This year's project (2014): the announcement

It's a sad fact, but I need a project to keep myself going. Worse yet: I need an audience. I need a sense of obligation to keep me honest, to keep me attending to whatever it was I claimed I was going to do. This is not a want. It is a need. I really really really need other people to keep me in line.

Otherwise, the narrative arc inevitably looks something like this:

1. Set goal! It's a good goal -- they always are -- and whether it's pounds I want to lose or miles I hope to run or articles I intend to write, or hours of practice at the keyboard I wish to log, it's always something I sincerely hope to accomplish. I always have goals in December. Goals are exciting! I ♥ goals.

2. Think about making an announcement. Announcements are good things: they signal a commitment. They stir up excitement. Expectations. Support.  These are all good things, too. I ♥ support.

3. Oh god. An announcement. Remember all the times I announced things I was going to do that I never followed up on? Remember the disappointment? The embarrassment? The humiliation? These are bad things. ☹ Maybe I don't want to make an announcement.

4. Decide to do it by myself.  I am a modern, self-sufficient feminist! Who needs support? Who needs an audience? Who needs people checking in to make sure I'm achieving my goals? Not me! I can do this all by myself. Set up spreadsheets. Make lists. Buy books. Plot goals into small, easily achievable steps. Am pretty sure I can do this without letting anyone else know. Probably better not to let anyone else know -- and won't they be amazed? That's what I want: total surprise and amazement. So much better than expecting people to follow the tedious progress that accompanies a year-long project.

[months pass, distractions multiply, life happens...]

5. Come November of the following year, open up random file on desktop, wondering what the hell is this? can I get rid of this? Remember: oh, yeah! That. Well, shoot. So much for that, eh? Much internal cringing, followed by self-deprecation, excuse making, and a stomach-wrenching measure of despondency. I ☠☠☠ goals.

6. Story dwindles into a debauch of doritos and margaritas, which is not nearly as interesting or entertaining as it might sound.

So this year, hoping to change this arc, alter course, and transform this sad, sad story into something more optimistic, I'm making an announcement, a promise, a goal: a year of weekly posts about something I'm cooking from Yotam Ottolenghi's inspired collection of vegetable-centered recipes, Plenty.

It's one of those books that's been sitting in my collection for a while, relatively untouched and a little reproachful, maybe even guilt-inducing. After all, Plenty is critically acclaimed! I ♥ Mediterranean cooking! I like everything I've made from it! For example, there was this brilliantly vibrant salad of watercress and herbs that was just the thing to make a person feel alive and awake during those oppressively gray days of March, and then there were these marvellous spinach and jalapeno stuffed pancakes that made for an extraordinary series of breakfasts back in June. They really seem to be incredibly wonderful recipes. ...

OK. So maybe some of the recipes are the teensiest bit time consuming. I have memories of afternoons spent chopping ingredients into little piles. Maybe days spent planning sauces in advance. Hours and hours spent on a dish that still needed an entree to count for dinner.

Also, some of the ingredients, such as za'atar and baharan or sumac might require a trip to a specialty store or a search on the internet, and if you are like me, you possibly do not have the time for extra errands in your life (or the budget for ingredients that might sit, unused, in your pantry). Moreover, Ottolenghi seems to have an affection for orange flower water and rose water that I do not share. To get to something my family will enjoy, I've often had to adapt his recipes.

Still. Despite the troubles, despite the effort these recipes require, there's something here -- a way of using fresh ingredients perhaps? a balance of spices? something else? -- that makes me feel like they deserve more attention than I've given them so far. That's why I'm giving him another chance.

Thus, my challenge this year: attempt 52 new recipes; write 52 brilliantly-instructive and enlightening posts*; take 52 mouthwatering and enticing photographs ... all based on recipes from Ottolenghi. Stick around and you'll hear about my exploits, learn what worked (and what did not), and perhaps come to understand what it is about these recipes that makes them worth the effort.

Looking forward to having you along for this journey

Tomorrow: The recipes.