The past year has been intense in every which way. There have been some beautiful moments and some exciting new endeavors, but also a lot of sadness and loss that have threatened to overshadow everything else. And while I've been caught up in all of these things (I think they call it life), my little blog has languished in a corner. It's cheered up every now and then when I used it as a quick resource when I wanted to recreate that green tomato bhaaji or whip up a batch of maple olive oil gingersnaps for the holidays, but it's been largely ignored. So it started getting antsy and prodding me and poking me, and I've decided it's just too cherished to lie around getting dusty and faded.
And here's the perfect recipe to kick off the new year. Just familiar enough to be comforting, and with a hint of something different to make it a little exciting.
It all started a few months ago when my sister bought a peculiar, stubby, green vegetable called kohlrabi and knew she'd seen it before. Thankfully we've got aunts, cousins and a mom who are only too happy to chime in and solve life's little mysteries. Turns out, it's what I've grown up knowing as "navalkol" - a faintly turnipy, potatoey vegetable that typically got pushed to the sidelines. Jumping ahead a few months, when I spied these little green monsters last week, I thought I'd pick them up and then go directly to the source for a dish that would bring kohlrabi in as a central player on our table. I called up my grandma and announced, "I've got some navalkol - now tell me what to do with them." After her momentary bewilderment (I suppose it's not quite the conventional conversational gambit, but she should be used to it by now after the many times I've asked her ridiculous kitchen questions) she started off by asking me what I had in my fridge and my pantry, gave me a quick and dirty recipe (no measurements here) and set me on my path.
