Nut Butter

Almond Butter Bagel

Excuse me while I get all Beavis and Butthead for a minute…

Nut butter… heh-heh heh… heh.

You know what’s hard to do? Keep a straight face when you’re talking to your dad about nut butter.

Me: What kind of nuts do you think grow around here? I don’t know if peanuts do, but there have to be some kind of tree nuts.
Dad: I’m not sure. Probably peanuts. Maybe pecans?
Me: I’m thinking of making my own nut butter.
Dad: Nut butter… Nut butter… Nut butter?
Me:  [Suppresses adolescent boy-style giggle] You know, like peanut butter, but with whatever nuts are local to here…

In my ongoing effort to gain control of the food I’m eating, I started thinking another small step I could take is making my own nut butter. I’ve been buying organic peanut and almond butter for a while, and I’ve noticed the ingredients lists are generally just nuts + salt. Sometimes nuts + oil + salt. So, I mean, really, how hard could that be?

Sure enough, a quick search on the internets lets me know all I need are the aforementioned ingredients, a food processor, and some patience.

If I were doing things ideally, I would have first found a good source for local nuts & procured said nuts, then made the nut butter. But after the conversation with Dad, I got all impatient. (See that? Already lacking one of the necessities for this project…) When I saw raw almonds in the bulk bin at the organic market, I just couldn’t resist. It’ll just be a test, I told myself. And while I’m enjoying this almond butter, I can find a local nut source… Heh. 

So when I found myself awake this morning with an hour to spare before work, I figured this would be a perfect time for the task.

Ingredients

2 c raw almonds
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1/4 tsp kosher salt

Step 1: Toast nuts. This is optional, I believe. I used my cast iron skillet and stirred pretty much constantly. The vigilance might not have been necessary, but I have a bad habit of burning nuts when I’m trying to toast them.

Step 2: Add nuts to food processor. Blend until paste/ball forms, scraping sides occasionally. This takes a while. If I hadn’t read that blog that kept saying, “Just be patient until the ball forms,” I probably would’ve started contemplating what to do with 2 cups of ground almonds long before the task was actually complete. But I heeded the blogger’s advice and walked away while the processor did its job, coming back occasionally to check on progress and scrape the sides. I also added a tablespoon of the olive oil and the salt during this part of the process.

Step 3:  When the nuts become a paste/ball and start to pull away from the sides, add oil to reach the desired consistency. I chose to limit the amount of oil to two tablespoons, so my almond butter may  not be creamy enough for some. This is where preference reigns, I imagine.

Step 4: Enjoy!

I divided the almond butter between two containers so I can leave one at home and one at work. They must be refrigerated and, I imagine, will require some stirring before each use to blend the oil in again.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Mahi Mahi with Roasted Tomatillo Salsa, Garlic Smashed Potatoes, & Spinach

I’m four weeks into my CSA share, and I’ve been doing too much cooking and not enough blogging. Well, really, I’ve been doing exactly the right amount of cooking and too little blogging.

Mahi Mahi with Roasted Tomatillo Salsa, Garlic Smashed Potatoes, and Spinach

Tonight’s dinner inspired me to try to change that. Forgive the lack of literary depth; I’m on a tight deadline.

Really, the salsa is the important part here, although I’ll tell you how I made everything else, too, because the whole ordeal took less than 45 minutes from “Now, where did I find that tomatillo recipe online?” to “Oh my god, this is freakin’ delicious.”

Roasted Tomatillo Salsa 
Adapted from Epicurious

Serves: 1

4 tomatillos, husked, rinsed*
2 garlic cloves, peeled*
1 jalapeño chile*
1 green pablano chili*
1 chopped small white onion*
Coarse kosher salt

Preheat broiler. Place vegetables on rimmed baking sheet. Broil until tender and vegetables are slightly charred, turning occasionally, about 7 minutes for garlic and 8 minutes for tomatillos and jalapeños. Transfer to plate and let stand until cool enough to handle. Stem and seed jalapeños. Place in processor. Puree until almost smooth. Season salsa with salt and pepper.

And that was it.

As for the rest…

While the veggies were broiling, I brought a pot of water to boil and diced up two red and two white potatoes*, a small white onion*, and a couple of cloves of garlic*. Once the water was boiling, I added those ingredients to the pot with a generous pinch of kosher salt and boiled them until the potatoes were tender. Drained them (reserving some of the liquid) and smashed ‘em all together with half a tablespoon of butter, using the reserved water to reach my desired consistency.  This made 3-4 servings.

For the Mahi, I thawed a frozen filet, put it in a small baking dish coated with a teaspoon of grapeseed oil, ground some sea salt and lemon pepper over both sides, and broiled, turning halfway through.

The spinach was frozen as well. I used a little white wine, water, and salt to saute it while I was smashing the potatoes.

For how little planning and prep I put into this one, this is absolutely the best weekday meal I’ve thrown together in ages. Maybe ever.

* Items received in my CSA share. 

On Sacrifices and Liberation

Once I set my mind to the task, Project: Debt Rolldown became my reality.

Money came in, and it went right back out to its various destinations. I scheduled bill payments on payday and watched the numbers on my momentarily fat(ish) bank account dwindle before my eyes in a matter of minutes. What was left, I lived on. No credit card splurges. No dipping into savings for non-emergencies. No exceptions.

Of course, the tallies in my handy spreadsheet (have I mentioned I love a spreadsheet?) were somewhat heartening, if slowly so.

The emergency savings account was gaining monthly, just as it always had (thanks to auto-deductions). Notably, though, for the first time, it was retaining its balance for more than a month or two at a time. No more reverse transfers to cover airline tickets or those tight few days at the end of a pay period.

The credit card balances weren’t showing much of a difference initially, but in the event of… well, an emergency, the emergency savings would keep me from undoing the progress I was making.

I was feeling accomplished in the financial realm. But the day-to-day reality of living within my means didn’t take long to start wearing on me.

Being a Southern gal by birth, learning to politely decline invitations with some version of “thanks, but no thanks” was hard enough for me. But being someone who is already prone to put things somewhat bluntly and living in the land of Facebook-fueled TMI and boundary-less peer pressure, I found myself feeling obliged to explain my reasons for begging out of this dinner and saying I’d have to skip that concert.

Frankly, that just made everyone uncomfortable.

I mean, in the age of buy now, pay never, who wants to hear about one of their friends living on a budget and paying off debt? It’s a total downer, right?

It’s just pizza and a few beers… What’s $20 in the grand scheme of things… Or $40… I’ll get you this time, and you can pay me back… You know (hinthint), I just opened another credit card the other day… What’s one more bit of plastic in the wallet… If things get tough, you can always file… 

Okay, so maybe I didn’t actually hear all of that. But very closely related sentiments were directed my way.

So while I had some friends who were supportive, I had to start putting my foot down with others. I had to stand firm with my vague but polite “no thank you” when the invitations and my budget weren’t aligned.

Let me tell you something… that shit got old. Quick.

There I was, a gainfully employed professional in my late 20s, and I was sitting at home alone because catching a movie with the girls wasn’t in my budget?  Bollocks.

The trusty internets led me to blogs and books and articles galore detailing how to “find” money in my budget. Sure, I got a few useful tips, but what I really learned was that I had already become a tightwad in my actual budgeted expenditures.

No cable. No internet. No home phone. Super low utilities due to my willingness to bundle up and jog in place in winter and strip down and deal with the ‘glisten’ of summer. No real affinity for fancy coffee shop brews.  No car payment. Close to nothing spent on gas. I already cooked most of my meals at home and brought my leftovers to work for lunch. No monthly entertainment subscriptions. The most I typically paid for a book or DVD were whatever late fees I accrued at my local library.

Pulling pennies out of thin air didn’t seem likely to happen, but a few weeks into Rolldown I knew I needed money for beer and bourbon and general badassery.  So I got another job.

A couple of days a week, I put on a T-shirt and some khaki pants, smile at strangers, and make sure they have enough sweet tea in their cups and ketchup for their fries. In return, I walk away with money in my pocket that allows me to get beer and bourbon, join my friends for nights out and weekends away, and buy myself pretty new dresses and cute new shoes. All without disrupting the Rolldown.

It’s a win-win!

I soon learned that revealing this bit of information has a surprising effect on quite a lot of people.

Me: Blah-ti-blah-ti-blah. I have a part-time job.
People Who Surprise Me: Oh… I’m sorry. 

Apparently, working two jobs is a big indication to the folks around you that something in your life has gone terribly, terribly wrong. (And, apparently, some folks’ mothers didn’t teach them to save their pity toward you for polite discussion over a dinner table at which you are not present.)

What these people who surprise me failed to see is that a second job has been my liberation. Yes, it takes up a bit more of my time. And, yes, sometimes it’s tiring. Sure, I could have chosen to sacrifice my fun times and pretty things for my budget, or vice versa. But I didn’t. I chose to keep my D-Day set in stone and to have some fun while doing it.

For me, a second job was what I needed to make all the pieces fall into place.

Excess Baggage

"Do I worry too much?" by Sam Brown of Explodingdog.com

A little over a year ago, I decided I needed to drop some of the burdensome weight I’d been lugging around with me unnecessarily for too many years.  Excess baggage accumulated via unhealthy habits that began well before college but were fostered and allowed to blossom there, aided by pizza giveaways and the lure of decadent things not meant for one with a tight belt. After college, the bad habits continued to grow in number and scope.

The truth is, the load was keeping me up at night. I couldn’t seem to avoid the endless headlines and water cooler talk about the folks around me who shared my problems. Or had it worse. It made me so uncomfortable I had to skip going places and doing things I otherwise would have loved. I watched as my friends enjoyed delights that I knew, deep down, weren’t for me. And when I did join them, my temporary pleasure was well-surpassed by the guilt and worry brought on my splurges.

When I sat down and took a cold, hard look at the reality of my situation, I knew I had to make some changes. I couldn’t keep behaving like a teenager. Yo-yoing between a firm resolve to abide by strict mandates in my daily life and the overwhelming appetite to get what I wanted when I wanted it, regardless of the lingering consequences. I knew if I didn’t make some changes, there would surely be a reckoning far worse than the relatively light stress I’d been handling so far.

I’d made up my mind.

The debt had to go.

With the economy in the shitter, my then-company doing layoffs at the drop of any old hat, and jobs as scarce as a virgin in a whorehouse, I was in no position to be carrying around credit card debt. And credit card debt I’d accumulated for what, exactly? Cheap wine and expensive beer? Shiny shoes and dull dates (with guys who insisted on going dutch)? Pretty things for my walls and shelves? Gifts I couldn’t afford and dinners out I didn’t need? Clothes, clothes, and more clothes?

The cold reality was the tawdry trinkets and throw-away imports of yesterday weren’t going to keep me warm and secure in the face of  potential financial ruin. And, with no savings in the bank, all my lines of credit nearly maxed out, and no real guarantee of a future paycheck, that’s exactly the tightrope I felt like I was walking, day in and day out.

I knew getting off the tightrope wouldn’t be an easy feat all by my lonesome. I’d need some help. So I consulted some friends who were making dents in their deficit then headed to my local library to check out the works of a couple of folks known for helping the everyday masses handle their money: Dave Ramsey & Suze Orman.

Fortunately, my research revealed that my circumstances weren’t entirely dire.

If nothing changed for the worse in my employment scenario and I could forestall any small financial disasters until I got an emergency fund together, I was confident I could pay off my debt in the 22 months between the start of Project: Debt Rolldown and my 30th in January 2012.

I’ve learned I’m not one for making progress in ethereal realms. (Still meaning to get around to that meditating business…) But concrete goals with measurable outcomes and well-planned, manageable steps to achieving them? Completely attainable. Particularly when there’s a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

The original plan:

1. Build emergency fund of $1,000 in 4 months.
2. Continue monthly savings to build $2,000 by January 2012.
3. Meanwhile, pay off credit cards in order from smallest balance to largest.
4. Turn 30 debt-free! (And take an awesome trip with my besties.)

Project: Debt Rolldown is well underway, and – I’m happy to report – on target. But the journey thus far might be worth a bit more detail.

The Market

"I knew I shouldn't have gone out there but I did it anyway" by Sam Brown of ExplodingDog.com

I went out Saturday in Dupont with some friends. Had an excellent martini, and laughed my butt off.

Mainly at this guy:

Guy: What’s your name?
Me: Joy. Yours?
Guy: [Redacted]

[General pleasantries and whatnot]

Guy: (Leaning in close) I’m here to rock your world.
Me: Oh…
Guy: If you’re in the market for that sort of thing.
Me: Um, yeah, not really… Thanks, though!

Sweet Potato Brownie Bites

Sweet Potato Brownie Bites

Lately I’ve been battling my sweet tooth. This largely means I awake every day with a fresh resolve to conquer the urge to shove whatever sugary morsels are within arm’s reach into my mouth with abandon. With few exceptions, by nightfall I’ve generally had to admit my defeat.

It seems the allure of those chocolate chip cookies, or lemon wedges, or chocolate mint chips, or orange slices, or toffees, or ice cream sandwiches, or peanut butter cups, or, yanno, whatever delectable treat crosses my path is too much to resist something like 87.5% of the time (+/- a 12.5% margin of error).

So maybe it’s time to reevaluate my battle. Generally speaking, I’m ok with allowing myself a bit of indulgence. I eat well most of the time and am active enough to feel justified in a having a little treat now and then. The problems arise when those ‘little treats’ come in the form of highly-processed, unmeasured morsels. Then I’m dealing with the issue of both quantity and quality.

So yesterday, when I found a link to an article about hiding your veggies in your desserts, it hit me that I should probably stop fighting myself and admit that sweets are part of my life. At least, though, I can try to make my indulgences fall somewhat in line with the rest of my eating habits.

Enter: Sweet Potato Brownie Bites

(Recipe below as I prepared it. See link above for original.)

Servings: 24
Weight Watchers PointsPlus: 2 per Brownie Bite

Ingredients:
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) unsalted butter
2/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup sugar
2/3 cup sweet-potato puree (or one medium sweet potato, boiled skin on, and pureed)
1 large egg
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Directions:
Heat oven to 350 degrees. Butter two mini-cupcake tins; set aside.

In a medium saucepan over low heat, melt butter. Remove pan from heat, and stir in cocoa. Let cool slightly.

Meanwhile, in a small bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt. Stir in sugar and sweet-potato puree, then egg.

Add vanilla to cocoa mixture. Then add flour mixture to cocoa mixture and stir until no traces of flour remain. Spoon into prepared pans; smooth the top. Bake until surface of brownies looks barely dry and an inserted knife comes out with a few moist crumbs, about 12 minutes. Cool to room temperature before serving.

First Great Salad of the Season

Weight Watchers Greek Lemon-Dill Grilled Chicken Salad

I found myself with a few minutes between career job and fun job Wednesday and used the opportunity to stop into the Farmer’s Market in Old Town.

On the produce front, only two farms were represented, neither organic, both within in a respectable range of distance. Both had beautiful products, and I tried to spend my $20 relatively evenly between the two.

From the first stand, I purchased sugar snap peas, two varieties of beets, dill, and a beautiful (greenhouse) tomato. At the second stand, I bought the most gorgeous head of red leaf lettuce I’ve ever laid eyes on and a ton of fantastic smelling strawberries.

I knew I was hosting Mrs. and Mr. P for dinner Thursday night, but I had no idea how I would pull together what I’d purchased to serve them, even as I pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store a mere two hours before their arrival. Rather than wander the aisles in a state of exhaustion tempered only by near panic, I did what any resourceful Southern hostess with half a fridge full of perishables, guests on the way, and a serious time impediment would do…

I pulled out my handy iPhone. (Okay. I admit it. I’m finally an iPhone-loving convert.)

With the forces of Apple and Weight Watchers united, I was blessed with an awesomely delicious, healthy recipe that was a snap to pull together, tasted fantastic, looked beautiful plated and afforded me the time for 15 minutes of beauty rest before my guests arrive.

Try it for yourself. You won’t be disappointed.

Greek Lemon-Dill Grilled Chicken Salad

Weight Watchers PointsPlus™ Value: 8
Servings: 4
Preparation Time: 18 min
Cooking Time: 15 min
Level of Difficulty: Easy

A fabulous Greek salad with a few tasty additions like chickpeas and fresh dill.

Marinade/Dressing Ingredients

• 6 Tbsp water
• 1 1/2 Tbsp olive oil, extra-virgin
• 2 1/4 tsp lemon zest
• 4 1/2 Tbsp fresh lemon juice
• 1 tsp dried minced garlic
• 1 tsp table salt, or to taste
• 3/4 tsp black pepper, freshly ground

Salad Ingredients

• 1 pound(s) Chicken, breast, raw, without skin & bone, four 4-oz pieces
• 2 spray(s) cooking spray
• 4 cup(s) romaine lettuce, thickly shredded
• 1 cup(s) canned chickpeas, rinsed and drained
• 1/2 cup(s) roasted red peppers, packed in water, diced
• 1 cup(s) English cucumber, sliced
• 10 medium olive(s), Kalamata, sliced
• 1/4 cup(s) crumbled feta cheese
• 4 1/2 Tbsp dill, fresh, chopped
• 1/2 medium lemon(s), cut into wedges for garnish

Instructions

1. In a small bowl, combine water, oil, lemon zest and juice, garlic, salt and pepper; remove 1/4 cup of dressing and place in a large zip-close plastic bag (or glass bowl).
2. Add chicken to bag (or bowl) and turn to coat; seal bag (or cover bowl) and refrigerate at least 1 hour or up to 8 hours. Cover and refrigerate remaining lemon mixture for dressing.
3. When ready to cook, off heat, coat grill or grill pan with cooking spray; preheat grill or grill pan over medium-high heat. Remove chicken from marinade; discard marinade.
4. Grill chicken, turning as needed, until cooked through, about 10 to 15 minutes.
5. Place lettuce on a serving platter; arrange vegetables, chickpeas, chicken, olives and cheese on top. Stir dill into reserved dressing; drizzle over salad. Yields about 1 1/2 cups salad, 1 chicken breast and 1 tablespoon each olives and feta per serving.

For dessert, I served the fresh strawberries with a side of homemade whipped cream. While I was in the kitchen, I also baked my beets and simmered the greens in a bit of white wine I had on hand. Easy and de-licious go-tos for coming meals.

On Complications

Dining Alone, Oil on canvas by Berc Ketchian

He: I haven’t had a vegetable in days.

She: You should eat your vegetables.

He: But I’m a mean cook.

She: Then cook some vegetables.

He: There was a girl. It got complicated.

She: Vegetables aren’t really that hard.

He: I need to learn to take care of myself. I’m a mean cook. I just can’t cook for one.

She: I’ve been cooking for myself for years.

He: That’s just sad.

She: Maybe… But it’s not complicated.

They Let Me Wield a Pickax

For the second time this calendar year, I got up early on a sunny Saturday morning, drove to a part of D.C. I’d never before visited, and met with a group of strangers who would later give me free reign to swing a pickax.

Two things to report here.

This is not me wielding a pickax. I'm pretty sure I did not look this cool.

1. In addition to brute strength, swinging a pickax effectively takes a lot more finesse than I’d imagined.
2. People let me use a pickax. These fools must be crazy.

The events, of course, were volunteer opportunities I found through the awesomeness that is OneBrick.org.

The first was at Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens, a heretofore hidden (from me) gem of National Park glory. I haven’t been back to explore the site more fully, but I have every intention. I talked to one of the rangers, and, unlike *some* of DC’s finest public outdoor attractions (which shall remain nameless), things like flying kites and playing Frisbee are completely cool there. (Picnic anyone?)

Anyhow, our task for the day was to create French drains on either side of one of their greenhouses. The thought was that all the water from, uh, watering can run out of the greenhouse and into the drain to be whisked away, instead of pooling up in nasty puddles all along the perimeter of the house. The area we were digging was only dirt, so we got right in there with shovels and made a trench, laid some tubing, and then filled wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow full of rocks and pebbles to cover the tubing. Viola! French drain!

We were so awesomely effective that the park rangers gave us the additional task of breaking up a grassy area to lay the last bit of drainage tube for the final runoff. This is where the first pickax came into play for me. I managed not to chop my own head off and actually made some progress, alternating with a guy who seemed to have swung one of these things a time or two before. But, with no instruction, I didn’t realize how inefficiently my swinging actually was.

Which brings me to last Saturday. Our group joined a boatload of other folks to help Casey Trees plant 60 new trees at Alice Deal Middle School. These folks were super organized, but I suppose when you’re planting hundreds of trees in a season and relying primarily on volunteers, you have to be. They started out by giving us a safety speech and tools demo.

This is a pickax. If you’re right handed, hold your left hand at the bottom and your right hand at the top. Pick a point in the ground, and aim for it. Move your hand down the handle as you swing. When it’s in the ground, lift it up to loosen the dirt, don’t pull it toward you. The wide end is good for grass. The pointy end is good for rocks.

It was at this point that I had my first small epiphany about my pickax work several weeks before. Rookie mistake: I made hard work even harder by not working with the tool’s strengths.

Later, when we were working diligently to plant our allotted three trees on a steeply sloped, grassy, rocky area, I watched as one of the Casey Trees employees made long, swift, smooth swings to break up the grassy, rocky slope before him. He made it look so effortless. There was a grace to his method. Never breaking rhythm. Always hitting his mark and making progress.

The next time someone said, “I think we need a pickax. Anyone want to try?” I volunteered for the task. The guy made it look so easy, and I was newly equipped with expert advice on how to hold, swing, follow through. By the end of the day, I thought, I’ll be swinging like that guy.

The worn-out One Brick group after planting with Casey Trees.

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

It’s not that I didn’t make any progress. It’s just that it wasn’t pretty. As I huffed and puffed, I never found anything resembling a rhythm. Sometimes I’d set the swing up and let it down, only to have the tool bounce off the grass or rocky soil without making much of an impression. Sometimes, I’d miss my mark entirely, hitting the tarp above the hole. Sometimes I’d forget to use the leverage of the handle and waste effort digging at the soil with the wrong tool.

At the end of the day, we got our trees in the ground, and I felt like I’d done enough work on my biceps and triceps to justify a workout-less day. But I never did learn to swing a pickax gracefully.

Life Edits: Take 1

Coming home Friday night, approximately 14 hours after I passed through the front door in the opposite direction, I was all but dead on my feet. Sometime after collapsing on my bed in a near-gelatinous heap, I focused enough to realize I sat staring, unthinking, at the space approximately 2 feet in front of my face.

Do something productive, the eternal motivator within urged.
Only if it doesn’t require physical or mental dexterity, the work-weary majority of my mind countered.
The shoes, the annoying little know-it-all threw back.

Sigh. The shoes.

Have I mentioned I’m moving again? Such an enormous change is going to be quite the shock to the system at the end of July. (I mean, it’s only move number 15 in the last 11 years.)

Back to the shoes. Moving always gives me good reason to get around to that otherwise neglected “spring cleaning” type business. I’ve decided to try to be preemptive with the scaling down this time around, in part because I’m getting antsy about the move but can’t do any serious apartment shopping yet as it’s too early to know availability. And in part because I don’t particularly care to lug the stuff I’m not going to keep to yet another location before lugging it somewhere else to get rid of it.

And an easy place to start is with the shoes. I spent a few minutes going through my closet and pulling anything ill-fitting, particularly worn, dusty with disuse, or unlikely to be worn again. I came out with 20.5 pairs

Bye bye, shoes

of shoes for donation or the dump.

Twenty point five. Sheesh.

(That .5 is really pissing me off at the moment. I wore that shoe – and its mate! – on Tuesday. What the hell happened to the other one in the interim??)

When all was said and done, I took a quick count of my remaining shoes. The tally? 44.

Forty-four!?!

So, on Tuesday, I had 65 pairs of shoes???

I think it’s safe to say I have a problem. Particularly because I’m planning to reward myself for this edit with permission to buy some sandals for the summer.