foreword “I hope this finds you well in these strange and unprecedented times.” As we come to the close of a year marked with a number of global crises -public health, racial, climate… the list goes on -- I find little solace in what has become this year’s platitude of choice. I have, however, found genuine comfort in two things: community & food. Like many young people faced with some sort of existential crisis, my default instinct was to post something on the internet in the hopes of feeling better, and at the very least, finding a brief respite in distraction. To my surprise, I stumbled upon a community of food lovers authentically sharing what they had created and consumed. Often and rightly so, social media is criticized for being disingenuous and toxic, but what I encountered was the opposite: camaraderie between complete strangers, celebration of home-cooking and, thank god, finally something to fill the void left by the collapse of the B*n App*t*t Test Kitchen. What began as a soft-boiled idea at 8AM soon grew to become a community-driven zine about food. Given the nature 2020, we asked people to share what brought them comfort in times of change. On behalf of our community, I invite you to find some comfort in the pages to come. Thank you to everyone who shared their story, art and food. Thank you to everyone who worked behind the scenes to put this inaugural issue of kitchen sink together.
Eat well and be well, D.G.
table of contents (i) you’ve got mail / @carter_eats……………………………....………….…….…….. 1 kolaczki / @m00dy_f00d………………………………………….………………………… 2 purple sweet potato sourdough / @dreamy.dough…………….. 3 birthday comfort / @saraht_official…………………………………………….. 5 comfort in times of change / @seraphinaoriana…………………. 8 meditation on dumplings / @mysillylittletasks………………………. 9 as things ferment / @fairy.kitschen……………..……………………………….. 11 kate’s quintessential green smoothie / 14 @hungrie_gorls…... an oatmeal routine to get out of bed for / 15 @notbarefoot_contessa………………………………………………………………………...17 lemon turmeric chicken / @_shaykorma……………………………………. 18 Gather ‘Round / @anhsfruits…………………………………………………………….. 19 uneasy comforts / @melon__bean………………………………………………... the longest way to curb a craving for comfort in 21 quarantine / @prettycarbs…………………………………………………………………. 23 egg and tomato soup / @lactose_soy_milk……………...……………..25 the freezer tea / @bellyf.ul………………………………………………………………….26 comfort in times of change / @smellyoatmilkbitch…………….. molly’s hojicha butterscotch 27 brown butter rice crispy treats / @umamimolly……………………. 29 grandma’s shortbread / @catlikesfood……………………..……………….. 31 the little things / @bonjour.bean / @sasamothchha…………. 32 une bouche à nourrir / @charqtrie……………………..………………………….
table of contents (ii) farmer’s stew / @quarantinehobby……………………...……………………….. 33 sourdough discard savory pancake / @jennybeansfoods.. 35 tending to comfort by visiting the past / @exploding_kimchi…………………….…………………….…………………….……………….. 37 grandma’s hands / @beautiful.bipolar…………………….…………………. 39 spag bol / @southeastplates…………………….…………………….………………… 40 tempeh orek / 41 @cathereats…………………….…………………….……………………. 43 carrot cake pancakes / @maybeavocadotoast……………………... 45 tofu mushroom wonton soup / 47 @fearthefeast………………………... vegan giniling afritada / @legumesallday………………………………. 49 no bake peanut butter & chocolate oatmeal cookies / @caffeine.binch…………………….…………………….…………………….……………………….. 50 soondubu sonata & ode to coconut milk / 51 @foodjournalling…………………….…………………….…………………….……………………. espaguetis al roquefort / @juditsig…………………….…………………...…... 52 a toast to / @melon__bean / @foodingoodcompany / 53 @mysillylittletasks…………………….…………………….…………………….………………….. 54 . . . [ loading ]…………………….…………………….…………………….…………………………….. 55 i miss my mom / @nobobaliberalism…………………….……………………...56 sister’s grocery request / @food_responses……………………..……… 57 tomato soup / @maillardrheaction…………………….…………………………. 60 together we made...…………….…………………….…………………….………………………... acknowledgements…………………….…………………….…………………….………………….
you’ve got mail (1998)
Carter M. (she/her) @carter_eats
I never thought I would find comfort in my phone. Distraction? Yes. But comfort? I dreaded that. Being the person hanging onto my phone for dear life, attached at the hip, my lifeline. It made me sick to think about. It still makes me sick. There are days I avoid my phone like the plague. Not texting back, no messages. Exhausted at the prospect of having to connect with the outside world for a single second, crawling into my shell as each buzz goes by. And yet – here I am in a time when so much of my life is in my phone. Friends, family, memories, Friday night plans. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised this is where everything went as soon as “quarantine”, “new normal”, and “unprecedented times” became buzzwords and we were pushed further into digitizing everything that was once physical. After all, a phone is really just a miniature computer. And so much of my life has been spent on the computer. Escaping, finding friends, finding comfort. Since the early days of Tumblr, I’ve been making friends online, and, since the internet was invented, so has everyone else. My phone buzzes – I’ve got mail. The best part about having a life inside your phone is that it brings you to others. Before this year I didn’t really know there were people on the other side of their screens looking for the same community as me. This Instagram foodie community we’ve built amazes me every day. I’ve found comfort in kindred spirits. Comfort in finding people who love what I love all across the world. My phone lets me share memories, food, love, and support with someone who was a stranger yesterday. We learn about sourdough together, send eager messages back and forth when we find a recipe we can’t wait to try out, tell secrets, and let each other seep into the folds of our lives. I’m comforted by the fact that I can make the same dish as my friends who I’ve never met, and we can have this shared experience that’s so special. Thousands of miles away we reach out to each other to say: “I’m here, we’re alike, find comfort in me”. 1
Madison D. (she/her) @m00dy_f00d
kolaczki As I press my warm fingers in a cold dough square, I attempt to pronounce the name
COLA-SKI
COAL-OZ-KEY
CO-LATCH-KEY
kolaczki, the word is unfamiliar on my tongue but must be hidden somewhere here. memories which may not be formed from my own mind but from my father’s line. somewhere in my body there is hidden an experience of frigid Detroit and Poland winters alike, accessed by me in the only way I know how — baking the cookies my dad remembers eating as a child, made by his grandmother, a woman I’ve only met through my long limbs and sandy hair.
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Arianna C. (she/her) @dreamy.dough
purple sweet potato sourdough
Like many others during these uncertain times, I have immersed myself in the sourdough world as a form of escapism. This year has taught me that during a time of both change and nothingness, I want to experience as many senses as possible. Not only do I aim for baking bread that tastes incredible, but bread that activates all of my senses. Something about this colorful bread feels comforting and I hope that it will make you feel the same way!
Ingredients: ●
325g bread flour
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65g whole wheat flour
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332g water
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10g sea salt
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85g mashed purple sweet potato
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Levain ○ ○ ○ ○
10g ripe sourdough starter 47g water 26g bread flour 26g whole wheat flour
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Ariana C. (she/her) @dreamy.dough
Instructions: 1. Build levain and let rise until it reaches its peak (~5-10 hours) 2. Add flours and water to a large bowl + stir the mixture with a silicone spatula or wooden spoon until the flour absorbs water. Let sit for 30 minutes to 4 hours (until the levain reaches its peak). 3. With wet hands, add levain to flour mixture and knead with hands. Let rest for 30 minutes. 4. Sprinkle sea salt on dough. With wet hands, dimple the sea salt into the dough. Fold the dough onto itself until the salt seems evenly distributed. Rest for 30 minutes. 5. Flip dough onto a lightly misted surface. Spread sweet potato on dough, fold, and repeat until dough is evenly coated (similar to a stretch and fold). Rest for 30 mins. 6. Flip dough onto a lightly misted surface and LAMINATE! Pull dough from each direction to form it into a rectangular shape (as long as it can go without ripping, popping any air bubbles along the way). Fold each side of the dough into the center to eventually form a square shape. 7. Put dough back in bowl/other proofing container. Stretch and fold twice, 45 minutes apart. 8. ~6 hours after adding levain, shape dough on a floured surface. Place dough in a banneton/bowl with a floured cloth liner. Let sit for ~20 minutes and refrigerate overnight. 9. Preheat oven to 490℉. Place dough on parchment paper, evenly distribute flour, and score. 10. Bake in a dutch oven covered for 20 minutes and uncovered for 10 minutes. (If no dutch oven, you also can use a cast iron or baking sheet with water underneath to create steam) 11. Enjoy! Please feel free to reach out to me if you have any questions. 4
birthday comfort
Sarah T. (she/her) @saraht_official
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Sarah T. (she/her) @saraht_official
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Sarah T. (she/her) @saraht_official
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Seraphina (she/her) @seraphinaoriana
comfort in times of change When things seem gloomy and dark, I need something to give me a spark. To comfort me in times of change, When things are odd and very strange. I love to drink camomile tea, And eat a slice of cake with glee. I made the cake myself you know, And some lovely sour bread dough. I will knead it until it is good and ready, And while it bakes I’ll watch some telly. While I watch my shows I love to munch, I love to cook, I love to eat,
And think about what I will have for lunch. Thinking about food brings me so much joy, I might make bao with some pak-choi.
Whether it is savoury or sweet. But there is nothing I love more,
Than eating leftovers from the night before. Pizza, soup, dumplings and curry, Are great to reheat when I am in a hurry. Not that I have much to do, With Covid and these lockdown rules. But what keeps me going throughout the day, Are the different meals in my mind buffet. Something baked, something steamed, It tastes much better than I dreamed. So when in doubt and seeking comfort, Eat and cook, you’ll feel triumphant.
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Danielle G. (she/her) @mysillylittletasks
meditation on dumplings growing up, i would help my mother make dumplings. my small and clumsy hands trailed behind hers, hers which danced nimbly despite being weathered from the harsh experiences of being an immigrant mother and worker. it is no surprise that dumplings became one of the foods that i find the most comfort in, and upon moving across to the opposite side of the world for college i made sure to stock up on multiple packs of frozen dumplings every time i visited chinatown. dumplings are quick to cook, yet warm and filling, the perfect meal for finals week and every other taxing day in between. four years later, my friends and i graduate college, albeit somewhat unexpectedly via video amidst a global pandemic. in our little pod, with a lot of time to spare, we decide to make dumplings. making dumplings is a natural group activity — you chat and laugh, compare folding techniques that your parents taught you and just for a moment it feels like the barriers between immigrant families and first generation children disappear, enough time to feel like you're sharing an impossible yet necessary lacuna in time and cultural difference with your parents, their parents, and all those who came before. moving to new york, with again a lot of time to spare, i began to make my own dumplings rather than buying them from chinatown. the process is meditative: scoop filling, dip finger in water, trace edges of dough, fold, pinch, repeat. ...continued on next page
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Danielle G. (she/her) @mysillylittletasks
the tactile nature of folding dumplings evokes a call to present: the dough is soft, the water is cool and i am nowhere else but here. often times i'll play a show or podcast in the background, and this ritual somehow ameliorates that gnawing feeling of 'fomo' arising from being twenty-something and alone at home on a friday night. this activity feels as much of an act of self care as a face mask or good book — i savor my time alone and end up making a large number of dumplings that i'll freeze as a gift for my future self. she's sure to appreciate the dumplings the next time when she's short on time to cook or craving a reminder of friends and family as comfort in times of change.
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as things ferment
Oona B. (she/her) @fairy.kitschen
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as things ferment
Oona B. (she/her) @fairy.kitschen
The first time I made bread I was 10 years old, standing on a step stool in my kitchen so I could utilize my body weight in kneading the dough. I had watched my mother do this, helped her, even, touching the ingredients at each step so I would know how they felt. Flour sticks to fingers, especially when wet Dough is crumbly, slick and sticky, and then suddenly, it is not. It is not ready until it is one cohesive mass--smooth, pliable, elastic. Dimpling with pressure but springing back, like skin pulled taught. My first bread was braided, with egg wash and rosemary. It gleamed in the warm light of our dark kitchen, smiling at me in all its fragrant success. It was delicious, maybe only because I had made it myself, an exercise in labor that bore fruit. This was one of the first times I had created something that had fueled me so directly in body and spirit. It is fitting, somehow, that today I struggle more with baking bread than I did in that first encounter. The more one learns from their medium, the more aware they are of their failures, of all the ways they will never conquer this form. It is a frustrating and yet addictively cyclical process--the material is always greater, never to divulge its secrets in entirety.
...
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Oona B. (she/her) @fairy.kitschen
Bread is not a material that falls into the categories of artistic ‘medium,’ so to speak. In going to art school, your tools are laid out for you: paint, clay, film, ink--materials that cost. I had always kept my baking and my art separate from each other. Baking can be art, I thought, but art for whom? Certainly not the professors and peers that I so wanted to impress, to fit in with at this elite university. I had made sculptural cakes for school projects and baked food from specific historical traditions in tandem with my high-school curriculum, but I felt as if I needed to be more serious. What I didn’t realize then is that being serious does not have to be on the terms of the institution, it does not have to follow tradition, it can take rudimentary forms and be ridiculous and lack skills. And so I began sketching food projects, ideas for sharing and community through the means of what fuels us. But I never fulfilled any of these projects, not until I was removed from my community, stuck in an unfamiliar house during an unexpected quarantine. My first bread sculpture was the child of my need for some sense of connection, whether it was to material or to community. The dough was unwieldy. I thought that challah would be a good fit--it is meant to be braided, twisted into form. But I wanted to transform this dough, to levitate it, to extend its material into a world where it seemed not to belong. Bread is, to put it gently, temperamental. Its form feigns forgiveness. At first it is like clay, malleable, supple and inviting, once the dry and the wet emulsify into one. But unlike clay, bread emotes. It is too hot, or too cold. There is a bit too much egg! or water! or salt! it says, (yeast does not care for roommates). And so this elastic dough becomes slumped onto the tray, losing its loftiness; a long exhale. And yet this frustration creates tension, the kind that begs you to ask for more, to muster up another try, to invest time and money in ingredients that might bake into sludge or brick or rubber all for the sake of creating something that gives back to you so wholly. And, much to my surprise, my first sculpture gave back to me immensely. I took pictures, wrote about how this process made me feel, typed up some recipes, and made a zine, sending it to everyone I missed. It wasn’t anything at all like physically being with others, but it was something. I am thinking of the ways that we maintain our relationships-community, art, religion, love, ancestors, land..bread. Breaking of bread, religious connotations, spiritual implications. Bread as sustenance, it is a way to connect to our earth, to our bodies, to our animal needs, the making of it as a mediation. How can I construct a process, a project, that pays homage to this history to this giving of sustenance? To thank land and earth and time and ancestry for this offering of knowledge, process, and tradition that lends itself to transformation? It continues to fuel us, it enriches our humanity.
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Kate M. (she/her) @hungrie_gorls
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an oatmeal routine to get out of bed for I can’t believe my first ever submission to a food zine is the simplest bowl of oatmeal, but this warm and satisfying breakfast has given me enough reason every morning to wake up and begin my day. As we are entering month nine in quarantine, I’m sure I’m not alone in having a hard time escaping the comfort of my bed. I often feel myself struggling to physically get up as I lay in shock of reality—trying (and failing) to process the amount of change and unthinkable events that occur everyday. At the risk of sounding a little crazy (but hey, it’s 2020 and the world is quite possibly ending), the one thing that consistently gets me out of bed is the thought of making and eating this bowl of oatmeal for breakfast. My morning routine goes something like this—I drag my groggy self out of bed, brush my teeth, throw on a sweatshirt and some fuzzy socks, slip on my slides, and immediately head to the kitchen. My first task is to feed my starter, Betsy, who I must admit occasionally gets neglected when it feels like weighing out flour and water is too momentous a task at 8:00 a.m. Next, I fill the tea kettle with water and set up a colorful mug next to it with a fresh tea bag and half tablespoon of sugar. While that begins to steam, I start preparing the oatmeal. The process begins with mashing half of a banana and adding it into a saucepan along with ⅓ of a cup each of rolled oats, oat milk, and water. I then grab half an apple and slice it into small cubes. I add the apple cubes to the saucepan and set the heat to medium high. At this point the tea kettle is boiling, so I pour the hot water into the pre-set mug and swirl the tea with a small spoon (I have a thing for only using small spoons—I’m honestly not sure what this says about me).
Rachel B. (she/her) @notbarefoot_contessa
After a few minutes, the oatmeal begins to bubble in a way that is incredibly soothing to me. It makes a slight popping sound as the mixture foams and thickens. The sweet smells of cooked banana and russian black tea waft throughout the kitchen as I grab four cubes of frozen mango and 4 frozen cherries from the freezer. I meticulously chop everything into small cubes while occasionally stirring the oatmeal. At this point, my breakfast mise en place is complete. I sit down in the little nook above our kitchen window to stare outside, sip my tea, and absorb the hustle of NYC during rush hour (which isn’t much these days, but it still grounds me). By the time I’ve fallen in love with a few strangers, the oatmeal bubbles have gotten bigger and less frequent. This signals that it’s reached a beautiful consistency, both creamy and supple—the oatmeal is ready! I use a spatula to pour it into a bowl, swirl in a tablespoon of peanut butter (crunchy of course), and strategically place the cubes of mango and cherry on top. I then soak the saucepan in water and soap, placing it in the sink along with the cutting board. Precariously, I carry the cup of tea and bowl of oatmeal to my room—automatically putting on the Great British Baking Show. I slowly carve out spoonfuls of the oatmeal in between sips of tea and talk of soggy bottoms (if you watch the Great British Baking Show, you’ll know what I mean). The sweetness and creamines of the banana oats is tempered by the sourness of the cooked apple and coolness of the frozen fruit. It warms my body, satisfies my appetite, and reminds me to enjoy the little things in life. (continues on next page)
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Rachel B. (she/her) @notbarefoot_contessa
I find myself gravitating to this recipe every morning because it both nourishes my body and adds some routine into this unpredictable life. I hope you have a chance to take some time out of your morning to make this oatmeal (or any other recipe that grounds you) and find as much enjoyment in the process of preparing it as the actual eating. Sending love out to everyone—take a deep breath and spend some time in the kitchen today. Whether you’re preparing a simple cup of tea or an elaborate recipe, I promise it’ll make your day better.
“Take a deep breath and spend some time in the kitchen today.”
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lemon turmeric chicken
Shay (she/her) @_shaykorma
w sides of roasted brussel sprouts, broccolini & chickpeas This recipe is a throw-what-I-have-inmy-pantry type of meal that comes together with little to no effort. It is a comforting and delicious recipe that has a whole depth of flavours! The side veg is simply tossed with some fresh garlic and olive oil and roasted in the oven. The chickpeas are tossed with olive oil, salt, pepper, garlic powder, paprika and cumin and roasted alongside the veg for 20 to 25 minutes. Everything is topped with a delicious sprinkling of crumbled feta!
FOR THE CHICKEN
METHOD
2 chicken breasts or thighs, butterflied and cut in half
Generously season the chicken pieces with salt and pepper on both sides. In a separate bowl, prepare the marinade with the remaining ingredients. Apply the marinade to the chicken pieces and allow to marinate for at least 1 hour and up to 24 hours. I marinated the chicken for nearly 24 hours and it produced a well-seasoned and moist chicken.
2 tsp paprika 2 tsp turmeric 4 tbsp olive oil 3 tbsp whole grain or Dijon mustard 2 tbsp lemon juice Salt to taste Pepper to taste
Bake the chicken in the oven at 220°C for about 20 to 25 minutes, with the final 5 minutes on the oven grill setting, until the top is moist and charred.
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Anh T.(she/they) @anhsfruits / @anhtranart
Gather ‘Round
“I have been reflecting on these moments from my childhood where we would flock to Grandma and Grandpa’s house for a bowl of pho on a Saturday with Nebraska football on TV. While these times are bringing unforeseen changes, it is comforting to remember the role food has had in my life, and that its power to bring people together will never cease.”
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Melany J. (she/her) @melon__bean
uneasy comforts A lot of people seem to be uneasy about comfort. There’s the comfort zone, for one thing – a place that seemingly only exists to be left. Then there’s comfort food, which everyone nominally enjoys but is cast as “typically of dubious nutritional value” (according to Etymonline, an online etymology dictionary – more on this later). My own unease with comfiness stems from the trendy, commodified self-care of it all. Like many writers, I tend to go looking for meaning in etymological connections. What follows is a pilgrimage through these connections and my own discursive mind, an attempt to resolve some of this unease about comfort. Etymonline places the association of comfort with indulgence, as opposed to necessity, as picking up around the 17th century. Before then, the word was juxtaposed with grief and trouble. To comfort was “to cheer up, console, soothe…”. This year has provided a clear throughline for these variances in meaning. We’ve turned to certain indulgences – food, for many (myself included) – as ways to soothe ourselves in a time when grief abounds. Some of these comforts may be holdovers from our childhoods, like my pursuit of a perfectly rolled soft omelette or my attempts to recreate my childhood freezer favorite, the Marie Callender’s frozen pot pie. Others may be more symbolic, like my languishing over long-simmering soups and stocks, never a staple of mine previously. continued on next page...
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Melany J. (she/her) @melon__bean
I think of the ways I’ve found comfort this year – tending my patio garden, calling my family more often, distracting myself with protracted baking projects, making myself lunch every day – and realize they are all essentially self-imposed routines and habits guaranteed to organize and break up my cookie cutter days. These tasks have certainly soothed my mind and given me something to do besides sit and spiral. They gave me something consistent to rely on and, in the process, reasons to carry on in the face of so much uncertainty. Looking even further back, etymologically, the word comfort shares a root with fortify: the Late Latin verb confortare, “to strengthen much.” And this, too, resonates, because these routines of comfort do give me strength. Strength to face uncertainties and to continue bravely trying to be better and do better, knowing that this small handful of comforts can be relied upon. Fortification sparks an image of hunkering down and bolstering up, old notions that have become necessary for new reasons in the past year. In a fort, you feel protected, secure. This is what our comforts can and should provide. The comfort zone has become a pejorative, but the truth is, we need some time in our comfort zone in order to move beyond it. We need a space to retreat to, where we can feel soothed and strengthened, and then, once energized, emerge able to face the new and unknown. Ditto comfort food. I’ve come to understand how much we need these touchpoints of familiarity and consistency. “Dubious nutritional value” be damned, I know that comfort foods are nourishing to the spirit, and what could be more vital than that right now? This is how I’m choosing to think of the past year. This time of widespread grief and need for isolated fortification is for many a time to unashamedly revert to the things that have always been comforting, in order to emerge and face whatever’s next strengthened and resolved. So, by all means, make yourself comfortable! And then don’t! 20
Name (pronouns) @IG handle
title Leslie Y. (she/her) @prettycarbs
DEFAULT LAYOUT FOR WRITTEN MAKE DUPLICATE OF SLIDE PLS DONT EDIT DIRECTLY
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Leslie Y. (she/her) @prettycarbs
This year, more than ever, I craved comfort. This year, isolated in an unfamiliar place, comfort came in the form of nostalgic flavors. At the beginning of the year, I moved across the country to New York City. I was so excited to be overwhelmed in a different city, to be out of my comfort zone, to be living outside of California long term for the first time since the age of ten. Of course, 2020 took us all for a turn. And before I knew it, I was hunkered down in an apartment in Brooklyn, quarantining on the opposite side of the country from my family, most of my friends and any sense of familiarity. Like many other people, I turned to cooking and baking for comfort. But while the rest of the country tackled sourdough, I craved a different kind of comfort carb. For me, nothing is more comforting than stepping into a bakery: the sights, smells, tastes that immerse you in warmth and nourishment. And of all the bakeries, I missed Taiwanese bakeries the most: the ones that mash together east Asian flavors and European baking traditions into crazy, yet somehow normalized breads. So perhaps it was inevitable that one day when I found myself with an embarrassing amount of bread flour (let’s file that under quarantine impulse purchases), too much time on my hands and nowhere to go, I decided I had nothing better to do than make an absurd amount of bread. I craved nostalgia, one that wasn’t even mine to remember, one that predates my own generation, the classic Taiwanese bakery breads of my parent’s childhood. The ironic part is that I don’t even particularly like these kinds of breads. I surely don’t gravitate towards them when I’m at the bakery. But somehow this spread was exactly the comfort I needed to fill my new home with the savory sweet scents of nostalgia.
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egg and tomato soup
Luke L. (he/his) @lactose_soy_milk
Egg and tomato soup has been a comfort food in my family for many generations. Until my generation, my family has always been poor. Both my parents grew up on farms in China, and worked tirelessly while balancing school.
Something both my parents could look forward to was a hearty bowl of tomato egg soup. The sweet, sour, and savoury aroma created with just 4 simple ingredients was amazing. Furthermore, it truly was comforting to know that this amazing dish did not put any financial stress on their families.
They didn’t have access to many ingredients, meat was a luxury, animal fats were non-existent, and sugar was a “god send.”
This dish is comforting to me as it's quick, low cost, and absolutely delicious. Tomato egg soup was the first thing I learned to cook in my culinary journey, and to this date it is one of my favorites.
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Luke L. (he/his) @lactose_soy_milk
ingredients for 1:
optional additions
● Base:
●
preserved vegetables
● 3 tomatoes of any variety
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sesame oil
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potatoes
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fishballs / meatballs
(vine, roma, hot house, etc) ● 2 eggs ● 2 scallions/green onions/ leek ● S+P ● 5 cups Water
Instructions: In a pot, heat up some vegetable oil on medium high. Add in tomatoes (you should hear a sizzle) and cook until the tomatoes are slightly mushy. Add in your water and let the liquid simmer. In the meantime cut your scallions and beat 3 eggs in a bowl. Once the liquid has reduced slightly (maybe ⅕ of the liquid) add in the scallion whites. Bring the liquid to a boil and dump in your eggs, DO NOT MIX RIGHT AWAY. Give the liquid a few seconds to come back to a simmer before stirring. Season with Salt and pepper and top with scallion greens. Eat with a hot bowl of rice.
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the freezer tea
Emily F. (she/her) @bellyf.ul
Following a year which has made a desk calendar look like an absurdist object, I’ve found consistency and solace in cooking. I’ve turned my hand to increasingly elaborate and unnecessary recipes to pass the time and share with loved ones. I’ve lost myself in immersive food writing and filled my head with visions of Greek tavernas, frosty Yorkshire mornings, and French patisseries. As much as I’ve loved falling into a foodie fashion and developing a new hobby, it pales in comparison to the comfort I’ve found in freezer food. For me, a Freezer Tea is when I give myself permission to relax. There’s no performative value in these dinners. Save for a vibrant shock of green peas on the side, they are undeniably beige, bland, and brilliant. Your choice of Freezer Tea says nothing about you. I’m sorry to say that Buzzfeed would struggle to create a quiz that shows your future husband’s starsign through your choice of potato shape. I would concede that fish fingers have a nostalgic element for most, but otherwise it’s a quest through the remains buried in your freezer. For me it’s usually whatever Quorn product is on sale that week combined with potato waffles and frozen peas. The Freezer Tea has been there for me at my lowest. When I’m tired of life and can’t muster the enthusiasm to invent something from an old pot of yoghurt and half an aubergine, I claw through the icy bottom drawer of the freezer and whack a baking tray on the counter. Twenty minutes and 180° later (the immovable law of freezer cuisine), I sit down with a plate of warming food. I can prepare this dish through unemployment, arguments, and heartbreak. As much as I love exploring my culinary abilities and tinkering around with new ingredients, the Freezer Tea will always be the most comforting meal for me.
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Jennie (she/her) @smellyoatmilkbitch
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Molly S.(she/her) @umamimolly
molly’s hojicha butterscotch brown butter rice crispy treats My mom and I are very different types of cooks, but one thing we can always agree on is how underrated homemade rice crispy treats are. Rice crispy treats were a mainstay dessert and snack throughout my childhood; despite this, I recently made them for the first time in nearly four years because up until a month before the initial pandemic lockdown I was a vegetarian. I developed this zhushed up rice crispy square recipe a few weeks ago when I was feeling particularly homesick. At heart it’s a basic version of the classic treat, but the addition of homemade hojicha butterscotch and brown butter makes it feel special. Feel free to substitute hojicha powder for matcha if you cannot find it, however, I think the roasty-toasty flavour of hojicha compliments the butterscotch best.
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Molly S.(she/her) @umamimolly
Hojicha Butterscotch: ● 4 tablespoons unsalted butter ● ½ cup old fashioned or dark brown sugar (aka not golden/light) ● ½ cup heavy cream ● 1 heaping teaspoon hojicha powder Rice Crispy Squares: ● 6 tablespoons of unsalted butter, plus more for greasing the pan ● 5 cups plus 1.5 cups of mini marshmallows, divided ● 4 and 1/4 cups puffed rice cereal ● hojicha butterscotch (I usually use around 1/2 of the recipe above for 1 batch of the bars) ● extra hojicha powder for sprinkling ● flake salt for sprinkling
Method for Hojicha Butterscotch 1. Add all the ingredients besides the hojicha powder to a small saucepan on medium heat. Stir every now and then with a silicone or rubber spatula until everything is melted and combined. Bring to a boil and continue to stir for 4-5 minutes. 2. Transfer the sauce to a bowl and sift the hojicha powder into the butterscotch. Whisk until combined and set aside. Once it is not boiling hot, use in the rice crispy squares recipe and store any extra in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 2 weeks. Method for Rice Crispy Squares 1. Line a square baking pan with tin foil so there is overhang, then butter the tinfoil. Set aside. 2. Brown the butter in a heavy bottomed pot. Once the butter is browned, take it off the heat. Add the 5 cups of marshmallows and stir to combine. Place the pot back on the heat and stir until melted and homogenous. Take the pot off the heat again and fold in the reserved 1.5 cups marshmallows and the puffed rice cereal until just combined (overmixing will make them less gooey/fluffy/marshmallow-y). 3. This step needs to be done quickly. Press one third of the rice crispy mixture into the greased pan and add random splotches and drizzles of hojicha butterscotch overtop. Continue doing this with the remaining thirds of the rice crispy mixture. Sprinkle flake salt and sift extra hojicha powder on top of the final butterscotch drizzles. Let set for at least an hour before cutting. These are good at room temperature in an airtight container for a few days, or in the freezer in an airtight container for a couple months.
grandma’s shortbread
Cat (she/they) @catlikesfood
Growing up, I spent every December looking forward to the day my grandma’s shortbread would arrive. Baked in her specialty molds, the shortbread came in one big piece the size of a pie tin. The mold pressed intricate designs into the dough, creating a beautiful and delicious work of art that was dusted with red and green sugar. More than just a tin of cookies, this nine-inch buttery round was an occasion. My family’s Christmas tradition became opening up its box, unwrapping the bubble wrap and red cellophane, and breaking off pieces to nibble on as we opened up the rest of our presents. When my father was growing up, my grandmother made dinner every night and cakes every weekend. All throughout his childhood, her Scotch shortbread would famously appear during the holidays. My grandma used to send these to her friends, family, and community members, working tirelessly through pounds of butter, sugar, and flour to make sure the packages would all arrive shortly before Christmas. She even sent a shortbread to her favorite politician and was overjoyed when she got a letter in response. Even as dementia began to wear down her mind, my grandma would always remember to send a card at birthdays and shortbread at Christmas. When she passed away, my aunt lovingly wrapped all of her molds up and sent them to me along with a copy of the handwritten recipe. She kindly let me know that I was not expected to fully take over as the family shortbread master, but she knew I would appreciate the molds and the 50 year legacy that came with them. I may not make shortbreads every year, and I may not get them delivered before Christmas. I don’t even have green sugar since I packed it away in a box and forgot to pick it up when I was buying butter. But this year especially, I am excited to continue my grandmother’s decades-long tradition of bringing a little comfort to some of the people I love in the form of a delicious cookie.
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Cat (she/they) @catlikesfood
GRANDMA’S SHORTBREAD RECIPE (makes 2 large shortbreads) -
2 cups unsalted butter (or vegan butter) 2/3 cup powdered sugar 1 tsp vanilla 1/2 tsp salt* 2 - 2 1/2 cups of AP flour Red & Green Sanding Sugar
Preheat your oven to 350˚. Cream together the butter, sugar, salt, and vanilla. Add in the flour and mix until just coming together. Divide the dough in half, and press into the bottom of 2 shortbread molds or pie pans (they should be about 1/4-1/2” thick, covering the base of the pan). Bake for 30-35 minutes until golden brown. Turn out onto wax paper (or a baking sheet, or a cooling rack) and sprinkle immediately with red and green sugar. *i have not been able to find unsalted vegan butter, so omit the salt if you’re going dairy free :) **i bet these would also be delicious if you made them into several 1-2 inch cookies :) 30
Camille V. (she/her) @bonjour.bean
the little things
Illustrations by Samie (she/her) @sasamothchha ♡
♡
Squishing roasted garlic
♡ Al
Someone in our lil IG community making something we made ♡ The
♡ Tearing
sound of your knife on a wooden cutting board
kale leaves off their stems ♡ ♡
♡ Avocado
♡ Flipping
pits that come out effortlessly
a Tarte Tatin
Someone asking for the recipe of a meal you made for them
♡ Homemade
stock simmering
♡ When
♡ Soft
scrambled eggs
your dessert easily comes out of the baking dish in one piece
♡
Snapping asparagus
♡ Purple
streaks on garlic
inside of watermelon radishes
♡
♡ Pumpkin
The shape of delicata squash wedges
seeds popping while being roasted
♡ Hearing
♡ The
Vibrant yolks
Rainbow carrots
♡
♡ The
dente pasta
a loved one say
after tasting your food
sizzle of garlic and onions when dropping them in olive oil
♡
Warm bread
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une bouche Ă nourrir a mouth to feed
Jennifer S. (she/her) @charqtrie
Everything will be okay when the worms eat my body But to them I say Not today God knows mother has been waiting for me in the afterlife And the devil knows all too well how terribly I wanted to join her. But to myself I say I am the secret ingredient Mother once told me the trick to being a wonderful cook was to have a lover to devote all of it to. And to myself I say You are the apple of my eye I will feed you as if you were my darling, with my own two hands, cook you your favourite, divine delicacies, all sorts of it. The worms will have a feast when I join mother in the afterlife, And I wouldn’t have it any other way. But now is not the time For it is time to eat, drink and be merry, For tomorrow I survive. 32
Sarah (she/her) @quarantinehobby
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Sarah (she/her) @quarantinehobby
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sourdough discard savory pancake
Jennifer H. (she/her) @jennybeansfoods
My first attempt at a “quarantine” sourdough boule was okay,but not what I wanted. The second one was a complete brick (I even threw it in the bin!), but the third one was an addictive, fluffy, incredible success. The third boule took a lot of patience, precision, and passion to finally get it right. It was all about measuring things correctly, being very meticulous with my “method”, and paying less attention to my zoom meetings. However, all three times, through my failures AND my successes, I always ended up with the most perfect savory breakfast pancake that required no precise measurement whatsoever – a more “artistic” endeavor rather than a “scientific” approach. I don’t even need to give measurements because it’s that un-fuck-up-able. I guess what I’m trying to say is that throughout all your failures and successes, you can always make yourself some perfect sourdough savory pancakes.
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Jennifer H. (she/her) @jennybeansfoods
Ingredients: ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
Sourdough starter discard Sesame oil Soy sauce Dried chili pepper flakes Dried mushroom powder Salt & Pepper Scallions Basil
Method: 1.
2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.
Mix the sourdough starter with a dash of soy sauce and a small drizzle of toasted sesame oil. Add some more water if you need to loosen it up a bit. Season with salt, pepper, chili pepper, and dried mushroom powder. Thinly slice the scallions. Add to the batter. Dollop the mixture onto a heated non-toxic, non-stick pan with another drizzle of toasted sesame oil or a neutral oil. Cook until bubbles peek through the surface and the edges look dry and slightly golden. Flip and cook for another 2-3 minutes. Serve with some chili sauce or eat plain. Enjoy with a cup of coffee or tea in the morning before staring at your screen to #WFH.
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tending to comfort by visiting the past
Shreya K. (she/her) @explodingkimchi
My mother grew up in coastal South India around two sets of grandparents with opposite approaches to food. Her maternal grandparents, her ammamma and thatha, raised my mom through her early adolescence and viewed food as a form of sustenance. They cooked and ate simply, any extravagance considered excessive. My mom’s ammamma was even notorious for leaving half-cooked idlis on the table for her family’s consumption. On the other hand, my mother’s paternal grandmother — her nannamma — held food in high esteem as one of the main delights of life. She served rich dishes carefully garnished with toasted cashews and ghee. My mother still recalls with great fondness her nammamma’s omelets, made with the eggs of the hens they raised. To this day, the utmost food-related compliment my sister or I can receive from our mom is that the omelet we made is just like her nammamma’s. My mother’s father, my thatha, grew up around his parents’ regard for quality food. In his adult life, he turned down job positions that stationed him too far from home to be able to eat home-cooked food. This irritated my ammamma, who blamed his apparent lack of ambition on his prioritization of food, to no end. Witnessing from a young age her mother’s resentment of the financial difficulties that apparently resulted from her father’s love affair with food, my mother internalized a utilitarian approach to food that she carried with her into adulthood.
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Shreya K. (she/her) @explodingkimchi
.This year, the outset of the pandemic provided an unanticipated opportunity for a do-over of sorts. In the early days of the pandemic, I turned to the food that my mom had prepared, packed, and frozen for me (a product of her pragmatic belief that me spending time cooking is a waste of my time) for comfort in my college apartment. My sister and I both returned home in late March, and every night my mom used her additional free time to learn and prepare traditional dishes that she regretted not feeding us earlier. She solicited recipes from her sister, who once suggested that she use the garden-fresh cilantro from her colleague’s backyard to make cilantro pachadi — which, served with rice, was my favorite meal from that early quarantine period. She also studied blogs like Subbu’s Kitchen that democratized the recipes that she had always been too intimidated to attempt. My entire family paid attention to our garden for the first time since at least 2011, trying our hand at cultivating vegetables like okra and luffa that my parents grew up around, which ended up thriving in the northern California sun and soil. 2020 has been profoundly transformative in so many ways. Graduating during a pandemic year and experiencing the resultant unceremonious entry into adulthood, I have been comforted by the unexpected time I have been afforded to spend with my family, tending to the abundant fruits and vegetables in our garden, consuming the culinary comforts of my parents’ childhoods. My mother, on her part, has been sharing in that comfort by presenting a taste of her past — rasam suffused with the aroma of ground coriander, freshly fried manubulu, and creamy payasam with buttery cashews, raisins, and cardamom — to her children; her way of passing on her grandparents’ legacy.
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grandma’s hands
Amy N. (she/her) @beautiful.bipolar
My grandmother Lillian Nelson died in 1990 I was 11 years old Everything about her was safe I was diagnosed with Bipolar II in 2017 I’ve had that weaponized by others I decided to shed any last vestiges of shame & start my own company to de-stigmatize mental illness I want my nieces to be proud Beautiful Bipolar launched this year with a simple premise: create goods that feel safe & warm & bring comfort. & connect our community to mental health help Accessible, affordable health care in Louisiana is scarce My company aims to change that I shot this photo on 35MM film in Pompano Beach, Florida in 1997 in Grandma Lil’s apartment It was a project about memory She is still so loved Grandma Lil’s Swedish Meatballs Recipe: ● 1 lb. of beef ● 2 tbs. onions, sautéed ● 2 tbs. fresh parsley, chopped ● 1/8-1/4 tsp Thyme ● 1/8-1/4 tsp. Allspice ● 2 tbs. plain breadcrumbs ● ½ stick of butter ● 1 tsp. sugar ● 1 tsp. salt ● water (consistency) Roll 1-inch balls, dust w gravy flour, deep fry @365-370
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Spag Bol
Jenny (she/her) @southeastplates
“For me, pasta is the epitome of comfort food. The origins of the dish are a little muddy but according to Wikipedia it was may have been developed in immigrant restaurants in Britain in the post war era. It was a regular on my table, with my parents cooking it at least once a week while I was growing up. Lovingly nicknamed “Spag Bol” by it’s fans. It’s still a request I make to my mum when I visit. Nothing says comfort like your mothers recipe.” 41
tempeh orek
Catherine (she/her) @cathereats
My experience of the internet has been in equal parts marvellous and strange, all throughout 2020. As a Southeast Asian, 20-something, relatively privileged, wholly mediocre cook who is on Instagram far too much - I found myself transfixed by the community of 20-something home cooks that also just happen to be vegan and cool and hot at the same time. You know the one - feeds which look just un-edited enough, for you to question why you still haven't acquired that level of effortless magnetism yet but not to figure out how do they do it??? Also how many girl crushes can I cop in one go?? I mean I’m not vegan, and can only be cool or hot and on alternating days only – but maybe opposites attract? Because I've only ever found comfort from this community (people are just so damn nice here wow!). "Together alone" finally takes shape as a stranger on another continent bakes with her golden retriever a recipe I recommended. Pictures of our lopsided tahini-sesame cookies side by side - we could be neighbours, especially at a time where we aren’t seeing our actual neighbours to confirm otherwise. To be reminded that while apart, I can still change someone else's day; that my day can be changed, can vary in some small way. It feels something like connection - small and real and important. AND. If there is one thing we can all connect over - I'd like to believe it's our collective worship of tempeh. Based on Indonesian food tradition, it's essentially fermented soybeans made through a natural, salt-less culturing process which binds it into a cake form. It's funky, delicious, and generally positioned as an overpriced meat alternative in the West. (Interestingly for Indonesians, it's actually on equal footing with tofu - a mainstay of Southeast Asian cucina povera, something everyone I know grew up cooking and eating.) During the months of strict lockdown in Melbourne, the new, long hours in my studio kitchen brought me change and comfort. Like people lucky enough to grow up in a house full of great home cooks, I never felt pressed for need to become one myself. It was new, spending so much damn time cooking things up. I do enjoy cooking - but I've yet to become a person who finds it a fulfilling activity in itself, unlike its sister act (eating, maybe drinking - occasionally). So what I've mostly done is just...learn to cook what I've always enjoyed eating. Which has felt like a pretty novel journey - and a kind of homecoming. Particularly on days when pangs of homesickness turned sharp in isolation, holidays usually spent with family missed due to travel restrictions - which is what December will probably shape up to be for many of us. It's difficult to overestimate how much comfort a warm plate of home-cooked food can be. 42
So here it is - a modified version of the way my family does tempeh orek. It can be as simple or as complex as you want it to be - with any number of renditions already out there. From my alone, to yours. INGREDIENTS ●
● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●
A block of tempeh (see hand for size) cut thin & evenly for easy frying 5 cloves of red garlic, finely sliced. 3 cloves of garlic, finely sliced. Chilli, cut on a bias - to taste. A thumb of galangal, bruised. 5 lime leaves; sans stalks. 1 lemongrass, bruised. 3 tablespoons of sweet soy sauce (kecap manis) 1 tablespoon of soy sauce Salt and pepper to taste
STEPS 1. Deep fry the sliced tempeh until cooked through and golden brown. For crisp texture, fry in a single layer, ensure there is enough oil to cover all sides of the tempeh, and turn halfway. Leave to dry on a paper towel. 2. In a separate pan with enough oil, sautée the shallots, garlic, chilli, galangal, lemon grass, and lime leaves until fragrant. 3. Add the fried tempeh, along with salt, pepper, and condiments. Add a little water, should it be too dry. Cook until fully absorbed. Serve while warm on a bed of rice.
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carrot cake pancakes
Anna (she/her) @maybeavocadotoast
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carrot cake pancakes
Anna (she/her) @maybeavocadotoast
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tofu mushroom wonton soup
Francesca H. (she/her) @fearthefeast
When I was growing up, my mum used to make pork wontons quite often. We thought I’d be decent at folding the tiny parcels considering my small hands, but what I lack in the kitchen is patience. I tend to get frustrated, even now, when the wontons don’t bind well enough together and explode in the cooking process. I’ve learned to slow down with this recipe, as you really can taste every extra minute spent enjoying the process. It’s a fun one to make with friends and experiment with different folding techniques! I usually save a few wontons for frying the next day. Ingredients: Soup base: 6 cups water 1 cup loosely packed dried shiitake mushrooms 1 sheet kombu (4x8”) 2 tablespoons white/brown miso 1 inch ginger, peeled 3 tablespoons soy sauce 1 tablespoon sesame oil 12 oz. pack of fresh noodles 2 heads of baby bok choy
Wontons: 1 block of tofu, drained ½ brown button / cremini mushrooms 1 green onion, minced ½ tin of Chinese water chestnuts, minced 3 tablespoons soy sauce 1 tablespoon sesame oil ½ teaspoon rice wine vinegar ½ teaspoon Chinese five spice (opt.) Wonton wrappers
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Francesca (she/her) @fearthefeast
Instructions: 1) In a large pot, combine the water, shiitake mushrooms, kombu, miso, and ginger. Turn the heat to medium-low. Simmer for about 30-45 minutes before taking out the kombu. If you want more of a fishy taste, you can leave it in for longer! 2) Add the soy sauce and sesame oil to the pot, and let it get nice and comfortable as you prep the wonton filling. Using your hands, crumble the tofu into a large bowl. Aim for small pieces. A mushy consistency is key. 3) Slice the brown button mushrooms and the Chinese water chestnuts into teeny tiny pieces around the same size as the tofu.. Mince the green onion and add most of the stalk to the bowl as well, reserving a couple tablespoons of the green parts for topping. Add everything to the tofu bowl. 4) Season with soy sauce, sesame oil, rice wine vinegar, salt, pepper, and five spice if you have it! I’ve made it plenty of times without the five spice. Mix well with a spoon. 5) It’s time to fold your wontons! Prepare a small cup with water, this will act as glue. Start with a wrapper in one palm and use a small spoon to place a tiny bit of filling in the middle. 6) Dip your pointer finger in the water and line the edges of the wrapper. Form a triangle, making sure to push out any air that’s surrounding the filling. Triangles are absolutely yum, but if you’re really feeling confident, dab the two base corners of the triangle with water and bring them together so a little parcel forms. You may need to apply some pressure to seal completely. 7) Boil water in a different pot and add in your noodles. After they’re done cooking, add them to the soup pot but don’t discard the cooking water. Roughly chop the bok choy and add to the soup on low heat. 8) Bring the other pot of water to a boil again, and gently drop in 5ish wontons, as to not overcrowd the pot. When they float up, they’re ready! If you’re unsure, you can bring one out and cut through the wrapper, it should be completely soft. 9) Serve the soup and wontons with the green parts of the scallions and some furikake (dried seaweed + sesame seeds).
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Ria (she/her) @legumesallday / @riaelciario
vegan giniling afritada Before moving in with my partner last month, I was living alone in a small studio apartment. My old kitchen was barely functioning. I had one working stove, a countertop convection oven and my trusty rice cooker. Trying to replicate my mom's Filipino food was the main thing that brought me joy and comfort during this pandemic.
One of my favourite everyday dishes is my mom's Giniling Afritada. It's a Filipino dish usually made with ground beef, so I just use plant-based ground beef to make it vegan. It’s something my mom used to make almost every week because it was easy and ready in less than an hour. It is a perfect comfort meal, especially during winter.
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Ria (she/her) @legumesallday / @riaelciario
*2-3 servings, best served with white rice Ingredients ● 1/2 pack plant-based ground beef ● 1 white onion, chopped ● 3-4 cloves of garlic, minced ● 1 small tomato (or 8 pieces of cherry tomatoes), cubed ● 1 medium-sized carrot, peeled and cubed ● 1 Yukon Gold potato, peeled and cubed ● 3-4 tbsp of soy sauce ● Salt and pepper to taste ● Vegetable oil Preparation 1. In a medium-sized pot, heat vegetable oil over medium-high heat and sautée plant-based ground beef. 2.
Just before the plant-based ground beef turns golden brown, add in onion, garlic and tomatoes—sautée for a couple of minutes until fork-tender.
3.
Add carrots and 4-5 tablespoons of water. Keep stirring until the carrots are almost al dente, then add your potatoes and a little more water. Cover the pot for 5-7 minutes.
4.
Add in soy sauce, salt and pepper to taste, then stir and cover the pot for a few more minutes until fully cooked.
5.
Serve with white rice!
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Gissele (she/they) @caffeine.binch
no bake peanut butter & chocolate oatmeal cookies made these cookies for friends a few years ago and they’re a crowd pleaser for sure. like everyone else, I miss hanging out with my friends so revisiting this recipe over the early months of quarantine was a nostalgic experience. I’m not a spontaneous type of person but when it comes to cooking, I just eyeball and wing everything half the time. you’ll need: ★ butter ★ rolled oats ★ peanut butter ★ hot cocoa mix ★ milk of your choice instructions ★ melt butter in pan, pour in hot cocoa mix and milk, making sure the cocoa mix dissolves. ★ add the peanut butter and keep stirring to avoid the mixture from burning. ★ once the mixture has thickened, lower the heat and add the rolled oats. ★ continue to stir until the oats are evenly coated in the mixture. ★ form a cookie shape of your choice and onto plate—let this sit in the fridge for at least 3 hours or overnight. -- enjoy!
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soondubu sonata
Hannah P. (she/her) @foodjournalling
There is a stew đ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žś It’s piping hot đ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žś Watching eggs cook đ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žś Could eat a whole pot đ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žś Don’t skimp the enoki đ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žś Or silky soft tofu đ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žś Don’t wear a white shirt đ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žś All that gochugaru
ode to coconut milk There is a milk đ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žś It’s dairy free đ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žś Feels like a hug đ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žś With broc and chickpea đ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žś Add tofu pu đ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žś Set it on simmer đ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žś Hope you had some spice đ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žśđ&#x;Žś No stress all love dinner 50
espaguetis al roquefort
Judit G. (she/they) @juditsig
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Concept by Melany (she/her) / @melon__bean Illustrations by Astrid (she/her) / @foodingoodcompany & Danielle G. (she/her) / @mysillylittletasks
(A)
a toast to (B)
(C)
(A) (B) (C)
TOAST W/ AVOCADO TOAST W/ LOX & CAPERS TOAST W/ RICOTTA, FRUIT PRESERVES & SALT
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COVID-19 has altered the way we interact . . . it’s made it more difficult to hug and hang out with those we cherish . . . . . . but the vulnerability caused by the upheaval in our social habits has made it easier to create a sense of community online
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the next section captures some of the ways in which our interactions have changed . . . 53
i miss my mom
Jenny (she/her) @nobobaliberalism
“I miss my mom. Growing up, my mother almost never cooked. When it was my last week in LA, she cooked lunch and dinner every day. I think it was her subtle and unspoken way of saying she loved me and was ready to let me go.�
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sister’s grocery request
Maya S. (they/them) @food_responses
“this screenshot is from my sister who was isolating, so my dad brought her groceries. she has had the same grocery list with minor variations for her entire adult life. she is so consistent and unwavering -- in everything. thought abt this in the shower and tried to relate it to her being an immigrant child moving all the time and finding stability through food or something but I think that’s projecting a lil lol” 55
tomato soup
Nilanjana (she/they) @maillardrheaction
Approximately two and a half years ago, I sent my mother a Whatsapp message asking for her tomato soup recipe because, and I quote myself, “The online ones are SHIT”. I haven’t been able to go home to India even before the pandemic closures began. Stuck in a bureaucratic nightmare where I oscillate between “I want to come home but I can’t because my papers aren’t processed yet” and “my papers are processed but now I’m job hunting/got a job so I can’t return.” So, since I haven’t been able to go home for a long time, I’ve been intermittently bugging my mother to share my fave recipes -- be it rajma chawal, veggie au gratin, or Bengali chicken curry. No matter which recipe I ask for, my mother will send it to me and then never bother to ask for feedback, cause she knows it’s good ;) Anyway here’s her tomato soup recipe for good measure because I know you didn’t read this ramble to be left without some proof.
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together we made... sweet potato cinnamon swirl bread
Concept by Carter (she/her) @carter_eats
miso brown butter x black pepper tofu
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linzer cookies
miso chocolate chip
& many cookies
vegan chocolate chip
espresso chocolate chip
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Bye!
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> |
acknowledgements This was truly a community created zine. It would not have been possible with the enthusiasm and support of everyone involved. Thank you all so much ♼ Editing Molly S. / umamimolly Shreya Kareti / explodingkimchi Carter McAlister / carter_eats Cat Wheeler / catlikesfood Melany Jean / melon__bean Hannah P. / foodjournalling General Catherine H. / cathereats Camille V. / bonjour.bean Design & Layout Kate M. / hungrie_gorls Danielle G. / mysillylittletasks Logo by Nadia K. / nadiakim_ / nadiakim.com Front Cover by Kate M. / hungrie_gorls / kateamorrison.com
Like what you read? Want to keep in touch? Have ideas for issue #02? Follow us @kitchensink.zine 60