so i boldly claimed on the first of day of the year — quite a grandiose statement, if you ask me.
i’d like to think that i take my new years resolutions seriously, but i have to be honest with you… i made french toast once this year — i typed these words into a blank document just as the leftovers were getting cold.
for whatever rhyme or reason, i was convinced that this year would be the year where i would master the art that is making french toast. hence, i created this document and gave it center stage on my bookmarks bar, with the hopes of being the epicenter for all my french toast-related thoughts.
i wish i could say that i’m coming off years of avocado toast and pancake-mastery, but… that is unfortunately not the case.
i think i was a little too drunk off the invitation for new beginnings that comes along at the dawn of each new year.
although this year was not the year of french toast, it was the year of many other things — things i would have not been able to predict on the first day of the new year. here’s a glimpse of what 2022 was, in fact, the year of:
cauliflower: move over broccoli, cauliflower took center stage this year. whether it be the picture-perfect cauliflower presented like diamonds at the kinokuniya in tokyo, or the unsold heads gifted to me at the end of my shift from my at cookbook market in la, i was not sprinkled, but showered with this vegetable during the year of 2022. i wish i could show off a rolodex of recipes, but the reality is that i enjoyed this cruciferousness with one particular preparation: simply roasted in the oven. cooking cauliflower in this way wove itself into the dna of my evening routine, so much so that you’d be hard-pressed to find me returning home without a head in my hands.
here’s what i mean:
upon returning home, i’ll remove my shoes and place my keys, plus whatever i have in my hands, on the kitchen table.
after washing my hands and gargling (2022 was also the year where i was sucker punched by not one, not two but four different flu’s… but we don’t like to talk about that), the oven gets turned on to preheat at 200°.
out comes my a4-size trusted chopping board, and whatever knife is clean, and i’ll get to chopping (smaller the better — fast tracks you to optimal crispiness).
as i’m chopping along, i’ll toss the goldilocks-sized pieces (stems and core included — often turn out to be the best bits) into a sheet pan lined with baking paper
if i’m feeling up for it, i’ll crush a few garlic cloves, onion halves, or other alliums hanging around, and invite them to the party.
to kick things off, i’ll prepare a classic aperitif concoction of olive oil, salt, and pepper (sesame oil and furikake are great if you want to go a little east), and massage this into the veggies with my left hand.
with my right, i handle the pan and put the glossy veggies into the oven.
i rinse off both hands, pat them dry (probably on my jeans), and now comes the time to unwind. with nothing but time to kill, i’ll wash the day off with a shower, put some fuzzy socks on, throw my legs up the wall, and read (or mindlessly scroll on my phone — decompression comes in many shapes and sizes).
when it feels right, i’ll check on the cauliflower, and judge it’s readiness on a case-by-case basis.* i know it’s done when the stems are soft, the florets are frosted with tips of gold, and when my brother asks if i have any food to spare.
i could eat roasted cauliflower all day, ever day — topped with an egg, mixed in with a sardine or two, and served with some pickles on the side… what more could a girl want?
maybe 2023 i’ll experiment a bit more with my new crucifurous friend… but hey, if it ain’t broke, why fix it?
*a japanese idiom, oubaitori (桜梅桃李) comes from the kanji characters for the four trees that bloom each spring. each tree blossoms in its own time, reminding us that we too, bloom at our own pace — something to keep in my back pocket for this year and the years to come.
leftovers: there’s something quite satisfying about boxing something up and repurposing it for a meal on another day. whether it be leftovers from a restaurant or your stove top, there’s a lot that can happen when you crack open a tupperwear and put it into a bowl…
passive aggressively emptying the dishwasher: i lived in two different apartments this year with a total of four different roommates. both halfway around the world from each other — yet i struggled, in both situations, to find the words to ask my flatmates to help me put the dishes away. thus, in my mind, i was left with no other choice but to return the plates and bowls to their homes with a certain gusto that would implant the message into my roommates’ psyche. they say that actions speak louder than words, but the banging and clanking of flatware can only be so loud until you end up at a greek wedding… maybe 2023 will be the year that i find my words… “hey x, could you please put the dishes away?”
how hard can that be?
shallots: someone close to me introduced me to the shallot this year, and i have to say that we’ve become fast friends. we started off simply in a sauté of swiss chard and red wine vinegar. the following evening we wined and dined with our mutual friend, the cauliflower. just last week we made a broth together that had a depth of earthy sweetness an onion could only dream of. new year, new friends … something tells me this ones a keeper.
sourdough bread: if you know me, you know rice is my carb of choice, but i have to admit i’ve been a bit of a double agent this past year. when all that remains on a plate is a sauce, it would be a crime, in my book, to leave the cleaning of the dishes to the back of house. i was faced with numerous plates of this sort, begging to be mopped up by a piece of bread — it was a great year indeed. the one that still keeps me up at night is the roasted mushroom dish at Otto. served alongside an egg yolk sauce, this was the closest thing to liquid gold i’ve ever eaten. my camera roll is lacking evidence of this, but here’s an image archived from their summer rendition of the dish: baby corn picked from the restaurant’s farm in brandenburg that morning and roasted in berlin that evening. what i would do to bathe in that sauce…
tongue scraping (on the go): now this, this my friend has been the ultimate game changer. i’ve always been a morning tongue scraper — fresh tongue = fresh day and all that jazz — but the real shift came when i popped it into my purse one afternoon in july. akin to a breath mint or an afternoon cortado, a good ol’ scrape of the tongue has the ability to perk me up like a flower in the sun. alongside house keys and chapstick, a tongue scraper has earned its way on my purse essentials list in 2022.
beans: see here
flowers in the house: an old roommate and dear friend of mine showed me how much pleasure one can derive from having flowers around the house. i used to think that buying flowers for oneself could only be done when accompanied by an instagram story and a self-love hashtag. but, i’ve come to realise that buying flowers is like buying lemons — something that you put in your cart solely because you know you’ll be grateful that you did later.
this year i was graced with a plethora of flowers, from discarded hydrangeas, abandoned eucalyptus stems (which do well hung up in the shower), orchids that came back to life (icecubes), and dahlias of all configurations. i no longer live with this dear friend of mine, but having flowers in my home makes it feel like rather than being an ocean away, she’s still just around the corner from me.
thank you, 2022 for all the unexpected twists and turns. you may not have been the year of french toast, but alas…
there’s always next year ;)
you just made me quite hungry 😂
Let’s make some FT when I get back - start soaking the bread now!😊