recovering from self sabotage

sometimes going to the farmer's market

can be a test of willpower.

you spend several minutes trying

to decide if you need the

large or small container

of sugar plums,

when really, do you need any?

you stare at apple cider for

an extra minute, wanting

to bring it home, but

realizing that if you were

in the store, facing a refrigerated

shelf, you never would have

even considered the purchase.

and, sometimes, even though you

may dislike carrots, shun almost

any dish except carrot cake

that utilizes them

and rarely even choose to snack

on them, when you come to a table

boasting not only those in orange,

but also ones that are

yellow,

red,

rainbow and

white,

instead of walking away,

you ask yourself:

which color do i want?

after staring for a few minutes

and then unearthing a hidden

bunch that is actually

none of those colors,

but instead

a deep, dark purple,

you know you've found your

find of the day.

you pay for them,

place them in your car,

thinking the whole way home:

i bought purple carrots,

they're purple,

they're pretty,

they're mine.

and then, when you get home

and are about to place them

in the fridge, it hits you:

you don't like carrots.

or maybe that's just me.

for the first time last sunday,

i regretted a farmer's market purchase.

i kept thinking about different

ways to use them,

quartering and roasting,

grating into a salad,

cutting them slim and

tossing with pasta,

but every time, it came down

to the same thing:

they were still carrots.

then, yesterday, as i was about

to leave work, heading home to

make dinner, i realized my solution:

chips. baked chips, to be precise.

i'm not really sure where the idea

came from or why it took a week

to pop into my head,

but i was so relieved that it did.

without a recipe,

it was a gamble, but i dove in

head first anyway.

after peeling the carrots,

i debated different ways to

cut them thin without a mandolin.

see, i've managed to resist the gadget

up until now. i was always mildly

afraid of them, but then an unfortunate

incident in culinary school with

another student, sealed my beliefs.

i may get braver and crack one day,

but not yet.

after imagining myself cutting

them into all different sizes

with a knife,

thinking they wouldn't be thin

enough with the slicing blade

on the food processor or the

mixer attachment, i realized

i was holding my solution:

the vegetable peeler.

i started peeling off slices

and before i knew it, i had

just thicker than whisper-thin

triangular slices, purple on the

outside, white in the middle.

who knew?

once tossed with a drizzle

of olive oil

and a sprinkling of kosher salt,

i placed the slices flat on

two baking sheets, barely

fitting them all on,

and then roasted them.

10 minutes later,

they had shrunk significantly,

which makes sense:

they were losing all

of their water and moisture.

i flipped them over,

and baked them for

5 minutes more.

when they came out,

they were even smaller.

hmm...i thought they

would make a good side,

but now they kind of were

more of a garnish.

but then i tasted one:

they were crisp,

with just the right amount

of crunch and while

there was certainly

a defining carrotness

that lingered,

somehow, i did not feel overpowered.

i think that when i shrunk

the vegetable slices,

i shrunk their overwhelming and

intense flavor

as well.

ok, ok, i know that for most people,

carrots don't have such an intense

flavor, but for me, they do.

i can't explain it.

they were actually quite

nice to enjoy alongside the

turkey burgers that i had made.

and in a small bowl,

the portion looked plentiful

and enough for two people.

but, i couldn't stop myself

from thinking how else to use

them - and i've decided,

they would be delicious

on a salad instead of croutons,

tortilla chips or those

crunchy fried onions that chefs

like to add in restaurants.

i could also imagine them

in a sandwich or on top

of chicken, meat or fish

as, yes, a pretty, tasty

and surprising edible garnish.

i'm surprised that i would

even say this,

but they were good enough,

that i can actually imagine

myself buying carrots again

from the farmer's market,

to recreate the chips.

but, i'm still not

buying apple cider

in august.

baked purple carrot chips

i didn't measure anything - i wasn't quite sure that i was going to write about these, when i started (i'm glad i actually took pictures). so while the amounts are an approximation, i feel pretty good about them. if the carrots look too dry, drizzle in a little bit more olive oil. also, if you take them out to test a baked one and it seems like the carrot is on the brink of crunchy, leave the whole tray out for a minute and see if the rest crisp up. if not, put them back in. and, if you can't find purple carrots, use whatever color strikes your fancy.

4 medium purple carrots, peeled

1 tablespoon olive oil

kosher salt

adjust racks to top and bottom thirds of oven. heat oven to 400˚f. using vegetable peeler, cut carrots into thin ribbons. you most likely will not be able to use the whole carrot before the shape will change. flip the carrot over and cut as many ribbons as possible. snack on the carrot centers, or, if you're like me, find someone else to eat them for you.

in bowl, toss carrot ribbons with olive oil and a healthy sprinkling of kosher salt. one at a time, lay carrots flat on two parchment paper-lined baking sheets, very close together, but not touching.

roast carrots 10 minutes. flip carrots and place baking sheets back in the oven, switching the top tray to the bottom and the bottom to the top. roast 5 minutes more, or until the carrots are crispy, but not burnt. sprinkle with kosher salt. let cool completely before serving.