A Year Off

"It goes by SO fast!" My youngest is in college already and yesterday he was 3 weeks old!"
Says the lady at the Trader Joes checkout, and the UPS delivery guy..... and that friend of my mom's...... and the woman with two German Shepards walking through the park..... and the man drinking coffee at the table next to me. I believe it, really I do. Just like how I have been telling people that I just got off the boat, or that I write a blog of travel and food. Which I DID! Back in 2013. Because time really does fly past, and suddenly your in the future, and your not even sure how you got there.

35 weeks

It has been almost a year since she arrived. Since I watched my abdomen swell and my body change. A year since I craved nothing but bagels and pasta with mushroom sauce. A year since I spent any moment alone. A year of motherhood.

She arrived in mid March of 2014. We had her in the home I grew up in. I won't bore you too much with the birth story details. There was plenty of moaning, growling, intensity and pain. As one would expect. It was a sunny afternoon, and I felt best outside. Although I would love to tell a story where I hung from a branch like a Native American woman, allowing gravity to bring my baby down into the arms of Mother Earth. Blissfully welcoming my loin fruit through an ecstatic and orgasmic birth. you know, the ones you read about in books while in Bali last..... oh, just me? ok.
Well, needless to say, it didn't happen that way. But the way it did happen was beautiful and amazing. It's truly incredible what the body can do, and I am in awe of women everywhere, even more than ever.
I now also know why an epidural is so popular.

Mila is her name.

So just like the snap of a finger, a year has past. Just like they all said it would. She crawls, and talks, and eats, and points, and does all those things that an 11 month old does. She's a dual citizen and has already whet her appetite for long hours in International airports. She is the most amazing and hardest adventure we have ever embarked on. Aside from the challenge to keep our carry-on luggage small and  manageable, we are thrilled to add this new member to our gypsy pack. New destinations and adventures in the works! Now that we have properly hibernated with our little.

As for the "chef" in A Gypsy Chef. Although I spend most of my time being a private chef for one, and a master in milk production, I am still cooking for clients outside of my family home. A much smaller scale than the past, but the attention to health, well being and travel through taste buds remains.

Since I am not frequenting my favorite stops such as Morocco, India, Spain and Vietnam. I keep myself and those I feed connected to these places in the world via flavor. Bellow is my new favorite way to eat chicken- covered in Cardamom, coconut, ginger and garlic and roasted on the bone. It reminds me of places far away, and I feed it to my daughter while I tell her stories of the Gypsy I once was before I knew how to be the mother of Mila.

Cardamom Spiced Roasted Chicken. Serves 4-6(note: to get the cream top of coconut milk- refrigerate the can, do not shake, and scoop off the cream from the top)

• seeds from 10 cardamom pods
• 2 teaspoon black peppercorns
• 4 teaspoons sea salt
• 2 teaspoon ground coriander
• 2 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1 teaspoon cayenne (optional)
• 4 garlic cloves
• 2 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 cup whole milk greek yogurt, or the cream top from a can of coconut milk
• 2 tablespoon grated fresh ginger
• 2 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
• 1 3-4 pound chicken, butterflied or cut in half by your butcher
• Fresh cilantro leaves for garnish

1. Grind cardamom seeds and peppercorns in a mortar with pestle to a fine powder. Add salt, coriander, cumin and garlic. and smash the garlic. Add the olive oil to form a paste. Stir in yogurt/coconut milk, ginger and lemon juice.
2. Place chicken in a large bowl or pan. Rub yogurt between skin and breasts and thighs. Then smear remaining yogurt over the outside of the chicken, front and back. Refrigerate at least 8 hours or up to 24 hours. Remove chicken from refrigerator 30 minutes before roasting.
3. Preheat oven to 425 F. Place chicken breast-side up in a baking pan or cast iron pan. Bake in oven until thoroughly cooked, 45 minutes - 1 hour. Remove and let rest 15 minutes before carving. Serve garnished with cilantro leaves and remember to por the leftover juices from the pan back over the chicken.

Breaking The News.

I've been away from the Gypsy Chef because I have been a bit busy.....

But I luckily woke up this morning feeling FINALLY rested! In a house that feels like a home (regardless of the lack of furniture.) Two nomads have picked a place the live. Can you believe it!? I can barely believe it myself. But it does feel good. We spent two days unpacking boxes of clothes, worldly trinkets, old photographs, cookbooks..... and more worldly trinkets. No furniture, but walls that we reconize as our sanctuary.

In late August after gathering the feelings of being grounded and having enough time to hoard and foster intimate secrets to ourselves, we decided it was time to break the news...

We sent this email and made a batch of strawberry barley scones.

Dearest family and friends,

Another chapter in life has transitioned as we returned to CA from 5 months away. The last 4 were spent with Chris (Swiss) and I wandering the streets, mountains and temples of SE Asia. We accepted this adventure into our lives to shed away past years of stressful work in boat life, and to discover what our future has in store. A chance to reconnect with our wandering spirits and each other, this time on firm soil. We spent countless moments at the mercy of timeless exploration, following our taste buds, and day dreaming about our future together in this beautiful world. The big question of where/what country to call home for a couple of nomads of the past 6 and 9 years is not an easy one to answer. A difficult transition to come to terms with while we continue to accept the pull of our wandering souls. 

Our last stop on our trip was the Island of the gods- Bali. A playground of tropical wonder, beautiful close friends, and an inviting lifestyle balanced between relaxation and invigorating freedom. We swam in the bliss of Bali for 5 weeks. 

Our answer to the question of rooting came in our last week on the island.

We had participated in a ceremony with two of our dearest friends. A Balinese ceremony in water. Fresh spring water bubbles up from the earth, surrounded by a temple. We came to bathe amongst the blessed waters.... along with hundreds of Balinese. Dressed in traditional Sarongs of indigo blue and deep purple. Cuing through the cold, clear water, bare feet upon smooth stones, while wafts of incense swirl in the air. Moving down the line from fountain to fountain our heads plunged under the crisp running water. Washing away the old and welcoming the new. Intentions, prayers and blessings are held at each fountain as our senses awakened with blasts of holy waters. 

It was a few days after the ceremony that Swiss and I discovered our answer. After comfortably washing away our old lives of youthful sojourning, and accepting the new chapters ahead of "US" as opposed to  "I". We realized that we had both set very similar intentions in the waters that day- acceptance without fear. That of our great love for one another, leaving old habits, and maintaining our constant curiosity in the world while living a rooted life.
Joy ran its way through our veins for this new adventure ahead of us when we discovered the most incredible of Bali souvenirs.... One that will need 6 more months to arrive. 

It was then that we really knew that we would be calling California our home while we unite our worlds and welcome our little wonder on March 13th. 

Once arriving in California a month ago, and telling our families the big news, Swiss and I assembled in front of the Santa Barbara courthouse with only my parents as witnesses and said our vows while exchanging Bali-made silver rings. 

We love that you will be a part of this incredible journey before us. 

With endless love and gratitude,

Chris, Ash (and....what is currently the size of a fig) Schütz

Cold Coffee Chronicles

I count the seconds of the pour, like I did back in the days of helping a bartender pour his cocktails. One...Two...Three....Four....Five...Six.....Seven. The thick and glossy cream streams slowly from the opening in the can, creating a dense layer at the bottom of my glass. A smaller glass is placed on the table with an aluminum filter, dripping slowly with a dark, rich liquid. A third glass is placed on the table, full to the brim with large ice cubes. Eventually all three glasses will be united and the day will finally begin.

Coffee in Vietnam is more than a ritual, it is a practice of patience and a balance of temperatures. Ordering a Caphe Sua Da and taking your seat on a low stool of a crowded Hanoi cafe can test all of your morning fragility between sleep and caffeine, but the outcome is worth the wait.

While suspended in this purgatory of slowly trickling coffee, melting ice cubes and the unhurried pour of sweet and condensed milk, I simply take in the surroundings of my premier task of the day. 

Many minutes later, the dripping has stopped and I wipe the sweat from my forehead in the humid cafe.  Letting the coffee cool for just another minute and then pouring the coffee over the milk and the ice over the coffee. Stirring quickly, and pulling up the thin spoon with layers of thick milk to blend with the strong coffee. The mixture thins out with the melting ice, and becomes the color of a cloudy caramel. Overwhelmingly sweet, thick, cold and caffeinated. Like rocket fuel, it throws the adrenals into overdrive. I don't recommend Vietnamese ice coffee for the healthiest of lifestyles, then again, you could say it gives you an inner "push" and therefore feel free to replace your daily fiber intake with one of these puppies.

Caphe Sua Da- Vietnamese iced coffee

The days in Hanoi were spent with cold coffee and hot sun. Gathering up the street food offerings while bouncing in and out of any and all air conditioned rooms and museums. I spent over 2 weeks in Hanoi four years ago, curiosity kept me weaving through the streets of the old quarter while quickly loosing track of time. This trip was not much different as Hanoi kept us searching for daily little pleasures. We spent 20 days at the same hotel, with just two short trips outside the city center. Finding a sense of home within the city walls. It is something the weary traveler starts to search for after years of wandering. A tiny slice of ritual in the form of cold coffee and locals whom call you by name. 

::Some food porn from Hanoi:: 

banh mi - baguette, pork belly, pate, cucumber, cilantro, hot sauce.

Fish market, Ha Long Bay

Bun Cha- grilled pork belly, cold rice noodles, sweet broth, loads of greens

Banh Xeo- crispy crepe with pork, shrimp, mushroom, bean sprouts, and greens

Viet Nam

.....So that's what's happening right now.

Heat rises from the gravel while spice rises from the plate. Basing my quest for flavor in Hanoi. Will write more once I finish dinner.

x -A

Comfort By Coconuts

I remember the land of smiles as this new piece of the world that I connected with for the first time when I was 24. Instantly stunned and aware from the moment I arrived. As if I had just woken up to something more intriguing then the dream I had just left. Enchanted by sweet and spice, a world of new before me.
I vividly recall witnessing fresh coconut milk being made in the market one day in Bangkok. My feet stopped moving suddenly as I caught this display of lustrous, creamy milk. It was as intoxicatingly alluring as that of beautifully drawn bathtub (you know, like that porcelain, claw foot tub with bubbles and rose petals.) In fact, I'm sure the ancient Kings and queens of Asia bathed in hand pressed coconut milk all the time. I would...

The young man, barely in his 30's, quickly passed the fresh coconut meat through the shredder, and then with soft moves, placed the coconut shreds into a large bowl. 2 more large bowls of equal size lay beside them. Fresh, cold water flowed from a pitcher onto the shreds. He massaged them quickly, and the water turned bright white. The same process was continued as the shreds were pulled out by handfuls and squeezed, ringing them out like old laundry, and placed in the next bowl, and then the next. The result was incredible, 3 variations of fresh coconut milk -the cream, the milk, and the water. The best you've ever tried, so rich and sweet.

I had forgotten all about that coconut milk that stopped me in my tracks that day. Like an old sunburn, it had faded away to nothing, not even the mark or tan was left behind that Thailand once made upon my flesh. Just the memory that I had been there before and that its land felt familiar. That was until I showed up again. Instantly, the thick scent in the air of dried fish, frying oil, rotting trash and human body odor, all came rushing in like a drug to my senses. Ah, Bangkok! Pathways on sidewalks too small to walk trough, and street food venders begging for your attention. A place where cold, sweet mango and warm, sticky rice find balance on your plate together, and where chiles, garlic and basil have never danced so harmoniously in your mouth. Thailand is the gateway into the intoxicating and stimulating palate of Southeast Asia.

New food and ingredient inspirations flood in with an urgency to be known….

-Soft-boiled eggs wrapped in a spicy fish paste, fried and served in with cold cucumbers and fried basil leaves.

-Thinly shaved banana blossoms, laced with peanut dressing and strips of ginger and basil.

-Fried rice balls smashed and mixed with baby lettuce, cilantro, ginger, thai chiles, lime juice and the liquid gold of fish sauce. Crispy, spicy and fresh!

In search for a new take on Thai food, and that moment which stands out like the "cream of the coconut" I head out of Bangkok. Escaping the crowds and avoiding the "gringo trail" as much as possible by heading north. Finding comfort in fried bananas and doughnuts with black sesame seeds as the bus rides grew longer and hotter. Hunkering down in Soppong, Mae Hong Son and Chiang Rai. A new Thailand was budding up through the concrete cities I wandered through.

No matter how crowded and touristic Thailand continues to grow with it's western visitors, and no matter how many unfortunate times I was offered HEINZ chile sauce alongside my flavorless pad thai ::sigh:: It still remains a standing rule of traveling that once you scratch a little bit deeper beneath the surface, or at least drive your motorbike an hour outside the center…. you'll discover all that brings you here to begin with. The true cultural wonder and the intrigue of this exotic land of red earth and sweet bananas is still here. A place where they really do smile before you, they really do still create dishes with a fiery spice, and they really do make coconut milk by hand. 

Love from Asia,

-Ash

M & M

Mallorca & Morocco, March 2013

 Captivated by food, smells, colors, tradition, culture and it's people, Morocco has always allured me. I arrived 3 years ago for the first time. I have returned twice a year ever since. A new avenue, flavor, artisan and spice blend are introduced to me each time I revisit. Last time it was red tassels and Aragan-rose oil, this time it's saffron yellow shoes and handcrafted belt buckles from Essouirra. Enchanted by it's mystic and unknown I simply can't get enough of what lays beneath the surface of this country. 

While walking through the Medina, we were welcomed into a rug shop, and not for rugs, but for lunch. Seated upon thick layers of woven rugs, we were served warm kefta, and bread from a beautiful woman in red. Ripping off chunks of bread, we use it as a natural set of tongs to grad a steaming and perfectly seasoned kefta from the center of a blue platter. We listen to stories of the old medina as silver trays of cucumber and mint salad are passed around. A picnic within a rug shop. 

We sit back, sipping mint tea and dusting the breadcrumbs off our laps. Breathing in Morocco.

*Adventures in Morocco click here* 

Ras al Hanout. Moroccan spice mixture

Cilantro and Mint

Orange blossoms sold of pages of pop magazines

Mallorca Spain.

Introduced purely by chance 6 years ago. I was set up to intern at a restaurant with an American-French chef and his Spanish wife. The internship was a disaster as the chef had slipped into a darkened existence as he watched his restaurant dream slip away. His only sense of entertainment was to torture his new intern and make it impossible for her to love this industry of food and the foreign home to her now. But he was too late, not only did I fall deeply for the magnificent island in the Balearic seas, but somehow it began to take care of me as well.

It seems like forever ago that I learned the ways of the Spanish and walked the streets of Mallorca as a newcomer. Friendships on the island have sustained years of barely frequenting the Spanish soil, but my mind and heart remained connected from afar. 

I am currently researching an opportunity to bring me back to the island yearly in the culinary world. My former "boss" from the failing French restaurant however, had to close his doors many years ago and move from the island.
While my lessons from Mallorca have been bitter and sweet, the karma has been even sweeter.

Sopresada- A spiced and cured Mallorcan delicacy 

Lechona

Little Ears

Orecchiette- which means "little ears"

The 28th year is said to be the Saturn Return. When that shift from your years of countless re-invention, exploration, transformation take a turn, and something brings you "home" again. Maybe home translates to the weary traveler as a place, or a feeling, maybe even a quality or trait that re-surfaces itself in your life. For me it literally brought me home. Eucalyptus in the air, in the land wild sage and avocados- Central California. 

So, once the siren of my 28th year sounded her song, I made it home in time for my birthday. Uniting first with my tribe of lady chefs and coming together to determine what new task on our ever growing list of creations to try.

"Ash, Orecchiette!!" 

Kim proclaimed with girl-like excitement. A creative task we had yet to embark on within our 9 years of cooking side by side. Convincing Peggy was easy, as she would be the one to give us the personal tales from watching the process on the streets of Puglia herself.

The day began with our fists united with in a vigorous kneading for 20 minutes on the white marble counter top. A strong task to ensure strong dough, our muscles feel it as our mound of raw orecchiette begins to smooth out and ready itself for rest.

The process is simple. Using a bench scrapper to slice off wedges of dough, then roll between your palms and the cutting board. The dough remains smooth and firm, in no way clinging to your fingertips when touched. An almost silky tactility that soothes the spirit as therapy through creation.

 Roll, slice into 1" squares and then quickly pull the dough across a wood cutting board with the back of a butter knife. The true Nonnas of Puglia would jump to their feet with disapproval if they witnessed our first attempts at Orecchiette- "NO! Non cosi!!!" they would proclaim. As dough was smashed, torn, or pulled too thick or too thin. But eventually we got our groove on, and little ears appeared one by one.

We set our pasta out in the garden, inside a clean beehive screen and covered with a linen sheet.

The destiny of our oriecchiette was to be happily united with kale, braised lamb with jus, and fresh chili breadcrumbs. 

Orecchiette drying in the March sun of CA

Table set, awaiting guests. 

Chèvre and beets unite!

A Birthday Menu

Cocktails- 28 Roses (gin, grapefruit & rose geranium) Thyme Sip (bourbon, meyer lemon, & thyme)

Hors d'ouvré - Fava bean and preserved lemon dip with crudite. Beet and chèvre spread with crostini and radish.

Pizzas- Radicchio, mozzarella and amaretti. Melted leeks, sausage and burrata.

Mains- Orecchiette with lamb jus, kale and chili breadcrumbs. Wood-fire oven broccolini. Salad of garlicky kale and roasted chickpeas.

Dessert- Choice of salted caramel or lemon curd ice cream. 

Coffee or verbena mint tea.

Bellies were full and sore from laughter. Our glasses remained filled with central California's best in red wine. Some still found space for another scoop to top off the evening, while a question was posed...

In this house and around this table for as long as I can remember, a question has been posed for all to answer. It's a beautiful tradition that brings everyones attention back to the center and gives each individual a chance to tell a story of personal importance. 

The question (posed by Howard, Kim's sweet husband)--

"What was a lesson or experience that you could not learn from anyone else, and only on your own?"

A wave of vulnerability and joyful emotion came over everyone as they told there stories of that lesson or experience that invited a shift and a transformation. We listened tenderly with open hearts as the smell of lamb from the wood fire oven continued to linger over the table. One of my favorite aging moments yet, the year of the saturn, and the night of rose geranium-scented cocktail surrounded by my favorite beings. A magical start to my 28th year.

28 Roses Cocktail on March 1st, 2013

:: 28 Roses Cocktail ::

5 oz Fresh Grapefruit Juice
1 1/2 oz Gin (Preferably Plymouth)
1/2 oz Fresh Meyer Lemon Juice
2 oz Rose Geranium Simple Syrup (recipe follows)

Add all the ingredients to a shaker with ice, shake and serve in a tumbler.


Rose Geranium Simple Syrup:
1 c White Sugar
1 c Water
4 or 5 Rose Geranium Leaves

Heat the sugar and water together until the sugar is completely dissolved without boiling. Add the Rose Geranium once you've turned off the heat and steep the leaves for 10 minutes. Or less. It can get strong quickly, so check the progress and taste as you go along.