Archive for March, 2012
March 19-29, 2012, was Dine in Brooklyn Week, when people all over NYC have a chance to sample a 3-course meal in some of the best dining establishments in the borough for $25. While I wished I could have taken advantage of many of the great restaurants that are opening in Brooklyn—making it THE new culinary hotspot—alas, I was only able to try one (when you’re broke, $25 is a lot of money). That place was Soigne on 6th Ave. and 10th St. in Park Slope.
The word soigné in French means “well-groomed, sleek, sophisticated elegance,” which it delivered in both their ambiance and food. The décor was instantly pleasing. Its chic, upscale look was tempered with a sense of warmth and casualness. I saw people dining there in t-shirts (which I don’t necessarily approve of because unless you’re going to a burger joint or a Cracker Barrel, I think you should put on a nice shirt), and one table had a toddler in a high-chair. The lighting was intimate but bright enough that you could see what you were eating. They also have outside seating, which in warmer months will be very pleasant on 6th Ave., which is mostly residential and has less traffic than the busier 4th, 5th, and 7thAvenues.
I started my meal with a coconut margarita on the rocks with salt. They were not stingy with the tequila, and the drink packed a bit of a punch. Although, I can’t say that the coconut flavor was as upfront as I would have liked. We then ordered from a prix fixe menu.
The servers brought to our table two silver tumblers of bouchées, which are small pastries, usually puffed and filled with something. Translated, bouchée means “mouthful,” referring to their size (they were about the size of small cream puffs). These bouchées were made with cheese (probably gruyère), so I was surprised that they weren’t referred to as gougères, which are traditional French cheese puffs. They had a sharp, salty flavor that cheese lovers would appreciate, but may not appeal to everyone, as was the case at my table.
Next, we were treated to an amuse-bouche of cold potato soup. Again, I don’t know why they didn’t call it vichyssoise, unless they anticipated being asked a million times what it was and just decided to call it what it is, but whatever. The soup was served in little cups and had bits of bacon floating on top. One of the members of my party is a vegan and requested that they give her a soup without bacon and they happily accommodated her. (She would have picked them off the top except that they said that the bacon sometimes sinks into the soup.) The soup was silky and delicious with a slight hint of sweetness. Coupled with the bouchées, it was an outstanding start to the meal.
For the first course, I had Jerusalem Artichoke Soup, containing wild mushrooms and topped with chives and artichoke chips. It was light but so satisfying. The mushrooms added a nice meatiness and the chips gave it a delicate crunch. Two of my friends had the crab cakes, which I tasted. I’m not a big seafood fan and, admittedly, they were a bit on the fishy side for me, but aside from that, they were fresh and well seasoned—not too much, not too little—and they were complimented by a white balsamic-tomato jam. Alas, no one had the spring salad. I would have loved to try that as well, since it contained trumpet royale mushrooms, roasted fennel, frisée, and chevre and was dressed in a sherry vinaigrette. Sounded good.
For the second course, I had English Pea Risotto, with mascarpone, white truffle, and a parmigiano-reggiano tuile. It was truly delicious. I thought the rice could have been cooked just a drop more, but other than that, everything worked together perfectly. The mascarpone gave it a nice creaminess, while the tuile provided the crunch. One friend ordered the 8 oz. Boneless Rib Eye and she enjoyed it immensely. I tried some the truffled French fries that accompanied it and they were addictive. The seasoning was bold but not overpowering and I could definitely detect the truffle powered (I’m assuming it was truffle powder). It also came with Cabernet-black pepper butter and watercress.
Another friend ordered the duck confit, which came on a bed of lentils dup puy, white asparagus, and red wine-poached salsify. I didn’t get to taste any of it, but it looked beautifully cooked and judging from its disappearing act, I believe my friend enjoyed it.
Other choices on the pri fixe menu were Pan-Roasted Skate with Yukon gold gnocchi, favas, morels, sunchoke puree, and sunchoke emulsion; and Niman Ranch Pork Tenderloin with roasted apple, fingerling potatoes, glazed cippollinis, and grain mustard bordelaise.
For dessert, we had two choices: Valrhona Chocolate Flourless Torte and Vanilla Bean Cheesecake. The torte was great, as sumptuous as you’d expect a flourless cake to be and as chocolaty as you’d expect a Valrhona dessert to be. There was, however, some displeasure over the strawberry puree that came with it—some felt that it wasn’t sweet enough. I disagreed. The cake is sweet enough and I thought the puree was a nice counterbalance. It was topped with crème fraiche cream, which lightened everything up.
The cheesecake was smooth, cream,y and satisfying and the vanilla bean flavor came through. The black plum caramel was less sugary than regular caramel, and I liked that. The honey-poached plum on top, however, was probably the one thing that was unanimously disliked at the table. They were not ripe and, therefore, a bit tart, yet they were bland. And for something that was “honey-poached,” those otherwise pretty slices should have tasted sweeter. Believe me, I’m not a huge sugar person; I have a limit to how much sweetness I can stand in a dessert, so for me to say that it needed to be sweeter, it needed to be sweeter.
At the end, we were treated again to a plate of little cookies, chocolate with a cream filling that reminded me of dulce de leche. It was grainer than dulce de leche but delicious nonetheless.
The total, with drinks, was $40 per person. An incredible deal for a restaurant that is normally on the pricey side. We all walked out of there very satisfied. It was a visually and orally satisfying meal, and the servers were very pleasant and accommodating. We were won over.
My friend, Linda, asked me recently for suggestions on what to do with the water she had used to cook kale. This water, known as pot liquor, has set many a cook’s heart aflutter because it’s loaded with flavor. Not only that, it’s also packed with nutrients from the kale, or whatever greens you have cooked in it.
Pot liquor can be used in place of water or broth in almost anything. Here are some ways to use it:
* In soups, stews, or chilis
* To cook rice, quinoa, or any other grain
* To braise vegetables or a vegetable casserole
* In a vegetable smoothie
* In place of broth in a pan sauce
* If you have enough of it, you can reduce it and add a roux for a sauce, too. This would go very well with grilled/baked/sauteed tofu or tempeh.
* Add it to your pet’s food—it’s nutritious for our furry friends, too!
So, get yourself a nice big bunch of greens—any greens—and cook it down. The best way is to sauté greens in a pan with garlic and oil. But you can also use a small amount of water to boil them. That way, you get the nutrient-packed water without leeching everything out of the greens themselves. Place the greens in a large skillet or dutch oven and add about a cup of water and salt. After the greens are cooked, remove them and save the liquid. To sauté in oil, follow the recipe below, then use the liquid for something else. It will have incredible added flavor from the garlic and spices.
(By the way, I was very tempted to call this blog “Pot Liquor,” but I was afraid it would draw the wrong kind of traffic. As it is, I expect to get a lot of garbage from spammers who are keying in on the words “pot” and “liquor.”)
1 large bunch greens, washed, drained
1 tbsp olive oil
2 large garlic cloves, sliced
1 tsp paprika
1/4 tsp red pepper flakes (optional)
Salt to taste
Freshly ground black pepper to taste
1. Coarsely chop the greens.
2. Heat the oil in a wide pan; add garlic and cook 1 minutes. Add paprika and red pepper lakes and immediately add the greens.
3. Add ½ cup water, salt, and pepper and mix well. Cover the pan and cook until greens are tender. The time will vary, depending on the type of green it is. Add more water if it starts to get dry.
4. Use tongs to remove the greens and garlic. Reserve the liquid for use in other recipes.
Until recently, I had never seen sorghum grain in my life. I only became familiar with sorghum molasses a couple of years ago, when I encountered it on a trip through the South. But sorghum, as I learned, has been around for a long, long time.
Sorghum has been known by other names, the most common of which are “Guinea corn, “Johnson grass,” and “milo.” “Egyptian millet” and “great millet” have also been used, which is understandable, since the grain does look like millet on steroids. I’ve purchased sorghum flour in my favorite Indian market, Patel Brothers in Jackson Heights, where it’s called marathi.
The oldest documented cultivation of sorghum is dated at 3000 B.C. in Egypt. Sorghum thrives in hot, arid climates, where other crops might fail. That could be the reason why it became such an important crop in the Near and Middle East. The Muslims introduced it to Spain, who then introduced it to France, and from there, it spread out to other parts of Europe. Sorghum is an important crop in Africa, and it is believed that it was introduced into the U.S. by African slaves in the early 17th century. According to Grain.org, sorghum is the third most important cereal crop grown in the U.S. and the fifth most important in the world. The U.S. is now the world’s largest producer and exporter of sorghum.
Sorghum became a particularly popular product in the U.S. South, where sorghum molasses is a common substitute for maple syrup and is spread on biscuits, corn bread, pancakes, and—as I found out in Alabama—THROWED ROLLS.
Aside from food, sorghum is commonly included in animal feed, and it is used in the production of alcoholic beverages, such as maotai and kaoliang in China and beer in the U.S., such as Bard’s and Redbridge by Anheuser-Busch. In southern Africa, sorghum beer is popular and is said to be a traditional beverage of the Zulu people. Also, people in South Africa used sorghum beer to get around the prohibition laws imposed on the black community. And since sorghum is a gluten-free grain, sorghum beer is a great choice for those with gluten sensitivities. (If you’re so inclined, you can brew your own sorghum beer. Here are a set of instructions.)
As far as nutrients go, sorghum is rich in potassium, phosphorus, thiamine, and niacin, has some calcium, and has small amounts of iron and riboflavin.
When cooking with sorghum, it’s best to use “moist” recipes—that is, recipes that call for moist ingredients or a good amount of liquid—because the grains are thick and starchy and if they’re too dry, they can have a pasty mouthfeel and be difficult to swallow. And it’s best to serve sorghum hot (or at least warm) because as it cools, the starchiness becomes prominent.
While sorghum might be easy to find in the South, not so much in the Northeast. However, I did, by chance, find some at an Asian market. I wasn’t looking for it, but there it was and, of course, I had to buy some. I did a little research on the best ways to use sorghum and came up with this recipe. Enjoy!
Sorghum and Kale Saute with Cannellini
1 cup sorghum grain
2 cups vegetable broth
4 cups chopped kale
1 ½ cups cooked cannellini
3 large cloves garlic, sliced
2 tsp olive oil
2 tsp paprika
Red pepper flakes to taste (optional)
Salt to taste
Pepper to taste
1. Preheat oven to 350 degree F.
2. Rinse and drain the sorghum. Place in a heavy-bottomed, oven-safe pot or Dutch oven and stir over medium-low heat until dry and slightly browned.
3. Carefully pour in the vegetable stock and a pinch of salt. Stir and place in the oven; bake until liquid is absorbed and grains are tender, about 40 to 50 minutes. If necessary, add a little more liquid to the pot.
4. Heat oil in a wide pan. Add garlic and cook 1 minute, sprinkle in paprika and red papper flakes and immediately put in the kale. Add salt and pepper and cook, covered, over medium-low heat until kale is wilted and tender (but not mushy. Add the sorghum and beans and mix well. Cook for 5 minutes to blend flavors. Add more liquid if necessary.
5. Check for seasoning and serve hot.
Well, my internship at the James Beard House is over and my feelings about it are mixed. I miss spending the day working with food, putting my skills to use, and using new equipment. I miss preparing ingredients that I would normally (or rarely) be in contact with, such as truffles, fresh-from-the-farm baby golden beets, and micro-celery. I miss the adrenaline rush at service time, when 80 beautifully designed, identical plates have to get out in 5 minutes, which has to be repeated at least half a dozen times, and usually more. It’s a rush that lingers even at the end of the night, when it’s 11 p.m. and you’ve been on your feet for 12 or 13 hours, and your feet are throbbing and your back is screaming and your fingers ache from chopping several pounds of onions, and your hands are scarred and burned from the momentary lapses in memory or judgment, when you forget that the pot was only just turned off or the sheet pan has been sitting on the industrial pilot light all afternoon. I miss the satisfied smiles on people’s faces as they come through the kitchen to leave, and their comments about how fabulous everything was. I miss being part of that creation. I miss the satisfying contrast of having just done a shift doing something I love when I am at my full-time job hating what I’m doing. It gave me something to look forward to—a glimmer of hope that there is something else out there for me.
What I don’t miss is being on my throbbing feet for 12 or 13 hours, the backaches, the painful burns. I don’t miss getting home at midnight, thoroughly exhausted, yet unable to fall asleep because of the adrenaline still coursing through my body, and having to get up early to go to work the next day.
If I were younger, I would probably be able to deal with the “cons” for the rewarding “pros” of restaurant/catering work. But, unfortunately, I came to this juncture in the road later in life and, physically, it’s just not something I can do full time. Sure, I can handle it on a temporary basis, in short spurts, or occasionally. But all the time? No. I’ve been a personal chef and that is exhausting as well, but it’s on a totally different level in terms of time constraints and control, both of which are in your hands. But it’s also a tough business to negotiate. You’re totally in control…and you’re totally responsible. Cooking, cleaning, shopping, bookkeeping, marketing, etc. Just the marketing alone was daunting enough to make me run and scream. So, I’m looking elsewhere.
But I digress. I was talking about James Beard and I wanted to share some of my observations.
While every chef had a different take on food, a different disposition, and a different way of running a kitchen, I also noticed some common riffs. For example, ice cream was a common component of dessert. I understand this, since one of the rules of good meal planning is to use a combination of textures. Ice cream fits the “smooth and creamy” bill easily and it’s a crowd pleaser. But I read somewhere a criticism of the use—or rather, overuse—of ice cream in desserts. Whoever it was said that they were sick of seeing ice cream in every chi-chi dessert. On one hand, I agree. Surely, these highly acclaimed chefs could find something else to fill that texture bill; on the other hand, people really love ice cream and the flavors that can be created are boundless. (Of course, some people get a little out of control with the flavors, but that’s another story.)
Another similar theme was the use of gaufrettes (waffle chips). One chef using them was not remarkable; three chefs using them meant it was a trend. It told me that waffle chips have become a go-to item to make dishes look pretty and appealing. I don’t know if this has been the case for a long time or if it’s a relatively new trend, but personally I can take gaufrettes or leave them.
I also noticed that most chefs have embraced the use of the “spoon push” when saucing plates. I know that there are only so many ways to sauce a dish, but pretty much everyone has adopted this particular practice. Micro greens were the ubiquitous garnish, but since the JB House supplied those, it made sense. Duck ham, or duck prosciutto, seems to be another currently hot product. Maybe it’s been around a while, I don’t know, but it was certainly new to me. Poached pears were also a popular dessert component.
Each chef also had their own little touches that were unique to him or her. Chef Kaldrovic, from Sea Glass at the Inn by the Sea, used his own homemade lobster oil to garnish his lobster bisque. Blackberry Farm used their own charcuterie. Chef Ryan Poli, of Tavernita in Chicago, created a really nice “natural” serving platter by combining kosher salt with whole spices. Tony Esnault, from Patina/Los Angeles, cut his imported French truffles into thin little circles to garnish various dishes. And Fortunato Nicotra at Felidia had his gluten-free ravioli, as well as housemade burrata. Only one dinner had themed drinks: Blue Inc., with their Anorexic Model (Pierre Ferrand Cognac with Lychee Bubbles, St. Germain, and Berry Garnish) and Blonde Afro Puff (Chocolate Martini with Giant Marshmallow) and liquid PB&J, courtesy of wine director Tricia LaCount.
I also want to say the staff at the JB House were all so helpful, patient, and hard working. I always felt particularly terrible for the dishwashers as the evening went on and the massive piles of bowls, pots and pans, dishes, and multitude of utensils piled up higher and higher. Those guys have their work cut out for them.
The things I experienced and the lessons I learned at James Beard will always be in my mind as I move into the next phase of my life. I suspect that as I work with food, at home or at a job, I will have flashbacks to my days and nights at the JB House. I welcome those flashbacks as reminders that I was lucky enough to not only get a scholarship from the James Beard Foundation but to get some training at one of the most prestigious organizations in the culinary world. In the end, it may or may not get me where I want to go, but I’ll always have that particular notch on my belt. I met some really great people—some humble, some eccentric, all intensely focused on their art. If I learned only one thing, it’s that no one is perfect, not even highly acclaimed chefs at the top of their game who have been invited to cook at the James Beard House. And if those people can make mistakes and still be considered great chefs, then so can I.
Thanks to everyone at the James Beard House for being so nice. It was a pleasure to work with them all and I hope to see them again, as both a volunteer and a diner.
If you had told me a couple of years ago that I would find myself in Foley, Alabama, twice in a lifetime, I would’ve said you were nuts. Yet, for the second time in my life, I indeed found myself in Foley, Alabama.
Foley is on the southern end of Alabama and sits along the Gulf Coast, making it a popular beach town. The coast line is loaded with hotels and beach home rentals, and on a sun-parched day, you can see beach-goers trundling their way back to their digs. I first went there on a cross-country trip (which I blogged about HERE) and I was there again recently during a day trip around the Gulf Coast.
I was visiting a friend for a long weekend and, despite the savage tornadoes that had hit nearby towns in the previous couple of days, the weather was absolutely gorgeous. So, we headed over to Mobile, went across Mobile Bay to a little town called Fairhope, and then down to Foley. We then shot across a long strip of land (much like Long Island and kind of shaped like a sideways stocking) that was occupied mostly by private beach homes. At the end of that peninsula, we caught a ferry over to Dauphin Island—another sleepy beach town, minus the tourists—then went over a bridge back to the mainland. It was the perfect day for a trip like that, the sea air was relaxing, and our minds and bodies got a much needed break.
But this is not a travel blog, it’s a food blog, right? So, let’s head back to Foley. On my last trip there, we encountered a place called Lambert’s Café. It caught our attention because the signage for the café boasts “Home of Throwed Rolls.” As a food writer, how could I not investigate? So, we went in and I ordered a box of throwed rolls to go (we were not inclined to eat at that point). I inquired of the clerk why they were called throwed rolls. I thought it had something to do with how they baked them, just like drop biscuits are so called because the batter is dropped onto a baking sheet. But the clerk replied, “Because they throw them at you.”
“Excuse me?” I thought I had misheard.
“They throw them at you.” She looked at me as if had just asked her where her red-headed child came from.
The order desk is a little off to the side of the main dining area in Lambert’s, so while I waited for my rolls, I casually walked a few steps over and peered into the dining room. Sure enough, Lambert’s wait staff was chucking hot rolls at the guests. Legend has it that Norman Lambert, son of the first owner, would walk around the original location (there are 3), and hand out the rolls. One day, it was so packed that Norman couldn’t get to everyone and one customer, anxious to get his roll, shouted, “Throw the dang thing!” It stuck and it’s been a tradition ever since.
Having a hot roll lobbed at you isn’t the most fascinating thing about Lambert’s, though. It’s the menu. Or, more precisely, what you get from the menu. Here’s how it works: You order something from the menu and choose your sides. In addition, Lambert’s staff walks around with bowls of different sides, such as fried okra, black-eyed peas, and potatoes. You can have as much of any of these sides as you want. And, of course, there are the carts of freshly baked, warm rolls.
By the time we finished our dinner, I had more food on my plate than when I started. It’s a slightly disorienting experience—kind of like when someone keeps filling your glass of wine every time you turn around, and when you turn back, you wonder where it came from and whether you had actually drunk any. Unfortunately, my camera is coming to the end of its lifespan and so my close-up shots of my plate came out fuzzy, but you can still see the amount of food on the dish. The beverage cups, by the way, are bigger than my head. Between the two of us, we had enough pink lemonade to take out and refresh us throughout the rest of our journey that day.
Is Lambert’s food the best of its kind that I’ve ever had? No, but it’s good, satisfying, and filling (very). It’s also a fun and funny place (the interior is much like Cracker Barrel) and the throwing around of rolls elicits laughter and joking. It’s also a good place to stop if you’re on the road because you can always take your leftovers and ensure another meal for yourself and save money. The rolls are the best part—they’re fluffy, warm, and addictive.
They also make their own sorghum molasses, which they offer to diners to spread on their throwed rolls. I bought a small jar the last time I was there and decided to splurge on the 2.7-pound can. Sorghum molasses is a little harder to find in New York than it is down South so I stocked up. (I stocked up with 5 lbs of pecans, too, while in AL, which prompted the TSA scanner guy at the airport to comment that I had a little food in my bag. I told him that it was just a snack.) Keep in mind that if you’re flying, you can’t take sorghum in the main cabin with you, unless it’s less than 3 ounces. Pack it in your checked bags.
Some famous customers who have patronized Lambert’s have been: Elvis Presley; Morgan Freemen; Jay Leno; Tanya Tucker; Clint Eastwood; Waylon Jennings; Tammy Wynette; and many more.
Lambert’s 3 locations are in Sikeston, MO; Ozark, MO; and Foley, AL. Their website is www.ThrowedRolls.com.
2981 S. McKenzie
Foley, AL 36535
In honor of Lambert’s, here’s a recipe for rolls with sorghum molasses. The recipe is on the Internet, posted by numerous people, but no one seems to know who the original source actually is. Spread them with sorghum molasses. Enjoy!
Yield: 12 rolls
1 teaspoon sugar
1 (1/4 ounce) package dry active yeast
1 cup warm milk
1/4 cup melted butter
1/4 cup sugar
1 egg, beaten (at room temp.)
1 teaspoon salt
4 cups all-purpose flour
- Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
- Combine sugar and yeast in 1/4 cup tepid water (105-110 degrees). Let stand 5-10 minutes until yeast begins to foam.
- Thoroughly mix milk, butter, sugar, egg and salt in large bowl.
- Stir in the yeast mixture and 3 1/2 cups of the flour, adding a bit more if necessary to make a soft, pliable dough.
- Turn dough out on floured board and let rest. Clean and butter the bowl.
- Knead dough gently 4-5 minutes, adding flour if necessary, until dough is smooth and silky.
- Return to bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise in warm place until doubled in size about (1-1/2 hours).
- Butter a 12 cup muffin tin.
- Punch down dough.Pinch off pieces that are about 1 1/2 inches in diameter (enough to fill one-half of muffin cup). Roll each piece into smooth balls. Place two pieces in each muffin cup.
- Cover dough loosely with plastic wrap for 45 minutes.
- Bake rolls for 20-25 minutes, or until light brown.
- Serve as soon as they are cool enough to throw.
Those of you who have heard of durian have probably also heard of its rep. Its bad rep. Well, bad in some ways, good in others. The flesh of a durian fruit is prized in other parts of the world, particularly Southeast Asia, where it is native and people pick and eat them fresh off the plant. Its custardy, yellow flesh is plucked right out of the shell and eaten in hand.
The problem with durian is that it stinks. I mean really stinks. Hotels in Asia post signs forbidding guests from bringing in durian. I read a story once about a traveler who had gone to Malaysia and attempted to bring a durian aboard a plane to take it home with him. He and his durian were kicked off the plane and he was reprimanded. And it wasn’t even in the main passenger cabin—he had packed it and it was stored in the fuselage. That’s how strong the odor of a durian is.
What does it smell like? The best way I can describe the smell is dirty baby diapers that have been sitting in the pail too long. Seriously. The stuff stinks.
I’d always been curious about durian but was afraid to buy it because of its purported strong smell. I didn’t want to stink up my house. And because they are an imported tropical fruit, they’re also expensive and I didn’t want to spend a lot of money on something that I might dislike.
Then, one day, my friend Elaine at work, who is from Malaysia, brought in a durian. It had been her mission for some time to introduce me to it and she finally got the chance. After work, we went outside and sat on a bench on the property of my job. As soon as she opened the bag, I smelled the baby poop. I was not deterred. Using a pair of scissors, she prodded open the hard, bumpy shell to reveal the kidney-shaped flesh. It looks firm, but when you touch it, it is soft and viscous, like thick yogurt that is separating. I scooped some with my finger and tasted it. I let it linger in my mouth so that I could get a good sense of its flavor. The first thing I tasted was banana with a faint pineapple undertone. After swallowing, the lingering flavor was garlicky/oniony. And the more I tasted, the more I began picking up notes of coffee and mocha. I don’t know why a stinky fruit that is banned from hotels and airplanes should taste like coffee and mocha, but there it was.
(Unfortunately, Elaine also brought vacuum-sealed durian fruit into the office and it strangely gave off an odor that resembled petroleum gas. More than one person came running through the area asking if there was a gas leak.)
So, that was my first durian experience. I don’t know that I will ever seek it out, but I love trying new foods, especially fruits and vegetables, and so I was happy to give it a go. If you’re brave or adventurous and would like to give durian a try, you will generally find it whole in the freezer case in Asian markets, and it’s often wrapped in a mesh bag. You can also find the flesh frozen. If you can get past the smell, you’ll be pleasantly surprised. I suggest, though, that if you’re going to be around people afterward, chew on some parsley or pop a few Tic Tacs. The recipe below is courtesy of IncredibleSmoothies.com. Let me know what you think.
Lemon-Ginger Durian Smoothie
- 1 cup durian
- 1 whole banana, peeled
- 1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
- 1 teaspoon cinnamon
- a squeeze of lemon juice
- 4-6 ounces of water
Add all ingredients and then blend on high until creamy and thoroughly mixed. Add additional lemon and/or ginger to taste, if desired.