smart cookie

Coming Soon!

2010-10-19T16:52:00.003-04:00

Hi Everyone! I've been missing in action in the blogging community for nearly a year now! Where the heck have I been? I have a new blog coming soon....I'll be back with the new link before the new year. All good things to come xoxo

Heavenly Cake Baker: Pumpkin Cake

2009-11-06T07:34:00.000-05:00

The past week or two has been kind of a whirlwind. David and I finally bought a car, and we went to pick it up from Jacksonville last weekend. It's a little unconventional, but we bought our new (fabulous and zippy) Honda Fit from a car broker from whom my family has purchased many cars. We had a little trouble finding just the right car in NYC, so we bought one over the phone instead. Woo. I know. It's all been a little stressful, as things like this tend to be--but in all, it's pretty awesome we pulled it off. We made it to JFK with enough time to split a beer (a mandatory airport tradition) and eat a crappy piece of pizza.

We spent the night with my aunt and uncle on Friday night in Jax and with my parents in Charlotte on Saturday. Good grief. My dad's chili THEN his frittata was just enough to make me want to get back in the kitchen immediately. I was only able to make $5 pasta with sauce and ground turkey this week. We were on the "we just bought a car diet." It's all the rage.

I have been in this dreamy NY fog since October. Something about fall just gets me. I've already watched "The Holiday" twice. The part when Cameron Diaz takes off her white coat and reveals her fancy pencil skirt is too fantastic. I know, I'm five. What can I say? I like fancy clothes. Thank the Lord for Beacon's or I would still be wearing khaki capri pants from tenth grade to work.

Anyway, I made this cake last week (so 2000 and late with this post. My apologies), and had to modify the look of it considerably. I didn't want to buy the pans (car diet), and since I started making it at 7 o'clock last Sunday...the frosting was a little too in-depth for me not to screw something up. I was really impressed with the flavor of this cake. Super moist and not too rich--the glaze was to give the texture and sweetness a boost. It's simply white chocolate chips (2 cups) and evaporated milk melted in a saucepan then dripped across the top. This is the perfect cake for breakfast (without the glaze) or with coffee (with).

Next fall I might be a little more ambitious and make the legit pumpkin version, but I think Rose would approve. She notes that you can substitute the pumpkin pan for the bundt pan.

I'm off to a yoga retreat in Monroe, NY this weekend! Not sure what to expect since it's my first time doing a retreat like this...but there is mention of a "fireside gathering." Something totally new and different!

Thanksgiving recipes to come. loves.

Heavenly Cake Baker: Apple Upside-Down Cake

2009-10-18T21:41:00.017-04:00

Monday, Monday. We didn't end up going apple-picking this weekend, but instead had no plans. No plans is...a-mazing. As a result, I spent Sunday baking and officially started the bake-through for Rose's Heavenly Cakes yesterday.

It's on.

Cape Codder

2009-09-23T16:43:00.005-04:00

I'm not even going to comment on the fact that for most of the summer, I haven't said much. I have been more inspired than ever before. I just haven't been writing about it. BUT Ta-da! I'm back.

The R train is a creepy train. No way around that.

I rode it home last night (as it's the train that takes me to Union street) after I had drinks at the St. Regis Hotel with my friend/co-worker, Adrienne. I ordered a vodka cranberry and didn't say "what's your cheapest vodka?" mainly because I was in a hotel bar...in Manhattan, and it's all expensive.

It was $17.

Our server kept re-filling our wasabi peanuts/peanut mix/pillow pretzel trio every time it was about halfway gone, and after about the fourth refill--it was just downright embarrassing. I wanted to say, "For God sakes! If you refill it, we will just keep eating!"

We ended up at the St. Regis because I had dragged poor Adrienne to Ruth Reichl's book-signing at the Columbus Circle Williams-Sonoma. I walked in and promptly wanted to leave. As much as I want to love book-signings, they only seem to make me overheat (as one is wont to do in a crowd) and say ridiculous things to famous authors who will (obviously, though I really want them to) never remember me.

I admit it. I didn't end up buying Gourmet Today...even though I really wanted to go up to Ruth and say something silly (something intelligent would be too much to ask) like, "You're fabulous!!" like I did to Ina Garten at Crate & Barrel last fall...all the while, I'm wiping sweat off my lip with one hand and balancing a mini red velvet cupcake in another. There was a line of 30 people? 50 people? I only got a glimpse of fabulous Ruth (certainly not enough time to talk about her stint at the commune), and Adrienne and I instead decided on drinks at the Mandarin Oriental (it was just so close!). There weren't any seats available by the windows (pfft. We would only pay for expensive drinks if we were going to be by the view), so we hoofed it back to the St. Regis, and ta-da. Adrienne (who obviously knows her classy hotel bars) and I found ourselves sipping $17 cocktails on a Tuesday.

Irony.

I spent the train ride home reading The Eleventh Hour by Graeme Base, which I had purchased earlier to send to Jamison for his first birthday (which is today!!!).

Tuesday, success and the usual blunders.

To hear more about the Gourmet Today and Ruth Reichl's take on the food movement, you can listen to her September 22nd interview on WNYC-The Leonard Lopate Show here.

In the meantime, I'm going to get back on track with TuesdayswithDorie. Get excited about the bake-along announcement for Rose's Heavenly Cakes.

New video from BabyCakes...a little more scandalous!

2009-09-16T14:34:00.001-04:00

BabyCakes NYC: Frosting Party! from BabyCakes NYC on Vimeo.

Recipe: Traditional Pesto

2009-09-03T20:24:00.010-04:00

2 loosely packed cups fresh basil leaves, rinsed and dried Salt 1/2 clove garlic, peeled, or more to taste 2 tablespoons pine nuts or chopped walnuts 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil, or more as desired 1/2 cup freshly grated Parmesan, pecorino Romano, or other hard cheese (optional)

1. Combine the basil with a pinch of salt, the garlic, the nuts, and about half the oil in a food processor or blender. Process, stopping to scrape down the sides of the container if necessary and adding the rest of the oil gradually. Add more oil if you prefer a thinner mixture.

2. Store in the refrigerator for a week or two or in the freezer for several months. Stir in the cheese by hand just before serving.

Credit: How to Cook Everything 2e; Mark Bittman; Wiley 2008

TWD: Vanilla Ice Cream & Recipe: Dump-it-In Peach Cobbler

2009-07-28T21:22:00.009-04:00

When I was riding the train home tonight I noticed it smelled kind of like a hotel. Bizarre. For a few brief moments, I pretended like I was in the fanciest hotel ordering room service. The D train screeched into Atantic/Pacific street station...and I remembered I had something special waiting for me in the fridge. Not room service...but really though, there is no better comfort dessert than this peach cobbler. My mom always made it when my sister and I were growing-up, and it's the perfect dish for summer. The recipe from Tuesdays with Dorie this week was picked by CafeLynnylu, and it was a natural companion to the cobbler.

You can't imagine what running an oven in an air condition-less apartment will do to the temperature, but let's just say I was sweating...

Dump-it-in Peach Cobbler

1 stick unsalted butter

1C sugar

1C self-rising flour

1C milk

1 large can of peaches (syrup drained)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Using a small-medium baking dish (I use my square Pyrex), place the butter in the dish and put it in the oven. In a separate bowl, mix together the sugar, milk and self-rising flour (must be self-rising). Pull the dish with the melted butter out of the oven, and pour in the flour mixture. DO NOT stir. Pour drained peaches on top. Bake for 60 minutes. The crust should be golden brown.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

CREDIT: The Small World of Cooking (Favorite Recipes Press 1984)

TWD: The Perfect Party Cake

2009-06-30T00:00:00.004-04:00

Ta-da. My first recipe with Tuesdays with Dorie. I will be posting about a recipe from Baking: From My Home to Yours twice a month with several other baking enthusiasts who also have blogs. It's a nifty idea, and I'm happy to be baking something new and different this often. This week's recipe, Perfect Party Cake was chosen by Carol from mix, mix...stir, stir.

Finally, it was a sunny weekend in Brooklyn. David and I spent it at a pub crawl in Carroll Gardens, doing laundry (joy), and buying delicious food. We bought some homemade pickles and thai-flavored cashews while we waited for our clothes to shrink...I mean, dry. I was just getting ready to make the Perfect Party Cake when I realized my other 9x2 inch cake pan was missing. Sigh. It's been missing since Anne Marie and I made Valentine's brownies in it....over two years ago. Apparently, it's been that long since I made a cake. Welcome back to cake-baking, Jana. Why, thank you.

I have a fear of egg whites. It all goes back to the time I made Mark Bittman's recipe from How to Cook Everything for pancakes that called for egg whites, and instead of them turning out super fluffy, they were super flat.

Don't mess with a girl's breakfast. (not Bittman's fault, my own)

Anyway, I may have overcome my fear of egg whites (I'm at least on the road to recovery). This recipe called for me to use a double boiler to melt sugar and egg whites to create a meringue and after some agonizing whisking (David had to relieve me at some point), I had created a solid. woo woo.

I have no idea how David and I are going to eat all of this cake, but I'm sure we will manage somehow. Off to Oregon to see David's family this weekend...

October in June, mostly an update

2009-06-21T21:00:00.000-04:00

It feels like October in New York right now. blegh. It has rained for countless days, and I would like to shed my pashminas and cardigans for Coronas at Coney Island and drippy ice cream cones. Thank you very much.

Possible part-time job may be another freelance job, but I need to put a proposal together before it's a go. Lots of details to be ironed out, but if that doesn't pan out...I may be behind a coffee counter again. woo.

Just signed up for Tuesdays with Dorie, (I think? but I think it will take a bit to get added to the blog roll), so I will be baking recipes from her book as well starting next week.

Finally joined a book club, and we had our first meeting at Elsa's last Friday after reading Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri. Highly recommend this book; I couldn't put it down. I'm just about to finish Empire Falls by Richard Russo, and I recently read his latest, Bridge of Sighs. Love his style so -- his books are like wrapping your hands around a warm cup of coffee.

June has been a bit of a blur so far. David and I were in New Orleans the 4th - 7th for Johanna's wedding, which ended up being a fantastic weekend. My parents were there as well, since the Hills are our oldest family friends. We met when my family and I lived in Baton Rouge when I was little, and we continued to stay close friends even after my family and I moved to Chicago, then to Charlotte. Johanna, Miss Karen and my mother and I would meet in Florida when we were visiting our grandmothers a couple of times and year, and when Johanna graduated from college she came to visit me in England (where I was studying abroad at the time). At that point, we hadn't since each other since we were 16, but we didn't miss a beat.

I feel truly lucky that she and I are still close friends, and it's crazy to think I was just a bridesmaid in her wedding. I feel like we were just six, with messy ponytails and smocked dresses.

Here is a recipe from the bridal brunch, which was held at Brennan's. mmm. I love New Orleans.

Brennan's Bananas Foster

2009-06-21T20:04:00.000-04:00

1/4 cup (1/2 stick)

1 cup brown sugar

1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon

1/4 cup banana liqueur

4 bananas cut in half lengthwise, then halved

1/4 cup dark rum

4 scoops of vanilla ice cream

Combine the butter, sugar, and cinnamon in a flambe pan or skillet. Place the pan over low heat either on an alcohol burner or on top of the stove, and cook, stirring, until the sugar dissolves. Stir in the banana liqueur, then place the bananas in the pan. When the banana sections soften and begin to brown, carefully add the rum. Continue to cook the sauce until the rum is hot, then tip the pan slightly to ignite the rum. When the flames subside, lift the bananas out of the pan, and place four pieces over each portion of ice cream. Generously spoon the warm sauce over the top of the ice cream and serve immediately.

CREDIT: This recipe was reprinted from the Brennan's website.

Kitchen This

2009-05-26T07:06:00.004-04:00

I have a list of things I need to do. Mainly, I need a part-time job. I have been saying this since I moved to New York, but really...I am going to suck it up. I just got done reading the last lecture and Randy Pausch tells this story about a woman (maybe an old girlfriend?) who was worried about money and went to yoga class every Tuesday to de-stress. He finally pointed out that if she quit going to yoga on Tuesdays and got a part-time job, she would be able to pay off her debts. She did, and I will. Sigh. New York, why you gotta be so expensive?

I shared pictures of my kitchen from my past apartment, but this time the pegboard was a necessity due to space. My inspiration came from Julia Child's kitchen, pictured below.

I'm off to Johanna's wedding in New Orleans next weekend, and I will be posting something delicious in the meantime. I admit, we have reverted back to take-out more lately. I think I am still getting used to our tiny kitchen:).

Image from NPR.org (also posted on happylivingdesign.typepad.com)

Our kitchen, below. Thoughts on painting the board?

Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Scones

2009-05-14T06:49:00.005-04:00

1 dozen scones

4 cups bleached all-purpose flour

4 3/4 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

2/3 cup plus 3 tablespoons granulated sugar

1 1/2 cups “quick-cooking” (not “instant”) rolled oats

12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into tablespoon-size chunks

4 large eggs

2 tablespoons vanilla extract

1 cup heavy cream, or more as needed

2 1/2 cups semisweet chocolate chips

About 1/3 cup granulated sugar, for sprinkling on the tops of the unbaked scones

Mix the dough

In a large mixing bowl, thoroughly whisk the flour, baking powder, salt, and granulated sugar. Mix in the rolled oats. Drop in the chunks of butter and, using a pastry blender or two round-bladed knives, cut the fat into the flour mixture until reduced to pearl-size pieces. Further reduce the fat to smaller flakes, using your fingertips. In a medium-size mixing bowl, whisk the eggs, vanilla extract, and heavy cream. Pour the egg and cream mixture over the flour mixture, scatter the chocolate chips over, and stir to form a dough. The dough will be dense but moist. (If the dough seems a bit dry—due to the absorption quality of the flour or if the day is cold and arid—work in a little more heavy cream, 1 tablespoon at a time.)

Knead and refrigerate the dough

Knead the dough lightly in the bowl for 30 seconds to 1 minute. Divide the dough in half and form each half into an 8 to 8 1/2-inch disk. Refrigerate the disks, wrapped in waxed paper, for 20 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Line 2 heavy cookie sheets or rimmed sheet pans with lengths of cooking parchment paper.

Form and top the scones

Place each disk of dough on a lightly floured work surface, and using a chef’s knife, cut into 6 pie-shaped wedges. As the scones are cut, press in any chips that may stick out of the sides. Transfer the scones to the prepared pans, placing them 3 inches apart. Assemble 6 scones on each pan.

Sprinkle a little sugar over the top of each unbaked scone.

Bake and cool the scones

Bake the scones in the preheated oven for 19 to 20 minutes, or until set and baked through. Begin checking the scones at 18 minutes. Transfer the pans to cooling racks. Let the scones stand on the pans for 2 minutes, then carefully remove them to cooling racks, using a wide offset metal spatula. Cool. Serve the scones freshly baked.

Bake-and-serve within 1 day

Style:

For Big Oatmeal-Walnut-Chocolate Chip Scones, scatter 2/3 cup chopped walnuts over the dough mixture along with the chocolate chips.

For Big Oatmeal-Chocolate Chunk Scones, substitute 14 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped into chunks, for the semisweet chocolate chips.

Credit: Chocolate Chocolate; Lisa Yockelson; Wiley

R.I.P. Couch

2009-04-27T19:43:00.004-04:00

“Are you sure you want to keep that?” “Where do you expect we will put this?” “Don’t we already have three of these?” In David’s case, he keeps everything (as does my father), in my case, I try to get rid of things—or as my mother would say, “pitch it.”

I knew this about David when we moved in together. I was aware.

(the packing process)

Me: I slam a box full of crap into the car and get in the passenger seat.

David: Looks at me with complete disdain. “Do you even know what was in the box under the one you just slammed on top of it?

Me: “Um. It’s fine.”

David: “No. It’s not,” he says, as he points to the now de-spiked figure of a Japanese dragon his parents brought us from Japan last summer.

Me: Yikes.

Relationship conversation ensues.

David: Be more careful.

Me: Don’t be so uptight.

Then, there was the couch.

We loved our couch. We did. Apparently, people these days don’t need couches. People are all set with couches. So, after a month of posting on Craigslist, one potential scammer, two price reductions, and several emails with slightly interested buyers, we decided to give it away.

Easy.

Wrong.

I called Salvation Army. They didn’t have room for a couch. I called the Hoboken homeless shelter. They told me to call social services. I called social services. They told me to call Salvation Army. This 9ft beast was starting to get to me. By this time, the girl who moved into our room sent us an email and told us to quit being “ignorant” and get the couch out of the apartment. Wonderful.

Monday. We decided to do what any self -respecting citizen would do. Put it on the curb and drive away quickly. It was pouring, but David was going to pick me up from work and we were going to carry it outside. David got into a car accident leaving Newark, so… This made the week..stressful. He’s okay…the car isn’t.

Tuesday. I recruit three of my co-workers, and as we try to get this beast out of our old apartment my old landlord knocks on the door. Wonderful. We scratched the wood. We scratched the floors. We barely got it out the door. We set it in front of the strip of stores next to our old building and….walked away very quickly.

I am happy to say we are fully moved in. We are bumming it around Park Slope finally feeling like our apartment is ours.

I don’t want to move for a long time.

As promised, here are some pics of the process. Don't the shelves look a-mazing?? More to come.

Below is a recipe from Ellie Krieger, one of my new favorite cookbook authors. I saw this magazine (goodbye Jersey City A&P) in the grocery store and ended up shopping for ingredients for the recipes right then and there. It's easy and low fat, as are most of Ellie's recipes. woo. Bikini season.

Recipe: Arugula, Caramelized Onion, and Goat Cheese Pizza

2009-04-23T19:49:00.014-04:00

The key to this pizza is cooking the onions very slowly over low heat so the sugars develop and caramelize. Their sweet flavor and purple color is the perfect foil for the peppery ribbons of arugula and tangy, creamy goat cheese.

1 tablespoon of olive oil

1 medium red onion, cut in half and thinly sliced into half-moons

4 cups arugula, washed, dried, and coarsely chopped

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Four 6-inch-diameter whole wheat tortillas

2 ounces fresh goat cheese, preferably reduced-fat

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees

Heat the oil in a non-stick skillet over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring, until golden and the edges are browned, 10 to 12 minutes. Add the arugula and cook until it is wilted about 1 minute. Season with salt and pepper.

Place the tortillas on a baking sheet and top each one with the arugula mixture. Crumble the goat cheese over each and bake until the tortillas are crisp and the cheese is slightly melted, about 10 minutes. Let cool for a few minutes, then cut each pizza into 4 wedges and serve.

Credit: Eat Smart with Ellie Krieger, from the publishers of Fine Cooking --featuring recipes from The Food You Crave by Ellie Krieger

Love this video: Get excited about BabyCakes!!

2009-04-17T11:47:00.002-04:00

BabyCakes, the Book of Recipes: It's Here (Almost)! from BabyCakes NYC on Vimeo.

Rambling: Freshness and Safeness

2009-04-15T10:58:00.006-04:00

I gave a homeless man an Altoids container filled with change on the train this morning. I sat down one seat away from him, and he asked me if my coffee was delicious and if my neighborhood was safe. I told him “yes.” I often pay for things small like coffee and drinks with change and I keep it in this Altoids container—this comes from waiting tables and trying to avoid loose change in my apron. Really though, after I answered him I realized, what more could I ask for on a rainy Wednesday? My neighborhood is safe and my coffee was good.

I don’t even know if he realized there was change in the container, because as I was getting off the R train, he yelled at me “Are these supposed to make your breath fresh?” Oh well. I hope he buys himself his own delicious cup of coffee.

David and I are in the new apartment. My camera cord is buried in the boxes somewhere, so more on those pics later. We still have some random things at the Hoboken apartment, and although it has been listed on Craigslist for nearly a month, we have no takers for our enormous couch. Salvation Army may be coming to visit us soon. Free pick-up is amazing.

Oh. Life List just got a little more exciting. I drove in Manhattan by myself yesterday. Maybe it’s not that big of a deal for some people…but I felt like a superhero. I think I can do pretty much anything now.

Champagne recipe in celebration of the move and being 27. Ta-da.

Recipe: Springtime Sparkler

2009-04-15T08:02:00.003-04:00

Something a little fancy for spring…

2 scoops lemon sorbet, softened

1 to 2 ounces Hendricks gin (while you may use another gin, Hendricks has some rose notes that accent this cocktail nicely)

½ ounce St. Germane Elderflower liqueur (optional) champagne

3 to 4 edible flowers (can sometimes be found in the produce section of grocery stores)

Scoop the lemon sorbet into a tall cocktail glass. Add the gin and elderflower cordial (if desired). Top with champagne and stir. Top with edible flowers, and serve with a spoon and straw.

Credit: 101 Champagne Cocktails by Kim Haasarud (Wiley 2008; photography by Alexandra Grablewski)

Moving on Up, on a Slope

2009-04-07T18:39:00.003-04:00

Guess what? Big news.

Finally found an apartment. Moving to Brooklyn. Park Slope to be exact.

And, suddenly things seem…new. And Fantastic. (Yes, with a capital F.)

After looking at countless apartments, we finally found the apartment that fit us. It’s small. I can’t seem to imagine life without IKEA, TheNest, or Apartment Therapy. Mm. Upwards organization. Organize “up.” My friend Whitney came in town this weekend and we joked that David and I will have to tack our Christmas tree to the wall.

I am buried up to my nose in boxes and drooling over the prospect of warm weather. More than anything, I'm hoping to shake this cold by my 27th birthday. Yes, 27. It's going to be a good year. Birthdays on Easter Sunday must be good luck. How can I not shake this cold? The goat doctor (long story) gave me allergy medicine (along with an antibiotic) where the label reads, "Call doctor if you experience mood changes, sadness, depression, or fear." FEAR? yikes. Sounds ambiguous.

Pictures of the process to come. Until then, everyone knows that moving is [fill in expletive here].

Considering my cold, I felt like I needed to cook something that would make me feel like I was at home on my parents' couch. This isn't my mom's chicken soup, but it hit the spot...and certainly made me feel better. Plus, who wouldn't want Dr. Tyler coming to their rescue?

Recipe: Dr. Tyler's Chicken Meatball and Tortellini Soup

2009-04-07T12:22:00.002-04:00

Serves 4 to 6. Time 50 minutes.
Chicken Meatballs
4 links organic chicken-apple sausage or equivalent ground chicken meat
1/2 cup fresh bread crumbs (2 slices fresh white bread ground up)
1/2 cup whole milk
1 egg
2 tablespoons chopped fresh Italian flat leaf parsley
1/4 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, plus 2 tablespoons for sprinkling
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
Extra-virgin olive oil

Soup
Extra-virgin olive oil
3 garlic cloves, peeled and smashed
4 fresh thyme sprigs
2 large carrots, cut into circles
1 medium onion, diced
2 ribs celery, diced
Kosher salt
2 quarts reduced- sodium chicken broth
4 black peppercorns
2 tablespoons chopped fresh Italian flat-leaf parsley
1 bay leaf
1 pound fresh refrigerated or frozen cheese tortellini, thawed
1/4 cup finely chopped fresh Italian flat-leaf parsley
Grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
Fresh parsley sprigs, for garnish
1 crusty French baguette, to serve with the soup

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Prepare meatballs by combining loose ground chicken meat (discard casings, is using sausages), bread crumbs, milk, egg, parsley, and the 1/4 cup Parmigiano-Reggiano in a large mixing bowl. Season with salt and pepper, then mix until fully combined. Using a small ice cream scoop, make balls and set on a roasting tray. Drizzle lightly with oil and sprinkle with 2 tablespoons Parmigiano-Reggiano. Roast in the preheated oven for 15 to 20 minutes, until golden brown and caramelized.

While the meatballs are roasting, prepare the soup. Set a large stockpot over medium heat. Add a 2-count of oil (about 2 tablespoons), the garlic, and thyme. Gently saute until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add carrot, onion, and celery. Season with salt and cook for 5 to 7 minutes. Pour in chicken broth and add peppercorns, the 2 tablespoons parsley, and bay leaf. Bring to a boil and then reduce heat and simmer for 25 minutes.

Once meatballs are cooked, scrape them into the pot of chicken soup and add tortellini. Bring to a boil and cook for 2 to 3 minutes to allow the flavors to come together. Remove peppercorns and bay leaf. Season with salt and peppers and serve in shallow bowls. Sprinkle with parsley and grated Parmigiano-Reggiano. Garnish each bowl with a parsley sprig and serve with some torn pieces of crusty bread.

CREDIT: Dinner at My Place by Tyler Florence (Meredith 2008)

Rambling: The Madness of March

2009-03-19T19:44:00.005-04:00

Here I am, craving spring and wishing I had groceries in the fridge. But...I don't. Instead, I'm finally posting the recipe I MEANT to post a week ago. Sorry it's late. It would have been perfect for St. Patrick's Day. Well, it's perfect anyway, but it would have been "thematic." People like themes. People like consistency. I try. I do.

Blame it on Jamison. I randomly booked a totally last minute flight (as in, I booked it Friday, went home on Saturday) to go see Erika (sister, you've met her before) for her 30th birthday. As a result, I had to change planes in Cincinnati, even though the flight to Charlotte is only an hour and fifteen minutes. I almost had flight trouble (as I tend to do), but made it and ultimately made my sister break down in tears when I arrived at her house for the party. Who knew she missed me so much? Yikes. This is the trouble with going home. I miss it. Charlotte is just so darn CLEAN and beautiful. New York missed me though (I think, but you never can tell), and I came back. I have spent this week shuffling over my unpacked suitcase, blasting the TV at its DVR malfunction during LOST, and eating dinner with the Sunday Funday crew. Why does one glass of red wine always make me feel like death the next day? Unclear.

So. Brooklyn apartment hunting has commenced. Our lease at the commune (David, me, and the two roommates) in Hoboken is up in April, so we are hoping for an April 15th move-out date. So far, we have seen crappy, bizarr-o apartments. I stand in tiny apartments and ask myself if I am making good decisions. If I am being a grown-up. If I am being thrifty and green. I solve all of these questions with a burger and fries from the Dram Shop and try not to bump into the walls of the Holland Tunnel as I speed back to Hoboken from Park Slope. This is present tense, because well...it has been a fairly stable routine since March began.

March Madness. Apparently, this doesn't have anything to do with our apartment hunting.

Our life without roommates. I can't tell you how exciting this is (can I end a sentence with is? Don't think so). I think you just get to a point when you are over it. Maybe it coincides with one such David moving in. Or maybe it happens when one of your roommates tells you to get your dishes done within 24 hours. I'm sorry, but who mops the floors? Me. I sound like my mother. Except when I told my mother our roommate said this, she sided with the roommate. Blast.

Regardless. We are preparing ourselves for a commute. Yes. New York to New Jersey (David working in Newark, me in Hoboken). We will be crossing two rivers every day. Good Morning East River, Good Morning Hudson River. We will be leaving earlier, getting home later, and paying more rent (as one tends to do when they don't live with four people).

But.

We will be where we belong.

For the time being at least.

Recipe: Chocolate Stout (Guinness!) Cake

2009-03-17T14:01:00.011-04:00

Makes 16 servings.

1 1/4 C. stout, such as Guinness (do not include foam when measuring)
1/3 C. dark molasses
1 1/4 C. unsalted butter, soft
1 1/2 C. packed light brown sugar
3 large eggs, at room temperature
1 2/3 C. all-purpose flour
3/4 C. unsweetened natural cocoa powder, plus more for the pan
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
6 oz. semisweet chocolate, very finely chopped

CHOCOLATE GLAZE (OPTIONAL)

3/4 C. heavy cream
6 oz. semisweet chocolate, chopped

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Butter a 12-cup Bundt pan and dust with cocoa powder. Tap out excess cocoa. For the cake, in a small saucepan over high heat, bring the stout and molasses to a simmer. Remove from the heat; reserve. In a large bowl, beat together the butter and brown sugar until smooth, about 2 minutes. Whisk in the eggs, one at a time, until each is incorporated. Continue whisking until the batter is smooth, about another 30 seconds. In another bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add the flour and stout mixtures alternately to the butter mixture, beginning and ending with the flour and stirring to incorporate each addition, about 30 seconds per addition. Stir in the chopped chocolate. Spread the batter into the pan, rapping it on the counter to level and eliminate any air pockets. Bake for 45 to 50 minutes or until a skewer inserted near the center comes out with only moist crumbs clinging. Cool in the pan on a wire rack for 20 minutes. Invert the cake onto the rack to unmold. Let cool until just barely warm.

For the chocolate glaze, if desired, bring the cream to a boil in a small saucepan over high heat. Remove the pan from the heat; add the chocolate. Let stand for 1 minute and then whisk until smooth. Cool for 5 minutes and then drizzle over the cake.

CREDIT: This recipe is from BAKING UNPLUGGED by Nicole Rees (Wiley 2008) - one of the best baking books I have baked out of since "I'm Dreaming of a Chocolate Christmas" by Marcel Desaulniers (Wiley 2007). Enjoy!!!

Rambling: Japan and I Part II

2009-03-05T18:49:00.005-05:00

First things first. We are in the middle of a Twitter explosion. Holy Lord.

Second. Taking pictures at restaurants is beginning to be a somewhat covert operation.

Third. Last week seemed to barely be a blip on the life radar, as I seemed that due to jet lag (my old friend) to be very awake and very asleep every day, and the whole week was a blur.

One thing I would like to point out. Vacation certainly offers perspective. Clarity. d.) All of the above. Away from things, one always seems to be a little less jaded, and do and think a little less of everything unimportant, and a little more of everything important.

Below is a picture of downtown Sapporo from the top of the TV tower. It's a pretty bad picture, but it was snowing...

Friday night we went to the most amazing traditional Japanese restaurant. I felt a little ridiculous when I took off my shoes and had to walk around in my gross wool socks, but sitting on the floor while eating could definitely grow on me. This is what the server brought to our table before she put it (very strategically) into a pot filled with broth:

This is the pot (and Sarah's arm)

We barely made it back last Sunday due to another snowstorm in Sapporo, but somehow we managed to make our connecting flight at Narita.

After an excess of Bailey's, red wine, lattes, sushi, rice balls, ramen, coffee in a can, and golden retrievers (is there such a thing?), I'm looking forward to seeing the Branson's again this summer:). Thanks for an amazing week across the world.

The pictures below are actually from last spring when David and I went to Ellenville...I was inspired to post a sushi recipe in honor of Japanese cuisine. It's fairly easy to make; there is something very special about taking the time to making sushi on your own at home.

Recipe: Spicy Tuna Roll

2009-03-05T17:35:00.001-05:00

Rambling: The Japan and I

2009-02-19T20:02:00.039-05:00

We arrived in Japan on Sunday and were somewhat loopy, but the flight went well. I somehow managed to watch five (count em) in-flight movies. The line-up included my usual crappy plane choices (as in, movies I would probably never put in my Netflix queue): Beauty and the Beast (okay, maybe that one), The Incredibles, Nights in Rodanthe (which was unexpectedly sad), The Women, and Ghost Town. Turns out, Tylenol PM did the trick, and we slept some.

David's parents picked us up from Narita (there they are in front of the hotel), and we took about an hour train ride to Tokyo then checked-in to Asakusa View Hotel. We went to a restaurant with fantastic tempura for dinner, but around the middle of the meal, I started to feel fairly jet-lagged and as I recreated the "Rubberband Ball" incident from work for Rick and Sarah, I wasn't sure if I was totally making sense.

We wandered around the small and brightly lit streets of Tokyo, past traffic cones imprinted with strange cartoon characters, and headed to a bar for a drink. Sarah ordered a rum and coke, and I did too. I haven't had a rum and coke since college, but it was really the only thing I understood on the menu.

Jet lag was taking over at this point, and we headed back to the hotel. David and I found ourselves wide awake at 3 in the morning. Turns out Tylenol PM doesn't work that well.

We headed to Starbucks (which fixes most things), ate a Japanese breakfast, and wandered around Tokyo. And saw the Imperial Palace...

And drank Sake and beer with...

noodles... And then got on a plane from Haneda to Sapporo, where the temperature dropped. We went to the grocery store. 640 Yen for a mango? I thought NY was bad. We finally arrived at David's parents' home, where we settled in for a couple hours and ate homemade vegetable pizza and drank Sazerac.

We were greeted by Sam. His brother Frodo was close behind.

Tuesday, we hung around, drank lattes, went snowshoeing, and walked the dogs. We went for Indian food and went to the second hand store. Picture Target...times 20, and with $400 Nikes.

Wednesday, we went snowboarding. It was my first time, and I'm still alive.

We took a break for lunch and ate ramen. I'm not sure the beer was the best idea, since my last time down the mountain seemed to take twice as long as my first.

Honestly though. It was pretty incredible, and I think we may be bringing the gear back with us so we can give it a go at home.

We had beer out of the vending machine before we took the hour bus ride back.

When we got home, Sarah was prepared. i.e. champagne was chilling in the snow...

We had Sushi, Oyster Scallop Rockefeller Casserole, bread, and wine for dinner and discussed this and that.

I choose this recipe, because it's a sentimental drink for us. We had it over Christmas in New Orleans, so re-creating it while in Japan was on the agenda. Also, it is the month of Mardi Gras, so it's a bit timely. I found the bitters at a store in Manhattan that will be seeing me again. I love good food finds.

I love vacation!!

Rick and Sarah took the day off, so we are headed to downtown Sapporo in a bit...more later!

Recipe: Sazerac

2009-02-16T19:12:00.025-05:00

Ingredients

2 oz. Rye Whiskey (Old Overholt or Sazerac Rye is preferred)

½ oz. Simple Syrup

5 dashes Peychaud’s Bitters

2 dash Angostura Bitters

¼ oz. Herbsaint (Pernod can be used as a substitute)

1 Lemon twist

Method

Chill a rocks glass by filling with ice and water.

In a cocktail shaker filled ¾ with ice, add rye whiskey, simple syrup, Peychaud’s Bitters and Angostura bitters.

Using a bar spoon, stir until the shaker is ice-cold and frost has formed on the outside (do not shake a Sazerac).

Empty the ice and water from the rocks glass, and pour in a bit of Herbsaint and toss the glass (or roll it) to coat the entire inside. Pour out any excess.

Strain your cocktail from the shaker into the Herbsaint lined glass.

A real Sazerac is served up and chilled, no rocks should be in the drink.

Twist a lemon peel over the glass, rim the glass and then drop it in. Many purists insist that the lemon peel should be discarded, but I prefer to keep the flavor throughout the drink.

Credit: Kevin Lacassin of NolaFoodie.com

Rambling: Which way is the...?

2009-02-13T16:12:00.011-05:00

Today, when someone was speaking to me (this may, or may not have happened at work), I imagined myself pouring the puke green split pea soup I had for lunch (only hours before) over their head. Slowly.

The good news? I'm leaving for Japan in the morning!

I am armed with Tylenol PM (although, you would be surprised how many people have strong opinions about their preferred brand of sleeping agent), fleece-y sleep masks from she's crafty, and finally....the last 100 pages of Kavalier & Clay.

David will sleep the whole plane ride. I will watch twelve in-flight movies.

We leave Newark at 11:10 Saturday morning and will arrive in Tokyo on Sunday at 3:15 in the afternoon.

I am going to try and post pictures while we are there. Try.

In terms of my recipe pick this week, I have been wanting to make the New York Times version ever since this article published on July 9. When Siobhan came to visit in November she brought them, and they were absolutely fabulous. Mine didn't have the consistency they should have, but I think that's because I didn't let the butter get to room temperature. I know it's a rule...but I was impatient. I rarely make homemade cookies, because I have no self-control and devour them. Breakfast cookies! Snack cookies! Cookies for dinner. Peeerfect. I used Valentine's m&m's not because I was in the V-Day spirit...it's all CVS had:); however, they do look rather festive, don't they?

Recipe: New York Times Chocolate Chip Cookies

2009-02-13T08:04:00.015-05:00

Adapted from Jacques Torres

Time: 45 minutes (for 1 6-cookie batch), plus at least 24 hours’ chilling

2 cups minus 2 tablespoons

(8 1/2 ounces) cake flour

1 2/3 cups (8 1/2 ounces) bread flour

1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1 1/2 teaspoons coarse salt

2 1/2 sticks (1 1/4 cups) unsalted butter

1 1/4 cups (10 ounces) light brown sugar

1 cup plus 2 tablespoons (8 ounces) granulated sugar

2 large eggs

2 teaspoons natural vanilla extract

1 1/4 pounds bittersweet chocolate disks or fèves, at least 60 percent cacao content (see note)

Sea salt.

1. Sift flours, baking soda, baking powder and salt into a bowl. Set aside.

2. Using a mixer fitted with paddle attachment, cream butter and sugars together until very light, about 5 minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Stir in the vanilla. Reduce speed to low, add dry ingredients and mix until just combined, 5 to 10 seconds. Drop chocolate pieces in and incorporate them without breaking them. Press plastic wrap against dough and refrigerate for 24 to 36 hours. Dough may be used in batches, and can be refrigerated for up to 72 hours.

3. When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a nonstick baking mat. Set aside.

4. Scoop 6 3 1/2-ounce mounds of dough (the size of generous golf balls) onto baking sheet, making sure to turn horizontally any chocolate pieces that are poking up; it will make for a more attractive cookie. Sprinkle lightly with sea salt and bake until golden brown but still soft, 18 to 20 minutes. Transfer sheet to a wire rack for 10 minutes, then slip cookies onto another rack to cool a bit more. Repeat with remaining dough, or reserve dough, refrigerated, for baking remaining batches the next day. Eat warm, with a big napkin.

Yield: 1 1/2 dozen 5-inch cookies.

Note: Disks are sold at Jacques Torres Chocolate; Valrhona fèves, oval-shaped chocolate pieces, are at Whole Foods.

Rambling: Snow what?

2009-02-03T14:53:00.008-05:00

With articles like this, this, and this...it's hard not to speculate about the future of print. And that's all I'm going to say about that.

In the food world, welcome to reacquainting yourself with Denny's. Apparently, people love some Denny's. Free...? Reminds me of Starbucks and their November 4th deal. Free. I need something like...free cable. ooo. Wait. Free airfare. No. Even better, how about we go back to checking bags for free? Over Christmas, after my flight from Newark to Charlotte was delayed four hours, I wondered...would they give me a little refund? Like, every hour you wait, or every time your flight is canceled, get $10 credited back to your account!!!

I know. Wishful thinking. It ended up being okay. Christy Turlington and Ed Burns were sitting in front of me at the gate. Well worth it.

David and I are taking off to Japan on February 14 for coincidentally, a 14-hour flight to Japan. Woo woo. I'm excited about in-flight movies. I have been instructed by an extremely reliable source that while in Tokyo, we must go to Star Bar in Ginza, "it's clubby and atmospheric with a dizzying array of scotch and excellent classic cocktails," he added. The source's favorite bartender Hidetsugo Ueno just opened up a new place Bar High Five, which for the name alone should be awesome.

Right now? I'm lifting myself out of my January coma, thanks to Guitar Hero World Tour, a sale at Levi's, and the possibility that a Coffee Club will be born. And of course, the trip to Japan.

We are going snowboarding on the trip.

I may come back with a broken bone. Ooo. Maybe I won't come back at all.

Juuuuuust kidding, mom.

Here is meal that will last you a few days. With the Gruyere, it's not the most inexpensive (or low fat) frittata, but it's great for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, and it's great comfort food. Boil too many potatoes if you decide to make hashbrowns, and use the leftover in the frittata. I didn't come up with that....Ina did, but still--it's a great idea.

Recipe: Potato Basil Fritatta

2009-02-03T07:41:00.004-05:00

8 tablespoons (1 salt) unsalted butter, divided

2 cups peeled and 1/2 - inch - diced boiling potatoes

(4 potatoes)

8 extra-large eggs

15 ounces ricotta cheese

3/4 lb. Gruyere cheese, grated

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

3/4 cup chopped fresh basil leaves

1/3 cup all-purpose flour

3/4 teaspoon baking powder

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Melt three tablespoons of the butter in a 10-inch oven-proof omelet pan over medium-low heat. Add the potatoes and fry them until cooked through, turning often. 10 to 15 minutes. Melt the remaining 5 tablespoons of butter in a small dish in the microwave.

Meanwhile, whisk the eggs in a large bowl, then stir in the ricotta, Gruyere, melted butter, salt, pepper, and basil. Sprinkle on the flour and baking powder and stir into the egg mixture.

Pour the egg mixture over the potatoes and place the pan in the center of the oven. Bake the frittata until it is browned and puffed. 50 minutes to an hour. It will be rounded and firm in the middle and a knife inserted in the frittata should come out clean. Serve hot.

Credit: Ina Garten; Barefoot Contessa Family Style; Clarkson Potter

Rambling: Oysters, Oscars, and O'douls

2009-01-22T10:23:00.005-05:00

Welcome to 2009. Insert cheering [here]. I feel like I should reflect on 2008, or ponder about the possible events to come in 2009. I suppose this could be arranged.

I have been on a hiatus of sorts--of the lazy kind. January has somehow blanketed me with fresh, new television to which I never knew I was so attached. Suddenly, American Idol is asking me for four hours of my time a week. Nip/Tuck is giving me nightmares about face lifts, and Grey's Anatomy is just so...dramatic. Isn't Meredith annoying? But, it seems every time it snows, I cheer, because this means I get to watch one more episode of The Wire. Life before Netflix? phffft. Now, there are the Oscars. I have only seen one of the movies that is nominated, so I have some catching up to do before February 22.

And there you have it--so far, 2009 has created a hibernating monster. Well, that, or the fact that it was a balmy 9 degrees on Friday.

I mentioned before the holidays that I was taking a two-week vacation, and it (the vacation) went off without a hitch. Food was eaten, wine was consumed, and Mustache Turtleneck was....a show. No doubt, there will be an 8th annual M &T where more details will be divulged. Until then, I have our upcoming trip to Japan to think about, whether or not we are getting a dog, if we are moving to Brooklyn, and what Michelle Obama is wearing. It's all very...[something]

Dry-uary lasted 17 days this year. Much needed detox time, but I’m telling you, it’s the social drink or two that makes this commitment nearly unbearable. We cracked during Justin’s birthday party at Motor City on Saturday night, then we had champagne while watching the inauguration on Tuesday. We are weak. I know.

So. Food in 2009. The articles on diet food, books, programs, are endless. It's a new year. Start fresh. Make goals. Save money. Eat sticky buns. Yes, eat sticky buns. These aren't low-calorie, and they aren't low-sugar. I promise, they will make you smile. They take all day to make, but they are absolutely perfect the next morning. Some scrambled eggs, coffee, and a warm (thank you microwave) sticky bun. It's the simple things.

No really though, welcome to 2009 people.

Recipe: Pecan Sticky Buns, New Version

2009-01-09T12:00:00.004-05:00

Yield: 12 large buns or 16 small buns Equipment: two 6-cup nonstick giant muffin pans; two 12 x 17-inch sheet pans to catch the dripping caramel

This is the richer, sweeter version of our Pecan Sticky Buns. We think of this as an “East Coast” version as compared to our original Midwestern-style sticky buns.

INGREDIENTS VOLUME

Very warm water (105º to 115ºF) ¼ cup

Active dry yeast 2¼ teaspoons

Warm water (90ºF) 1¾ cups

Unsalted butter, melted 3 tablespoons + 1½ teaspoons

Unbleached bread flour 2 cups

Unbleached all-purpose flour 2 cups

Sugar ⅓ cup

Kosher salt 1 tablespoon + ½ teaspoon

Dark brown sugar, firmly packed 1¼ cups

Unsalted butter ½ cup + 1 tablespoon

Dark corn syrup ⅛ cup

Pecan pieces, toasted (see page 242) 1 cup

Sugar ⅓ cup + 1 tablespoon

Cinnamon 1 teaspoon

Unsalted butter, softened 4 tablespoons

1. Combine the very warm water and yeast in a large mixing bowl and stir to dissolve the yeast. Let stand for 3 minutes. Add the remaining warm water and the melted butter to the yeast mixture and whisk together.

2. In a medium bowl, add the flours, sugar, and salt and whisk together. With your hands or a wooden spoon, mix the dry ingredients into the yeast mixture until the dough gathers into a shaggy mass. Move the dough to a lightly floured surface and knead for 5 minutes. Do not knead extra flour into the dough. Instead, use a plastic scraper to loosen the dough from the work surface. This is soft, moist dough. If it seems too stiff and hard to knead, add extra warm water, 1 tablespoon at a time, until the dough softens. Gently shape the dough into a loose ball, place it in a lightly oiled bowl, cover it with plastic wrap, and let it rest for 20 minutes so the dough can relax.

3. Gently knead the dough for 1 to 2 more minutes, until it becomes smooth, supple, and elastic. Shape the dough into a loose ball, place it in a lightly oiled bowl, and turn the dough to coat it with oil. Cover the bowl and let the dough rise at room temperature (75º to 77ºF) until it has doubled in volume, 1½ to 2 hours. A hole poked into the dough with a finger should stay indented. The dough should hold its shape and not collapse.

4. While the dough is rising, combine the brown sugar, the next measure of butter, and the corn syrup in a small saucepan over low heat, stirring occasionally, until the butter has melted and the sugar is completely moistened and beginning to melt (it won’t be dissolved). Whisk the mixture until it looks silky and a little lighter in color. Remove it from the heat.

5. Spray the muffin cups lightly with nonstick cooking spray or grease them with softened butter, then apportion an equal amount of the caramel into the bottom of each cup (approximately 35 g/1.23 oz. for the giant muffin cups). Sprinkle 2 teaspoons of the toasted pecans over the warm caramel in each cup and press them down slightly.

6. In a small bowl add the sugar and cinnamon and stir until evenly mixed.

7. When the dough has doubled in volume, gently pour it out of the bowl onto a lightly floured work surface. Flatten the dough by patting and stretching it with your fingers to form a 13 x 10-inch rectangle, with the long sides across the top and bottom of the rectangle. Work gently so you don’t tear the dough. The dough should stretch easily at this point, but if it resists, let it rest for 5 minutes before resuming stretching. Check to be sure the dough isn’t sticking to the work surface, adding flour to the table if necessary.

8. Spread the remaining softened butter evenly over the dough, all the way to the edges. Sprinkle the cinnamon-and-sugar mixture generously and evenly over the butter. Starting with the bottom edge, roll up the dough jelly-roll fashion into a long log; if the dough sticks to the table as you’re rolling, use a dough scraper to loosen it gently. Pinch gently but firmly along the seam to seal it. If necessary, gently roll the dough back and forth to make a nice uniform log.

9. Cut the log of dough into 12 equal pieces. It’s easiest if you mark the log fi rst to show where you’re going to make the cuts—a slight indentation with a knife’s edge will do—then use a sharp serrated knife or a metal dough cutter to cut completely through the log. Lay one piece of dough, cut side down, on the top of the cooled caramel in each muffin cup. Let the rolls rise, uncovered, at room temperature until the dough has almost doubled in volume, about 1 to 1¼ hours. The rolls should fill the pan and rise almost to the top of each cup.

10. About 20 minutes before baking, position two racks in the center of the oven with enough space between them for the muffin pans, and preheat the oven to 375ºF.

11. Line two 12 x 17-inch sheet pans with baking parchment and put one muffin pan of sticky buns on each prepared sheet pan. Bake for 10 minutes, then reduce the oven temperature to 350ºF and bake for 15 to 20 minutes longer, until the tops of the buns are golden brown. It’s important to bake the buns long enough so the dough is cooked all the way through and the caramel topping develops properly. 12. Set the muffin pans of buns on a wire rack to cool for 1 minute. Then quickly but carefully turn each muffin pan upside down onto a parchment-lined sheet pan. Leaving the muffin pan in place, let it rest for another minute so the hot caramel can run down around the sides of each bun. Gently lift off the muffin pans to release the sticky buns. Immediately scrape out any hot caramel and pecans remaining in the bottoms of the cups and spread it on the tops of the buns, filling in any bare spots. Let cool until just warm before serving. (Clean the muffin pans by soaking in very hot water to dissolve the caramel.) Store any leftover rolls covered with foil or plastic at room temperature, and reheat them in a toaster oven before serving.

TIPS and TECHNIQUES This recipe calls for dark corn syrup and dark brown sugar. Both ingredients contribute to a darker, deeper-flavored caramel that flows nicely to cover the individual buns. If you have only light corn syrup or light brown sugar, either can be substituted. Your caramel topping will be lighter in color and have a milder flavor but will still taste delicious. To use regular-size muffin pans instead of the giant ones, spray 16 regular-size muffin cups with nonstick cooking spray. Use 26.0 g/0.93 oz. caramel and 1½ teaspoons pecans in each cup. In step 9, cut the log of dough into 16 equal pieces, put 1 piece in each prepared muffin cup, and bake as indicated.

CREDIT: The Sweeter Side of Amy's Bread (Wiley 2008); Photography by Aimee Herring

Rambling: Christmas Vacation Minus Chevy Chase

2008-12-11T10:59:00.006-05:00

..."Nobody's walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas!"

Get excited about the Christmas countdown. I am.

In almost one week, I will be taking off for a TWO WEEK vacation. I am flying to Charlotte on Saturday, December 20 to see my parents, then NOLA on Friday, December 26 to visit David’s family, then to Chicago on Monday, December 29 for Moustache Turtleneck (this M & T may take another blog post to explain). All I can say right now is that David has a moustache. A creepy one.

In the meantime, I am going to Ina Garten’s book-signing today. I went to Jamie Oliver’s a couple of weeks ago and stood in line…and stood in line….actually it wasn’t that bad. Ina is one of my all-time favorites. She makes sliced tomatoes with cracked pepper look like foie gras at the White House. I’m debating….should I get her to sign her new book, Back-to-Basics, or her Parties book?

Decisions. My friend Erin is coming in town from the QC and we have reservations at Cookshop on 10th Ave tomorrow night. woo woo. Dinner in the cit-ay.

You will thank me for the recipe below. It is so basic, and so old school, and so delish.

Recipe: Pigs in a Blanket

2008-12-10T07:56:00.007-05:00

Easy, easy, easy. These are the PERFECT party food. Easy to make, and everyone loves them.

Three tubes of Pillsbury Croissant rolls. Pre-heat the oven to temperature suggested on the back on the tube.

1 package of hot dogs (any brand will do--Oscar Meyer, Nathan's...)

1 package of cheese. (I use KRAFT singles, but any will do)

Celery Salt

Cut the hot dogs lengthwise, and then each side into three pieces.

Sprinkle a bit of celery salt on each hot dog.

Place a TINY (otherwise it will run everywhere when it gets hot in the oven) piece of cheese on the piece of hot dog.

The croissant dough is already pre-cut into triangles. Cut each triangle piece into a smaller triangle that you can wrap around each hot dog piece. (See pic above).

Makes about 48 Pigs in a Blanket. Toothpicks are required!

Recipe: Squash and Apple Soup

2008-12-06T11:00:00.003-05:00

Makes 5 cups • Serves 4 to 6

2 teaspoons vegetable oil

1 1/2 cups peeled, chopped apples

3/4 cup chopped onion

1/4 teaspoon ground ginger

1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg

2 cups vegetable broth

1 cup water

2 cups peeled, cubed butternut or buttercup squash

1/8 teaspoon salt, or to taste

1/8 teaspoon ground red pepper

1. In a 3-quart saucepan, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add the apples and onion; cook, stirring, until softened, about 4 minutes. Stir in the ginger and nutmeg until absorbed. Add the broth and water; bring to a boil. Add the squash and return to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, 30 minutes or until vegetables are tender.

2. Place half of the soup in a blender or food processor. Cover and puree until smooth. Repeat with remaining soup, salt, and red pepper. Return soup to pot and reheat if necessary.

Variation: For a richer, creamier soup, add 1/2 cup half and-half after you’ve pureed the soup.

Credit: 100 Best Vegetarian Recipes by Carol Gelles (Wiley 2008)

Rambling: Thankfully Full, Fully UNThankful

2008-12-02T16:03:00.008-05:00

...I'm a sucker for the parade.

And. Here we are in the whirl and swirl of thanks and giving. Woo woo. Holiday train.

No, I have not been hibernating these past few weeks. However, I would be happy in a nice warm cave somewhere curled up for the winter. Doesn’t that sound nice? Instead, I am pounding the one block that I dominate (I have mentioned that I live on the same street that I work on, haven’t I?) and at the same time –pounding the computer keys. Is it true what they say about fluorescent lighting? Does it really suck the color out of your skin? I refuse to believe this …it could kill one’s positive outlook.

Announcements? Yes. There are some. I got a promotion at work! True. Turns out no one noticed when I quit washing my hair everyday a few months back. Don’t worry. After looking back at pictures from my birthday, I quickly discovered I cannot pull off this look like Stephanie can. My hair just looked…wet. Gross.

David and I have momentarily ceased looking for apartments in Hoboken, the city, and Brooklyn. Initially, we both were not too keen on the thought of having two new roommates, and we were going to look at a place in the West Village last Friday. I was thrilled. Someone from work sent me an email saying she was moving out of her perfect apartment in her perfect neighborhood. She’s right. The West Village is pretty great. I emailed her and said YES! We would LOVE to come look!! Sign us up!!!! YES!!! She emailed me back.

“I should warn you,” she said. “It’s 350 square ft.”

For $1711.00 a month. No kitchen. Hot plate. Half fridge.

Gulp.

So.

We are just going to wait and see.

Ah, and then there is Thanksgiving. David and I went to see Jim Gaffigan on Wednesday at Town Hall in Times Square. We paid $10 each for Tanquerey and Tonics that we ended up having to suck down before the show. Bummer. BUT. The show was amazing. Hooooot poooockets. Geez. If you don’t know who he is, get his CD now. Do it. His jokes about food are flawless. When we got home from the show, in an attempt to get some cooking done before we had people over for Thanksgiving, I tried to par-bake my pie crust without actually following the recipe. I was apparently supposed to pile dried beans onto the uncooked shell when I put it in the oven. I didn’t have any. I was furious when the pie crust cooked and shrunk. I think David was scared. You should have seen me throwing the pie crust onto a cookie sheet, angrily slicing the half-cooked dough into pieces, then throwing cinnamon and sugar all over the place. “There! Elephant Ears!” Aaaargh. What a drama queen.

Missed my family on Thanksgiving. Christmas is going to be a riot.

UNThanksgiving was….a show. It is, for those of you wondering, a TRADITION. And don’t we all love traditions? We went to James’ place in Williamsburg with the leftover food from Thanksgiving and wrote on the same “scroll” we used last year. Brilliant. We seemed to be consistently unthankful for the same things. David and I found ourselves taking a cab back to Hoboken at 4:30 in the morning. We always say we will take the train and instead there we are, haggling with a cab driver.” $75! $75! to Hoboken,” he yells at us. No way Mr. Cabbie Driver. I won’t pay over $40. Observe children—this is not a good way to spend your money, but it’s just so convenient.

Anyone have thoughts on store-bought pinecones? I mean c’mon. You just can’t find them up here—and especially not cinnamon-scented. This is what has become of me.

This recipe was meant to be posted mmm. Weeks ago. I refused to do so without a camera. Ta-da. These will change your life. They are a new tradition. Count on them for next fall.

Recipe: Spiced Pumpkin Pancakes

2008-11-24T19:18:00.009-05:00

Makes about 12

Perfect for Thanksgiving or Halloween morning. Pumpkin pie spice is a mix of cinnamon, ginger, allspice, and nutmeg. You can make your own mixture, keeping in mind that some of the spices, like nutmeg and allspice, are stronger than others; adjust the ratio to your taste.

1¼ cups unbleached all purpose flour

3 tablespoons sugar

2 teaspoons baking powder

1¼ teaspoons pumpkin pie spice

¾ teaspoon salt

1¹⁄³ cups whole milk

¾ cup canned pure pumpkin

4 large eggs, separated

¼ cup (½ stick) unsalted butter, melted

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Vegetable oil (for brushing skillet)

Pure maple syrup

WHISK fi rst 5 ingredients in large bowl to blend. Whisk milk, pumpkin, egg yolks, melted butter, and vanilla in medium bowl to blend well. Add pumpkin mixture to dry ingredients; whisk just until smooth (batter will be thick). Using electric mixer, beat eggwhites in another medium bowl until stiff but not dry. Fold whites into batter in 2 additions.

BRUSH large nonstick skillet with oil; heat over medium heat. Working in batches, pour batter by ¹⁄³ cupfuls into skillet. Cook until bubbles form on surface of pancakes and bottoms are brown, about 1½ minutes per side. Repeat with remaining batter,brushing skillet with oil between batches. Serve with maple syrup.

CREDIT: Bon Appetit Fast Easy Fresh Cookbook / Barbara Fairchild (Wiley 2008)

Recipe: Lasagna with Turkey Sausage

2008-11-04T11:11:00.003-05:00

This is a great family recipe, and fairly easy to assemble. It also goes a long way. In honor of the new First Family I present to you Ina Garten's version of lasagna. Ta-da.

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 cup chopped yellow onion (1 onion)

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 1/2 pounds sweet Italian turkey sausage, casings removed

1 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes in tomato puree

1 6-ounce can tomato paste

1/4 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley, divided

1/3 chopped fresh basil leaves

Kosher salt

Freshly ground black pepper

1/2 pound lasagna noodles

15 ounces ricotta cheese

3-4 ounces creamy goat cheese, crumbled

1 cup grated Parmesan cheese, plus 1/4 cup for sprinkling

1 extra-large egg, lightly beaten

1 pound mozzarella, thinly sliced

Preheat oven to 400 degrees

Heat the olive oil in a large (10-to 12-inch) skillet. Add the onion and cook for five minutes over medium-low heat, until translucent. Add the garlic and cook for 1 more minute. Add the sausage and cook over medium-low heat, breaking it up with the fork, for 8 to 10 minutes, or until no longer pink. Add the tomatoes, tomato paste, 2 tablespoons of the parsley, the basil, 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, and 1/2 teaspoon of pepper. Simmer, uncovered, over medium-low heat, for about 15 to 20 minutes, until thickened.

Meanwhile, fill a large bowl with the hottest tap water. Add the noodles and allow them to sit in the water for 20 minutes. Drain.

In a medium bowl, combine the ricotta, goat cheese, 1 cup of Parmesan, the egg, the remaining three tablespoons of parsley, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Set aside.

Ladle 1/3 of the sauce into a 9 x 12 x 2-inch rectangular baking dish, spreading the sauce over the bottom of the dish. Then add the layers as follows: half the pasta, half the mozzarella, half the ricotta, and one third of the sauce. Sprinkle with 1/4 cup of Parmesan cheese. Bake for 30 minutes, until the sauce is bubbling.

Credit: INA GARTEN BARFOOT CONTESSA FAMILY STYLE: EASY IDEAS THAT MAKE EVERYONE FEEL LIKE A FAMILY. (Clarkson Potter; 2002) Photography (image above included) taken by Maura McEvoy

Rambling: Smart Cookie, minus the cookie

2008-10-29T15:17:00.012-04:00

...sometimes, you just need to indulge

I have been in the middle of a cooking frenzy. I suppose it's therapeutic. Cathartic. Whatever you want to call it. No recipes to reveal today though. My food shots are being held hostage on David's camera, so until I find the camera cord...

David and I went to look at an apartment in Hoboken yesterday. Our other roommate let us know she is moving out by December 1 as well, so now it will be us and two new people. We figured we should at least start looking. It's going to be hard to replace the apartment we have now, but I'm excited about the prospect of something new for just the two of us!

The apartment we looked at was horrendous, and David had barely finished parking the car before I was already saying "no thanks..." to the realtor.

In the meantime, check out this New York Times article about counting calories. A couple of months ago, it became a New York law that food establishments must post the calorie count of all of their dishes. Gulp. I was in for a rude awakening at Starbucks. Everywhere you look, calories are shaking a finger at you. It's bad enough that I pay 10 cents (yes, I know it's only 10 cents) more for a grande cup of coffee in NYC than in Hoboken, now...I have to put the scone down. Put-it-down.

Personally though, I think it's a great idea. It makes people think twice about some of their eating choices. More importantly, it makes people more AWARE of their choices. Who knew that a chocolate donut at Starbucks is 500 calories?

Now, if I could just stop eating Qdoba Naked Burrito Chicken salads....those can't be good for you.

I don't even want to know. It will ruin my order-in (yes, they deliver Qdoba in Hoboken) indulgence.

It's like the time I found out Arby's Market Fresh sandwiches have nearly as many fat grams as a Whopper. All in moderation...

--the image in this posting is from http://www.inmagine.com/

Guest Blogger: John Short (Keeping it Real with Pop Culture and Food)

2008-10-23T18:51:00.007-04:00

In honor of John's pending Halloween visit to see me in NJ/NY...it's his turn to have a say on Smart Cookie. Stay tuned for the adventures of John in New York, which often includes me getting no sleep, hearing things like "you're lame," and of course...Crif Dogs. I'm hunting for Halloween costumes right now. woo.

Pop culture and food.

It seems as though the two are natural friends, like the squirrel and the hedgehog – embraced in order to satisfy ones craving for pleasure. Sometimes food even bears some of the same phrasing as pop culture. For example, there’s popcorn which has both the prefix “pop” and an obvious connection to movies - and offers double points if you buy Pop Secret pop corn. What’s the secret anyway? You used extra salt and butter? Take it to the grave. I mean really, there’s only so many things you can keep secret in the world of popcorn, especially with Redenbacher and Newman lurking on the same grocery aisle – heard they’re ex-CIA. Some people refer to all carbonated beverages like Coke and Pepsi as “pop”, and never mind the fact that these people are inherently wrong, an undeniable connection to the world of music, movies and television is born of this unholy vernacular.

The list continues with pop tarts, forever replaced by toaster strudel, pop rocks, which may or may not cause death when mixed with the aforementioned beverage “pop”, and blow pops, which is science’s perfect candy creation. You get the point. Pop culture and food have a long romantic history together and will undeniably have a rousing future together as well, but before we get into the speculation of what their beautiful union will hold in the years to come, let’s take a closer look at their past together: the good, the bad and the super-delicious.

The Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters. How awesome is he? Pretty awesome. In fact, I don’t even like marshmallows and I think this guy is one of the greatest combinations of food and pop culture ever. He’s a fake corporate logo in the form of a confectionary giant who ends up exploding his sugary insides all over New York. He’s the physical embodiment of multiple pop culture layers (commercials, logos & movie characters) and candy. Plus, don’t you think it would be really fun to just hang out with him and ride around on his shoulder? I do. Provided of course he wasn’t possessed with demonic rage and an agenda that only involved destroying whatever city you happened to live in.

Moving along. French dining is sometimes considered the epitome of culinary excellence, and perhaps the finest example of this widely-held belief is featured in the cinematic classic Better Off Dead. John Cusak’s thoughtful mother prepares a sumptuous feast fit for Louis XIV himself in order to give the neighbor’s exchange student some American hospitality. Course one: French bread. Course two: French fries. Main topping: French dressing. And to drink: Peru (Perrier). It’s classic. The perfect ingredients for a recipe of hilarious, cinematic fine dining. Other awesome pairings include the Jack Rabbit Slim’s diner scene in Pulp Fiction, “it don’t got no bourbon in it or nothing?”, Weird Al singing “Eat It”, collecting California Raisins at Hardees (or Carl’s Jr. depending on where you live) and Kevin McAllister in Home Alone asking the Lord to bless his delicious macaroni and cheese dinner and the people who put it on sale. Those are just a few glimpses of the lengthy courtship between Pop Culture and Food - some of the early dates where Pop Culture was really taken with Food but still a bit scared to go all the way and wanted to take things slow, while Food bragged to all his friends about nailing Pop Culture in the back of his parents’ Camry. But he felt bad afterwards and cleared everything up in front of the guys because he respected her. True story. But it wasn’t all fun and games back then, they had their share of differences; arguments about who was right. Remember “Cheeseburger in Paradise”? Is that the worst song of all time? It really might be. I can’t think of too many worse ones.

And what about that movie where Sarah Michelle Gellar is a chef with magical powers or something? Remember that? It was ridiculous impregnates bad idea and they have a baby named that movie. Or how about Mr. T. cereal? On the surface it seemed like a great idea – Mr. T. pities the fool named malnutrition and fights it to the death with a delicious, but muscular, cereal. What we got was a poor excuse for a Corn Pops and Cap’n Crunch hybrid that was neither good nor tough, and surrendered to the sogginess of milk after just a few minutes. Sad really. It’s not what Mr. T. envisioned for the breakfast entrée of little kids across America.

So you see, while pop culture and food are certainly blessed with fine memories of shared experience, they have not always had such an amicable affair. Yet, it is those battles and moments of poor judgment that make each success that much grander. As we move forward in a world of harmonious food and entertainment, remember that for every Mayor McCheese or Snoopy Sno-Cone Machine it took a can of Lil’ John Crunk Juice to get there.

-John

John Short is co-creator and a regular contributor to the entertainment-based website www.popcoast2coast.com

Rambling: Home is Where the Cheese is

2008-10-15T16:17:00.010-04:00

...until it bubbles on top just a little bit

Who doesn't love October? Scary movies, Starbucks Pumpkin Spiced lattes, Halloween (where would Jamie Lee Curtis be without this holiday?), and the removal of air conditioning units from NJ/NY windows all signify the coming of this colorful and magical season.

David and I have been living together for about two months now. A year ago, I wouldn't have guessed that I would not only be living with a boy (man? I'm not a teenager anymore. It's man), but in a commune. Okay. I'm not Ruth Reichl in the 80's (crap); I'm not really living in a commune, but there are two other girls living with us. mm. I believe I mentioned this in an earlier blog. ANYway. Both roommates have announced they are moving out. So...we are deciding what to do. Do we want to stay in our nice big apartment and live with Craiglisters? We don't really know anyone who is looking to move/move to NJ/ move in with a couple. Do we move to the city? No. That's out. David has to commute to teach in Newark now, and with a car...nope. Plus, the down payment just to rent an apartment in the city would severely cut into our take-in, travel, breathe money. Brooklyn? YES. I would love to move back to Brooklyn, but the commute would be too hard right now. The Holland Tunnel everyday? Maybe we could swing it after he has another school year at Rise under his belt? Move into our own place in Hoboken? Seems like that would make the most sense, but we don't really want to move unless we have to, so we should just suck it up for awhile? Unclear. We will see.

With all this talk of home. Place. Space. Us. I must give you my mother's recipe for Macaroni and Cheese. It is MEMORABLE. It is home.

Mac-a-Mom

2008-10-15T16:16:00.005-04:00

8 oz Elbow noodles (penne noodles work too)

4 eggs

2 cups of cheese

1 1/2 cup milk

1/2 tsp salt

1/3 tsp dry mustard

Boil the Elbow noodles. While the noodles are boiling, whisk the eggs, milk, salt, and dry mustard. Strain the noodles. In a large casserole dish (such as the one shown above) layer the noodles and the cheese. Before sprinkling the last layer of cheese, pour the liquid mixture over top. Sprinkle the remaining cheese.

Cook at 325 degrees for 40 minutes.

Variations: The recipe calls for 2 cups of cheese, but if you are trying to put meat on someone's bones, use the entire block. I like to use sharp cheddar, and I also grate pepper over the top for an added kick.

Rambling: Baby, baby

2008-10-01T17:31:00.007-04:00

Two very important things happened on my trip to home to North Carolina this past weekend. #1, I met my new and perfect nephew, Jamison. #2, I sat down long enough for my mom to finally teach me how to knit. This is the problem living far from home--my mom and I have been meaning to do this for awhile. I ended up leaving the bit that I had started knitting in my dad's truck when he dropped me off at the airport (bright and early) yesterday morning, since security would probably classify circular needles as a weapon. Bummer. Don't worry though, I'm committed. If you love the look of all things "crafty" check out etsy.com.

So, Jamison. Since he is such a big baby, he can already hold a bottle on his own, and he can already pick his head up. I know, I sound like an aunt already. I was so sad to leave, because when I go home at Christmas he's going to be so much bigger. A friend of my mom's from her knit group the "Knockout Knitters" made this cake. Adorable.

My mom made this--isn't it the sweetest?

And my sister made this for Jamison's crib.

BBQ and such

2008-10-01T07:58:00.006-04:00

...go fetch

And of course, when I go home there are just certain foods I must eat. BBQ in NY just isn't the same. I have been to Justin Timberlake's restaurant, Southern Hospitality, but something about Eastern and Western sauce just makes more sense when it's from a southern spoon. My mom and I debated about the price difference of a pulled pork sandwich while we ordered dinner at Rock Store BBQ, which is just a couple of miles from my parents' house. No, a bbq sandwich does not cost $30 in New York City. It certainly doesn't cost $5.50 though. *sigh*

Erika's c-section went really well. She is a natural mother... Jamison slept and ate, slept and ate. We did what families do and cooked and ate, cooked and ate. My mom and I made Minestrone soup from a recipe she has had for ages and paired it with a greasy, drippy grilled cheese sandwich. When Erika got full, I ended up eating most of her sandwich too. Is that bad?

I couldn't resist. This is Erika and Mike's dog, Riley--who is occasionally insane. This picture turned out so well because he was looking at the tennis ball in my hand.

I'm back at work. Back in Hoboken. Jamison is probably at home right now growing. Miss miss the fam. Babies, babies make everyone so happy. I'm going home tonight to make an official vice presidential debate dinner of white chicken chili. How very fall of me. Below is the recipe we made. It's really simple, very good for you, and it feeds several for many days.

Recipe: Minestrone Soup

2008-09-30T16:30:00.017-04:00

1/3 cup olive or salad oil

1/4 cup butter

1 large onion, diced

2 large carrots, diced

2 stalks celery, diced

2 medium potatoes, diced

1/2 lb. green beans, cut into 1 inch pieces

6 cups water

1/2 small head cabbage, shredded

1 16-ounce can tomatoes

1/2 10-ounce bag fresh spinach, coarsely shredded

2 medium zucchini, diced

6 beef-flavor bouillon cubes or envelopes

1 teaspoon salt 1 16-to-20 ounce can red kidney beans, drained

1/2 cup grated Parmesan or Romano cheese

1. In 8-quart Dutch oven over medium heat, in hot oil and butter, cook onion, carrots, celery, potatoes and green beans until vegetables are lightly browned, about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally.

2. Add water, cabbage, tomatoes with their liquid, spinach, zucchini, bouillon cubes and salt. Over high heat, heat to boiling, stirring to break up tomatoes.

3. Reduce heat to low; cover; simmer 40 minutes or until all the vegetables are very tender, stirring occasionally; do not overcook.

4. Sit in beans; cook 15 minutes longer or just until the soup is slightly thickened.

5. Top with parmesan cheese when serving.

(The Goodhousekeeping Illustrated Cookbook; Zoe Coulson; William Morrow & Co.; 1980)

Smart Cookie is an aunt!!!!

2008-09-24T09:19:00.004-04:00

JAMISON MICHAEL TERRY

Born September 23, 2008 9 lbs. 13 oz.

Rambling: Espresso Yourself

2008-09-20T16:56:00.007-04:00

...man versus man

It's Saturday, and I think I threw my back out. No, really.

David and I played tennis this morning, and practically five minutes into the game I was taking all my pent up aggression out on the poor little Penn Championship ball. After I winced my way through an hour more of tennis, we went to Luca Brasi's (obviously, by the name its an Italian Deli) and grabbed a sandwich--this place will get a posting soon. Lord, the Fogetta Bout It is the best sandwich I have ever had in my life. Seriously.

ANYway. There is a new coffee shop in Hoboken that seems to be paving the way for delicious independent coffee shops everywhere--well, at least in Hoboken. Dames Espresso Bar opened back in July, on 1st street between Grand and Willow. The first few weeks I walked by there was a small girl with short, dark hair just standing behind the counter. When I would walk home from work, there she would be standing in the same spot in the empty store. When I finally went in one day, I was so pleasantly surprised. The girl behind the counter seemed pleased, too. The store is super small with black and white accents, and they make all of their drinks with a sassy blue espresso machine. She made a four leaf clover with the milk, and handed me the BEST latte I have ever had in my life. It's expensive, for sure. My large latte (that is the size of a Starbucks grande) cost $4.79 today....but still, it's a treat. Given the situation with my back, I thought I deserved an expensive, delicious latte. I rationalize.

Now, I am sitting in David's classroom in Newark propped up on a pillow on one of the couches watching Kara, the Spanish teacher play Guitar Hero. David and Cheney are not getting any work done right now, mainly because they want to see if Kara can make it through "School's Out for Summer." We are arguing about how they should define "conflict" for 7th graders.

Looks like we are going on a hunt for the best burger in NYC tonight. Oh wait. David just started "Hit Me with Your Best Shot." We might be here for awhile. Lord.

Rambling: Tri This

2008-09-18T12:02:00.010-04:00

...Sort of random in plot and structure

The candy jar at work MUST be removed from Ashley's desk. Seriously. I can only have self-control for just so long. It seems that without fail, every morning around 10 I find myself rummaging in the glass jar full of mini candy bars. Rolos are not a nutritious snack. Right?

Fall is coming, which means only a few more days left of the summer sun. I spent this past weekend enjoying the weather and spending (much needed) time in the city. David and I went to see Burn After Reading on Friday night, which ended up being sold out at the theater at Union Square. We hopped in a cab to see if we could make a show in Chelsea, and somehow there was a 10:15 pm showing. We arrived at 10:13--even making the previews. When does that happen? Brad Pitt doing comedy is pretty ridiculous. Brad Pitt, I'll love you forever. Remember when he played Tristan in Legends of the Fall? Geez.

ANYway. Brunch and such on Saturday, and then the usual suspects went to celebrate my roommate Kara's birthday at the Bohemian Hall & Beer Garden in Queens. I mentioned this amazing place in an earlier post. I was really just looking forward to everyone hanging out. I feel like we spent most of the day watching crazy little children dance on the stage. I feel like this summer just flew by...it's the 9-5. It does that. Oh joy.

So, no baby yet. Not mine--Erika's, my sister. Technically, her due date was yesterday. However, the doctor told her like the last week of August that the baby was going to come like September 2. No clue about what his name is going to be. The only hint she has given me is that she has only heard it once and it was used as a middle name. mmm. Thoughts? David and I were each sending her a name guess every day for at least the first four or so months she was pregnant. We gave up at some point. I wonder if we ever guessed it? We will find out Tuesday!

This is a picture of dinner at the Beer Garden. Doesn't it look...a bit? I know.

The birthday girl. I love this picture because she was so happy. Well, we were at a beer garden after all.

View from the top.

Stephanie took this shot of the Triborough Bridge as we were waiting for the N train.

Just thought I would say hello. Nothing too foodie, but the holidays are coming. Lord. I love the holidays. Get excited about baking. I am hoping for a fall apple-picking day Upstate.

Rambling: Mat bag and blind dates

2008-09-16T17:04:00.005-04:00

...Functional and funktional

I'm getting ready to go on a blind friend date. Coffee Shop, 7pm. Maybe we will see someone famous. Last time I was there I saw Smith (Jason Lewis?) from the Sex & the City movie. He was sitting right next to us on the patio. I haven't quite had the star sightings that I thought I would when I moved here. Meanwhile, my boss came in to work one day and was like, "You are never going to believe who I sat next to at dinner last night!" It's true. Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher. Anyway, my cousin Courtney, who lives in Jacksonville, FL (where most of my family lives) set Katie and I up. So we are going to be girlie and eat and sit and maybe run into some famous people. woo. I'll let you know.

Just thought I would share these pics. My boss Gypsy (the one who had the country house - not the boss who saw Demi and Ashton) made me this FABULOUS yoga mat bag last weekend. I carry one of the black thick mats. They are amazing, but enormous and heavy. I admit, I feel super trendy and funky with this bag.

Rambling: Beignets for VP

2008-09-12T17:54:00.005-04:00

...the temperature is rising

My beignets were too flat. uuug.

You voted, and I listened. Good practice round for the November election. Vote. Check. The list of dishes I should make was actually compiled with my roommate, Kara. Hence, the random nature of the choices. Some have suggested that the voting was rigged. Chicken Pad Thai was looking like the winner up until the very end--then one vote put beignets in the lead. ooo. They were the Michael Phelps of the food relay. Winner! woo woo. I have such an affinity for fried food. Good Lord, it's certainly different when you are frying it yourself. mmm. Vegetable oil.

Beignets are an indulgence above no other. Served hot, they leave you covered in powdery perfection. The last time I was in New Orleans I found myself at Cafe du Monde at 3 a.m.--with my long, black bridesmaid dress covered in powered sugar. Morning Call in Baton Rouge is also amazing. My oldest (and newly) engaged friend, Johanna, is getting married at St. Mary's in New Orleans on June 6, and she is having her reception at Pat O'Brian's on the river...I'm sure I will find myself eating late night beignets soon...

For now, they are a brunch item in Hoboken, New Jersey.

Honestly, I have no idea why the dough didn't rise more. Maybe the temperature of the oil had something to do with it? The recipe said to heat the oil to between 350-360 degrees, but I tried to move the thermometer on the pot, and instead it fell off and the top of the glass broke. I still haven't found the piece of glass. I can't be bothered to buy another candy thermometer, but it looks like I'm going to have to--that is, if I am going to continue to fry food. Why not?

David was worried I was going to burn myself with the oil, so he tried to convince me to wear my yellow kitchen gloves while I dropped the dough into the oil. Imagine that for a second. No gloves and burn free.

Sundays have kind of become our lazy day. This usually entails us watching episodes of LOST (Season 5 can't come soon enough, Jack I'll love you forever), eating, and well, not doing a whole lot. We are all caught up on LOST, and now we are watching The Wire. I'm still working on getting hooked...

Before I ate 1-2-3 (count em) beignets, David and I pre-burned the calories with a game of tennis (I know it doesn't work that way, but I'm rationalizing). Literally, you would think I had never done an active thing in my life. I was in pain all week.

Don't you just love brunch. I do. I really do.

ta-da. Serve with a deliciousness cafe au lait in an over sized mug.

Recipe: Beignets (French Market Donuts)

2008-09-12T17:00:00.002-04:00

1/2 cup boiling water

2 tablespoons shortening

1/4 cup sugar

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 cup evaporated milk

1/2 package dry yeast (Note: I used a whole package)

1/4 cup of warm water

1 egg beaten

3 3/4 cup sifted flour

confectioner sugar

In a large mixing bowl pour the boiling water over the shortening, sugar and salt. Add the milk and let stand until warm. In a small bowl dissolve the yeast in the warm water and add to the milk mixture with the egg. Stir in two cups flour and beat. Add enough flour to make a soft dough. Place the dough in a greased bowl, turning to grease the top. Cover with wax paper and a cloth, chill until ready to use. On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough 1/8 thickness. Do not let dough rise before frying. Cut in two inch squares and fry, a few at a time in oil (350-360 degrees) Brown on one side, turn and brown on the other side. Drain on paper towels. Sprinkle with the confectioners' sugar and serve hot.

Makes 30 donuts (it depends on what size you make them)

Note: You can also let the dough rise overnight in a greased bowl. Cover the ball of dough loosely in saran wrap.

LA Bonne Cuisine (the Episcopal churchwomen of All Saints Inc.) from the "Best of the Best from Louisiana" (1984)

FYI: This was the original recipe I worked from, but if you need more detail about cutting the dough, visit NewOrleansCuisine.blogspot.com. This guy is great resource for everything New Orleans!

Entertaining Simple

2008-09-09T14:02:00.007-04:00

...Style style everywhere

Just a quick plug. Matthew Mead's latest book is releasing on September 29, and his Halloween magazine/book just released in stores. There is some absolutely beautiful photography (by Quentin Bacon) in Entertaining Simple, as well as some great tips for entertaining at home. Matthew's "back to basics" approach, which uses white china and clear glass is accessible to anyone. Check out his website at matthewmeadstyle.com or preview the book at entertainingsimple.com. So far, this has been a great project to work on, and I guarantee I will be using some of Matthew's ideas at home!! Get inspired!

Kitchen Inspiration

2008-09-06T10:19:00.008-04:00

Countdown

2008-09-04T17:16:00.006-04:00

...10, 9, 8, 7, 6

Sorry, Erika. I couldn't resist. I can't believe ____ ____ Terry will be here any day. I feel like I just posted that you were having a boy. I'll be home soon! I'm waiting for the call!!

Rambling: Team Red

2008-08-26T18:15:00.030-04:00

...takes gold and exchanges silver

What have I been doing? There is no excuse. None. Sigh. Okay, there is a teeny excuse. There has been some unpacking. And some organizing. And some cleaning. For days....

I promise. I'll never leave you again. Is it seriously September? Lord. I'm not only nesting, I'm about to start saying things like, "Wow, how time flies." So, that's the big news. David moved in on August 15, while I was (incidentally) at my best friend's wedding in Denver, CO.

Woo. The big move-in. Sounds serious. Right before I left for Denver (two days before David was supposed to move in), the floor in my room mysteriously began to buckle. My landlord told us it was no big deal. He said, "It's most likely from your air conditioning unit."

I'm sure.

So, not only did David move his stuff in, as soon as I got back from Denver, we had to move everything out of the bedroom.

Thus, with everything out of the room...why not paint? Light blue. Check.

Denver recap. I got to Denver around 1 a.m., made it to Ruthie and Pete's around 2 a.m.

Ruthie: Redhead. Love of Peter's life. We have been friends since we were about ten or so. Drives a red Volkswagen Euro Van. Teacher.

Pete: Redhead. Love of Ruthie's life. Father to Sage, a black Lab. Drives a black Volkswagen SUV. Mortgage Broker.

Me: Bridesmaid in their August 16 nuptials.

Needless to say (I have never understood that expression), I was a little bleary-eyed for most of Thursday morning. There is something about the morning and friends and family combined. We drank coffee, made omelets, and ate outside on the patio Pete and Ruthie constructed themselves. Nothing says commitment like a home improvement project. The picture below is of tomatoes from Ruth's garden. Charming, aren't they? Ruthie hypothesized they were lacking calcium. They didn't make the cut for inclusion in the breakfast omelets.

Ruthie called me about a week before the wedding and asked if she could wear fuchsia shoes to her wedding. I told her it was her wedding, and she could do whatever she wanted. Aren't they just perfect? When in doubt, be unconventional.

And then. The rain. I believe it is sunny something like 361 days out of the year in Denver. The Beugg wedding somehow caught three of the rainy days. Everything was supposed to be outside, so the rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner, and the wedding were moved to Plan B. What can you say? Ruth was a trooper.

This is Ruthie and Pete's neighbor holding her baby, Josephine. Edible. I swear. She stayed in the sling the whole reception, looking like a little peach.

Aren't these so Anthropology? I was a HUGE fan of these assorted mini cupcakes. As in, I had six. Well? How can a girl choose? Red velvet, chocolate, vanilla....

I realized Sunday morning at brunch that I had missed my flight, which apparently was scheduled for Sunday morning at 12:35 a.m. -- not Monday morning at 12:35 a.m. Ah, flying. I always feel like I am rolling the dice. When it was all said and done, Anne Marie and I sat at the Denver airport for about six hours Sunday night. We thought we would be able to skip our red-eye flights and jump on an earlier flight, but no such luck. Instead we sat at an airport bar (remember Carrie's wedding? $8 airport beers never let you down) listening to our bartender tell us completely inappropriate jokes. I'm not sure what it was about us that led him to believe we were girls who would appreciate dirty jokes. Surely, it was not the Bloody Mary and large latte I was drinking simultaneously.

What is it about airports that makes eating at Chili's such a treat? No clue, but that was all we wanted. Fajitas...someone, anyone. Instead, Ams and I ended up eating at some bbq place.

I can't believe Ruthie is married just like I can't believe it's already September. It feels like just yesterday we were gorging ourselves on her mother's homemade bread and she was sneaking me Pop Tarts to eat on the school bus.

How time flies. Love certainly makes it feel more like floating.

How time floats. There-now that sounds better. I'm not sure that even makes sense, but it sounds delicious.

Now, imagine me after a red-eye shuffling through Grand Central Terminal at 7:00 a.m. Rush hour in NYC. Now that's something to chew on.

It's Gonna be a Piece of Cake

2008-08-08T10:59:00.008-04:00

...and various other 80's movies

Melissa Lamkin, stylist, and fellow lover of things that are just hilarious--sent me this link this morning. Not only are the cakes absolutely hysterical (my personal favorite is the mysterious pile of fruit/wedding cake), the commentary is perfect.

I admit, I have had my own cake disaster (mom, chime in at any point)...and it is still a pivotal moment in my baking career. Okay, so I don't have a baking career, but if I did, I could tell this story in interviews and just laaaaaugh.

I may or may not have attempted (with my mother) to make my sister's wedding cake. To this day, I have absolutely no idea why she agreed to let us even attempt such a job. We ended up calling a 24-hour Wal-Mart and picking the cake up the day of the wedding. I know, you are intrigued.

That's all I am going to say about that for right now.

Rambling: Siren Music Festival, why you gotta be so free?

2008-07-22T11:25:00.032-04:00

...One Siren too Many

Coney Island (is actually a peninsula). Home of Nathan's Famous 4th of July Hot Dog Eating Contest, amusement parks (many of the rides are privately owned), the Brooklyn Cyclones (the minor league baseball team), and an immensely packed shoreline.

Coney Island is located in the southernmost part of Brooklyn; it is hard to imagine that it lives just over the water from Manhattan. Images of old movies with carnival scenes filled my head when I stepped off the train. Men yelling "step right up!" and women with tight ratty tank tops and countless tattoos were running carnival games. Have you ever noticed how small the hoop is for the basketball game one? I saw this poor guy miss and miss... Anyway, the Coney Island Circus Sideshow is still one of the most well-known acts around, and includes shocking! amazing! curious! performances by Insectovora, Donny Vomit, Serpentina, Heather Holliday, and Scott Baker,the Twisted Shockmeister. A blend of tinkling carnival music (you know what I'm talking about) and the sound of Broken Social Scene are still clashing in my head. The whole atmosphere reminded me of scenes from the book Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen (Algonquin Books 2006), or the movie Wild Hearts Can't be Broken, or even that scene in Big when he goes back to the carnival grounds to try and find the electronic fortune teller. There is just so much history.....

Last Saturday, Village Voice hosted the eighth annual free Siren Music Festival in Coney Island with the vicious heat in tow. Bands who appeared included STEPHEN MALKMUS AND THE JICKS, BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE, ISLANDS, RA RA RIOT, THE HELIO SEQUENCE, BEACH HOUSE, TIMES NEW VIKING, JAGUAR LOVE, THE DODOS, ANNUALS, FILM SCHOOL, PARTS & LABOR, DRAGONS OF ZYNTH, and THESE ARE POWERS. If you check out the pics on Gothamist, you will see that this day was about more than the music. Fashion statements were made, and there were no rules to be broken. You name it, people wore it. Style staple of the day? Fedoras. Everywhere. As you can tell from the pic, I am a big fan. I can't take credit though, I borrowed this hat from David.

The train ride from Hoboken wasn't that bad, but my God. It was hot. I wore my bathing suit, and this turned out to be the best decision I've made in, i dunno, years. Above-- Steph and I drinking beers from Nathan's. This was our first stop before we got to the stages (there were two). In case you need refreshing, during the 2008 hot dog eating contest, the six-time champion Takeru Kobayashi was defeated by Joey Chestnut(I wonder if MTV will make a special on him next). They tied at 59 hot dogs in the new 10-minute time limit (it was changed this year from 12 minutes (quickly imagine what that would look like in your stomach), but Chestnut won after they had a five hot dog eat-off. I mean. Talk about rally on three.

After awhile Lance, Michelle, and David and I walked down to the beach. FYI. Port-a-potties are my least favorite thing to encounter in the heat. The beach offered a little relief. After we people-watched on the beach for awhile, David and I walked back to Nathan's, where we waited in the "Seafood" line for our fried frog legs, chili cheese fries, and beers. Yes, all food appropriate for hot weather. And, I must of thought I was going to die very soon, because as you can tell, I ate like it was my last meal. What can I say? Amusement parks do that to you. Oh, and I may, or may not have eaten a few bites of funnel cake too. So, once we got our "Seafood" (frogs are not seafood though...) Somehow we found a table, and I sat with the food while David waited in line for hot dogs.

He came back 31 minutes later. Apparently, the line was a tad long....

At the risk of sounding unoriginal, yes, the frog legs tasted like chicken. The one thing that was a little creepy was the tendon (?). I'm not sure exactly what it was, but it reminded me of eating a boiled shrimp --except I believe this is the intestinal tract of a shrimp, and this was a little more gummy and stringy. Tartar sauce covered the texture up nicely.

As I mentioned in the blog about my birthday weekend (refer to Clash of the Carbohydrates), hot dogs are indeed, amazing. So, if you want something a little more authentic (whatever that means) -- make the trek to Coney Island. Siren Music Festival turned out to be one of the best days I have spent in NY yet.

Rambling:Italian Ices

2008-07-17T18:23:00.014-04:00

...to Queens and Beyond

I will give you the short version. David is spending six weeks in Queens this summer at St. Johns. He just finished his two-year commitment with Teach for America, but he is still working for them this summer as a CMA. Basically, he is teaching the new teachers how to teach.

So, last weekend I got to pretend like I was a freshman in college again. You know--stay in a dorm, get an student i.d., order pizza, sleep in a twin bed... I met David in Astoria around 7 on Friday and he came to pick me up in his new car, which he had just purchased hours prior to our meeting. Of course, it wasn't that simple. I told him I was in a "park," which, apparently my idea of a park has decreased substantially since I moved to NJ/NY, because I was really on a concrete slab. David, in fact, thought I was in the real park (these often include, I don't know...grass?), which was just across the street. This caused much confusion for both of us. His new car is very nice, but I couldn't help but burst out laughing when I saw the tinted windows. So tinted, they are illegal. haha. He was in no mood for my antics. We met several of his co-workers at the beer garden and ate bratwurst and drank delicious beer at picnic tables--this place is fantastic. Think Hofbrahaus in Munich.

We ran errands all day in Brooklyn, and ended the day at The Lemon Ice King of Corona. Talk about the food of summer. We both ordered two smalls a piece. David ordered coconut and raspberry, and I ordered pina colada and mint chocolate chip. This Italian ice was smooth and flavorful. It didn't get watery, it wasn't too sugary, and it had depth. mmm. Good way to end a Saturday in the summer. You can find these pictures on http://www.lightningfield.com/, the owner of the website takes pictures in and around New York.

Rambling: Simmer in Summer

2008-07-14T17:52:00.029-04:00

...Glaze Yourself in Sunshine

It's summer. My first summer as a 9-5er. Do I celebrate my employment? Sure. Do I love the fact that I live and work on the same block? Maybe. Am I a nostalgic mess for those summers of the past? Summers full of messy ice cream cones, drippy popsicles, and my God, Airheads at the pool? (the chewy long things, not the people)....1,ooo times, yes. Geez. I remember when I was little, my mother used to grab my ice cream cone and lick around the edges to "clean it up," since it would undoubtedly be dripping down my hands. I am lukewarm about adulthood.

Don't worry though. Adulthood has its perks. Take champagne on the beach. Now, that is something I couldn't do as a child. Take...oh. Well, that's it. Okay, moving on from that then. Really though, the beach is my place. Summer means the beach--no matter what age you are. For sure. I have countless memories of visiting my grandparents in Florida and going to Jacksonville Beach. I have just as many of my family and I going to the beach in North Carolina. Summer after summer. In NJ, the beach is not the beach. It is in fact, the shore, and it is the closest I have ever lived to any beach. This is a perk. I visited the Jersey Shore for the first time a few weeks ago, and it was fantastic. Steph, Kara, Carrie, and I piled into the car and in an hour, we were at Sea Girt. We drank champagne on the beach (which was not allowed. oops), and we momentarily forgot we were not on summer vacation.

I had been listening to Steph rave about the mini burgers and cheap seafood for weeks before I finally understood. As soon as the sky began to get cloudy, we packed up and headed to Parker House. It was already beginning to get busy when we arrived around 4 p.m., but we found a nice little spot downstairs. We ordered mini burgers and steak burgers for $1.75 a piece. The clams were .25 cents a piece. Observe the deliciousness... And then comes the best holiday of the year. Who doesn't love the 4th of July? It is the only holiday where all you are supposed to do is eat and hangout. Okay, so maybe this is all that is required of you on Thanksgiving, but seriously. Yay, Independence Day. The Edwardses' house (there has been much debate over how to make their last name plural...i.e. Carrie and Keaton), is about five blocks from mine in Hoboken, and we were all gathering there for eats and such. There was quite a spread, but this isn't everything...

Beware of watermelon. May contain vodka.

I have come to the conclusion that I am not a fan of fondant. It tastes fake-ish. Like gum. Like the when toothpaste hardens at the top of the tube. I know. I'm harsh. I think it's easier to manipulate than buttercream, and I suppose it won't melt in the heat. Apparently, I am taking a passionate stance on fondant. Who knew. I brought this cake home from Carlo's Bakery in Hoboken. I spent the previous morning in the bakery kitchen with Buddy Valastro, the master baker (there really should be another way to say that) -- this my friends, is a whole other story. However, notice the fondant stars. Yes, I cut those out myself. woo. I'm amazing. How patriotic.

Keaton went to a lot of trouble to get their backyard in shape. I believe there was even some "pruning" of trees. Or was it bushes? Their apartment is the one on the second level with the Christmas lights.

We watched the fireworks from Stevens Institute, which is on the Hudson in Hoboken. This is a blurry, but cool picture of Lower Manhattan - or it's the only one that turned out at all. The fireworks (according to the July 4th edition of The Times, all 75,000 lbs of them) were actually on Kent Avenue in Brooklyn, so this is what we could see from where they were on the East River. When we were walking home we could see them from Midtown as well.

In a Pickle

2008-06-30T21:23:00.008-04:00

...When in Doubt, Run Straight for Home

There is one food I can always count when I go home to Charlotte, North Carolina. Fried food.Delicious, oozy, greasy, drippy, fried food. I can’t be ashamed, and I just know that when it comes to fried food, I can’t count calories. Don't get me wrong. It's not like I go home and bathe in fried food, and it's not like you can't get fried food anywhere else, but some things are just better at home. Last weekend, I left my skinny latte in New York, and headed for some down home southern cooking—in the form of fried pickles.

There were three things on my agenda for my mere 24-hour visit to Charlotte, attending John and Brendan's surprise 30^th birthday party, seeing my family— and eating fried pickles at The Penguin, a Charlotte landmark that stays open late and serves southern food staples.

The North Carolina heat was sweltering, but the skies were a crisp, clear blue when my plane landed at 10:20am. My father was already waiting in the car outside the gate. It was just past breakfast, but he knew right where we were going for lunch.

“Late night last night?” He asked. He could tell I was out of sorts from a late night and an early flight. “Fried pickles will cure you in no time.”

We drove up to the tiny box of a building that housed The Penguin and surveyed the parking lot. Normally, there is a line around the corner. It was 10:30 in the morning though, so this assured us we would beat the crowds. There was still a 30-minute wait. “Name?” the hostess asked. “Joe,” my father said, whose name is really Nils, about as foreign sounding and un-southern a name as one can get. “Joe” just made things easier for everyone.

Men with red faces and frothy breakfast beer mugs perched themselves on stools lining the bar. Waitresses donned the obligatory dive bar tattoos. Johnny Cash blared from a jukebox. “Joe!” Our table was ready. We walked not even two feet to our table, and the waiter set down cups full of water.

“Fried pickles.” My father said, before our server could even ask what we wanted to eat. Of course, we were just getting started with the pickles.

Contrary to popular belief, there is such a thing as “too fried.” According to Jim Villas’ cookbook The Glory of Southern Cooking, fried pickles originated in 1969 at The Hollywood Café in Tunica, Mississippi. In terms of the actual conception of the recipe, Villa’s quotes the owner, “Big Man” Bobby Windham who said, ‘One day we’d ‘bout run out of food and we were hungry, so somebody just cut up some dill pickles, and battered ‘em, and fried ‘em up,

They are, just like Bobby Windham says, dill pickles thinly sliced and lightly fried. There needs to be just enough batter and grease to leave a buttery, crisp flavor in your mouth when you bite into them. Too much batter and it slides off before you can even taste the okra/pickle/onion/chicken/Oreo/Snickers you are biting into. Couple the perfect amount of fried with the sweet and sour flavor of a pickle, and gourmet cuisine suddenly becomes casual. This is a dish to be reckoned with.

Most restaurants serve it as an appetizer, and some even serve the whole pickle fried, rather than just the slices. As a meal, they are delicious with a cold beer.

Back at The Penguin, the fried pickles arrived, along with their faithful companion ranch dressing. In most restaurants in the south that serve this dish— it’s ranch dressing with a secret ingredient. The texture is a little thinner than typical ranch dressing, and the flavor is a tad bit sweeter. The crispy round bites were piled high in their red, plastic basket lined with a red-and-white-checkered piece of wax paper. We dipped, and we dipped, and we dipped. A thin layer of grease was left in the bottom of the basket as my pimento cheeseburger arrived.

“Did that cure you?” my dad asked. He had no idea. “Yes, dad.” I was home, and I was satisfied. New York City may be the most amazing city in the world, but only in the south can you find true fried (and not too fried) pickles.

Recipe: Fried Dill Pickles

2008-06-30T21:04:00.000-04:00

1 cup buttermilk

1 large egg

I cup all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

Vegetable oil for deep frying

4 large, crisp dill pickles cut widthwise into 3/4-inch chips

In a bowl, whisk together the buttermilk and egg until well blended. In another bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt, add to the buttermilk mixture, and stir until well blended and smooth.

In a medium cast-iron skillet, heat about two inches of oil to 375 degrees. Dip the pickle chips in the batter, fry a few at a time in the oil until golden brown, about 3 minutes, drain on paper towels and serve hot.

(The Glory of Southern Cooking; Jim Villas; Wiley 2007)

I Scream

2008-06-20T15:24:00.021-04:00

...Make Sure You Have Some Flavor

I went to Boston this past Monday for a book launch party for Recipe of the Week: Ice Cream (Wiley 2008), by Sally Sampson. This is the third book of Sally's I have worked on, so finally meeting her in person was fantastic. You can check out a picture of her on her editor's blog (blogs, blogs, everywhere).The party was at Toscanini's in Cambridge,and I stayed at Irving House ,which was close by. I flew in Monday afternoon and the party was at 5, but I still had enough time to check out Formaggio Kitchen. When I finally found it, I walked in and was overwhelmed by cheese. I was humbled by cheese. The girl behind the counter asked me, "What kind of cheese do you like?" And, me being humbled by cheese (at the selection), couldn't just say, blue, brie, gorgonzola, swiss, cheddar...the first types to pop into my head, I said..."All cheeses!" She looked at me like I was ridiculous. "Do you like mild, sweet, sharp, nutty...?" ug. I said," Just cut me some hunks. And can I have some of that Chorizo to go with it?" Geez. I can't believe I let myself be intimidated by cheese. She ended up giving me a couple of hunks to taste--which I couldn't help but eat on my walk home. Success. Now I need to try the one in the city, Formaggio Essex, which I hear is quite small, but this time I will be a little more...confident. After the party Sally, Gus Rancatore (owner of Toscanini's), and Sally's son and I had dinner at East Coast Grill. I had a great shrimp and scallop dish that had a bit of an Asian twist.

Tuesday morning Sally and I had breakfast at a little place in Harvard Square called Crema Cafe. My latte was the beautiful kind--one sip and I felt European. My English muffin had to be homemade, and my egg was scrambled to perfection. Eggs are easy to make, but even easier to screw up. SO. Boston was a success. Cambridge was in a word, lovely. Sally was sassy and has easily become one of my favorite people to work with.

I am taking a food writing class with Media Bistro, and one of our assignments was to write about cooking with a piece of equipment. I was inspired to write about ice cream, since I had been flipping through Sally's book for a few weeks. Here it is below. Get excited.

I can only survive the crackling heat of summer with one thing--ice cream.

Last week I found myself at “my” bodega, whole wheat pita bread in one hand, hummus in the other. I hesitated in front of the standing freezer and stared down at that little circular cardboard container. It stared back at me—Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk, the most seductive and smooth ice cream in the world, and I couldn't resist. After I got home and dug into the chocolate. It is always a stressful process, because I have to get either a white or chocolate chunk with every bite. Some of you might be able to relate to this with say, Lucky Charms, when you need a marshmallow with every bite. Then I realized, I have been limiting myself. There are more flavors out there. There is a more cost effective, fresh, and flavorful way to make ice cream in my very own home. Ben and Jerry be afraid. I decided to buy an ice cream maker. Homemade ice cream, here I come.

Honestly, this wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. My friends and I get together to make dinner about once a week, and I have often thought about how great it would be to have an ice cream maker. There was an “incident” on Italian Night when I had planned on pouring a homemade ganache over coffee ice cream. My roommate was responsible for getting the ice cream. When she got home she claimed, “I went everywhere. No one had coffee.” Now, I would never have to overcome such devastation again. “No coffee” never again. Now, which ice cream maker would be the best choice? I have a Kitchen Aid, and I debated whether or not to buy the attachment. It is still about $70 on Amazon and the Kitchen Aid website. So, after perusing the aisles at Linens and Things, I had two Cuisinart models to choose from. There was the cheaper, $49.99 version, and the expensive (high-tech looking) $99.99 version. Tight times call for cheap measures, so I chose the $49.99 one. Plus, it looked simpler to use, and I admit cooking equipment intimidates me.

Saturday night, my friend Stephanie and I had a huge dinner planned. Homemade guacamole, mojitos (which can also ease the insufferable heat of summer), fajitas, and for the grand finale mint chocolate chip ice cream made in my white, new, and shiny ice cream maker.

What a let down. As soon as I opened the box and read the directions the first thing I read was: Freeze bowl for 6 to 22 hours. 6 to 22 hours? That must be a typo, I thought. I mashed up avocados, checked the freezer bowl. Chopped peppers, checked the freezer bowl. The bowl seemed cold to me. I read the directions again: If you can still hear the liquid when you shake the bowl, put it back in the freezer. The liquid inside the bowl sloshed around as I shook it. Drat. I would have to wait to get my ice cream fix. The next morning, I awoke with a start. It’s frozen! I was like a kid on Christmas. It’s frozen! I walked back to Stephanie’s air-conditioned apartment where I had left the bowl the night before. “It’s frozen!” I acclaimed, as she opened her door. She was half-awake, but ready to lend her moral support. I cracked open Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything: Simple Recipes for Great Food (Wiley 1998), my go-to book, and found the recipe I had chosen to modify a bit. I had decided to take his recipe for Basic French Vanilla Ice Cream and add mint and food coloring. Voila. Mint Chocolate Chip. As a first time maker of ice cream, I didn’t quite realize how much waiting this would all require. I had stirred, then heated, then stirred. Now, I had to let the mixture of half-and- half, sugar, and eggs, cool to 40 degrees in the fridge. I felt impatient to say the least. So, Steph and I watched television, and I kept glancing back at my white, new, and shiny ice cream maker, as if I expected it to get up and walk out the door.

I must have gotten up a dozen times to check the mixture, which Bittman suggested I set in a bowl of ice to hasten the process. The thermometer read 43 degrees. Good enough.I took the freezer bowl out of the freezer, and locked it into place. Then I poured the neon green (yes, they now make food coloring in neon colors) liquid in freezer bowl and snapped the plastic lid over top. I pressed ON and the machine began whirring and churning. In only about ten minutes, the ice cream began to thicken, and I could see it clumping to the sides of the handle in the freezer bowl. Twenty minutes later, I added the chunks of the semi-sweet Ghirardelli bar I had chopped up. I think the pieces might have been a little too big, because the freezer bowl jumped a few times, but the ice cream was also getting gooey and thicker at this point. I spooned the sweet, creamy green mass off the sides of the handle…and took a bite. It melted onto all sides of my tongue, and the minty vanilla flavor immediately made me smile. Good bye Ben and Jerry’s. Hello homemade.

The Bride Wore White

2008-06-11T09:32:00.002-04:00

...And Various Other Adventures in High Tops

$8 beers at the airport are always a must. Just one beer, maybe two--can cure the airport jitters. Notice how I say "airport" and not "airplane." Once I step onto the plane, I'm fine. It's the checking-in, taking off my shoes, pulling my laptop out of my bag, and then waiting. Just waiting to get to my destination. Don't listen to all the rumors you hear about alcohol causing "dehydration." Last Thursday, David and Stephanie and I had our $8 beers and two plates of fries (hey, it was made twice by mistake), as we sat in Newark airport to go to Carrie and Keaton's wedding in Hendersonville, North Carolina. Oh, and David was going to meet my parents for the first time. eek. I wasn't nervous at all. Well, the beer helped.

When my mom stepped out the car at Charlotte Douglas, she was wearing this little teeny navy blue polo dress. We both screamed and waved our arms around hugging. She has lost a little over 20lbs since I had last seen her in January, and she looked a-mazing. We had each bought this dress about six years ago while on vacation--and there she was wearing it for the first time. Apparently, she and my dad had been doing a little remodeling too. The office where my dad had worked for years finally had been completely cleaned out, my room was re-painted, there was new carpet upstairs, new furniture in living room...I think the arrival of my guest had inspired something in them.

My dad was pleased I was home and expressed it the way he always has-- with food. There is no better cook (sorry, mom) than my father. He has this uncanny ability to turn the simplest food into gourmet fare. He had whipped up a frittata with crab, roasted red peppers (from a jar), spaghetti noodles, Vidalia onions, and spinach. It was perfect at room temperature with a glass of Riesling. Ah, home.

The next morning, Steph, Justin, and David and I drove to Hendersonville under a perfect Carolina blue sky. Breakfast wasn't quite "gourmet," but Chic-Fil-A is something I constantly crave. Mmm...fried chicken on a buttery biscuit and a side of greasy hash browns.

Below is the Inn where most of the wedding party stayed.

Carrie and Keaton thought of every last detail. There was a care package with food, water, and a map of Hendersonville.

Okay, so maybe this tie matched my blue bridesmaid dress.

The bridesmaid brunch was at 1:00 p.m. on Friday in the dining area of the Inn on Church. All the bridesmaids had a blue robe monogrammed with their name sitting on their chair.

Mmm. I love brunch. I had the seafood quiche and a glass of white wine. I might have been drinking a Mimosa as well. Possibly.

...and then a raspberry sorbet, which was incredibly fresh, light, and tangy. Sassy.

The wedding was at the Cliffs at Glassy in Landrum, South Carolina, and the view was breathtaking. This is the church the night of the rehearsal.

David, standing behind the church looking pensive. Well, from what I can tell from behind at least:)

The head table....how fancy. Wedding food is an interesting thing. Sit down dinner? Buffet? Heavy hors de' oeuvres? Carrie and Keaton chose to have a memorable spread of mini crab cakes, boiled shrimp, Oysters Rockefeller, beef tenderloin, grilled vegetables, salmon, stuffed mushrooms, and lamb, and more. There was a separate table with the bride and groom's favorite desserts. Keaton's was an enormous pan of yellow, creamy goodness--Banana Pudding. Where would Nilla Wafers be without Banana Pudding? Carrie's dessert was s'mores. The chocolate fountain is always such a nice touch at a wedding, but this was the most creative way I have ever seen it used. The marshmallows were on skewers and dusted with cocoa powder, which was not only an great way to dip them, but gave this traditional camping fare a little twist. Mashed between two graham crackers, the chocolate slathered marshmallow was the perfect compliment to my cosmo.

Stephanie is a designer for Converse (Yay, the men's line at Target--tell your friends!), and Carrie thought down to the last detail and hung a white pair (high tops, of course) of Converse (our dancin' shoes) on the back of every bridesmaid's chair, and a black pair on the back of every grooms men's chair.

And the cake. the cake the cake the cake. It was a chocolate and vanilla layer cake with a cream frosting. You cannot be mad about wedding cake.

Weddings bring everyone together. Whether it's a traditional wedding or a non-traditional wedding, they still provide a great excuse to get back on the dance floor, raise a glass, and make new friends at the same time. Oh. And something ridiculous always happens. I can usually count on it. The night of the rehearsal dinner happened to coincide with the opening of the Sex and the City movie, so of course, all the girls went. There we were traipsing through the theater in our dresses, warm with wine, nostalgic from the (it's a must) slide show, and ready to be there for our Carrie on her wedding day--and that's what it's about. Remembering that no matter where you go, or who you love, or what your job is, or how much money you make...your friends seem to always keep things in perspective. Cheers to Carrie and Keaton -- you are an amazing couple and fantastic friends. And as Carrie (Bradshaw) says to Miranda...."It's not logic...it's love."

Guest Comment: Appetite for Disruption

2008-06-02T08:16:00.015-04:00

…Sensory Overlord

I get this sensation. I get it when I’m standing in line at any deli, bodega, or bagelry and order jalapenos on my sandwich; it’s as if my tongue knows that pickled bite of vinegar and heat from the last time I had a pepper in my final sandwich shard.

I also get it when I’m shaking a carton or container of grapefruit juice and my jaw knows that acidic jolt – the one that leaves me all too aware of every cut and crevice on my lips, cheeks, and tongue.

And I get it most evocatively, I get it when I’m washing a container of raspberries.

My brain and body are conditioned to respond to a pepper or citrus or berry with subconscious aversion from my previous exposure to them, and because I’ve sampled (and really enjoyed) these flavors before, I remember the strangely satisfying stimuli even before they touch my tongue.

Some might say that muscle memory is best described through a motion, or series of motions, that your body remembers how to complete even after years of idleness -- we usually say that when someone is returning to original form that they are shaking the rust off. My mouth is frustratingly similar.

Muscle memory, and what I’m going to call Flavor Recall, interrupts my life. As often as anyone, I feign control of my daily existence primarily because I obsess over control – at least as much as anyone (sometimes more). But without fail my subconscious, my Flavor Recall, can be counted on to interrupt my delicately balanced control. The burnt coffee at Miguelito’s will irrevocably throw me back to the drive from college to home my sophomore year when I desperately needed to stay awake. The next instant I’ll have forgotten the three things I was supposed to do after getting coffee, still remembering that really reviling cup. The same is true for the poor rotting spinach leaves in the bottom right drawer of my refrigerator.

But for the disruption that Flavor Recall causes, I enjoy the memory. The feeling those bitter/painful/delicious foods evoke in my mouth mirror those feelings that I stumble upon in a more daily, inane sense. I feel the jolt under my belly button before the PATH turns under the Hudson after Christopher St. I recoil when I walk into a bathroom at any Starbucks because I know the urine smell before I open the door – which is somehow comforting.

This hanging thread of muscle memory is braided into the fabric of my everyday routines, and if I were Jack Handey or Hendrick Hertzberg, I’d insert a personal anecdote that would illuminate relevance and add intrigue to my theory of Flavor Recall. It would happen with precipitous pacing and feel smooth but escalating. I’m not Oriana Fallaci and am happy to not be Bob Woodward, either way I can’t justify ending with a shocking reversal. And as much as I wish I were LeVar Burton or Edward Murrow, I don’t have a sign-off that merits cultural repetition.

But I was talking on the phone with my parents the other day and my mother reminded me of a trip our family took to New Orleans (pre-Katrina for those interested). We were there for nearly a week and the entire trip was planned with meals guiding our itinerary (the best way to travel, for those interested). Every time someone mentions the city I, for better or for worse, get that catfish-dredged, shrimp-and-andouille-smoked, saucy, vegetable heaviness in my throat. My mother alluded to a return to New Orleans this winter, and with even the mention over the phone, my taste buds shook the rust off to anticipate the creole-cajun Mulate (see: mulates.com, for those interested).

Maybe a better phrase would be flavor nostalgia; it would at least have made the memory easier since I happened to be eating a donut when my mouth suddenly remembered catfish. Flavor Recall disrupts my existence.

So next time you’re standing in line and ordering a small cone, push your tongue against your cheeks and bottom teeth to see if you taste Mint Chocolate Chip before you bite. If that sensation comes and you taste hot peppers, maybe step back from the ice cream. Take the extra second to shake the rust off – it could be the difference between putting bourbon on your cereal or tasting grapefruit juice in your coffee.

But you don’t have to take my word for it.

-DJB

Mrs. Culinary, meet Mr. Corporate

2008-05-20T08:12:00.001-04:00

...Earn Your Dough in the Cutting Board Room Floor

It is interesting how the foods we seem to love the most are those that we consume the least -- I suppose this is what makes the holidays so special. Only certain foods are made on Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays...etc. One of the first dishes I learned to make was pie, pecan pie and pumpkin pie, which was only consumed on Thanksgiving and Christmas. God, I love pumpkin pie doused in Cool Whip. Cool Whip and egg nog are the worst things to be lingering around the fridge during the holidays, because I am that girl who will bend over in front of the fridge, lift the lid and stick my finger in the flimsy little plastic bowl and be satisfied by the mild sweetness of the chemical topping deliciousness. That is…until I go back and stick my finger in the bowl again. And again. Geez. Egg nog. Same deal. I just take one sip from the container. Mmm. Maybe pour a teeny bit in a glass. Maybe a little more. That’s the holidays for you. Special holiday food, why you gotta be so special?

Every year, for as long as I can remember, my family and I have gone to Florida to visit family. One particular year, my mother and my Aunt Paula got a little too quiet in the kitchen; moments later, they exploded through the dining room door literally covered head to toe in the Cool Whip that was meant to top the pies. I don't think my aunt's silk shirt ever recovered. My grandmother was seething at the sight of them. Imagine that--a Cool Whip fight on Thanksgiving Day. Who needs appetizers when your family can be so entertaining?

This was the first year I have ever spent Thanksgiving away from my family, but staying in New York just made more sense financially since I would be in North Carolina a few weeks later for Christmas. So, I spent Thanksgiving in Brooklyn with friends, and I was assigned to bringing desserts. Or, I should say, I assigned myself to bring desserts, which were none other than?? Pecan and pumpkin pie. My first apartment in Hoboken was on the garden level, and old old old. The oven didn't look old, but it was finicky and never quite baked things all the way through. I should have remembered this from the peach cobbler soup it produced, but I didn't. On the outside, the pies looked amazing, like little heavenly bites of fall in your mouth. David came from work to help me bring them to Brooklyn the night before Thanksgiving. Subways and pies don't really mix, and I'm not one of those people who can stand on the train while it's moving and not hold on. The pies made it to Brooklyn, and we ate so much on Thanksgiving that we didn't even eat them that day. It was the next day when I discovered that neither pie had cooked all the way through. I know what you're thinking, but I inserted the knife in the middle. I swear. They weren't a complete disaster, but they could have been better.

As it turns out, a chance to redeem myself presented itself. A pie contest a work. Woo. Since I seemed to be limiting myself to pecan and pumpkin pie, I figured I would use this opportunity to branch out some. Now...I work with people that are not always so....social. So, the fact that we had an organized pie contest was fabulous. People tell you about nine to five jobs. They do. They "warn" you even. Cubicles. Flourescent lights. TPS reports. It's true. It's all true. Enter bonus here. I work on cookbooks...so, this is huge. Otherwise. I am not a nine to fiver.

Out of the 18? 19? entries, I was the only person who had eaten a sliver of my own pie. How else would I know I if it was good? Here are some of the pies. Yay.

Don't say this tart (which is not a pie) looks like ham. It's pears. They are fancily fanned.

The winner is....the Sweet Carolina Pecan Pie. See? Regardless of how much you branch out, the old classic seems to always win in the end.

Recipe: Lemon-Buttermilk Chess Pie

2008-05-16T08:00:00.004-04:00

In The Glory of Southern Cooking, James Villas tells the story of how this Southern pie got its name..." This classic Southern Pie supposedly got its name from a waitress who, when asked by a customer about the rich pie, responded, "Oh honey, it's jes' pie."

However it got its name, this pie was dubbed "light and spring-y" at the pie contest. It didn't win, but it was 'jes for fun.

Makes 6-8 servings

4 large eggs, beaten
4 tablespoons (1/2 stick)
butter, melted
1/4 regular buttermilk
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups firmly packed light brown sugar
2 teaspoons yellow cornmeal
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons grated lemon zest

One unbaked 9-inch Basic Pie Shell
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.In a large mixing bowl, combine the aggs, butter, buttermilk, lemon juice,vanilla, brown sugar, cornmeal, and salt and beat with an electric mixer till well blended and smooth. Add the lemon zest and stir till well blended. Scrape the mixture into the pie shell and bake till a straw inserted in the center comes out clean, about 30 minutes. Cool the pie completely on a rack. (The Glory of Southern Cooking, by James Villas, John Wiley & Sons 2007)

Recipe: Blackberry Pie

2008-05-16T07:59:00.013-04:00

The Blackberry Pie was my trial run for the pie contest. This was my first attempt at making a homemade pie crust, and the kitchen stayed a mess for a good week after I made this pie. I even found flour on the cat. Overall, the blackberries gave this pie an immense amount of favor, and the lemon zest gave it depth. When I came home from work the day after I made it, I found a wooden spoon dug into it- the roommates approved-and there it sat on the kitchen counter for the week, the three of us digging into it each time we walked into the kitchen. It turned out a bit runny, but I blame it on the blackberries. A little vanilla ice cream fixes everything.

MAKES ONE 9-INCH DOUBLE-CRUST PIE

Dark and lustrous, this Blackberry Pie has undertones of orange. Blackberries can vary in sweetness a good deal, so sample your filling to make sure you have enough sugar—you may need more. You may also use less if the berries are very sweet.

Pastry for a 9-inch double crust pie

4 cups blackberries

¾ cup sugar, plus extra for sprinkling on the top crust

2 tablespoons quick-cooking tapioca flakes

1 tablespoon orange zest

Pinch salt

3 tablespoons unsalted butter, cubed

Roll out the pastry and line a 9 inch pie tin with the bottom crust. Roll out the remaining dough for the top crust. Rechill the pastry if necessary.

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees

In a large bowl, gently toss the blackberries with the sugar, tapioca, zest, and salt. Scrape the filling into the bottom crust, dot the filling with the butter, and cover it with the second crust. Trim and crimp the crust; chill the pie for 10 minutes in the freezer. Cut vent slits in the top crust and sprinkle it lightly with sugar.

Bake the pie on a lipped baking sheet for 10 minutes, or until the crust looks dry, blistered, and blonde. Turn the oven down to 375 degrees, and bake for at least 30 minutes more, or until the crust is golden brown and visible juices are thickened and bubble slowly through slits in the top crust.

Cool the pie completely before cutting, at least a few hours. Serve it at room temperature. Store the pie uncovered at room temperature, up to three days.

Credit: Bubby's Homemade Pies (Wiley 2008)

Recipe: Weekend Wrap

2008-04-28T15:37:00.029-04:00

It's breakfast, not brain surgery. Drink your coffee during preparation. This particular weekend I opted for coffee and a Bloody Mary. It certainly went well with our perfect weekend in the country. Food, food, and more food. I love starting Saturdays and Sundays with a huge breakfast. It's allowed. So, when it's not a bagel, eggs are the first thing I turn to. The Weekend Wrap is officially the first recipe I have ever attempted to write, so we'll see. Someone should be my recipe tester after the fact:)

Serving Size 3-4...or 2 depending on how hungry you are.

2 apple chicken sausages (6 oz.)

5 eggs

1 tablespoon rosemary (fresh or not)

1/2 of an avocado

1/2 cup cheese (your choice, but I prefer something like parmesan or white cheddar)

1 medium sized tomato

1/2 cup black beans

1 teaspoon of chili powder

1/4 sour cream

1/3 cup of salsa (store bought, unless you are feeling ambitious)

Some kind of wrap (honey wheat, whole wheat)--again, how many will depend on how hungry you are.

Cut both sausages down the midde lengthwise, then cut in 1/4 in pieces. Toss the sausages in a skillet and heat on low to medium. Wisk the eggs in a bowl (with a fork), and toss in the rosemary. At this time, dice the tomato. Slice the avocado into bite-size pieces. Put beans in a bowl and add chile powder, then warm in the microwave for about two minutes.

Pour just the eggs over the browned sausage pieces. It should only take the sausages about ten minutes to brown, since they are pre-cooked. Scramble the eggs with the sausage--if you don't know what scramble means, I can't be bothered to explain right now. Maybe later. Once the eggs are mostly cooked, thrown in the cheese--mix and melt--then toss in the tomatoes. While this heating up (about two minutes), warm the wraps in the microwave for 30 seconds. Place between paper towels to keep them moist.

Before removing the egg, sausage, cheese, and tomato mixture from the pan, grind some pepper over it if you feel so inclined. Divide the mixture evenly onto each warm wrap. Top each evenly with sour cream, salsa, and avocado pieces. Then eat! Use a fork, or brave it with your hands.

Rambling: I Need a Break...Fast

2008-04-20T21:54:00.046-04:00

...Sharp Turn Ahead, Do Nothing

Okay. I admit it. I am reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert (Penguin 2006), and I absolutely love it. It fits well with my general nature to question my decisions about what next what next what next what will I do next to make sure things are moving forward and doing so steadily. One of my greatest fears is to suddenly become stagnant. Idle. To quit learning, quit questioning, quit desiring. So, maybe every other woman in the nation is reading it (or probably already has, since the buzz about it started awhile ago), but my parents bought it for me for Christmas, and since I just finished Ruth Reichl's second book, Comfort Me with Apples--I found myself in the mood to eat....pray....love more than ever.

When Gilbert is in Italy, she writes about a conversation she has with her friend, Luca Spaghetti, (I know, right) she states, "...Americans have an inability to relax into sheer pleasure...Americans don't really know how to do nothing. Luca Spaghetti tells her Italians are the "...the masters of il bel far niente." Elizabeth then writes, "This is a sweet expression. Il bel far niente means, "the beauty of doing nothing...even against that backdrop of hard work, il bel far niente has always been the cherished Italian ideal, the beauty of doing nothing is the goal of all your work, the final accomplishment for which you are most highly congratulated. The more exquisitely and delightfully you can do nothing, the higher your life's achievement. You don't necessarily need to be rich in order to experience this, either.

When I finished grad school, I told myself that for one year I couldn't over commit myself, couldn't run around like a crazy person filling my time with things I didn't really want to be doing. I needed to let the dust settle. I needed to just experience New York. Ironically, I seem to want to slowly take in the city that never wants to stop.

I have become so good at doing nothing. Not nothing as in not experiencing-- nothing as in, taking pleasure in the things that mean happiness. This point in my life is strange, because I find myself constantly thinking of what actually makes me happy. Not what should make me happy, but what actually does.

Last weekend David and I drove to Upstate New York to stay in my boss' country house, which is in a town (village?) named Ellenville. Our goal for the weekend? To do nothing. To be the masters of il ber far niente.

The general consensus is that my boss is absolutely amazing for letting us use her house, and this cannot be disputed. I have a sneaking suspicion she knew I needed to get out of town, especially after I wasn't able to get on three (count them) Continental flights to Charlotte to see the fam. Yay flight cancellations and bad weather.

This was officially my first time "going away" with anyone (male wise) for an entire weekend, just the two of us. Sounds serious. We rented a car. We even almost got an SUV for only $15 more! Oh, sorry. It was taken. But wait! We still got upgraded to a mid-size for only $5 more a day! I tell you. Those Enterprise people can sell a rental car. We searched for a Wendy's, paid a few tolls. We even bought Combos and Vitamin water. No one could tell us we weren't on a road trip. dammit. Okay, so it was only two hours up there.

The house was fantastic... picturesque... quintessential...and extremely creepy when we first pulled up. You know, it was dark, it was a big looming white house, the young couple pulls up... I'm being dramatic, but you know what a mean. All was cured with a glass of wine and some chips and salsa. mmm. We spent the day on Saturday cooking, drinking Bloody Mary (s), grocery shopping, and just relishing in the fact that we were doing nothing and everything. We even went for a run. I think I groaned for half of it, but that might have been the Bloody Mary talking.

So, at this point, what I do know is doing nothing....cooking, eating, drinking wine, watching movies, taking drives, lingering in the grocery store staring at the cheese selection...these are all things that make me truly happy. What can I say. It was a delicious weekend.

Boysenberry

2008-04-17T11:34:00.014-04:00

... The Size of a 4oz. Cottage Cheese OR a Turnip

It's a BOY!!! Erika (the sister:) is having a baby boy. There has already been talk of onesies with "Brooklyn" written on them, velour track suits, Mets gear, and a moon and star themed room. Oh geez. What are we-the girliest of girls-going to do with a boy?? Awesome. I can't even tell you how excited I am. a boy.

Clash of the Carbohydrates

2008-04-14T20:25:00.033-04:00

...New York Rooftops not Included

Wednesday. I'm at my desk at work drinking a slightly burned french vanilla cup of coffee, and it seems the weekend is finally catching up with me. So far, the only battle wound I have suffered is some sort of mysterious eye infection that appeared on Sunday. Apparently, it's not a good idea to put your hands in your eyes after using such means of transportation as the D train, the PATH, the 7 train, a handful of cabs, or the ramp/a metal seat at Shea stadium--the last one may not be a form of transportation. Still, I wouldn't put it past Shea Stadium for having a little bacteria here and there. So, now it's in my eye. Yess.

My best friend John came to NYC this weekend to celebrate my big 2-6. Other sources say this age officially makes me a grown up. I beg to differ. It was a weekend for the books, for sure. Thursday night we ate at Maria's, because I am obsessed with margaritas, chips, and guacamole.Last meal before I die? Possibly. I took the day off of work on Friday and spent most of the day dragging John around the city, to Hoboken, to the city, and back to Brooklyn. Last time he visited was in September and went to Crif Dogs, so naturally, he had to go back again. These are not your everyday hot dogs. Tucked in the East Village, Crif Dogs has by far some of the most memorable hot dog concoctions out there. This is John (below) eating a Tsunami Dog, which is a bacon wrapped Crif Dog topped with pineapple chunks and scallions. He washed it down with the 80's drink of choice, RC Cola.

Don't they look delicious? The Tsunami Dog is the one on the bottom, and the Crif Dog topped with coleslaw is the one on top. Southern style and such.

My first triumph of the weekend (besides buying a new set of false eyelashes) was finishing two hot dogs. My second was finding a table at Brooklyn Brewery on Friday night. I forgot my camera (drat), but I knew John would love this place. It's only open on Fridays from 6pm-11pm, and it has a touch of the ambiance like that of the Hofbrauhaus in Munich. It fills up early, but David finagled us a table (picnic style), and twenty card games later, we were in need of a cab and had spent an hour trying to tell James it was not humanly possible for him to run 100 miles in 24 hours. He was adamant he could do it--and easily. Bar Bonus? You buy wooden chips and poof wooden beer money. Beats starting a tab, and it's much faster.

Saturday. B-day. Breakfast spread, coffee, two shots of Brazilian Cachaca. Wikipedia (which,FYI,often times gives you made up information) tells me this is "...the product of the distillation of fermented sugarcane juice, with its alcohol strength between 38% and 48% by volume." 1:05 pm-- Mets game at Shea Stadium. $10 tickets, you know it. Usual suspects attended: David, James, Claire, Kara, Carrie, Keaton, Eddie, Steph, and John (who lives in NC, but we will include him anyway). After I had already consumed 1 1/2 Nathan's hot dogs, a birthday hot dog was passed down with this perfect little candle in it. Best birthday cake (hot dog) ever. Better when everyone started singing happy birthday. Love it. This is me not consuming my almost fifth hot dog of the weekend. woof.

The Mets lost, but the sun was shining and the day was young. FYI. Spring fashion staple items include: American Apparel v-necks. We trucked it back to Brooklyn, and spent dinner on the roof. You don't know what a beautiful day is until you experience three months of disgusting weather. Oh joy. It was amazing. We ate sandwiches from Tempo Presto and drank delicious Coronas. The sun was setting. Manhattan winked at us over the water. Yes, the scene is just as you are imagining it. Quick stop in the BEST store for a poor-wannabe- shabby-sometimes-chic-omigod-is-this-a-Betsy-Johnson-for-$15-girl in the nation. And the night had finally begun. Song of the weekend? "Love Song," by Sara Bareilles.Try it on for size during an early morning shower.

We went to Fat Baby for a double birthday party with my old roommate Allison. I wore a red dress. I danced. My bangs became piecy, my feet hurt like crazy. I sloshed my vodka tonic all over everyone. They danced too. There is no way I am 26. So, no night out is complete without a Panthers shot. This shot was invented by John and company in Charlotte. Recipe for fun, uh-huh.

Recipe: Panthers Shot

1/2 oz. Lime Juice

1/2 oz. Triple Sec

1/2 oz. Vodka

Splash of Blue Caracao

This drink is simply a Kamikaze with a splash of Blue Caraca0, but that is the most important part. Without the Blue Caracao, you have nothing. Bartenders look at you like you're crazy when you ask them if they have this mysterious blue liquid, but tell them to dust off the bottle and take a shot with you. Go Panthers.

After an unsuccessful trip to the Karaoke bar, we took a cab to Brooklyn and had Bageltique. Ah, late night Bageltique. I ate an unfortunate bag of Cheetos and went to bed. Fell asleep on the couch. Same thing.

Sunday? Are we there already? Took a shower, noticed my eye was getting puffy, and went into the city for brunch at the highly recommended Danal.I had the Croissant French Toast, but definitely had breakfast burrito envy. David gave me a bite or five, but I was still already looking forward to dinner. I tried to sleep off Saturday, talked on the phone, and watched The River Wild back on David's couch. Again, I was in the mood for something else (maybe Baby Boom?) We had Songfor dinner, and I was satisfied. Chicken Pad Thai, I'll love you forever. They also have this amazing Mango salad that's really fresh and light. I usually have Thai on Sundays, so it seems I am at least consistent in year 26. Oh. And this time last year, I could not have imagined this is what the next year would bring.

And so, it was for sure, a weekend for takeout menus, Mexican, Margaritas, pizza, beer, hot dogs, pastries, vodka tonics, shots, bagels, french toast, sandwiches, and several bites and sips of whatever everyone else was having. It was a weekend for the books. Or the cooks? If this is 26, I am doing something right. It is D-Lish.

Recipe: Ice Cream we all Scream

2008-04-06T18:33:00.003-04:00

I spent this Saturday night on the couch eating mint chocolate chip ice cream, drinking red wine, and feeling completely sorry for myself. Newark airport and bad weather be damned. There is just so much anticipation when it comes to traveling. Brooklyn David would insert some sort of brilliant song quote here, but as my taste in music has been at times, questionable, I inevitably am coming up with nothing. Sunday Funday was at my apartment this past Sunday (as in past past--March 30) and Kara (roommate #1) cooked a deliciously memorable manicotti. Cheese, garlic, pasta...you can never go wrong. Usual suspects for Sunday Funday include (but do not exclude) Carrie, Keaton, Stephanie, Brooklyn David, and Kara. Kara was pouring over her handwritten recipe, extremely focused when I came back from the A&P. I had spent the day with Brooklyn David. Around mid-afternoon, we stopped briefly in the city for a so-so raspberry danish, ran errands, and enjoyed the beginning of a much anticipated spring. On our way back to my apartment, I introduced him to life-changing cannolis at Carlos Bakery. I had to go to the grocery when we got back to Hoboken because I was making pie. God help me, it had to be a lattice pie. I had never made one, but my motivation was for the April 21 pie contest at work. Okay, so it didn't have to be a lattice crust, but aren't they so pretty? This just seems like the quintessential pie crust to me. There is a pool for the contest, and the prize is a Williams-Sonoma gift certificate. I must win, because I need a food processor. I have to have one. I need to make pesto and soon. We were all a little draggy this week, and I had even picked up a Betty Crocker instant pie crust kit just in case I got lazy. However, I knew using this crust would defeat the purpose, so I think I might just make cinnamon twists with it later. Kara and I worked around each other in the kitchen, while Brooklyn David read

The Baltic State of Things

2008-03-25T08:08:00.080-04:00

...Get Your Buns in the Kitchen

When people ask me where I am from, I never know what to say. Does this mean the last place you lived, or where you were born? Since I moved to New Jersey/New York (I told you I was going to keep saying both), I tell people I am from North Carolina. The next question is then "born and raised?" When I tell them no, this tends to be a little disappointing for some people. Pure southern is a novelty, and a southern girl (half? whole? 2%? skim?) in a place like New York can be a little interesting. For example-I walk on Sixth Avenue to get to the West 4th street subway stop in Manhattan at least two or three times a week. Inevitably, there is a group of guys selling CD's right in front of the Barnes and Noble on the corner, and every time I walk by them they try to get me to talk to them so they can convince me to buy a CD. They manage to stop me nearly every time. Finally I bought not one, but all three of their CD's. This just made matters worse. Now, they just try to get me to buy more stuff, hand me flyers for concerts, introduce themselves to whomever I am walking with--you get the picture. They give me hugs and kisses and tell me need a real man. I mean, one of them is named Creature. geez. Point being, I was suckered, but I am blaming it on my southern-ness; more specifically, my politeness and inability to say no...leaving me out $20 with a back pocket full of glossy pictures of Creature.

Going back to my exact percentage of southernality, I say, "No-- I'm not originally from North Carolina" and launch into the explanation..."well...I was born in Shreveport, Louisiana. I was only there about six weeks. Then my family and I moved to Baton Rouge, and we were there for six years. Next came Chicago for four years (the suburbs about thirty minutes outside the city), then Charlotte. If I count college, I lived in Boone (go App) for four years, not including a sixth month stint in England. Moving around has most certainly influenced my palate, but the foundation of my culinary curiosity stems from my father's Latvian roots. He is a native born Canadian, and 100 % Latvian, 1/16 Mongolian, 1/16 Russian. Here is a picture of Latvia below:

Side note: I only discovered the more concrete aspects of history lesson after my father sent me a "for future reference..." email. The (abbreviated) story goes that during World War II, many native Latvians were forced to leave Latvia when Russia's communist government began to seize power, and were thus determined to strip them of their culture, language, and customs. Many were forced out or they fled to other countries. My dad's parents met on a boat immigrating to Canada after the war. His mother's family fled in the middle of the night by boat across the Baltic Sea to Sweden while the Russians were invading from the East and the Germans from the South. My great- grandparents (on my grandfather's side) escaped by foot around the Baltic coast to Denmark. Both parents/families spent their time during the war in those countries and did not meet until the immigration to Canada.

Years later, my grandma still never seemed fully recovered from being forced out of her country, and when we would come visit her at her home in Gainesville, her connection to Latvia was still evident in every dish she would cook. Smells of salty sauces, sauerkraut, and sticky pastries would fill the air; by cooking for us, she had given us a little piece of her home. It is hard to look back on it with such nostalgia, because honestly, growing up I didn't even realize how important it was for me to appreciate what she was putting on the table. However, there was one recipe called Bacon Buns (even though when my mother sent me the actual recipe they were called Bacon Rolls) that has been literally passed down for generations. My Vetzmamina (great grandmother in Latvian) would make them, and now here I am, attempting to make them in my Jersey girl kitchen. My mother made them for car trips, snacks, and special occasions. Seriously, there is nothing like them.

This was my first time making Bacon Buns, and somehow I didn't completely mess them up. Be prepared--they are time consuming. I made the bacon and onions and put them in the fridge for about four days (okay...maybe it was a week), before I made the dough. When I finally went to make the dough, I couldn't find the yeast I had bought weeks before. No problem--I went around the corner to the bodega (refer to last blog), but of course, they didn't have yeast. No worries. The owner insisted I could just use yeast from the pizza place next door. I insisted I couldn't and that I had no way to measure it accurately. He went next door to get it anyway. Wet yeast smells like...something you don't want to smell.

One hour and two bodegas later, I found myself back at the grocery store. But, I had decided to dedicate my Monday to my buns--and I wasn't giving up. The recipe calls for about six cups of flour, but as with most bread making endeavors, you will use much more than this. After I let the dough rise for about two hours (it says in a warm area and my apartment is freezing, so I put my space heater in the kitchen. Not sure if it helped, but I thought it was clever) I had to call for reinforcements (i.e. mom), because the dough was practically climbing the cabinets it was so sticky. Flour, more flour, more flour---and at one point I was kneading my dough and carrying on a conversation with my roommate all at the same time. I am amazing.

Just a couple tips. Before you cut the bacon, freeze it for a few hours. If not, it is way to greasy and hard to handle. The fat just makes it one big mess. Also, the recipe says it makes about 80, but this depends on how patient you are. Mine seemed to grow with each batch, but don't skimp on the bacon and onions. Stuff them, pinch them, and put em in the oven. Then, watch an episode of the new Bachelor (yum, British guys), and bring your buns to work the next day. They are sure to be a hit. These are a little piece of home, and a big bite of heaven. D-lish.

Recipe: Latvian Bacon Rolls (or Piragi No.1)

2008-03-20T16:05:00.039-04:00

Pastry

Pastry ½ cup warm water

2 tsps. sugar

2 envelopes dry yeast

2 cups whole milk, scalded

½ cup oil

2 Tbsps. sugar

2 tsps. salt

2 eggs, slightly beaten

1/2 sour cream

About six cups of all-purpose flour

Bacon Filling

2 lbs. lean bacon, diced very fine

1 medium onion, chopped very fine

ground pepper and salt to taste,

but mixture should not be too bland

In a hot pan, stir-fry mixture quickly

for 5 minutes, but do not let too much

fat separate. Cool quickly in the fridge.

Prepare yeast: in a small bowl, mix sugar with water; sprinkle yeast on top; set aside in a warm place for 10 minutes. Yeast should bubble up to double the size.

Meanwhile, scald the milk and put in a large mixing bowl. Add salt, sugar, oil, and stir. Mix eggs with sour cream, separately. When milk is cooled to lukewarm, add egg mixture; add yeast mixture and 2 cups of the flour. Beat thoroughly with wooden spoon spoon or electric mixer. Add another cup of flour and continue beating.

Remove beaters and continue mixing with a spoon or dough-hook. Add almost all of the rest of the flour. The dough will be quite stiff, but still sticky. When the dough begins to leave the sides of the bowl, turn it out onto a lightly floured pastry board. Work enough flour into the dough so that it can be handled without sticking to the hands or the board. Knead dough with the heels of your hands for about 5-10 minutes, slapping the dough forcibly down on the board a few times.

Place ball into a greased bowl; grease the top of the dough and cover with a plastic sheet. Place in a warm spot to rise, about 1-1 ½ hours, or until doubled.

Punch dough down, and take half out onto a floured board. Roll into a long strand, about 20”. With a knife, cut into even pieces, about 1”. (Repeat with the other half of the dough.) With your hands, roll and flatten each piece into a patty- large enough to put 1tsp. of filling in the middle. Fold edges up and pinch closely together. Place rolls on a greased cookie sheet with the pinched sides under. Bend rolls slightly into a crescent shape (optional). Before putting into the oven, brush tops with slightly beaten egg and stab with a fork to release steam. Bake in a pre-heated 400 degree oven for about 12-15 minutes until golden to light brown.

Makes about 80.

Southern Pie Takes the Cake

2008-03-20T13:55:00.010-04:00

... The First Sliver

Food is at the center of everything. For me, I associate food (and often books) with major and minor events in my life. For better or for worse--we all gather around the table. Whether it's fast food while on car trips, fresh croissants in Paris, or pizza on the couch, food is my constant, my comfort, and my connection to different people, places, and cultures. Food is tradition. It is symbolic of who I am, where I came from, and where I'm going.

About nine months ago, I moved from Charlotte, North Carolina, to Hoboken, New Jersey. Literally, it had always been a dream of mine to move to Manhattan. Okay. I missed the mark by a teeny stretch of water -- at least this means I can still keep dreaming. I had just finished graduate school, and I had (somehow) found a job in publishing six weeks later. I slept on a couch for three weeks and lived out of the same suitcase for six. I wasn't exactly roughing it, but it wasn't necessarily ideal either. I had arrived... and it was in the middle of the sweltering summer. Ah, sweating in train stations has (for sure) become a favorite past time. Scintillating.

I realized that the hardest part about moving wasn’t the $855 (now $925) a month for rent, sweating on the subway, or surviving my first winter. It has been missing Sunday dinners with my parents, my weekly two-hour breakfasts (at least) with my friends at home, and eating Brixx pizza on the couch while watching Nip/Tuck with my sister on Tuesdays. And so, I have found that cooking, eating out, and anything food-ums-ish, has helped me to bring "home" to New Jersey/Manhattan/Brooklyn... and suddenly, things seem to be fitting into place.

New York City is a place like none other. It glitters, it shines, it brings you up, and it inevitably brings you down. Oh well. In defense, I am armed with my Kitchen Aid (mine is red. I swear, you can tell a lot about a person by the color of their Kitchen Aid). And thus food has saved me, and I will cook, and eat, and laugh my way through every single corner of this huge tiny swatch of the world called New Jersey/New York (which I will continue to call it, so get on board) and find my home here with Sunday Fundays (get excited about those), my mother's ancient recipes, authentic Latvian cuisine (why not) from my father's family, and new culinary discoveries along the way. By the way, a Bodega is a little market. Who knew? That was me starting small. A recipe a day makes the whatevers go away.

Food is what memories are made of. Memories are what food is made of. Be inspired, always laugh, and don’t ever take yourself too seriously. So, mix a batch, plant a seed, unhinge the latch. D-lish.