ayurveda would say this is part of the natural rhythm of the world: to be entering the time of year when we are most sensitive to heat, to abrasion, to erratic behavior and light. in short Pitta time of year. and so, as with individuals who are out of balance with their pitta point of the dosha triangle as a matter of constitution, the earth and all living in it benefit from gentler routines at the moment- exerting themselves only in the cool of the morning, eating an early evening meal (no later than 7 o'clock) and bedding down fairly early. too, we should ingest cooling food (lighter or more soothing depending on who and how we are).
i like this philosophy as it is a deep-seated bone wisdom kind of thing. how frequently, if we were to put our ear against the resonance of our most grounded self, would we choose to pursue barbecued brisket with hot sauce in the middle of a July day? or a stew heavy with sweet potato, cream and warming spices? likely we would wrinkle our nose at the suggestion. instead we seek out clean, clear, ringing food. snapping pea pods and sweet corn in the finest cloak of coconut oil. fish baked in parchment with citrus; soft herbs stirred into cool cucumbers and rice; dark fruit stewed in its own juices and spooned on drift of yogurt, unadorned but brilliant. this old wisdom is so good.
what has been the largest change as i undertake to implement a little ayurveda at a time is the concept of eating a large meal in the middle of the day and a smaller one later on. sleeping is less like slogging into a swamp or blinking on and off through an electrical storm. anxieties are quelled towards the evening, set intently instead upon digestion. this kind of thing.
a lovely salad with some bracing color, implements that are sturdy and simple (lots of attention newly paid to the world around me with the new poring over of this gem) and some new reading, this is a good way to sit with summer, instead of in it.
(new acquisitions)
Hal Borland is a previously-unknown delight that has been gifted to me by a dear friend. Like Aldo Leopold (and even my favorite writer of annuals) he has broken the year down into what are called the Twelve Moons. This is not an uncommon gesture, one made by many native peoples to describe the year by each month's moon and doling twelve different names for each. Borland assigns each day of the year a different and keen observation about its natural changes and it is a lovely way to begin the day, with coffee, or with the quiet end of the day meal...
and speaking of Nigel Slater...as usual, the above is adapted from his lovely Tender Vol. II.
I made it mostly because of his ode-like writing on peaches:
"When a peach is at its most sublime, it needs a plate to catch the juice, though I invariably forget. Or is that I can never quite believe I will need one? Either way, it is usually followed by that embarrassing little noise that comes from the corner of your mouth as you try to catch the escaping trickle of juice...I like the fact that the stone of a peach contains a little cyanide, though not as much as its sister, the bitter almond. The far-off hint of danger seems only to add to the peach's exotic and sensual qualities...."
and
"A peach in the kitchen...I rarely cook a peach. They are seen in my kitchen nestling next to the crisp skin of a roast chicken salad or perhaps cold gammon or hot roast guinea fowl; stuffed with mascarpone or ricotta or amaretti; or simply nudging a few slices of Parma ham and a fistful of spiky-leaved rocket. I will grill them, stuffed with cream cheese and glazed with molten sugar, bake them with almonds and honey and poach them with honey and a drop of rosewater. Occasionally (very occasionally), I will tuck them into the cream filling of meringue with passion fruit of raspberries or add them to a salad of wine-dark cherries."
and so, wanting a salad nudged by a peach as I'm quite sure I've never had the pleasure I embarked on the dish in question with lovely results...
Roast chicken with arugula, peaches and fresh mozzarella
(adapted from Tender Volume II's: 'A Salad of Chicken, Mint and Peaches')
1 chicken breast; bone in and skin on
marinated with....
about half a lemon's worth of lemon juice
as much as you feel like zesting of a lemon
a zigzag of olive oil
a pinch salt
a grind or two of black pepper
a handful of chopped up herbs (i used rosemary, oregano, dittany, thyme)
roast at 350 for 20-45 minutes depending on the size of the breast. check, as usual, for a burnished and crackling skin, clear juices running from the knife-prick and a creamy interior (no redness or pinkness unless you are very near the bone) let this guy sit about 10 minutes on the counter to tempt anyone around with its fragrance, dogs especially. then shred with a fork.
into a bowl shower some arugula and a few torn up rounds of nasturtium leaves and blossoms if you have any about.
add to it half a round of fresh mozzarella torn into pleasing bits (not too big, not too small)
one peach shocked in a bit of boiling water, skin removed. cut this into fine wedges and then each wedge crosswise.
a cupful (approximately) of steamed israeli couscous (likely soft cooked barley would be an excellent substitute)
a palmful of shredded mint and basil leaves
and perhaps a quarter cup of finely chopped and fiercely bright red onion.
dress this with an squeeze of lemon (perhaps the other half from the chicken) and whisk with a pinch of black pepper and salt, pour in a trickle of olive oil at a time until a lovely unctuous emulsion forms, toss with the salad bowl and eat somewhere with a lovely view, a lovely lunch partner, or a lovely length of well-written anything to make you appreciate how clean and light eating with the season makes a person feel.
cheers!
and do read as much Nigel Slater as you can, you will never feel more lovingly towards the plant-world than after reading him...
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