Fattoush with za'atar croutons

We are counting the days until we leave for vacation and I am simultaneously counting the calories in my food and the kilos on my scale. I am not too happy with the result, I'm telling you. Also, after that cheese and meat fest last weekend, my body is begging me to detox a little and eat healthier. If I happen to shed a couple of pounds whilst pampering my insides, no one is complaining right?

I went over to My New Roots (because let's face it, Sarah radiates such healthy beauty you cannot not follow her advice) to read up on detoxing, fasting (just daydreaming) and came across quite a few recipes I could not resist. Because, although many are a little too healthy for my palate, others are lovely and mouthwatering even if you are not on a health kick. So now I am drinking a glass of warm water with lemon juice every morning on an empty stomach and I am trying to eat as healthy as possible, cutting out any excess and getting ideas from her.

Out goes cheese with natural molds perfect for polenta, enter fattoush.

Fattoush, as most of you probably already know, is a Levantine salad typically made with parsley, mint, tomatoes and cucumbers (or other seasonal vegetables). Stale, preferably fried pita bread and sumac are key ingredients and the vegetables and herbs are more coarsely chopped than for tabbouleh. Fatt in Arabic means crushed. It is a refreshing salad with a pungent, sour flavour imparted by the sumac (a powder whose name is the same as the dried berries it is made with, that grow in Mediterranean countries) and lemon juice. It is salad with pizaaz, a must for the hot months. I, being me, of course made some small variations that should however not bother fattoush integralists too much. I am sure they will forgive me for using up some stale bread we brought back from the mountains instead of pita. Nobody likes waste, right? And they may even feel flattered that I dressed these croutons up with sumac's more glamorous cousin, Ms. Za'atar.

Instead of using sumac in the dressing I liberally brushed the bread with olive oil and za'atar and toasted it in the oven. And I sprinkled some more of it over the fattoush itself. Za'atar being a mix of sesame seeds (I toasted mine), sumac, salt, thyme and oregano (but there are as many variations as there are families making it I believe. Please correct me if I am wrong). To top it all off, I made a dressing with garlic-infused olive oil, lemon juice, lemon zest, salt and a tablespoon of maple syrup (remember, no sugar these days). I would have used honey if it had been in a more liquid form.

Roasted eggplant salad with tzatziki herb dressing

My daughter will be back tomorrow and I can't wait to see her. This week, however, has given me time to spend with my youngest.

He never had the fortune of being the first, that little creature who totally capsizes your world in wonderful (and not always so wonderful) ways. The baby you spend hours staring at, playing with, nurturing. Your first baby is the one you take endless pictures of, you make scrapbooks for, recording every detail of her growth. You scrutinize the content of each and every diaper, you count the strands of hair and sprouting teeth over and over. The first is the baby you play classical music for when she is in your tummy, you do not allow near sugar and salt or anything with a bit of flavor for the first two years of her life. Your first child starts watching TV (10 minutes and no more) when she is a toddler and is only allowed to watch educational programs. You buy her specific toys and/or books for every stage of her devolopment and spend time playing/reading with her. You take her to baby massage groups and English playgroups (if you live abroad) and hum lullabies to her in a semi-dark room at naptime.

By the time your second comes along it is a whole different world. Whilst in your tummy he is already a comfy perch for the older child, forget Mozart's sweet notes. As soon as he is out, his world is a place of noise and light. No lullabies in cool, dark rooms. If he survives his older sibling he will be picking up the crumbs from her cookies and initiating his sugar intake long before he is two. Every time he starts playing with a toy, his older sister will grab it from him (well, to be fair, he will do the same). He will constantly be sucking on that made-in-China barbie or car made out of toxic materials and with a million detachable pieces that his sibling got as a present from their great aunt's cousin twice removed last month.

When I had my second child, my sister warned me I would not take as many picture of him. I promised myself I would, that he would get his personal storyboard, just like my first. I have stuck to that. But that is pretty much it.

He had his first taste of ice cream before he turned two and when he watches TV it is usually Barbie and the 200 Dancing Princesses in the friggin' Diamond Castle. Or Shrek when he gets lucky. His bedtime books are usually more intricate than the Dr. Seuss and Baby Einstein we read to him every once in a while. He has never known the delight of playing with the floating letters and Sesame Street characters all on his own.

All in all, he does have the constant entertainment and company of another child, unlike his sister did. He has a very active social life, I'll give you that, but it is really his sisters'. No fancy English playgroups and massages for that guy. He hangs out with snotty-nosed babies and cool three-year olds because they are his sister's friends'younger siblings. All in all he has it pretty good, he is stimulated (albeit in a different way than my first), he is 2 going on to 6 and has a sugar and salt-coated life.

But I for once I wanted him to feel like my first. The last and only time his sister went away he was too distraught to enjoy it. This week he did a lot better and I pampered him and cuddled him and kissed his little cheeks sore. We read the Foot Book and Good Night Gorilla over and over, we played with non-toxic games that are age appropriate and I sat with him and taught him all the tricks. He splashed in the bathtub to his delight and we watched The Bear in the Big Blue House and Thomas the Train. We both miss his sister a lot, and every time he asks where she is I am wondering the same thing, but I am grateful for every extra cuddle I can give him this week.

Since he loved the yogurt sauce (and posing with it) I made recently so much and because I am always thinking up new ways to get him to eat vegetables, I decided to make this to spoil him a little. He did not mind in the least.

Loosely inspired by Ottolenghi's recipe taught in person to the Heavenly Housewife.

Mango & cucumber salad with Pimenton de la Vera

Robert De Niro is standing in the kitchen. He is suspiciously eyeing the door to the hallway. Everything is quiet. He stands and waits. He looks tense. Then he takes two steps back and opens my oven, pulls out some foccaccia and just as he is about to bite into, it my boss walks in a grabs it from him. That is when the crickets start.

Chirp chirp chirp

Why are crickets singing if it is the middle of the day in Milan? And why am I wondering about the crickets instead of questioning why Bobby is sharing foccaccia with my boss in the my kitchen?

Chirp chirp chirp

I open my eyes in the semi-dark room and reach out to turn off the alarm on my iphone. 5:55am. Time to get my big butt out of bed and go running. I really don't feel like going. My running partner isn't coming this morning and I am ever so tempted to nestle in my duvet and sleep in for another half hour. Then I remember that pistachio-filled chocolate I greedily inhaled nibbled on last night while watching the William & Kate E special and know I have no excuse. On top of it all, it is light out these days and perfect running temperature.

Left-right-left-right-left-right.

I need to do this. I am nearing forty, I had two children plus two C-sections, I have a food blog for God's sake. I have to run by that tree and the homeless guy who says "ciao" everytime I pass only one more time and I am done.

Left-right-left-right-left-right.

This is for you, so I can keep on baking new cakes and conjuring up new recipes involving the likes of chocolate, nuts, cream, cheese and butter.

How do you food lovers and bloggers stop the calories from leaving their mark on your waistline? I know at least one of you uses a treadmill. If you are the kinda person who has a fabulous, quick burning metabolism, please abstain from shoving it in our faces leaving a comment.

This is a non-recipe, a mere idea, because I can use some healthy, fresh foods instead of calorie-laden desserts (ignore the foccaccia, ribs and olive rolls); because it is spring; because my son has lately vetoed vegetables and I am trying to get him to eat his share of vitamins and to learn that salads can be fun; because when you are in a rush this takes about 5 minutes to prepare and it is sweet, spicy (the kids got a mild version), crunchy and refreshing.

 

If you love the idea of using mango for more than dessert, here is another fabulous salad. A little more labor intensive but fit for any dinner party.

Adapted from Muy Bueno Cookbook

Ingredients

3 cucumbers, peeled

1 ripe mango, peeled

Pimenton de la Vera, habanero or other chili powder

olive oil

salt

lime juice

 

Peel and dice the cucumbers and mango. Dress with oil and lime juice (but lemon juice or cider vinegar will do too) and salt and sprinkle over some hot chili powder. If you have cilantro, I would definitely use that too.