Day 245-Pumpkin chocolate-chip cookies

Dear Mr. President,

The night of the 2008 election, after my best friend shattered two glasses full of beer toasting too enthusiastically with the man who would, months later, become her boyfriend but before we joined the gleeful crowd of celebrating Seattlites in the 6-mile walk to Capitol hill, we went into a 24-hour QFC. We were there to take pictures with the arugula and to send them to every McCain supporter we knew. While there, Chev found pumpkin-chocolate chip cookies in the bakery section. To me, those cookies have tasted like election night ever since. They're only a seasonal offering at the bakery and these days they don't ever seem to be made properly, so I've developed my own recipe for whenever I need to remember that feeling.

Buying pumpkin outside of fall is an inexplicably difficult thing to do. Strawberries from New Zealand that taste like nothing can be purchased in December and yet canned pumpkin is a "seasonal" item at most grocery stores. Sometimes I really don't get our national food system. Anyway, I managed to find some and so I've been making pumpkin desserts for weeks now. I'm making them tonight, the memories they inspire lifting my spirits and making me miss my best friend more than ever. Also the fact that I can manage to smell cloves and cinnamon means my cold probably isn't going to kill me before it goes away.

I'm baking because I'm worried. Not about dying from a cold (because that would be silly, right?) but about the oil rig explosion, the poll showing that Dino Rossi has a pretty good chance at being the next Washington State junior senator, and the fragile peace talks between Abbas and Netanyahu. I'm worried and so I'm baking. I'm blending spices and chopping up chocolate and making a huge mess with my Kitchen Aid mixer. It's great. I have taken all of my anxiety over things I can't control and I'm making something that will make my writers group tonight a little sweeter. It isn't fixing anything, but sometimes keeping calm is the most I can ask of myself. My kitchen smells like election night tastes. Nothing against QFC, but I think that this version might be even better, actually. I'm not giving up on Patty Murray or on keeping the House or on keeping the White House in 2012. Winning just tastes too good.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Yes we can! Pumpkin Chocolate-Chip Cookies

Adapted from allrecipes.

Ingredients

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter, softened
1 cup white sugar
1/4 cup maple syrup
1 can pumpkin puree (15 oz)
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
8-12oz chocolate chips or chopped very dark chocolate

Preheat oven to 350. Sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, ground cloves, ginger and salt; set aside.
In a mixer, cream together the 1/2 cup of butter, maple syrup and sugar. Add pumpkin, egg, and 1 teaspoon vanilla to butter mixture, and beat until creamy. Mix in dry ingredients and then add chocolate.
Bake for 15 to 20 minutes.

Day 143- Seattle is a kind and loving city brownies

Dear Mr. President,

Tonight a few friends hosted a pot-luck dinner to feature local foods. We bought bread from local bakeries, vegetables and fruit from local farmers, chocolate and beer from local companies. The results were beautiful, and delicious.

I brought zucchini-peppermint-fudge brownies. I've made them before, but tonight they came out better than ever, rich and dark and minty. They're even vegan.

Eating locally in Seattle is probably easier than in other parts of the country. We have plenty of farmer's markets and a tremendous amount of community support that make locally-based choices convenient and even trendy. It's sometimes frustrating when our long rainy season makes it hard to find the produce that, imported, is available-year round. I've just gotten used to waiting all year for decent tomatoes, though, because the first time I had a local heirloom, I was pretty much ruined for the tasteless, hyper-red imitations still stocked in December.

Maybe it's pretentious, but eating food that hasn't been bred for durability during shipping, or disguised by shelf-life-lengthening additives, just tastes better. It gives me a greater appreciation for the people who supply our food and for the way our policies affect them, and also a greater concern for those who live in communities without access to local produce. I hope that this trend is more than just the whim of hipster culture and an indication of a growing commitment to local food. I think the First Family has done an impressive job of encouraging this. The First Lady's anti-obesity campaign has certainly made the connection between fresh, locally-grown food and the health of the community; I hope that tonight's dinner would make her proud.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Seattle is a kind and loving city brownies

Adapted from The Veganomicon's Fudgy Wudgy blueberry brownies, (Named the day a stranger gave me grocery money after my wallet was stolen.)

Ingredients:

2 med Zucchini, finely shredded

1 cup semisweet chocolate chips or chopped chocolate bar

1/4 cup almond milk

3/4 cup raw sugar

1 cup canola oil

2 tsp peppermint extract

1 1/2 cups flour

1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

1/4 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp salt

1-2 Theo dark-chocolate and mint bars, chopped into small pieces.

Preheat oven to 325 and lightly oil a glass, 9 x 13 baking pan.

Melt chocolate chips or chopped bar over a double broiler, set aside. Combine shredded zucchini, sugar, almond milk, oil, and extracts, mix until smooth. In a separate bowl, sift together flour, cocoa powder, salt, baking soda, baking powder, and slowly combine with liquid mixture. fold in melted chocolate and chopped mint-chocolate bars. Spread into pan, and bake 40 minutes.

Day 43- Aloo Gobi Masala

Dear Mr. President,

Tonight my best friend and I are making an Indian dish that is a favorite of ours, aloo gobi masala. Tomorrow night I'll be making another vegetable curry for a date. Indian food is comfort food, to me. When I lived in Boise, I worked as a waitress at an Indian restaurant, owned by a classmate of mine, and lived in the apartments over the restaurant. The smell of the spices, the simple comforts of good chai and naan still feel like home to me, despite having been raised on nothing more exotic than the occasional stir-fry. I was a terribly picky eater before working at the restaurant. While the kitchen staff, unlike much of my family, took my vegetarianism with a grain of salt, they would not abide my other dietary quirks. The restaurant closed each night at 10, and the waitstaff, the owners, and often the chefs, would sit together in the closed dining room to eat supper. I quickly got over my fear of strange-looking food and learned to appreciate the new flavors.

I had moved to Boise believing I could repair a long-distance relationship that was already far too broken to bring back. By the time I'd arrived, I was more alone than I'd ever been, cut off from family, forced to make completely new friends, and still grieving over recent loss. The owner of my restaurant sat next to me in Engineering and in Arabic class. We became fast friends, and he hired me on before the restaurant opened. His family, boisterous and kind, adopted me as their own, and his father often introduced me to friends as his adopted daughter. For a girl with a willfully absent father, this was no small matter. I learned more at this job than at any other, and I never would have survived my time in Boise without the love and support of this family. We've all moved on and now live on opposite coasts, but I miss them terribly.

I suppose these culinary experiments of mine are a seance, of sorts, crafting a potion to recall the warmth and comfort of those happy times. It's a strange sort of magic, nostalgia. I suppose I could pivot this personal story to a broader statement about the importance of immigrants to the American character, or about the difficulty of defining "family," or even another comment about the virtue of small businesses, but I'd rather just bask in the memories tonight, savor the smell of the spices and the images they recall. It is nights like tonight that I appreciate how lucky I am to have been born in America, and to have had the experiences I've had. I hope that, despite the demanding nature of your job, you managed moments of this same relaxation. Have a lovely weekend.

Respectfully yours,

Kelsey

Aloo Gobi Masala

1 tbsp oil
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tbsp minced ginger or ginger paste
2 tsp red chili flakes
1 tsp turmeric
1 tsp paprika
2 tsp cumin
1 tsp garam masala
2-3 potatoes, cubed
1 lb cauliflower
1 diced tomato
salt and pepper to taste

Heat the oil and saute garlic, ginger and chili. When the garlic begins to brown, add potatoes, 1/3 cup water, and all the spices. Cover, simmer and stir occasionally for 7-10 minutes. Add Cauliflower, more water (if needed) and tomato. Cook 10 minutes, covered, until tender.