Recipe: Curry & apricot tuna salad

Each serving of this tuna salad comes equipped with about 8 grams of protein. Bonus: Your cat won't mistake it as dinner. Photo by NCRLet's be honest: By itself, canned tuna tastes kinda like the cat's dinner. The smell and texture follow suit. I don't know about you, but sharing a feast with Whiskers isn't something I aspire to.

And so we have the biggest challenge of cooking with canned tuna: finding a way to mellow out the briney, fishy canned tuna flavor and smell while also improving its mouth feel.

My favorite way to do just that? Add dried apricots, crunchy celery and green onions, bright lemon juice and flavorful curry powder. 

To cut back on the fat traditionally found in tuna salad, I use only a tablespoon of mayo. The rest of the creaminess comes from nonfat greek yogurt. I also like to add in a few slices of my favorite cheese, which further balances the tuna's flavor. Instead of serving it on bread, I pile this tuna salad on top of cold butter lettuce leaves, which serve as crunchy, gluten-free delivery systems.

The finished product tastes, smells and feels nothing like cat food. Success.  

Curry & Apricot Tuna Salad
(Serves 2)

1 5-ounce can wild albacore tuna packed in water
1/4 cup plain, nonfat greek yogurt
1 tablespoon mayonaise
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon curry powder
10 unsulfered dried apricots, diced small
1/3 cup chopped celery
Freshly ground black pepper
Kosher salt (optional)
4 large leaves of butter lettuce
8 slices of manchego cheese (or your favorite cheese)
1 chopped scallion (for garnish) 

In a medium-size bowl, mix together the tuna, yogurt, mayonaise, lemon juice and curry powder. Add in the celery, apricots and several grinds of fresh black pepper, and stir to combine. Taste the tuna to see if it needs additional salt. Add salt to taste. 

Arrange two leaves of lettuce on each plate. Add two slices of cheese on top of each leaf. Scoop approximately 1/4 cup of tuna salad on top of the cheese slices. Repeat. Garnish each one with scallions and serve.

Recipe: Blueberry-coconut-almond scones

Photo by NCRThere we were, waking up inside our tent at Joshua Tree National Park, and all we could hear is crrrrrruuunch. A few seconds passed and then we heard it again, only this time it lasted longer: crrrrrrrrrruuuuunch.

Me, only a second-time tent camper, had no clue what this sound was, but my wild imagination was confident it was a grizzly bear eating a caribou (because of course there are grizzlies and caribou in the middle of the desert).

My better half, a veteran camper, knew exactly what that crunching sound was.

"A rock squirrel is getting into our trash, love," Matt said.

Our trash bin for the overnight adventure was a brown, paper Whole Foods bag with two rocks in the bottom to secure it from the wind. 

But neither of us understood what this squirrel wanted inside the trash. Matt, knowing squirrels are scavengers, instructed me to not put any food in it. The only things inside were a few balled-up papers we didn't burn in the campfire the night before. Or so we thought. 

We slowly unzipped the tent to get a peak at this furry thief in action. As soon as we saw him, we both busted up laughing. His front paws, which looked like tiny hands with even tinier fingers, were clenching the top of the Whole Foods bag. His body was dangling off the side and the expression on his face, I swear, looked as if he was having a moral dilemma: "Do I jump in the bag or do I not jump in the bag? Will I get stuck? Will I get caught? Ahhhhhh, I don't know what to do!" 

He obviously decided against taking the plunge because as soon as he realized we were watching him, he flung himself off the bag and into the fireless firepit nearby.

We were just as confused by what he could possibly want in there. It was filled with a heap of ash and a few scraps of wood that didn't burn completely. Or so we thought. 

A few seconds later, Mr. Squirrel popped up his itsy-bitsy head from the soot, and in his mouth was a charred apple core twice the size of his noggin. He quickly scurried off and underneath a small tree about 15 feet from our tent. And then we heard: crrrrrrrrrruuuuunch! Although this time it wasn't the crunching sound made by his paws clenching the brown paper bag, it was no less funny. 

There was something human-like about this squirrel, as he sunk his miniscule teeth into that burnt apple core: the way he held it in his minikin hands. And then there was that crunch. That crunch sounded as though someone was biting into the freshest of apples, just picked from a tree in Washington state in mid-September. Living in a desert, maybe to him it tasted as such. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

Crunchy McSquirrel took a few more bites, then he tossed the apple core aside and beelined it back toward the Whole Foods bag. This time he hopped up on the picnic bench adjacent to the bag and stretched his foot-long body at a diagonal to try and get an aerial view of the bag's contents. It wasn't quite close enough. He clearly knew he had to devise another plan. 

Clearly, he was worried about getting stuck inside the bag, which is why he didn't just hop in. 

His Plan B: Jump up, grab the side of the bag and pull it down. Next, he'd use the weight of his body to keep the bag's side pressed to the ground, ensuring he'd have a way out after snatching up what he wanted.

What exactly did he want? A small piece of parchment paper that, 10 hours earlier, was wrapped around a blueberry-coconut-almond scone. There were still a few almond and coconut crumbs and 1/25th of an organic blueberry attached. 

He took his parchment-paper prize, safely removed himself from the Whole Foods bag, trotted across the campsite, parked himself underneath a tree and nibbled away. Mission accomplished.

Although I don't condone knowingly feeding wildlife baked goods, I don't feel that guilty about Rocky the Squirrel getting a few bits and pieces of one of our blueberry-coconut-almond scones. Made without refined sugar, gluten or preservatives, if he was destined to eat a scone, this was the scone to eat. 

Blueberry-Coconut-Almond Scones 
(Yields approximately 18 scones)

2 cups almond flour
2 cups unsweetened, shredded coconut
1/2 cup sliced almonds
1/3 cup unsalted, melted butter
1/2 cup honey
2 egg whites, beaten
1 egg, beaten
1/2 cup unsweetened almond milk
1 teaspoon Madagascar Bourbon vanilla extract (I like Nielsen-Massey)
1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 cup frozen organic blueberries 

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Line two heavy-gauge, aluminum-coated steel, half-sheet pans (example here) with parchment paper. (It's important to use cookie sheets that distribute heat evenly so the bottoms don't burn.)

In a medium-size bowl, mix together the almond flour, coconut, sliced almonds, melted butter and honey. 

In a large bowl, whisk together the egg whites, egg, almond milk, vanilla, cinnamon and salt until the cinnamon is evenly distributed throughout the mixture. 

Working in batches, add the almond flour mixture to the egg mixture, and use a large spoon -- or your hands -- to combine. Fold in the blueberries. 

Using a cookie scoop or a tablespoon, scoop out approximately 3 tablespoons of batter. Form the batter into the shape of a scone, and place it on the parchment-lined, half-sheet pan. Repeat until all the batter has been used. 

Bake for 15 minutes, or until the tops are golden brown. I use a gas oven, but if you're using an electric oven, these could take up to 18 minutes to be sufficiently browned. 

Remove the scones from the oven and let them cool for 5 minutes before transferring them to a wire cooling rack. Cool completely. They'll store in an airtight container for up to three days unrefrigerated. If you're going to store them longer, put the airtight container inside the fridge for up to a week.

If you prefer your scones warm, place them in the microwave for about 15 seconds before serving. 

Related post on The Concentric Circle:

• Tales of camping and a butane-lit stove 

Found: Simplicity & sundried tomato salad

This salad consisting of a spinach blend, sundried tomatoes, pistachios, fresh basil and goat gouda embodies the simplicity of our recent mountain cabin retreat. Photos by Matt Leatherman

I find it odd that the word simplicity subsumes the word city. A city is anything but simple. As a center of population, commerce and culture, a city is undoubtedly complex.

I would know. I live in one -- a big one. 

According to the Census Bureau's most recent stats, the city of San Diego ranks as the eighth largest city in the U.S., with 1.3 million people calling it home. That's an abundance of people and a considerable amount of complexity.

Sometimes we crave something simpler, purer.

Recently, we found just that at a cabin an hour and half northeast of here. The New Artist's Loft, as the cabin's named, resides in a remote mountain area one mile west of Julian, Calif. Population: 1,500. 

In fact, the cabin inhabits such a secluded area that there are no blinds on the windows. You don't need them, unless you require privacy from the deer, wild turkeys, hummingbirds, woodpeckers and bumblebees. If you do, this probably isn't the place for you. 

Without question, this was the place for Matt and I. 

The dual master-suite cabin, which was rebuilt after burning to the ground in the 2003 Pine Hills wildfires, boasted timbers with scissor-cut trusses, most of which were made of reclaimed wood. A loft, complete with a writing desk and an artist's easel, overlooked the spacious living room with 24-foot ceilings, comfy furniture, a wood-burning fireplace and a stereo (no televisions or computers). Four sets of French doors opened to a screened-in porch spanning the width of the cabin's backside and overlooking the Cuyamaca Mountains. 

The 1952 O'Keefe & Merritt stove. And then there was the kitchen. Oh, how I loved the kitchen. The centerpiece of this masterpiece: a 1952 O'Keefe & Merritt range complete with a griddle and grillovator. It was more than a stove and oven. It was art, which is why we photographed it as much as we cooked on it. 

During our time there, we made the classic French stew known as coq au vin, buttery baked yams, galicky quinoa pasta with zucchini and tomatoes, herbaceous egg scrambles, gluton-free almond-flour pancakes, and more. We also created several no-cook recipes that required a simple wash and chop. One of our favorites was a sundried tomato, pistachio and goat gouda salad (recipe below). It looked like Christmas and tasted like southern Italy. 

When we weren't cooking, we expended our time exploring other simple joys: nature walks, reading, napping, listening to music, watching the birds and deer, and sipping coffee, tea and wine on the porch. Above all else, we spent our hours being present and content, not worrying about rushing to the next thing or place. The cabin was the one and only place to be.  

The cabin's owners, Chuck and Nan, told us the most common complaint they hear from guests is that they have to leave. We weren't surprised. If we could have found a plausible way to turn our four-day guest status into permanent residency, we would have. 

Although our stay had to come to an end, the memories of our retreat to the simpler life will not soon be forgotten. Here, we share a taste from our sabbatical. We hope you enjoy it as much as we did.  

Sundried Tomato, Pistachio & Goat Gouda Salad
(Serves 4)

8 cups spinach-radicchio-arugula blend
1 cup drained sundried tomatoes
1 cup shelled and halved roasted, salted pistachios
1/2 cup chopped fresh basil
16 slices goat gouda (I like Trader Joe's brand)
White balsamic vinegar (for drizzling) 
Extra virgin olive oil (for drizzling)
Freshly ground black pepper 

Place 2 cups of the spinach-radicchio-arugula blend on each plate. Add 1/4 cup of sundried tomatoes, 1/4 cup of pistachios and 1/8 cup of basil on top of each salad. Arrange four slices of goat gouda on top of each salad.

Drizzle a little white balsamic vinegar and olive oil on top of each salad. Finish each salad with a few grinds of black pepper. Serve.

On a foggy and chilly day, we sat on the cabin's screened-in porch, sipping coffee and enjoying nature.

Recipe: Quinoa with baby heirloom tomatoes & roasted broccoli

Photo by NCRA dish that's as colorful as it is flavorful and healthful? That's the culinary one-two-three punch. 

This recipe defines that idiom.

Serve it warm, at room temperature or cold.

Quinoa with Baby Heirloom Tomatoes & Roasted Broccoli
(Serves 4)

1 cup quinoa
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cloves minced garlic 
2 cups low-sodium vegetable broth
1 pint quartered baby heirloom tomatoes
2-3 cups roasted broccoli (recipe below)
1 cup diced Pecorino Romano
1 cup chopped fresh basil
Zest of 1 small lemon
Juice of 1/2 small lemon
Sea salt (optional)
Additional olive oil for drizzling (optional) 

Rinse the quinoa in a fine sieve until the water runs clear. Drain. 

Preheat the olive oil in a medium-size pot over a medium-low heat. Add the garlic and sauté for 1 minute. Add the rinsed quinoa and stir to combine with the garlic. Cook for 5 minutes, stirring constantly. The quinoa should be golden brown and smell nutty.

Stir in the vegetable broth and crank the heat to high. Once boiling, reduce the heat to low and cover. Cook for 15 minutes. Turn off the heat and uncover. Fluff with a fork, and let cool for 10 minutes. 

Add the tomatoes, broccoli, Pecorino, basil, lemon zest and lemon juice, and combine. Taste to see if salt is needed, and add a sprinkle or two if desired. Place the quinoa into bowls, and drizzle with olive oil (optional). Serve. 

Roasted Broccoli

3 cups small broccoli florets
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit.

Toss the broccoli florets in olive oil on a sheet pan. Sprinkle with red pepper flakes and salt. Roast in the oven for 18 minutes, turning halfway.

Once done, remove from the oven and let cool for 10 minutes. The broccoli may have shrunk in size during the cooking process and may yield less than 3 cups once cooked. That's OK! 

Related post on The Concentric Circle:

• Quinoa burgers  

Recipe: Everything granola bars

Photo by Matt Leatherman

I've never followed to a tee a single recipe from one of my favorite cookbooks: Barefoot Contessa Back to Basics by Ina Garten. It's not because I don't think the recipes sound delicious as is. (They all do.) It's just that many of them call for ingredients I rarely eat, one of which is sugar. When I make dishes from the book, I often omit or substitute ingredients.

Although I stray from the original recipes, the book's overall concept is something from which I seldom deviate: fabulous flavor from simple ingredients. That philosophy is why I love the cookbook, and its a mantra that graces the majority of posts on this blog. 

This Everything Granola Bars recipe is my version of Garten's Homemade Granola Bar recipe, which is featured in Back to Basics. My installment omits the brown sugar, wheat germ and dates, and adds in pistachios, pecans, molasses and dried cranberries. 

Everything Granola Bars
(Makes 12 bars)

2 cups old-fashioned oatmeal
1 cup sliced raw almonds
1/2 cup chopped, unsalted raw pistachios
1/2 cup chopped raw pecans
1 1/4 cup shredded unsweetened coconut
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
2/3 cup honey
1 1/2 teaspoons Madagascar Bourbon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon molasses
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 cup raisins
1/2 cup dried cranberries 

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Butter a 9 x 13 baking dish (or a baking dish close in size), and line it with parchment paper.

Toss the oatmeal, almonds, pistachios, pecans and coconut together on a sheet pan, and bake for 12 minutes, stirring occasionally. Transfer the mixture to a large bowl. 

Reduce the oven temperature to 300 degrees Fahrenheit. 

Place the butter, honey, vanilla, molasses and salt in a small saucepan, and bring to a boil over a medium heat. Cook for one minute while stirring. Pour the mixture over the toasted oatmeal mixture. Add the raisins and cranberries, and stir.

Pour the mixture onto the baking dish. Wet your fingers, and lightly press the mixture evenly into the pan. Bake for 25-30 minutes until the top is golden brown. Cool for at least three hours before cutting into rectangles. Serve at room temperature.

Store leftovers in a plastic container with an airtight lid for up to four days. 

Related post on The Concentric Circle:

• Snacks that make the growl go away