last night stopped by the market to get in a quick sword fight before my ritual of The Wire in bed.

that sweater is older than you are so don’t even THINK about insulting it if you have any sense of decorum.

Saturday afternoon I paid a visit to Joseph, a physical therapist/martial arts instructor who works out of a cool old home in Alta Dena. He is my own personal Mr. Miagi, full of wisdom and insight, and kind enough to share it with me, no matter how much I feel like an undeserving Daniel-san character.

He instructed me not to do anything that would “disturb my peace” and after ten minutes of him trying to convince me to go for a 15 mile hike, I turned the tables on him and told him anything further than 4 miles would definitely disturb my peace.

On the way out, I complimented his loquat tree, which had bloomed generously since I was last here a month ago. Before I could tell him how much these fruits remind me of my childhood, he was grabbing a bag to fill up for me. He taught me that the leaf, when applied to a wound with heat over it, has natural healing properties.

In Arabic, we refer to these fruits as eskadinias (spelling here is questionable) and in my family we shorten this to call them “eskas.” They are sweet, precious fruits with an edible skin, a fleshy meat and large seeds inside. When really ripe they are incredibly sweet and sometimes have a sort of nectar in the center. If not totally ripe they can be a bit sour, which is delicious in a whole different way.

They bloom during late spring/early summer in what feels like a burst of abundance. Once they are ripe, it’s a big mistake to wait to pick them because the evil squirrel thinks it’s a competition as to who can pick and eat more. He also thinks it’s funny to take a bite of the fruit, let it drop to the ground to go bad, and watch you lament the loss of what could have been yours.

Forgive me if I’m teaching you what you already know, but here’s one way to eat an eska:

Start at the bottom by removing the little brown part opposite of where the fruit was connected to the branch.

That makes it easy to begin peeling the skin off if you want to eat it without:

here’s the fruit once pealed:

Then you open it up and take out the seeds so you can FINALLY enjoy the fruits of your labor.

My dad used to say, “you’re eating them faster than I can peel them, kid.” In other words, it’s a lot of work for a little bit of fruit. Wait that’s totally not what he meant, is it?

The color of the flesh here is a peachy orange, although the variety my parents have in their backyard yields a fruit with yellow skin and white flesh. Both taste like ancient Greek post orgy fruit snacks.

not only do I like to eat at the same places over and over again, but I’m fond of ordering the same dishes everywhere I go. Every meal is Groundhog Day in my world.

One of the things I order most, as you may or may not have noticed, is Quinoa. I eat it at Lemonade, at the Standard downtown, at M Cafe, at Le Pain Quotidien, at Cru and anywhere else I can get my hands on it.

It’s a great substitute for rice or cous cous yet I’ve never even ventured to make it on my own. The other day I cruised the aisles of Erewhon and stumbled upon boxed quinoa. I immediately remembered printing a recipe months back for a sort of cinnamony nutty breakfast dish where quinoa was the main ingredient. I bought the box and I look at it every day with the hopes of one day overcoming my paralyzing laziness and actually cooking something.

But what is Quinoa? On the back of the menu at Mani’s Bakery, they claim it looks like a grain but is actually from a leafy vegetable. Well, my investigative report tells me that this is somewhat true. It behaves like a grain when cooked and is often substituted for grains, but it is in fact the seed of a goosefoot plant. This should not clarify anything for you because what the hell is a goosefoot plant? Glad you asked. The plant is so named because it’s leaves resemble the webbed foot of a goose. Imagine that. Actually don’t imagine that.

According to Wikipedia, it’s a pseudocereal rather than a true grain because it’s not a grass. Don’t drop that word at the breakfast table no matter how badly you might want to.

While quinoa is a more recent ingredient trend, it actually originated in the Andean region of South America at least 6,000 years ago. That’s way older than M Cafe. The Incas considered it a sacred crop and referred to it as Chisaya Mama, or, Mother of all Grains. Used in religious ceremonies? check. Suppressed by Spanish colonists? check. High in protein, fiber, phosphorous (who cares?), amino acids and iron? check. Easy to digest and gluten free, hence very vegan and veggie friendly? you bet. Also called Incan Gold? awesome.

If you haven’t tried it, it is nutty in flavor, and sort of like if nuts and seeds and cous cous made a baby. It is fluffy, slightly crunchy and slightly creamy when cooked. Great as an oatmeal substitute at breakfast, or a rice substitute at lunch and dinner. It can be made into paella, salad, risotto, cookies…The list goes on.

While hunting for facts about quinoa, I stumbled upon this little treasure in an article called Quinoa from the Andes by Karen Railey:

Quinoa was used to sustain Incan armies, which frequently marched for many days eating a mixture of quinoa and fat, known as “war balls.”

Not only is it so gross to mix fat with anything as an ingredient, but don’t call them war balls! If I ate a war ball there would be a serious internal battle galactica because I would have to fight with all my might not to barf. Crazy Incas.

OK. Flash forward to ways to prepare quinoa that don’t involve balls of fat. First, here’s what it looks like before harvested:

This is a picture of a blood orange quinoa salad. I couldn’t find the recipe but it looked good and also the caption said “looks like tiny little condoms” so I got excited and now you’re looking at it you pervert:

looks like it has cucumbers, onions, chives, parsley, tomatoes and maybe a blood orange dressing. anyway, there’s no way any of you love quinoa as much as I do which means you’re not even reading this anymore. me=BOR-ING!

before you disown me, does anyone have any recipe suggestions for my poor box of quinoa? I’m going to experiment but I’m taking requests.

Also, if you google “war balls” and look for images, you’ll find a whole heck of a lotta weird civil war ball reenactments:

Ten bucks says those guys do not eat war balls.

A month or so back, I met my friend Caroline at Gjelina in Venice for a glass of wine and a bite to eat. It turned into 12 glasses of wine between the two of us, which is a conservative estimate and also completely unacceptable for a school night. Our group expanded, our night got later and basically I would like to never ever discuss the events that followed. Ever. Again.

In fact, let’s discuss something else altogether. Let’s talk about my introduction to the Sunchoke, a vegetable I had never heard of, seen or tasted until I saw it on the menu at Gjelina. It’s also known as the Jerusalem Artichoke, the Earth Apple or the Sunroot. Call me a hippie but are those not all amazing names for a vegetable??

According to Wikipedia, it’s not an artichoke, it’s not from Jerusalem and it’s not an apple. Deceitful little vegetable, isn’t it? It’s actually a type of sunflower that was first cultivated by Native Americans. The tubers are described to be “gnarly and uneven” which makes them sound particularly unappealing in my book. They sort of look like ginger root before cooked:

They are not easily digested by some people and taste sort of like if an artichoke and a potato made a baby. At Gjelina they taste like they made a baby while hot oil wrestling, which is a great way to make a baby if you ask me.
In Germany the root is used to produce a liquor called Topinambur or Topi. I think I’d rather eat it than drink it. Particularly at Gjelina. I wish I had a picture of the sunchokes from that night, but on second thought, I’m glad there is no documentation of the evening.
The sunchoke can be pureed, boiled, steamed, stirfried, baked, and turned into German liquor. Talk about versatile. Here’s a view at one preparation:

potato sunchoke stirfry