This one was an experiment that turned out to be pretty damn good. Hushkoras (I just came up with the name right now) taste like a cross between hushpuppies and traditional Indian pakoras. They’re fried, so if you don’t like greasy food this isn’t the recipe for you. Also, they take about an hour and a half to make so don’t start this unless you’ve got some time on your hands. But if you’ve got the time and patience and you can handle The Fried, let’s roll on these boys…

Ingredients
Two cups of polenta corn grits. I used Bob’s Red Mill
A half onion
A half bulb of garlic (six small cloves)
Curry powder
Oregano
Onion powder
Sea salt
Vegetable oil

Directions
Make the polenta (two cups of grits to six cups of water) according to the directions on the package. (Just so you know, this step takes about 40 minutes and most of that is you stirring the pot, which’ll take some heavy elbow grease.)

Once the polenta’s done, add the onion and garlic (diced), a tablespoon of curry powder, a half tablespoon of oregano, a quarter tablespoon of sea salt, and a tablespoon of onion powder. Mix well.

Then pour the polenta into a glass casserole dish and set it in the fridge.

While the polenta’s cooling, start a frying pan with about two inches of vegetable oil. High heat.

Once the bottom of your polenta dish is cold to the touch (say, 30 minutes), turn it over onto a cutting board and slice it into 1″ by3″ strips. (Don’t go any thicker than, say, two inches or the inside will be raw and flavorless.)

Next, make sure your oil is crazy-hot and begin laying the strips of polenta into the grease using a metal spatula and a fork.

While the strips of polenta fry, you’re going to want to sprinkle them with more onion powder and curry. At this point it’s all left up to personal taste. I like mine heavily-seasoned so I use a lot of curry and a medium amount of onion powder. It’s all auxiliary seasoning by now, so it doesn’t matter all that much but I think it makes a difference in the end-result. But really, once you’re doing it it’s pretty intuitive; just use your best discretion and have faith in your judgment.

Now, every once in a while you’re going to want to turn the strips. No real rule on this. Just make sure they don’t stick.

All told, you’re going to want to keep them in the fry grease for about ten or 15 minutes. They need to be medium-dark brown and very crispy. I also like to break them up a little so they’re cooked a bit on the inside. What I do is use the spatula to slit them down the middle and press down on them with the flat side a couple times, just to let some grease mingle in and make things interesting. The more irregular-shaped the better it’ll taste.

When they look done to you (the whole procedure is actually super-intuitive) use your spatula and fork to take them out of the grease and set on a plate with paper towels or napkins to soak up the grease.

At this point you can either wait five minutes and eat them hot or, do like I do, and put them in the cooler and eat them later, cold.

As far as sauces I’d go with an Indian masala simmer sauce like the Trader Joe’s brand or, if you want to be really white trash about it, maple syrup. That’s basically what this dish is all about–the counter-intuitive clash of texture, culture, and flavor. Go with it.

Another thing, this recipe takes a lot of attention. I’ve done it alone both times and you can get pretty Zen with the endless stirring and the grease-watching. The first time I made them, our local public radio here in rural Kansas was playing a doubleheader of the space-music hour (which sounds just like you’d imagine) and their half-horrible, half-incredible new-agey instrumental composition show. After one such half-hour drone track I felt like I was cooking for myself on a far-off space station after the Earth had long-since gone cold and broken up into interstellar pebbles. I felt like a god; a force of nature. It was amazing.

Oh, and if you make ‘em, write me at adam@asthmatickitty.com and let me know how they came out. I just invented this one so I’m still working out the kinks. Still, any way I’ve made them, it’s about the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I’m sold, and I hope you will be too.

BIO: Adam Gnade's (guh nah dee) work is released as a series of books and records that share characters and themes; the fiction writing continuing plot-lines left open by the self-described "talking songs" in an attempt to compile a vast, detailed, interconnected, personal history of contemporary American life. Check out recent writing here and songs here. Contact: adam@asthmatickitty.com

As a single woman, Valentine’s Day is a time for me to focus on reaching out to the people I love the most in this world, treating myself well and spoiling myself rotten!

1. A jojoba and lavender oil bath with beeswax candles – Baths are the best! Growing up, working class in the UK, we didn’t have a shower, so we had yummy warm splish sploshy baths. Once I moved to North America showering became the new mode of cleaning; they were quicker and faster, pretty much like most things in this culture, but I still love a nice relaxing, steamy bath once in a while. Jojoba, a lovely carrier for essential oils, is a great moisturizer and lavender is a calming fragrance. Beeswax candlelight is super cozy; it also improves indoor air quality, because as it burns it produces negative ions that have air purifying effects, much the same as some houseplants.

2. Pomegranate green tea – This is my go to tea during the winter months. I also enjoy it chilled with ice and honey in the summer. Both pomegranates and green tea contain antioxidants, and have a brilliantly refreshing taste alone and more so when combined.

3. A bottle of Jackson Triggs Delaine Vineyard, Riesling (06) – One of my favorite rieslings from Ontario under $20. This wine is a golden wheat color, has medium body, and sports the flavor of apricots and peach with slight petrol notes. Sounds gross, but tastes delicious!

4. A cup of Casi Cielo coffee and mini almond biscotti – Yeah, it’s a Starschmucks coffee… but it’s not acidic (most of their coffees give me gut rot!) and only comes out for a limited time in the winter months. It tastes like coco and blackberries and it’s smooth and mild. “Casi Cielo” means “Almost Heaven,” ’nuff said.

5. A snuggle with my coon hound/beagle cross – Brooklyn is my 2.5 year old dog. She’s energetic, mischievous, stubborn as all hell (just like her owner!) and is a super-duper suck, a 40lb ginger furred beauty with big, floppy ears  that are as soft as velvet. This dog is awesome. I’ve had her since she was seven weeks old and love her to bits!

Leanda is a writer based in Toronto. For the past 13 years she has hosted & produced music radio shows, managed bands & worked in online music PR. She now runs a music site & also writes for music & culture magazine `Relevant BCN`. Read more of her writing here - http://www.bloggertronix.com

I can’t think of many better things than springtime. Summer’s great but it cheats because it comes after the cushion of spring which makes the transition easier. Spring, of course, follows (what always seems to be) a death-march of a winter season.

This winter wasn’t so bad, but it was long and it was gray and it’s nice to see the sun again.

So in that spirit, here’s a list of some great things to do and check out in the Greatest Season.

1. Chesapeake by James Michener. More than 300 years of life along the Chesapeake Bay. Good thing to sit outside with and feel the sun while you go deep into some historical fiction.

2. 40s. Winter for me was all dark, dark red wine. It’s spring so I’m starting it off with a big bruiser like the one in the photo below.

3. Haircut. Give yourself one. Clear-cut your skull and nurture some new-growth forest. (Same goes for your face. How long have you had that beard? Do you even remember what your face looks like Will you look like your dad when you shave it off? Facial hair will always grow back; it’s good like that. Check in with your real face.)

4. “The Gentlest Gentleman” by My Brightest Diamond. Been listening to this on repeat. The MOKB version.

5. Make Your Place by Raleigh Briggs. DIY home-life book. (“Affordable sustainable nesting skills,” says the front cover.) Build a compost heap, make a planting bed, mix up a tincture, beat the Great Depression #II blues.

6. Ditch the bummer music. Look for these HI-NRG positive vibes punks: White Fang. Their album on Marriage Records is called Pure Evil and it’s a party straight through. Especially the track “Green Beanz.” When I hear Erik sing, “I will sing until the day I die/yes, I will sing until the day I die” I’m, like, “YES YES YES.”

7. Potatoes. Hardly anyone I know has a real job these days and we’re all looking for new ways to get through the same ol’ hard times. Potatoes. They’re cheap, filling, nutritious, and you can add a couple bucks worth of fresh vegetables and make a feast for 10. Last night I collected everybody’s spare change and bought a bag of 30 russet potatoes for $1.79. I added a handful of spinach, two cloves of garlic, and two tomatoes and fried up a massive supper for a bunch of really hungry people.

8. Fresh ginger. Clears your head. Heats up your chest. Easy to shoplift from mega chain stores. Go spring-clean your body.

9. Foxfire book series. Collected Appalachian folk-wisdom, ancient DIY tricks, and general cheap-living how-to’s handed down by people who were alive during the Civil War. Read up on haint and snake lore; build your own dulcimer; learn to keep bees; make soap, etc. First five books (1972-’79) are the best.

10. Anything by Frederick Douglass. Pure reason and calm-minded eloquence from a time in American history that was anything BUT. Start off the season with a big hot flashlight of genius (1818-1895) that’ll illuminate everything in your path.

Oh, and go outside.

BIO: Adam Gnade's (guh nah dee) work is released as a series of books and records that share characters and themes; the fiction writing continuing plot-lines left open by the self-described "talking songs" in an attempt to compile a vast, detailed, interconnected, personal history of contemporary American life. Check out recent writing here and songs here. Contact: adam@asthmatickitty.com

Joshua Ploeg’s cooking blows my mind. It blows my mind so much that a secret door opens in the back of my head and white doves, musical notes, and winged horses fly out. His cooking is transcendent, dangerous, strange, and perfect. It’s full of colorful tastes that explode in your mouth like Pop Rocks; flavor combinations you never thought possible, crazy alchemy, freaky magic. Joshua’s the Traveling Chef; you make an appointment, he shows up at your house with a load of groceries, makes an incredible multi-course vegan meal using your pots and pans, and then he’s gone like the Lone Ranger riding into a big Texas sunset.

Joshua’s been in a bunch of hardcore bands (Mukilteo Fairies, Lords of Lightspeed, the latest of which is called Warm Springs) and he brings all the good things punk rock gave us—risk, passion, creativity, weirdness—and applies them to his meals.

I randomly lucked into a Joshua Ploeg dinner last year in Oakland. The menu was:

1) Spinach-Mushroom Nutty Cheezy Fingers

2) Wild Mushroom Pasties with Wine Gravy

3) Spinach, “Bacon,” Avocado, Onion, and Oranges in Watercress Vinaigrette

4) Avocado Mousse with Wild Mushroom Mince, Spiced “Cream” and Shaved Chocolate

5) Spiced Cinnamon-Tomato Rice Ring with “Lamb” and Vegetable Stew

6) Plum and Pistachio Crisp with Ouzo-Lemon “Ice Cream” and Rose Syrup

I usually eat really fast and kind of mindlessly—good food turns me into a wild boar—but I had to take this one slow and let all the flavors develop and do their respective stuff. Each had its own distinctive note, its own voice that rang out to let it be known that it was something special and unique. It was an experience in the finest sense of the word, like taking a submarine trip, reading Huysmans in the original French (not that I can do that) or getting in your first-ever, lip-bustin’ fistfight.

I was in the Bay Area for a few days and Richard and Amy from 1984 Printing took me and Joe Biel to some incredible places to eat, but nothing topped Joshua’s meal. I still dream about it months later.

Says Joshua, “A sample dinner party menu [would be] roasted eggplant roulades with green olive and almond tapenade, pistachio-coated deep-fried tofu with tangerine sauce, cannelloni and roma tomato salad with mint and arugula, vegan ‘chicken’ and escarole soup in ginger broth, tempeh ‘fish’ with orange herb sauce and garlic linguine, baby carrots in spicy tomato sauce, deep-fried chickpeas with lemon-chili sauce, almond sheet cake with lemon custard, rosemary lemonade.”

You can book a Joshua Ploeg meal by emailing thetravelingchef (at) gmail (d0t) com.

You should also check out his cookbook zines, most of which you can find online. His next one, In Search of the Lost Taste, will be his first full-on book. Look for it from Microcosm Publishing later this year.

BIO: Adam Gnade's (guh nah dee) work is released as a series of books and records that share characters and themes; the fiction writing continuing plot-lines left open by the self-described "talking songs" in an attempt to compile a vast, detailed, interconnected, personal history of contemporary American life. Check out recent writing here and songs here. Contact: adam@asthmatickitty.com

Photo by lucianvenutian

It’s cold outside. You need some heat in your heart. Here’s your heat.

Ingredients:
26 oz can of Embasa brand whole Jalapenos
Small tub of Tofutti vegan cream cheese
Two cups spelt flour (for gluten-free use rice flour)
Seasoned salt
Garlic
Almond milk (unsweetened if you can)
Tequila (try Patron.)

Directions:
Cut tops off jalapenos then slice open on one side-but not completely end-to-end, just a cut small enough to remove seeds. Scoop out seeds (be gentle) with your forefinger then wash jalapenos under running tap water to take some of the heat out. (Or don’t-and bask in the FIRE.) Using a teaspoon (or your finger) stuff jalapenos with cream cheese. Make sure they’re nice and full since some of the cream cheese will cook off. Pat and firm up like you’re rolling a ball of dough-but gently.

Take a shot of tequila. Laugh robustly and thank whoever or whatever you choose to thank that you’re still above ground.

Put one cup of flour mixed with a few pinches of seasoned salt and a light sprinkle of garlic powder in one bowl and two cups of almond milk in another. Dip each popper in milk using your dominant hand then roll it in flour with the other hand. (Don’t switch hands or it’ll get messy.) Let flour-coated popper dry on plate. Do this with all the peppers.

Take another shot of tequila while you’re waiting for the poppers to dry (five minutes should be cool.) Turn up the music you’re listening to. (Suggestions: something rowdy and alive-feeling … Vicente Fernandez, Waylon/Willie, or maybe the Dirty Projectors.)

Repeat every step from “dip each popper” to “dry on plate.” This’ll give you a nice coat of flour.

Set floured poppers in a half inch of very hot vegetable oil in frying pan and turn with fork until deep golden. Let sit five minutes then eat. Love your life.

Note: At no point in this process should you rub your eyes with your hands. Your head will melt off like the Nazis from Indiana Jones.

BIO: Adam Gnade's (guh nah dee) work is released as a series of books and records that share characters and themes; the fiction writing continuing plot-lines left open by the self-described "talking songs" in an attempt to compile a vast, detailed, interconnected, personal history of contemporary American life. Check out recent writing here and songs here. Contact: adam@asthmatickitty.com

When my husband and I traveled to Prague recently, a pattern to our days quickly emerged: walk and eat, walk and shop, walk and go to a museum, and repeat. Before the trip, I imagined shaking off my shy coat and boldly clanking glasses of pivo (Czech for beer) in slow motion with new found friends, the beer’s froth spilling onto the floor of a neighborhood pub with wide wood floors and leaded windows.

It may not have felt especially Bavarian, but the closest we came to finding a dream-pub was the excellent Pivovarsky, (Krizikova 17) a microbrewery with about 200 beers to boot. I’m not a big beer fan (I’d prefer a Lillet with a twist any day, thank you very much). But Drew, a home brewer, saw the hundreds of beer bottles lining the wall and went into some other dimension. To find Pivovarsky, we followed a fuzzy map and kept walking until things looked unbearably seedy (a real neighborhood!) and there it was, warm and bustling. The staff was jovial and the food looked bountiful—the place gives you a whole loaf of bread with each order. Too bad the by the time we arrived, we’d already eaten at Perfect.

Thankfully, Prague remained largely in tact after World War II. The apartment we stayed in was touching a building Kafka lived in later in life on Bilkova Street. There’s history everywhere, and walking around it’s easy to feel like you’re part of a very old bedtime story. Inside, many of the city’s buildings have been gutted, swept repeatedly, filled with mod furniture and painted bold colors. The restaurant Perfect pulled this aesthetic off with heart, creating the right balance of intimate ambiance with homey kitsch. The food was straightforward, fresh and memorable. My plate, spinach and smoked chicken gnocchi, was simple and honest-to-goodness one of the most glorious things I’ve ever tasted. The only thing better was my salad—bitter greens with cranberry compote and baked goat cheese.

Still full from dinner and drinks the night before, we stopped for coffee and pastry the next morning at Bakeshop started by an former New Yorker just off the main square. The exchange rate from dollar to euro was dreadful, but we were still tempted to carry out bags of the bakery’s flaky tarts, meringues the size of pancakes, and cherry pecan golden raisin bread (even if it did convert to about $25 dollars a loaf).

After breakfast, we felt like reading the newspaper, so we trekked to Globe, an ex-pat haven that first opened in 1993. It’s smoky, creaky, and a little hippie-dippie. With an English-language book and periodical shop in front, Globe is the kind of writing and reading place I dreamt finding in my college town. Patrons are intentionally scruffy; men with bed-heads and women with berets, drinking swimming pool-sized au laits.

After a full day of wandering around parks and exploring Prague Castle, relaxing with a glass of wine seemed in order. We stumbled upon the old and faithful Café Savoy, recently restored to its Art Nouveau glory after a couple of remodels. It’s easy to sip two glasses of wine and people watch here—the place was filled with an even split of eager tourists and grown up locals with sass. Drew left me to catch up on journaling while he went for a walk up Petrin Hill, and when we met up later, my stomach was empty and mind light from the wine.

Luckily, we found a gem at the venerable Cukr Kava Limonada (Praha 1 – Mala Strana, Lazenska 7), filling up with an herbed omelet and big, fresh plates of house-made taglitelle. Not sunny but warm, the cafe is decorated like the living room of your coolest Parisian aunt. Well fed, we shifted back to our apartment in the Jewish Quarter, past Tyn Church.

There were merchants in the square selling metal work, painted eggs, and festive breads. Some schoolgirls dressed in traditional Czech outfits danced on a nearby stage. With Tyn looming bigger than a mountain behind us and with bellies full, “I could really live here,” Drew said. “Me too, easy,” I sigh. Trouble is, we say that about every place we travel, especially after a series of very excellent meals.

Sara Billups writes the blog Weatherspoon, a diary of living alongside the weather in the Great Northwest.

It’s been storming and hailing all day and I’m making soup. In my kitchen, the windows are steamed up and you can barely see the dying light outside; the early spring spirits fighting their best fight against winter’s big black hangover. Fighting—or at least the desire and intent to fight—looks to be the mood of this new year. From what I’ve seen lately, there’s some kind of healthy living movement taking hold amongst my people. Maybe it’s thanks to this past winter, which was hard and long and dark; I don’t know. What I do know is a lot of people (young and old) that I really love and respect are shaking off that dated, limiting, terrible “doomed artist” thing a lot of us flirt with and are looking for better ways to live. They’re trying health spells and experimenting with folk remedies. They’re reading ancient cookbooks, trying new age detox cures, and making recipe zines that read like hardcore songs. Like a friend of mine sings on his new record, “Do you want to live long? Well, then you better stay strong.” I want to live long.

So I’m making soup. This one’s a simple split pea soup recipe but it comes packed with good health, sweet spice, and—above all—a mammoth dose of protein; two bowls of this in the morning and I feel like I can bend steel bars into pretzels.

Also—and this is kind of a side-note—I’m listening to the new Inca Ore 12”, Birthday of Bless You, while I cook (and while I write this). It works; the long, hazy ghost drones really fit the dimming light outside and the steamed, dripping window glass, and the healing vibes I’m working hard to bring on. Just like any experimental process, making food deserves a good soundtrack and Birthday of Bless You is a fine one.

Ingredients:
1 cup dry split peas
3 cups water
1 tbsp sea salt
One half tbsp of each: curry power, cumin, ginger
1-2 tbsp(s) cinnamon
Quarter of a red onion (not chopped up or anything.)
One carrot
Extra firm tofu
Smart Balance, Light (non-hydrogenated butter substitute)

Directions are pretty basic. Fry the tofu in a pan with a couple tablespoons of Smart Balance and a sprinkle of ginger until the tofu gets nice and brown around the edges. While that’s happening, put the water and peas in the biggest soup pot you can find and turn the stove to high. (The bigger the better since a lot of the final outcome depends upon the magical properties of steam.) Bring the peas and water to a boil then add the sea salt, tofu, seasonings, and onion. Cover, turn the stove down low (I put mine at 2 ½ on a scale of 1-10), and let it cook for an hour.

When your hour’s up, take the pot off the heat and uncover it. After it cools a little, you’re going to want to taste it and see if it’s sweet enough. If it’s not, add more cinnamon (balanced out with curry) until it’s right on. Then grate the carrot into the pot and you’re all set.

Note: If you’re looking for a good drink to go with this, try water with fresh squeezed lime juice, and a couple drops of rosewater (as wrote Edgar Cayce) or a good strong red wine.

BIO: Adam Gnade's (guh nah dee) work is released as a series of books and records that share characters and themes; the fiction writing continuing plot-lines left open by the self-described "talking songs" in an attempt to compile a vast, detailed, interconnected, personal history of contemporary American life. Check out recent writing here and songs here. Contact: adam@asthmatickitty.com