in the eye when you get home tonight??? - or do you wanna just hang y’all heads in shame.”  “pathetic,”  i whined when i finally got the plates from any station.  for some reason, the kitchen was dragging more that usual.  i suspected - k knew damn well that this had some thing to do w/certain privileges unfairly extended to some on staff - the ability to show up, oh, whenever for example, which the saute guy used w/a vicious abandon, & creating a snowball effect of delays that ended up w/me caterwalling for the food on any given dinner service.

this was not the night to get on my nerves.

then you can imagine the state i was in by the time i looked up to find two waitresses jiggling their titties & shaking their asses for the expediter opposite me - on the waiter’s side of the line.  i knew that this waiter had been sneaking food to precious few of the waitresses in turn for damn near a lap dance.  usually i turned a blind eye.  on this day, having reached the end of my rope before the dinner shift had even started, i snapped.

“Ladies,”  i begged bitchily.  “please?  please don’t sell the pussy for pork chops. if you want some food, welp, then you’re going to first have to get some dignity.  k? & how about some courage & ask.  other wise, get.  the fuck.  out of here.  & i am not kidding.” 

as the night wound down to closing, the levity of my co-workers was a puzzlement.  how could they be laughing, i wondered.  dinner was a blood bath.  so deep in thought was i that i didn’t even really  curse out the waitress who damn near tackled me to the ground, demanding that i join her in the ladies room.

“now.  & i am not kidding.”

“but do you have to put me in a headlock?”  i moaned, as she dragged me in front of a mirror, & spun me around.

“Oh my goddess…”  for once, i was speechless.  my chef’s checked pants had ripped clean up the entire seam, leaving me literally, ass out, without a pot to piss in.

i thought back to the cheeriness of my all male staff on the way back to the kitchen as i opened the doors to hysterical laughter.

“fuck y’all!”  i barked. 

humiliation, thy name is chef pants.

anywhoo, the vinaigrette for the birthday party:

2 oz. balsamic vinegar

2 oz. red wine vinegar

1 oz apple cider vinegar

1 oz. lemon juice

6 cloves garlic

2 TBSP. mustard

1 tsp. sea salt

1/tsp. cracked black pepper

1 tsp. bitters

1/2 tsp. tabasco

1 tsp. worchesteshire sauce

1 cup olive oil

1 tsp. dried parsley

small hand full fresh minced parsley

1 cup grated parmesan

pulverize the garlic & mustard in a blender.  add all other ingredients save the parsley, cheese & the oil.  when all is blended, add the oil slowly & then the cheese & then the parsley to mix only.

enjoy, & thank you for your time!