Broccoli Rabe and Crunchy Cauliflower with a Lemon Tahini Dressing

Hi friends, it's been a while. The last couple of months have been super busy and passed by in such a haze. Consequently, I've been taking lots of "me" time during the hours outside of my day job. Things like dinner parties, lots of movies (omg The Handmaiden!), and lots of books (currently The Wind Up Bird Chronicle). Today I'm back with a recipe, so hi, hello, how have you been doing?

It's the holiday season, which means lots of feasting, drinking, and good times with family and friends. Last month we hosted a big Friendsgiving, it was delicious and everything we had hoped for. To our surprise, the most popular dish of the night was a leafy green salad with an almond dressing. It was mostly there as a show of good faith to the divine entity who presides over my dress size, so I was floored at how quickly it went. What a topsy-turvy kind of world we're living in these days, but if veggies are what people want, I am more than happy to serve. In keeping with the theme of eating healthy during the most decadent of seasons, today's recipe is a vegetarian side dish made with roasted broccoli rabe, raw cauliflower, pine nuts, and a creamy lemon tahini dressing.

The broccoli rabe is roasted to get two distinct textures from it: the tender stems + florets, and the crispy leaves. Then the cauliflower is thinly sliced and served uncooked for a subtle sweetness and refreshing crunch that contrasts the spiciness of the broccoli rabe. The zesty tahini dressing brings it all together, and the pine nuts add a final note of richness to the dish. Per Phillip's request, I'm making a New Years Lasagna for our first dinner of 2017, and I have a good feeling we'll be balancing the hearty lasagna with a refreshing side such as this. However y'all are celebrating, I hope you have a wonderful holiday.

Black Sesame Cake with Citrus Curd, the 2 Year Celebration

Last Friday we turned 2! Our sophomore year was a good one. It was the year I finally found my voice as a blogger and the year I met so many wonderful people in this sphere of the internet. I wouldn't change a thing. But if I had one desire for the upcoming year, it would be to post more regularly. I love interacting with all of you and hope we can do it more often.

This blog has shown me a range of emotions I didn't think was possible. Back in high school, I threw some shade at a guy for reasons which elude me now. He responded with, "Summer, if someone had a warm soda, I would tell them to chip some ice off of your heart because you are just that cold." I deserved it. I respected him a little more after that because it was true, I have always been reserved, quiet, an observer, and a bit cold if we're to be completely honest.

I never anticipated the sheer joy of moments such as publishing a post I'm incredibly proud of, being nominated for an award, partaking in workshops with like minded people (talking shop for hours!), and running into new blog friends by happenstance on the train. Conversely, I was also entirely ill equipped to deal with the uncontrollable outbursts of rage when recipes fail after 5, 6, 7 tries, the woeful despair of having a great recipe but not being able to translate that into photos, the pointless frustration toward the sun in winter.

All those ups and downs are what got O&O here today. Of course we also wouldn't be here without the support of all you wonderful people. So to celebrate such a momentous occasion, we need a cake that is equally memorable.

The Long Hope

The great thing about most food recipes is they're easy to name. A simple description of its constituent parts: arctic char rice bowl, mozzarella pluot salad, bacon cinnamon rolls. But drinks, drinks are a different story. The name "honeydew cucumber gin cocktail" just doesn't roll off the tongue. It doesn't sound as graceful as an Old Fashioned, or Aviation, or Manhattan. I think for drinks, a name is almost as important as the way it tastes.

I don't really believe in throwing out a series of random words until something sticks. Memories are a much stronger place to pull names from. Even if it evokes no particular feelings for anyone else besides myself and and a few others. For us, it's important enough.

Eons ago, when we were studying abroad in London, we stayed in these cookie cutter private dorms by Kings Cross. The closest bar was a place called The Long Hope, right across the intersection. It was an average bar, nothing about it particularly stood out, but it was a place that forever engrained itself into our memories, a symbol of the summer we spent abroad in a city that made a profound impact on the rest of our lives. So this drink is named after that bar, a summery drink to commemorate a bygone summer from years ago.

Lemon Bars and Finding Inspiration

The light is changing, the days are longer, I just left my job. I am unburdened, and somehow, by some cruel plot twist, I am uninspired like I have never been before. I don't know what to cook. Not for this space here, not for dinner, not for breakfast, I don't even know what I want to eat most days. I fumble around behind the lens like it is my first time picking up a camera, though it has been nearly a year since my food photography journey began. As I sit here typing, the backspace key is my best friend. I can't seem to coherently jot down my thoughts; the words I desperately want to find escape me. Like all things, this will pass, but goddamn, it sucks right now.

Self pity aside, let's talk about these lemon bars, which by some miracle, made it out of the fray. They are a last nod to the departing winter before saying an enthusiastic "goodbye!" to winter citrus/squash/roots and "hello!" to all the greens spring has to offer. They are tart, bright, and not weighed down by too much sugar. Just the way lemon bars should be.