I spent last weekend with women on the verge, dear friends who see the past behind them as if it were a battle they had conquered, and then what lie before them — darkness shrouding a vast terrain — and they wondered if now was the time for them to charge forward. To leave the comfortable uncomfortable behind for something bigger and more beautiful than they had ever imagined. It’s a sweet thing to witness this fever, this anxiety, this fervor, and having been inspired by their passion and light, I found myself confessing my future plans that — shock, oh shock — involve food.

I won’t say anything on this space, but the shoreline is clear and specific and I’m patient in my need to work to that place, to now want to rush to it. Because right now is not my time, and that’s okay.

Today, after a grueling workout, where I damn near collapsed on my medicine ball, I was thinking about a virtuous lunch. Typically, I feast on scrambled eggs and buttered whole wheat toast (YUM!), but today I was besotted with a black rice salad with mango, featured in Bon Appetit‘s June issue. And can I just say I’m glad I embarked on this miniature adventure because lunch was incredible, downright biblical.

Black rice, otherwise known as “Forbidden Rice,” in the Chinese culture, is high in cancer-preventing antioxidants, and has a rich, nutty flavor. I marveled as it transformed the cooking liquid to a psychedelic blackberry hue, and married with the sweet fruit and the astringent limes, this salad is fresh, light, wholesome and unbelievably filling.

I tinkered with the recipe a little bit to suit my liking, but I invite you to pair this with a salmon or a piece of steak (DROOLING).

INGREDIENTS: Adapted from Bon Appetit’s June 2012 issue, serves 6-8 as a side; 4-6 as a main salad
2 oranges
1/4 cup (or more) fresh lime juice
2 tbsp safflower oil
1 tbsp fish sauce
2 cups black rice
2 just-ripe mangos, peeled, pitted, cut into 1/2″ dice
1 cup fresh cilantro leaves, rough chop
6 ramp leaves, thinly sliced

DIRECTIONS
Remove peel and white pith from the oranges. Working over a medium bowl to catch juices and using a sharp knife, cut between membranes to release orange segments into a bowl. Squeeze membranes over bowl to release any juices. Strain juices through a fine-mesh sieve into a small bowl; reserve orange segments.

Add 1/4 cup lime juice, oil, and fish sauce to bowl with orange juice; whisk to blend. Set dressing aside.

Bring rice and 2 3/4 cup water to a boil in a large saucepan. Season lightly with salt. Cover, reduce heat to low, and simmer to all liquid is absorbed and rice is tender, about 25 minutes. Remove pan from heat and let stand, covered, for 15 minutes.

Spread out rice on a rimmed baking sheet (I just a large cookie sheet), drizzle with dressing, and season lightly with salt; let cool.

Place mangoes and remaining ingredients in a large bowl. Add rice and toss gently to combine. Serve!

After a week that was exhilarating, exhausting, wonderful and frenetic, come the weekend all I want to do is rest, eat delicious food and spend hours with good friends. Today I hit the farmer’s market with vigor, determined to make a simple dish with the healthiest of ingredients. Inspired by Milk + Mode’s recent Spaghetti + Roasted Broccoli Rabe dish, amplified by my obsession with kale, and tempered with my need for a little comfort, I decided to fix a meal that would leave me satisfied.

Spring and autumn are my most revered seasons. I love the markets stocked with earthy greens, blistering-red radishes and rows upon rows of fragrant blooms. I spent an hour in the Union Square Market, buying hyacinths, talking about ramps and snagging heritage sausage. Nothing pleases me more than chatting up proprietors, thinking of new ways to invent simple dishes, and taking photos of all the brilliant bounty.

And I would soon discover the JOY that is young garlic? The cloves are juicy, yielding and unbelievably flavorful. Unlike the garlic you’ll find in most supermarkets, wild garlic is a bit tricky to peel as it isn’t as dry, so you’ll need to exercise patience. But believe me when I say that it’s worth it. Married with the charred florets from the broccoli rabe, the heat from the red pepper flakes and the bitterness of the kale, your dinner will be a symphony of rich, satisfying flavor. I’ll be candid and say that I DO LIKE BROCCOLI. While my distaste is not on the level of the CRUEL MUSHROOM (although I’m realizing the shapes are fairly similar, which is now giving me immense vertigo), I was initially hesitant to try broccoli rabe. But trust me, roasted rabe is nothing like its heartier cousin. Nutty, crisp and a perfect match for kale, I was shocked by how much I LOVED THIS DISH.

AND IT’S HEALTHY!!!

INGREDIENTS: Recipe inspired by Milk + Mode, with modifications
1 (1-lb) bunch broccoli rabe, hollow stems discarded and leaves and remaining stems cut into 2-inch pieces
3 cups of Lacinato kale (or any flat leaf kale, rather than the curly kind), chopped
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil, separated
1 pound fettucini
1 head young (spring) garlic, cloves separated, peeled, and sliced thinly
1/2 tsp dried hot red-pepper flakes (to taste)
1/4 tsp crushed black pepper, separated
1/4 tsp Kosher salt
1/4-1/12 cup grated pecorino romano cheese

DIRECTIONS:
Preheat oven to 500 degrees. Toss broccoli rabe with 3 tablespoons olive oil, and salt and 1/8 tsp pepper to taste. Spread out the broccoli rabe on a roasting pan in a single layer, spacing out the pieces as much as possible. Roast for until soft and wilty in some places, and golden brown and charred in others, about 7 minutes.

Meanwhile, cook pasta according to package instructions in a big pot of boiling, salted water. Drain in a colander and transfer to a large serving bowl.

Heat remaining olive oil in a large, heavy skillet over moderate heat. Add garlic, 1/8 tsp pepper and red pepper flakes and cook, stirring frequently, until garlic is pale golden, 3 to 4 minutes. Toss in the kale and sauté for one minute. Pour over pasta and toss to combine. Add your roasted broccoli rabe and mix thoroughly. Garnish with flowers and cheese if desired. Serve hot.

Today came with a rush of beautiful, white lights. Over the course of two conversations, the lights take form — as they’re wont to do — and I’m enveloped by the energy, the pure creativity emanating from two women who are seriously on the verge. Something is brewing, plans are taking shape, and one of my dearest friends told me that she has found her vision. When she said this, it put me to thinking of Lily Briscoe in Virginia Woolf’s To the Lighthouse, and I couldn’t help but marvel over the allusion, of an artist finding her place, her subject, her passion, and meanwhile I’m there to simply revel in it.

All lines draw back to two words whose meaning will reveal itself over the course of the coming months: food collaborative.

For now, I invite you to feast on a devilish chocolate bundt cake, drowning in a river of chocolate that evokes Vesuvius.

INGREDIENTS: Adapted from Joy the Baker: 101 Simple and Comforting Recipes, with modifications
For the Cake:
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, sifted
1 1/4 cups hot brewed coffee
1/4 cup Dutch process cocoa powder
2 cups sugar
1 1/4 teaspoons kosher salt
3 large eggs
1 1/4 cups low-fat sour cream
1 cup plus 2 tbsp safflower oil
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

For the Glaze:
6 ounces semi-sweet chocolate
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter
1/3 cup sour cream, at room temperature
4 tbsp brewed coffee, cooled

DIRECTIONS
Place an oven rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees F. Grease and flour a 10-inch bundt pan and set aside.

To make the cake: in a small bowl, whisk together the coffee and cocoa powder until smooth and no lumps remain. Set aside. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, salt and sugar. Set aside. The original recipe called for baking soda, however, I nixed it because I often find that cakes have a “fudgy” flavor without it. In a medium bowl, whisk the eggs until smooth, and beat in the sour cream and oil, carefully whisking until all ingredients are incorporated and the batter is smooth.

Add the egg mixture all at once to the flour mixture and whisk until all ingredients have been incorporated and no flour bits remain. Then you can whisk in the coffee mixture until the batter is loose and smooth.

Pour batter into a prepared pan and bake for 45 minutes, or until a skewer comes out clean.

Let the cake cool completely in the pan (20 minutes) and then invert onto a cooling rack. The cake must be COMPLETELY COOL (be patient, my friends) before you add the icing. Otherwise, you’ll just get melted chocolate. Not a crime, I assure you, but you won’t achieve the desired glaze effect.

To make the icing: Chop the chocolate into small pieces, put them in a heatproof bowl (or a double boiler), along with the butter, and set the bowl over a pot of barely simmering water. Be sure that the bottom of the bowl does not touch the boiling water. Remove the bowl from the heat when all of the chocolate bits have melted.

Allow the mixture to cool slightly. Add the sour cream and whisk to combine. Lastly, add the coffee and whisk to create a glossy glaze.

Pour the glaze over the Bundt cake, covering it completely. Leave at room temperature until ready to serve.

Morning is my quiet time. There is a stillness in the air, a calm that feels magnified. My mind is clear and my body has yet to be beaten down by the enormity of the day ahead. Often you’ll find me in the office typing away as my colleagues roll out of bed. Two hours of unmitigated quiet allows me to complete the equivalent of a ten-hour workday. I like this time. I adore the routine of a subway that rolls into the station at a specified time, the light roast coffee I’ll consume, and the fact that my oatmeal is always pipping hot. And as much as I treasure my mornings, I also savor my breakfasts: simple, flavorful eats. So when I spotted a recipe for homemade nutty granola made with my ingredient du jour (coconut!), I couldn’t resist.

Not only is this recipe a cinch to make, it’s unbelievably fragrant and delicious. Paired with a few spoonfuls of milk (or opt for Greek yoghurt) and sliced peaches, my mid-afternoon snack was borderline BIBLICAL.

INGREDIENTS: Recipe adapted from The Year in Food
3 cups rolled oats
2/3 cup raw pistachios
1/2 cup chopped, raw almonds
1/2 cup unsweetened coconut flakes
1/3 cup cashews, chopped
2 tablespoons blueberry flax seeds
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 cup grade B maple syrup
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 cup dried cherries

DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Combine all dry ingredients except the cherries in a large mixing bowl. Drizzle in maple syrup and olive oil and stir thoroughly to combine. Spread granola in an even layer on a rimmed baking sheet. Bake at 325 degrees for about 30-35 minutes, stirring at every ten minutes or so, to keep the granola from burning.

When the granola is golden and fragrant, remove from the oven. Mix in the cherries.

Allow the granola to cool, then store in a sealed container at room temperature.

Lately it feels as if I’m stuck in the betweens: a sort of limbo where you can see the road traveled ahead, you can even catch a glimpse of the future version of yourself living your life exactly as you wished it to be — but here you are, in a house with no keys and no car. Only the solace that, at some point, you’ll make it to the other side.

Sometimes this comfort is fleeting, especially when you live in the here and the now, where every word is a pin-prick, every sound a shudder. Where you believe that people exist solely to make your life difficult. The last few weeks have been challenging — both physically and professionally (I’ll say no more than that) — and all I want to do is surround myself with beauty and quiet.

For me, food is like church in its ability to soothe and comfort. There is a satisfaction in making something with your hands, food that is personal in its intent to give pleasure to the one who consumes it. Often I talk about bakers as artisans in the kitchen — people who exercise gastronomic feats that is ethereal in form.

So when I woke feeling a little blue, I decided to indulge in the artistry of others rather than making something of my own. For six hours I traveled the city and Brooklyn and sampled hot cookies, feathery-light donuts, heavenly whipped ice cream, all the while compiling a goodie basket for a friend who is in need of sweet cheer.

I kicked off my sweet tour at Doughnut Plant in Manhattan’s Lower East Side. This nondescript downtown staple showcases fresh yeast and cake doughnuts made with seasonal flavors and ingredients. From the traditional jelly and glaze to the outrageously divine creme brulee, coconut creme, and blueberry, you will fall in love at first bite. I tend to deviate toward yeast doughnuts because they’re more aerated and fluffier than the heavier (but smaller) cake version. However, doughnut connoisseurs will not be disappointed with this spot where lines routinely roll out the door.

If you hadn’t noticed, I’m a bit of a sweet snob. I think Magnolia Bakery is vastly overrated, and many shops serve up flavorless cookies or saccharine sweet belly-bombing cakes. I live by the axiom that if my amateur kitchen can churn out a better muffin than those housed in your storefront, then your shop isn’t worth patroning. It seems as if EVERYONE.COM has been singing the praises of Levain Bakery’s six-ounce cookies, however, I yawned.

UNTIL their treats were featured on The Cooking Channel‘s Unique Sweets. Believe me when I say that I LIVE FOR THIS SHOW. I BUY EVERYTHING FEATURED ON THIS SHOW. I BELIEVE IN THIS SHOW. The show feature was enough to send me uptown to sample their famous cookies, and OH MY SWEET LORD THEY WERE DELICIOUS. The enormous cookies are scone-like in shape and texture, but they are undeniably flavorful — so much so that I could practically taste the vanilla extract in the oatmeal raisin cookies. AND THE RAISINS WERE SOFT AND TENDER!!!

I nearly wept a poodle.

My sage online buddy, @mike_white, directed me in the direction of Dough, a small doughnut joint in Bed-Sty, Brooklyn. I first attempted to snag a doughnut at the Brooklyn Flea, but the place was packed to the gills and they were wiped out of doughnuts. Invasion of the Doughnut Snatchers and the like.

After a ten-minute walk I encountered the BEST DOUGHNUTS OF MY LIFE. The shop is tiny and the wait Odyssean, but it’s worth it. From passionfruit glaze and mocha chips to blood orange glaze and creme filling to toasted coconuts, the shop is a literal feast for the eyes. I don’t care that my walk home was forty-five minutes. I don’t care that I was crammed in a little shop. I don’t care that doughnuts are 1.5 million calories.

THESE DOUGHNUTS GAVE ME A REASON TO LIVE.

And what started out as a day worth shredding soon morphed into an adventure. On my way home I picked up hyacinths and tulips, and carried my bounty, home.

I hope my friend doesn’t freak out when she sees three pounds of sugar, butter and glaze.

Those who know me well know that I’m a creature of habit. Yet there was a time when I’d attend the opening of an envelope, when missing the toast of a new eatery was catastrophic. Fourteen years ago a college friend and I would make lists of restaurants we wanted to visit, and ticking them off was a sport. And soon it became increasingly apparent to me that these nights out were less about the actual food but more about being somewhere.

These days I’d rather spend time in my home with friends, cutting into a coconut loaf. But that’s just me.

However, the lure of a post-yoga chowfest with my best girlfriends is enough to get me out of the house. Lucky I did or I’d never have been seduced by Snack Taverna’s charms.

Located in the heart of New York’s West Village, Snack serves up delicious unexpected Greek eats in a cozy, sun-drenched tavern. From dynamite chicken sandwiches exploding with flavor (picture lemon dressed arugula, lemon-herbed mayo, tender seasoned chicken breast, sweet onions — all housed in a soft, yielding ciabatta roll) to scrambled eggs mixed with spicy aged feta and crunchy pancetta to knockout hummus and flavorful vegetable sandwiches, everything at Snack is an unequivocal WIN.

But let’s pause for a moment and consider the fragrant RICE PUDDING. I’ve ordered this hot vanilla pudding served with sautéed apricots while at the OFFICE, people.

So if you’re downtown and aching for a brunch, lunch, dinner, dessert, etc, I implore you to check out Snack.

Typically I’m a MONTH early to any appointment. From meetings to brunches to evening soirées, I’m always the first on the scene. Always the one securing the table. However, today is one of those days when the rain comes down in sheets, so instead of standing idle for a half hour, I decided to thumb through the pages of Bon Appetit in my gym. While I studied the pages and memorized a host of the recipes, a trainer walks over to me and asks me what I’m reading. Because I’m so focused, so intent, so immersed in whatever it is that’s in my hands. Smiling I show him the magazine and he nods his head and says, I take my food seriously too.

After a long, leisurely brunch with one of my dearest friends I race home in the rain to bake a loaf of sugary sweetness. The French yoghurt loaf recipe called for vanilla, lemon and vegetable oil, however, this bored me to tears. Rather, I imagined the tangy Greek yoghurt tempered by coconut oil, extract and a shower of flakes.

And can I just say that this loaf is pure and utter MAGIC. Out of the oven I slathered a hot slice with blueberry preserves. Now excuse me while I enjoy the rest of my rainy Sunday with a loaf of coconut, a hot tea and a scary movie.

INGREDIENTS: Recipe inspired by Bon Appetit’s French Yoghurt Loaf
Nonstick vegetable oil spray
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
2 teaspoons baking powder
3/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1 tbsp unsweetened coconut flakes
3/4 cup sugar
1 cup whole-milk Greek yogurt
1/2 cup coconut oil
2 large eggs
1/2 teaspoon coconut extract
8 1/2 x 4 1/4-inch loaf pan

DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 350°F. Coat pan with vegetable oil spray. Dust with flour; tap out excess.
Whisk 1 1/2 cups flour, baking powder, and kosher salt in a medium bowl.

In large bowl add the sugar, yogurt, oil, eggs, and coconut extract; whisk to blend. Fold in dry ingredients just to blend.

Pour batter into prepared pan; smooth top. Sprinkle coconut flakes on top. Bake until top of cake is golden brown and a tester inserted into center comes out clean, 40-55 minutes.

Let cake cool in pan on a wire rack for 15 minutes. Invert onto rack; let cool completely. DO AHEAD: Can be made 3 days ahead. Store airtight at room temperature.

It’s a funny thing to think that you’ve finally found your way and then suddenly you lose it. You wake one morning and wonder where all the years have gone off to, and is this — this job, this house you made into a home, this love, this heart — the life that gives you shelter? Or is it a layover to the life you were meant to have but were too frightened to pursue it? Because in the end you want to feel as if it all mattered. In the gloaming you want to close your eyes and believe that this life was everything.

Many of my friends are on the verge. They’ve found themselves in the mid-thirties clawing their skin as if it were an article of clothing they so desperately wanted to shed. They’re anxious, filled with frenzy and doubt and longing because although we don’t want to say it…time is always moving even when we don’t it to. They’re afraid of time running out. And they wonder, have I wasted these past ten years? Have these years meant nothing?

It always means something, I say.

I invite you, for a moment, to step out of your life. To open up a notebook — not a laptop, an iPhone, an Android, an iPad — a notebook. I want you to find a pen, and I want you to sit down and free associate. Write down all the things you want from your life. Take down all the things, people, places that make you truly happy. Be fanciful. Be pragmatic. Be honest. But just write. Don’t judge, don’t pause, don’t answer your phone, don’t text, don’t email, don’t think, don’t evaluate, don’t write job descriptions. Just write.

Because distractions are like anesthesia — they never allow you to come closer to feeling, to come closer to yourself. They are fear’s magnificent tools. You need this space and quiet and honesty in order to uncover what you want and who you want to be.

Do this for thirty minutes. And then turn the page and write down all of the jobs you’ve had. Under each job write the things you loved about this job — the light that came in through the windows, the fact that you were tasked to create, the people congregating in the kitchen complaining over the tepid coffee, the work, the details, the pens and gadgets you might have held in your hand.

From all of this, start to identify patterns, words and phrases and ideas that repeat themselves. Group words that are like-minded. Continue to do this exercise for as long as you need to. Until your life reveals itself.

A year ago I did this exercise when I was in Bali — my first vacation in years — and it dawned on me that my work stress prevented me from doing one of the things I truly enjoyed: baking. All of my accoutrements were dusty, and I had abandoned my great love to be the sort of successful person I thought I should be. But this exercise revealed that pursuing all my passions will allow me to have an affection for, and perspective toward, my work. And although I love my life right now, I can’t wait for the next phase of it. For when my love of food plays a more prominent role, whatever that may be.

Today I told my friend all of this, and after I was inspired to bake. On impulse I purchased a cookbook I’ve been meaning to explore, written by a blogger who adores baked goods just as much as I do. Joy Wilson’s Joy the Baker is exquisite and a real feast for the eyes. Simply put, I want to bake EVERY SINGLE THING IN THIS BOOK.

First up are these super simple whole wheat, goat cheese and honey drop biscuits. These are so flavorful, flaky, and delicious that I had to refrain myself from devouring the whole batch.

So instead I took a quick walk down the block and enjoyed spring, in blooming.

INGREDIENTS (6-8 large biscuits): Recipe courtesy of Joy the Baker.
2 cups whole wheat flour
2 tbsp. baking powder
¼ tsp. baking soda
1½ tsp. salt
2 oz. (4 Tbs./½ stick) unsalted butter, cold & cut into cubes
¼ cup crumbled goat cheese
1 cup buttermilk, cold
2 tbsp. honey
cooking spray for the pan

DIRECTIONS
Place rack in upper third of oven and preheat to 400° F. Place a large (10 or 12-inch) cast-iron skillet in the oven as it preheats. If you don’t have a skillet, DON’T PANIC! A muffin tin works just as well.

Whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a medium bowl. Quickly incorporate the cold butter and goat cheese using your fingers, until it resembles a coarse meal. Some chunks will be bigger than others. That’s okay. Make a well in the center of the mixture.

Whisk the buttermilk and honey together. Pour into the well you formed and use a fork to blend the wet and dry ingredients together. Mix until all the flour is incorporated (no dry flour should remain). Set aside.

Carefully remove skillet from oven and add the tablespoon of butter. Swirl it around the bottom and sides of the pan until it is melted.

Spoon batter by ¼-cupful* onto skillet. You can fit about 6 in a 10″ skillet and 8 in a 12″ skillet. There should be about an inch of space between each biscuit. (So yes, do this in batches…or use two cast-iron skillets together…adding the same amount of butter to the second batch/skillet). Or, you can opt to place them all into a muffin tin.

Slide back into oven and bake for 14-16 minutes, until golden and tops appear dry and slightly firm. Remove from oven and let rest 5 minutes. (Repeat with remaining batter if not using a second skillet.)

For a glossy finish, brush the biscuits with slightly warm honey. Serve immediately (best) or wrap and store at room temperature for up to 3 days.

Remember when I told you that my Asian-inspired dinner party was a complete and utter success? Well, the stars of the event were the stir-fried beef and pad see ew (drunken noodles). Candidly, preparing the dish was a bit of a challenge to me — improvisational cooking, unlike baking, drives me INSANE IN THE MEMBRANE — and I was hesitant to even serve the dish to my friends, fearing failure. I’d never worked with so many new-to-me ingredients at once (I’VE BEEN EATING OYSTER SAUCE ALL. THIS. TIME.????), and, in retrospect, I should have studied the recipe to ensure I had my mise en place (mess in place). Out of all the dishes I made yesterday, the drunken noodles posed the greatest challenge, and ultimately, the greatest culinary reward. My friends devoured the sweet noodles and marveled over the charred chicken and the tender kale. The flavors will explode in your mouth and all you’ll want to do is eat more!

Now that I’ve got the basics down, I’ll definitely be making this again. Why not have drunken noodles at home instead of ordering from a restaurant where the ingredients may be suspect?

INGREDIENTS (Serves 4-6): Inspired by Chez Pim
For the marinade:
1 lb (16oz) chicken tender strips (alternatively, you can dice up chicken breasts, lengthwise, into strips)
1 tbsp fish sauce
2 tbsp oyster sauce
1/4 tsp dark sesame oil
Mix together in a bowl and let sit for 30 minutes.

For the noodles:
3/4 lb (12oz) flat rice noodles (I used flat udon noodles)
2-3 tbsps cooking oil
3 cups of mixed kale leaves (or 2 cups of Chinese brocoli, stalks and leaves)
fish sauce to taste
2 tbsp – 1/4 cup oyster sauce
1 tbsp thick soy sauce
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 egg
1 tbsp rice wine vinegar
ground black pepper to taste

DIRECTIONS
Many of the sites I explored relayed that it’s paramount that I get my mise en place because the cooking part happens rather quickly.

First, I cooked the noodles as directed (7 minutes). Once cooked, drain and run the noodles over cold water to stop the cooking process. Set the noodles aside.

Heat a tablespoon of oil in a wok or large saucepan over high heat. When the oil is hot, add the kale and sauté for about a minute. Then add a splash of fish sauce, sautéing until the leaves are wilted. Remove the greens from the pan and set aside.

Add another tablespoon (or more) of oil to the pan and toss in the noodles, coating them with the oil. Add thick soy sauce, fish sauce and oyster sauce, and stir the noodles about until they are evenly cooked. Remove the noodles from the pan and set aside. Scrape off any remnants from the pan, add another tablespoon of oil and set over high heat. When the oil is hot, add the garlic and stir for a second, then add the chicken. Stir-fry until the chicken is almost cooked through. Push the chicken to the side of the pan and add an egg to the middle. Let it cook for a few seconds then stir it together with the chicken. Add back the kale and the noodles. Stir together. Remove from heat. Add more soy sauce and/or fish sauce to taste (you may not need any) and then toss the noodles with a tablespoon of rice wine vinegar and a few grinds of black pepper.

Believe me when I say that I nearly cleaned out the entire Asian food section of Whole Foods. From stocking up on oyster and fish sauces to flat udon noodles to minced beef, my recent South East Asian holiday has inspired a slew of dishes focused on megaphone flavor and heaps of vegetables. Tonight I hosted a monthly rotating dinner party, where a few of my closest friends and I chow down, dissect movies from the 90s and talk about our goings-on. Since seeing one another has become the equivalent of booking a table at Nobu, we’ve dedicated one Saturday a month where we unwind, unload and explore new cultures and continents through the dishes that we create and serve. In the past few months I’ve been to Sicily, Thailand and Brazil — all from the comfort of a friend’s kitchen. And while I can’t wait for next month’s Indian feast, I’m itching to share recipes from this month’s soiree.

In three short hours I fixed a beef chili stir-fry, drunken noodles with chicken, tofu stir-fry, kale salad, coconut-infused jasmine rice and a pile of fresh fruit. However, I want to first focus on one of tonight’s BIG HITS: the stir-fried beef. Funny how the simplest of dishes are the ones which have the most impact.

You can serve this beef solo, or pair it with a small bowl of jasmine rice — it’s that simple and that DELICIOUS.

And OBVIOUSLY you know how I feel about kale.

INGREDIENTS
For the stir-fry:
1 lb flank steak, cut lengthwise into strips
2 tbsp soy sauce
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/8 tsp dried red Thai chilies (chili flakes are a fine alternative)
1 tbsp grape seed or safflower oil
1-2 cups of tat soi (spinach or basil are fine substitutes)

For the kale salad:
4-6 cups of mixed kale leaves (red, green, purple)
1 cup of tat soi (spinach or basil are fine substitutes)
1 cup of mixed nuts (1/3 pistachios, 1/3 slivered blanched almonds and 1/3 cashews), toasted
1/2 cup dried cherries
2-3 tbsp olive oil
salt/pepper to taste

DIRECTIONS:
In a medium bowl, mix the soy sauce and chili and marinate the beef for 1/2 hour.

Heat the oil in a wok, or a large sauté pan, over high heat until it is nearly smoking. As the oil is heating up, toss in the garlic and then pat the beef dry and separate it into small batches no larger than what can fit into the palm of your hand. Working in batches, sauté beef until it is charred and cooked through (4-5 minutes). However, if you prefer your meat rare (cook for 1 minute) or medium (cook for 2-3 minutes). Personally, I prefer well-done beef the equivalent to shoe leather.

Toss the tat soi (or spinach) in until the leaves are wilted.

The dish can be served piping hot or at room temperature. I paired this with the kale salad, which was a cinch to fix. The only cooking involved is heating up the nuts on a dry pan — the rest is pure flavor magic. You’ll love the flavor and texture plays of the sweet cherries, raw kale and crunchy nuts.

Funny how time sorts things. Last year I waged a war against a body that had softened and ballooned. A considerable amount of work stress led me to make poor decisions when it came to food, and soon a body that was toned and healthy soon morphed into a house of macaroni and cheese. Words couldn’t express how uncomfortable I felt in my own skin because I was attached to a version of myself I used to be — disciplined, focused and mindful; I felt crippled surrounded by lithe women snacking on all the foods that had become an enemy. It’s a gruesome thing to not love your body, to want to shed your own skin like an old piece of clothing. To now fear the one thing that had saved you from the dark country…was unimaginable.

When I got the shakes in 2002 it was Nigella Lawson on the Food Network that gave me something to do with my hands. When I felt raw and exposed in 2007 because I was no longer living life through an anesthetic, it was a stand mixer and a hothouse oven that gave me shelter. So how could it be that the one thing that had saved me at one point in my life could become my ruin. I refused to believe this. I refused to be a starved rabbit eater, a calorie counter, someone who pens odes on the evils of the bread basket. So after careful and exhaustive research I invested in Freshology, a meal service delivery program.

CAN WE SAY, RESET?

After two weeks on the program, my investment paid off. Not only did my body acclimate to eating smaller portions, but I realized that my lack of diversity was an impediment. Being on the program reminded me of my affection for the colors and flavorings of good food. Whole wheat pasta three times a day was making me sluggish, and the program allowed me to explore different food combinations and forced me to be disciplined about incorporating protein and greens AT EVERY MEAL.

ARRRGGGGHHHHHH!!!!

Fast forward a year later, and my relationship with my body has markedly changed. No longer do I want to be the paled-down to bone version of myself from my 20s, rather I want to be strong, toned and healthy. Size no longer mattered. Fitting into skinny jeans no longer figured. Back strength, defined shoulders, flexibility became paramount. However, as I work long hours and travel quite a bit for my job, I tend to fall back into old eating habits.

Enter the Jillian Michaels’ Freshology Gold program. When the folks at Freshology reached out to me to sample the new program, gratis, I nearly SCREAMED. Believe me when I say that I would NEVER RECOMMEND ANYTHING I wouldn’t personally purchase. I believe in this program because I paid my hard-earned money on it, and not only was the food DELICIOUS (and I am DIFFICULT TO PLEASE when it comes to food. For example, I think Magnolia Bakery is overrated, at best), it was healthy.

Taking the best of Jillian Michaels’ grueling workouts (I haven’t received them in my first shipment, but I’ve done her workouts on demand and they are BRUTAL), married with fresh food full of flavor, the Gold program purports to deliver real weight loss results. And although I’m not focused on weight loss, I am mindful of bad habits, and sometimes a woman can use a reset button. So here’s me, resetting.

After the first day I’m reminded of my issue with portion control. For breakfast I had delicious whole wheat waffles with chicken apple sausage and fresh fruit (witness the CARDAMON on said peaches). And although I made it to lunch without going all ALIVE on my colleagues, I did need a little snack (low-fat frozen yoghurt) after lunch (yummy Thai basil chicken with wrappers), and I nearly wept when I realized there was NO CARB ACCOMPANIMENT with my steak dinner.

May I also remind you that I’ve only just embraced broccoli? So I needed a little sesame dressing to ride me through dinner. Ultimately, each meal was unbelievably fresh, wholesome, flavorful, free of HFCS or partially-hydrogenated oils, and the desserts, although miniature, are EPIC.

So stay tuned as I plan to show you my meals (feel free to check out ingredients and calorie counts here) and document my journey on the program.

Also, I’ll be hosting a giveaway for one lucky winner!

Full Disclosure: The folks at Freshology were kind enough to supply me with a seven-day meal program, gratis.

For years I was adamant in my fear and loathing of the BANANA CREAM PIE. I assumed it was a saccharine sweet custard lathered in Cool Whip. Retching was a prerequisite to eating said pie, and I’d often find myself scowling in disdain at the Magnolia Bakery version. It wasn’t until my colleague brought in a dish of banana custard and begged me to try a bite, that I fell rapturously in love with the cool, luscious mixture. A silky custard married with a crumbly cookie was perfection, and I swore that I would fix a pie come the weekend.

Yet, I’m still on a Southeast Asian dessert kick, where coconut is the reigning sweet star. From fragrant jasmine rice covered in sweet coconut cream to mangos and coconut cane sugar, I can’t but help to want to incorporate the COCONUT in everything. Coconut and nutella cookies? Consider that on the agenda for next week, kids. And I thought back to my successful banana coconut loaf and realized that nothing could go wrong with this union. Inspired by Amanda of Slow Like Honey’s delicious banana cream tart, I took the easy route and snagged a pre-made pie crust and got to work.

And the result? DREAMY. Tufts of cream, oozing custard, sweet coconut and a crispy, crumbly pie crust — the flavor play was astounding. I’m seriously considering a second helping as I type this.

If you make anything this spring, MAKE THIS!

INGREDIENTS: Inspired by Slow Like Honey, with modifications
1 pre-made organic pie crust

For the Filling
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons cane sugar
1/3 cup cornstarch
1/8 tsp salt
3 cups 2% milk
3 large egg yolks
3 tbsp unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 1/2 tsp coconut extract/flavor

For the Topping
1 cup heavy whipping cream
1/4 cup confectioner’s sugar
1/4 cup unsweetened shredded coconut
3 medium ripe bananas

DIRECTIONS
Prepare the crust for cream pies (poke with a fork and bake at 400F for 10 minutes), and let cool as directed. Typically, I allow my crusts to cool in the refrigerator because I’m a tad impatient. Once the crust has cooled, dice up on banana into quarters and place on the bottom of the crust.

In a medium-large saucepan, combine the sugar, cornstarch, and salt, whisking in the milk and egg yolks. On medium heat, cook the mixture, stirring constantly for 6-8 minutes. This stirring business is akin to fixing risotto — you have to linger until the custard thickens and coats a wooden spoon. Once thickened, remove from the heat and whisk in the vanilla and butter, one piece at a time.

Pour the filling into chilled pie shell, smoothing the top. Gently press a piece of plastic wrap against the filling to help keep a skin from forming. Transfer the pie to a wire rack and let cool to room temperature, then refrigerate for at least 5 hours or overnight.

To be candid this bit is agonizing. Often you’ll find me sneaking into the kitchen and poking at the custard, wondering if it’s set, hoping I can spread a luscious layer of whipped cream. So after four hours I broke down and hit the stand mixer. Using a chilled medium-size bowl and chilled beaters, beat the heavy cream with an electric mixer until it won’t quite hold soft peaks. Add the confectioner’s sugar and continue to beat until it is stiff but not grainy. Smear a thin layer of the topping over the filling, using no more than half of it. Then add the coconut, ensuring that it coats the entire pie. Cut up the bananas into quarters and spread as a layer over the filling. And pour the remaining cream over the pie and sprinkle with a bit more coconut.

Refrigerate until ready to serve, preferably not longer than an hour.

To say that this week was bipolar, that it was in massive need of meds, would be an understatement. After a haze of meetings, presentations, long-nights in the office, and the realization that I’m just too old for uncomfortable shoes, I decided to keep things simple. I cancelled my plans and spent today stretching my limbs in yoga, finalizing my taxes, and chowing on all the comfort foods I adore. From kale and lentil soup to mini red velvet cupcakes to homemade pesto, I feel good filling myself with a few indulgences and a lot of flavor.

And make no mistake — if told that this were my last day on earth and I had but one meal left, I would beg and plead for a bowl of pesto pasta. Marrying the ultimate salve and the verdant sauce is perfection (and why not toss in some salty cheese for good measure?) — I can’t think of a more comforting meal. So instead of fixing the Thai noodles I had planned to make, I instead blasted some tunes and blitzed up some leaves and dove, fork-first, into a delicious meal.

Even though I’ve made nearly two dozen permutations of this simple recipe, I always return to the basil version. It’s simple, savory, and perfection when ladled over a steaming hot bowl of farfalle.

And there’s a playlist! Going forward, I’m going to include some of the songs I’m playing whilst blitzing, baking, shaking and chowing. Hope you enjoy the experience of returning to oneself, with food, just as much as I do.

INGREDIENTS
1 lb of pasta
2 cups of basil leaves, packed
1/4 + 2 tbsp of garlic-infused olive oil*
1/2 cup grated pecorino romano cheese
1/4 tsp cracked black pepper
1/8 tsp kosher salt
1/4 cup kosher salt for the pasta water
8-10 balls of mozzarella (or bocconcini), or opt for 1/2 cup fresh mozzarella

*If you don’t have garlic-infused oil, feel free to mince up a large clove of garlic in olive oil.

DIRECTIONS
Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Once the water is bubbling, add in 1/4 cup of kosher salt. Nigella Lawson once said that ones pasta water should resemble the Mediterranean, and I’ve been thinking about briny waters ever since. Once your water returns to a boil, toss in your pasta. Stir to ensure the pasta doesn’t stick.

While the pasta is cooking, toss the basil (I tend to chop up the leaves so all the ingredients incorporate evenly in the food processor), salt, pepper, and blitz for 10 seconds. Add in the olive oil and pulse into you get a smooth, liquid mixture. Add in the cheese and pulse until the mixture combines and the pesto is a thick paste. Add the pesto to the bottom of your large serving bowl.

Cook the pasta until it’s al dente (1-2 minutes less than what the package calls for). Drain and add to a large serving bowl. Stir from the bottom up, making sure that all of the noodles are coated. You’ll notice that my farfalle isn’t DROWNING IN PESTO. This is because I LOATHE AN OVER-SAUCED ANYTHING. You need enough sauce to coat the noodles, but we’re not talking pesto soup, people. The pesto is the spring jacket, not the WHOLE OUTFIT.

A woman digresses.

Once you’ve evenly incorporated the pesto, add in the cheese, a smattering of cracked pepper and a few basil leaves for garnish. Eat piping hot!

When I visited Bali last year, my friends practically had to unchain me from my iPhone and shove me onto the plane — I was that stressed and that lacking of perspective. But the moment I entered Alila Villas Soori — a strip of villas overlooking the Indian Ocean — I settled, and found my way to quiet in a way in which I find difficult to describe. From a blanket of stars to sleeping in silence, I vowed to find my way back to this wonderful chain of luxury hotels and resorts.

So when I was planning my annual sojourn to Asia/SE Asia, my hotel of choice was clear: Alila Sothea in Siem Reap, Cambodia (note: As of April 1, the hotel has reverted to local management, and is now known as The Sothea). And believe me when I say that my stay was nothing short of extraordinary.

Borne of a man’s undying devotion to his wife, Sothea, the boutique resort offers 40 luxurious suites — from the 700sq foot Deluxe (my room) to the airy and spacious 1400sq foot King — each matched with a personal butler. The rooms are designed in the minimalist SE Asian style (neutrals and teak and dark woods) and are outfitted with extravagant claw foot tubs, a personal library and the ultimate in beauty amenities (lemongrass lotions, anyone?). When you’re not crawling under the covers, you’re lounging poolside, or having itineraries created just for you, or taking rides into town with the hotel’s personal tuk-tuk and driver, who, gives you a cell phone for easy pick-up.

But can we PLEASE discuss the food? I had the privilege of taking a cooking class with The Sothea’s ex-pat Executive Chef, who brings his culinary point-of-view to traditional Cambodian cuisine, and not only did I appreciate the complex, layered flavors of Khmer cuisine, I savored mango salad, chicken amok and noodles that practically made me faint. What I loved most about the food was the fact that it was fresh from the local market. From tender, rich eggs to savory chicken, everything was flavorful and affordable. And yes, you can enjoy a Western menu.

The service at The Sothea was first-rate and accommodating, which brings me to my only gripe with my stay. I know I may sound INSANE, but I am INCREDIBLY UNCOMFORTABLE with having a butler. I prefer not to have someone attend to my every need (or anticipate it), and when I go on holiday I want to be ALONE. Unfortunately, I found the staff a bit TOO attentive (cripe, should this even be a gripe?) when all I wanted was to be ignored.

Other than that minor quip, I would absolutely recommend The Sothea. And you can’t beat the price: $260/night!!