Cookie Cosmopolitan

I've moved

2011-11-21T13:57:00.002-05:00

So, I've decided to switch things up!

Please visit me at my new tumblr pages.

http://cookiecosmopolitan.tumblr.com/ - wherein I discuss things that I think about.

http://cookingcookiepi.tumblr.com/ - wherein I discuss/ post pics of/ post recipes for things that I eat and cook.

http://amateurhourwithcookie.tumblr.com/ - wherein I post pics of my personal style, and talk about fashion-y things.

Latest Obsessions

2011-08-24T21:12:00.005-04:00

1. Emily Henderson's blog. I've never seen Design Star, (apparently she won) nor Secrets From a Stylist, and I don't even have cable, but this chick is funny, and cute, and she has good taste. (Read: her taste is similar to mine, and I believe that I have good taste. Ha!)

2. Pinterest.com. Freaking addictive. Although the iPhone app sorta sucks.

3. Polyvore.com. It's not really new, and it's not really an "obsession," but it's fun and I enjoy it.

4. Oh Joy!, another design blog, written by this adorable chick in LA. Her posts are so upbeat and happy, very few words, very image-heavy. And in addition to the design stuff, which I love, she also posts about food, which, of course, I love! Because of her, I discovered my new food obsession: baby salad greens with soft-boiled egg, roasted king oyster mushrooms, asparagus and thyme-dijon vinaigrette. Yes please.

here's the styled (pretty) photo:

here's mine:

I didn't have asparagus, but I added apricots, and it was AMAZING. Seriously. Every bite was a symphony.

Living Room Re'Dec: Phase One: The Thinking

2011-07-31T11:10:00.004-04:00

So, like a lot of people right now, I've become obsessed with wide cabana stripes, chevron stripes, and trellis or lattice patterns. In fact, I'd like to add all of these things to my current home dec. I'd actually like to add them all to our living room, but that's another story.

One thing that needs some attention is the living room. It's cute enough; the furniture all blends, and it's warm and comfortable. But it needs more. First up, the main living room wall. It's a peaked ceiling, and there's something rather 2-D and flat about the house that makes decorating difficult at times. The wall is about 15' wide and maybe 12' tall at its peak. It's painted in a warm creamy pinkish-yellowish-something. It's not ivory, it's not beige, it's not yellow, it's not pink, but it's sort of a mixture of all of those. It's a MarStew color called Paper Lantern, and you know, that's exactly what it calls to mind. On the wall is a collection of animal portraits, and in fact, I call it the Animal Portrait Wall, because, you know. It's a collection of various animals, most of them are actual portraits, in black frames. It's pretty adorable, really. But, I want more!

So, I was thinking originally about wallpapering that wall, and then hanging up the animal portraits on top. Maybe switch out some of their frames so that the black is consistently wider (some of the frames are too thin). Rearrange it slightly to give it more visual impact. But then I remembered that wallpapering is a pain in the ass. So, my next thought was: stencil! I could do a cool lattice design, (like this, or this), a Greek key design, (this) or a Moroccan repeated pattern (this or this, but less pixilated), in two colors - the main being the paper lantern already on the wall, and for the secondary color, I was thinking something in the orange family. But not a bright orange, something more terracotta. We have terracotta tile on the floors, and the couch is a warm pink ikat that I didn't actually like when we bought it but that I have since come to love, (what with ikat coming back into style), but that sometime in the middle of not liking it and loving it, the cats destroyed it. The wood in the room is dark and warm, and there's an ugly but serviceable leather recliner. So, orange, I thought would be nice.

Then Brian and I were watching this PBS documentary on the circus, and, staring at the peaked wall behind the TV, it hit me: what if, rather than doing the stencil, we painted wide, vertical stripes on the wall in orange? It would look like a circus tent! The animal portraits would go perfectly with that theme, and let's be honest, we already have sort of a cat circus. I thought the black frames up against the muted orange-and-paper-lantern stripes would be awesome, and graphic. And it would satisfy my need for stripes. Also, it would be way easier than stenciling, although it would require me to measure and do math and be patient, none of which are my strengths.

So, that's where I stand today, looking at that wall and trying to decided: stripes or stencil?

Flogging Fail (and then Success): Veggie Pie

2011-06-29T12:00:00.017-04:00

So, I had this idea for a veggie pie. Not a veggie tart, mind you, but a PIE. I was thinking along the lines of spinach pie, but not made from filo dough, which I love, but which has a scary-long list of ingredients that I can't pronounce, and you know how I feel about that. Something that you can either eat with a knife and fork, or even something you can eat out of hand. But with regular dough, and filled with roasted veggies - specifically roasted red peppers, which I've been crazy about recently, since reading this.

So, I made the dough (I've been making a lot of pie lately), and I roasted the veggies, and I assembled and baked it.

And... it sucked. It just sucked. The veggies within were pretty good, but I had put a layer of spinach and ricotta on the bottom layer, and it made the bottom mushy; I roasted some fennel, but you couldn't even taste it; and the bits of eggplant skin were like pieces of paper, impossible to bite through.

Not to be cast down, I decided to try it again. This time, I was inspired by the cover recipe on the Food Network magazine for an heirloom tomato tart.

The crust had cornmeal in it, which gives it stability and crunch, and would solve the mushy-bottom of my failed vege pie. It was a tart, rather than a pie, so it was open on the top. But I was willing to believe that the tart might be the proper vehicle for veggies, since they can tend to get mushy, and since a dough lid might effectively steam them within. The recipe called for raw tomatoes, salted and dehydrated a little beforehand, then placed atop the tart and baked. I chose a slightly different route; I roasted zucchini, tomatoes and garlic on 300 degrees for about 90 minutes to two hours. I also sauteed two sliced red onions. I added some feta to the mix, layered it with some mozarella, and then topped it with some grated Romano.

But the real stroke of genius was the crust. Food Network used these ingredients for the crust:

1 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup yellow cornmeal
3/4 teaspoon fine salt
1 stick cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
3 tablespoons shredded manchego cheese

Thinking that grits were, essentially, the same thing as corn meal, (they aren't), and not having corn meal on hand, I used grits. Oops. But, I thought, it might make the crust drier and crunchier, which would stand up well to the veggies. Instead of manchego, I used Romano. (And you know, when it was baking, it smelled like cheese grits, which is one of my favorite foods.) Before baking, I brushed the top of the crust with olive oil. I should have left it in a little longer, though, to dry it out a bit, but I was impatient.

Anyway, it was a success! The mozarella added a nice chewy-softness, the feta melted into the vegetables but gave the mixture some tang, the crust withstood the veggies, and the veggies themselves were sweet and deep, almost caramelized. All in all, a success!

Recipe: Roasted Veggie Tart with three cheeses

Crust:

1 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup yellow corn grits
3/4 teaspoon fine salt
1 stick cold unsalted butter
3 tablespoons shredded Romano cheese

I make my pie crust in my Cuisinart, but you can do it by hand, or with a pastry cutter. Here's an article on how to make pie crust - it's the same technique no matter what type of crust you make. (My trick is to freeze the stick of butter, and then add it via the shredding tool on the Cuisinart.) The whole point of pie crust is to have it be delicate and flakey, and you achieve that by keeping the tiny bits of butter as cold as possible. Once they hit the heat of the oven, they melt and puff between the molecules of flour, creating flakes.

Roll out the dough and put it in a pie plate, or a tart pan with a removable rim. Prick the bottom of the crust with a fork. Place a piece of foil filled with pie weights or dried beans, and bake at 350 for about 20 minutes. Take the foil off and bake for another 10-15 minutes or until the crust is lightly browned and somewhat dry. Let cool on a rack for about half an hour.

Filling:

4 large zucchinis, cut into 1/2-1-in dice
8 Roma tomatoes, cut roughly the same size as the zucchini, if slightly bigger (because they cook quicker)
4 large heads garlic, roughly chopped
2 red onions, cut in half vertically, then sliced to 1/4-in
1/2 c. shredded mozarella
1/3 c. feta, crumbled
1/4 c. shredded Romano or Parmesan cheese

Toss the zucchini, tomatoes, and garlic with olive oil, and sprinkle with salt. Roast at 300 degrees for 90 minutes to 2 hours. Keep an eye on it; you want the veggies to slowly lose their moisture, and then slowly caramelize, but not burn. If it's cooking too quickly, turn the heat down to 250.

Sautee the onions in olive oil until they're soft, and slightly browned on the edges, but again, not burned.

Once all the veges are cooked, toss together with about 1/4-1/3 c. crumbled feta.

Layer most of mozzarella onto base of tart crust. Mix remaining mozzarella in with veggies. Top mozzarella layer with all of veggie mixture, pressing down gently to fill the gaps. Top with Parmesan or Romano. Bake at 350 for about 20 minutes.

Enjoy!

Flog: 21 Meyer lemons and quick salad dressing

2011-06-26T08:16:00.006-04:00

Wow, I haven't written anything in a while. It's fortunate that I have so few readers; I wouldn't want to disappoint a larger group of people. You know, I used to write a blog every single day... when I was 25... and at a job I hated... and myspace still existed for all intensive purposes. But now life is so busy, and hectic, and frankly it's more difficult for me to get to this blog than it was on myspace, probably because I never signed out of myspace for longer than a few minutes. But I digress...

This weekend, I bought, and used, 21 Meyer lemons. In case you're wondering, that's a lot. It's about $18 worth of lemons. These are the things I spend my money on. Sorta sad. Just kidding; I think it's awesome.
I bought so many expensive lemons because, you see, here in Florida we don't get Meyer lemons that often. I haven't seen them in years, and I don't think I've ever purchased them. Last week I saw them at Publix, and decided to try them out. I made lemon meringue pie for Father's Day, and it was freaking awesome. So, naturally I decided to go back and buy more... and more. Truth be told, I've spent about $30 on lemons in the past two weeks, not including the 3 lbs I bought for my mom. It's a sickness, and one that I plan on repeating next week if Publix still has some of those lovely luscious lemons.

In other news, I thought I'd share one of my quick salad dressings:

1. Take a jam jar that has just a teensy bit of jam left - not enough to spread on a piece of toast, but too much to throw away. (That is, if you're as cheap and OCD as I am, and if the idea of throwing away that last little bit of jam that's clinging to the glass jar physically pains you.)

2. Add 1:3 ratio of vinegar to oil. Since it's fruit jam, I like red wine, sherry, or apple cider vinegar, even with a splash of balsamic, and a nut oil like walnut or almond, or a clean-tasting oil like grapeseed. I would steer clear of olive oil, because it's sort of a strong flavor. The more jam you have, the more vinegar and oil you can use. Essentially, you want enough jam to make a fruity, slightly sweet salad dressing. (You can cut down on the oil, if you like, by substituting one part water for one part oil, so it would be 1:1:2, vinegar: water: oil.)

3. Add about 2 teaspoons of Dijon mustard.

4. Add a pinch kosher or sea salt, and a grind or two pepper. Optional: add a small squeeze of Siracha. But be careful, that stuff is hot.

5. Shake, baby, shake. Dress your salad, and enjoy.

Master Rework

2011-03-10T12:16:00.007-05:00

So, I want to re-dec our master bedroom. Or edit it, anyway. I tend to gather/collect/hoard too much STUFF, and I have to force myself to pare down.

I'm always on the quest for new bedding. I love bedding so much. But I can't force myself to pay very much for it, so what I buy is either on sale or from a discounter like T.J.Maxx. I just can't bring myself to pay retail. It's a sickness, I know. But honestly, how can people pay that much? I found $1,600 sheets yesterday. $1,600! That's two months' rent, plus utilities.

The justification is that we all spend so much time in bed, and cheaper sheets wear out faster, blah blah blah. But still. I could never. $40 is tops for me, for now anyway. Maybe once I'm a big baller I'll be able to spend, like, $100. But I seriously do not foresee myself going any higher than that.

How fascinating, my opinions on sheets, right?

Our bedroom is currently ivory, gold, and pink, with touches of aqua and chartreuse. How fortunate I am to have a husband that doesn't complain about my dec style. He's a sweetie, and doesn't seem to have much by way of opinion one way or the other when it comes to home dec. As I have LOTS of opinions about most everything, this is a good match.

Our furniture is 1950s French Provincial. This is the style, though not our exact pieces:
(Ugly carpet.)
I'm trying to figure out a good bedding option for the summer, since it's March in Tampa, and hot as bloody hell. Our winter comforter is way too heavy, and last summer we just used our feather duvet. But it's a bit too small, so I'm looking into buying a larger one. The beauty of a duvet is the endless options with covers. Change the cover, change the entire look of the bed. It's like outfits for your bedroom!

I'm loving this, but can't quite afford it right now.
How lovely and romantic, right? Sigh. I want. Maybe soon...

I got the Pottery Barn Sylvie duvet cover and shams for my birthday, but had to return it because it had this horrible smell that wouldn't wash out. Seriously, it smelled like sunscreen or candles or something, even after five washes. It's sad, because it was so pretty.
Oh well.

I think I'll go play with some bedding that I already have. I might even take some before and after shots...

Home Dec'd

2011-03-09T12:21:00.006-05:00

So, I've been totally into home dec/design lately. Although my home is pretty dec'd, it's not as perfect as I'd like just yet. One of the problems is money - I can't afford to make all the changes I want to make right now. (But really, I feel that a lot of changes can be made on the cheap. So money's not a huge issue, really). The main problem, the one that's been hindering me and stifling my creativity and stealing my time and energy, was law school and then the Bar. But you know what? I'M DONE WITH THEM NOW! Wooooo!

I've recently discovered some awesome new (to me) home dec/design blogs, and I've quickly become obsessed. First it was Ish&Chi, this cute Australian chick who seems to like a lot of the same things I do. And isn't that really what design is all about? Through her, I found Olive & Joy, another Australian chick who, though I liked, I wasn't all that impressed with at first. But since then I've decided she's great. And through one or both of the above, I've discovered my latest, and greatest, obsession, House of Turquoise . Oh. My. God. I'm in love.

Aqua is really in right now, color-wise. I'm completely in love with it, but I have this nagging sensation that even I don't understand, that makes me not want to use it a lot because I'm afraid I'll get sick of it. Like, in ten years. The way we look back at the early-1990s and say, "Ew. Hunter green and maroon." Or when I watch a rerun of "Bewitched," (arguably, it's rare, but it has happened), and I notice that every single item in the scene is some shade of green. Apparently that's what the early 1970s was like.

But then I think, well who cares if I get sick of it? I'm not going to get sick of it within the next few years, so what does it matter? Why am I being such a turd? And then I have to admit to myself that I really don't like doing things that are faddish or trendy. I think that's what it all boils down to. But, Jesus, am I really going to let that totally irrational fear keep me from something I love? No. So, there you go.

Anyhoods, here are some pictures of a nursery that I was featured on House of Turquoise that make me so, so happy. Not the nursery part - I'm not ready for that. But the colors! The pairings! The beautiful harmony of it all. The warm, creamy aqua with the shiny black, the bright pop of coral, and the muted taupe. I want to marry it all. And even though it's a nursery, it doesn't look like one. It looks like it could be any grown-up's room, if you ignore the crib, which I did. The combo would be great in a guest bedroom, or even a living room or study. On a much smaller scale, the colors would be excellent for a bathroom. Or even a kitchen.

I'm just smitten.

Banh Mi, Banh You

2011-01-16T09:56:00.003-05:00

So, I've really been feeling Southeast Asian cuisine lately, specifically Thai and Vietnamese. Earlier this week I made Tom Kah Gai soup and Panang Chicken. Toma Kah is that lovely Thai soup made from coconut milk and lemongrass. It's so satisfying and light, creamy and savory, tart and a little sweet. Apparently Asian cultures believe in each dish having the various flavor components: sweet, salty, sour and spicy. At least I think that's the breakdown. Whatever the case, it makes for fantastic eating.

I've been shopping a lot at Oceanic Asian Market, in downtown Tampa. I've been in Bar prep right across the street at the Tampa Stetson campus, and I stop there nearly every day. The produce is awesome, and the prices are dirt cheap. I haven't quite mustered up the courage to buy their meat or seafood, though. I'm sure it's perfectly safe, I really am, but for some reason it freaks me out. I prefer the sanitized, packaged version I get at Publix. How tiresome of me.

Recently, they had snow pea tips at the Asian market, which are a delicious, delicate green that most Americans know nothing about. Seriously, they're this great secret. All you have to do is stir-fry them in a little oil. I add some crushed garlic, but it's not necessary. C'est super!

But my real obsession of late has been the banh mi sandwich. It's an heir to the French colonizing Vietnam, (which in turn caused the Vietnam War - thanks a lot, France), and it's the most delicious, refreshing sandwich ever. It combines the baguette, mayonnaise and pate of the French, with the cilantro, fresh chili peppers and a carrot/daikon quick pickle of Southeast Asia. It has all the flavor points. Further, it has these different textures that combine in a magical way: the dense crispiness of a baguette, the creamy thickness of pate, the tangy creaminess of the mayo, the light refreshing crunch from the daikon and carrot, the burst of sunshine from the cilantro. It's ah-may-zing.

Of course, in America, it's rarely made with pate. Alternate ingredients include roasted or grilled pork (that's first been flavored with garlic, onions, and fish sauce), seasoned tofu, meatballs, and even deli meat. I think that, because of the other ingredients remaining the same, the cilantro and hot peppers and mayo and baguette and pickle, the meat of choice can be pretty much anything, so long as it's strongly-flavored, savory, and substantial.

I made banh mi sandwiches for dinner last night, and I marinated and roasted a pork shoulder (a/k/a Boston Butt Roast - the butt part always makes me laugh). I used a whole wheat baguette from Whole Foods (it wasn't great, but it was alright), a jalepeno pepper, and Veganaise, rather than the traditional mayo. I think it needs traditional mayo, to be honest. But all told, they were pretty amazing. The pork was savory and slightly sweet, almost caramelized. The daikon/carrot pickle was refreshing and sharp. The cilantro was a little bit of heaven. In fact, next time I'll add more cilantro - I think each bite should have some. It just wakes you up.

Seriously, you should try it sometime. There are a few place in Tampa that serve them - Saigon Deli on Waters, and Pho Queyen in Clearwater. They're sometimes called Vietnamese Hoagies, which is, I think, a terrible translation. But no matter. The banh mi, no matter what it's called, is a symphony of flavors. It might even be worth fighting a war over. But probably not.

Soup Series: Butternut Squash Soup, or How You Can Easily Make Something Awesome

2010-11-23T11:07:00.007-05:00

A few years back, Butternut Squash Soup, or Bisque, was all the rage. It's still fairly popular, although it's not the soup du jour any longer, culinarily speaking. But I love it. I've had it in restaurants, and while it always has the same slightly-sweet, slightly peppery, savory flavor, I often find that restaurants make it too heavy. It's an easy way to make something taste great: butter. The French figured that out centuries ago. But like cheap plot devices, this method often leaves you feeling used, and bloated, in the end. Also, when it's so easy to make something taste amazing, why resort to too much fat?

This recipe is the basic recipe for any vegetable-based, pureed soup. Essentially you take a veggie, cook it with some onions, maybe add some garlic (although it depends on what veggie you've chosen - the more delicate the flavor, the less likely you should use garlic), herbs, and chicken stock, and puree. Fortify it with a little cream or half-and-half (a little), and you've got a gorgeous soup. You could even call it a bisque if you're feeling fancy.

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Butternut Squash Soup

Ingredients:

1 medium to large butternut squash (the pale gold, bell-shaped ones)
1-2 sweet yellow onions, roughly diced
1 1/2 teaspoons dried thyme
1 teaspoon dried crushed sage
Couple tablespoons butter or olive oil
6-10 c. Chicken stock
1/4 to 1/2 c. Half-and-half, or if you’re feeling really daring, heavy cream

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2. Cut squash in half lengthwise. Scoop out seeds and whatnot.

3. On a rimmed baking sheet, put down a little oil to cover. Salt the cut sides of the squash, and place cut sides down on baking sheet. Bake for 30 to 45-min, until a knife pokes into the cooked flesh without any resistance. The skin of the squash will look a little wrinkled and browned in patches.

4. Take the squash out of the oven and let it cool until it’s cool enough to handle. Scrape out the flesh and set aside. Sometimes I cook the squash ahead of time, and when it’s cool, put the flesh into a large ziplock for later use. You can even freeze it at this step.

5. Meanwhile, heat about 1 tablespoon olive oil or butter in a large stockpot or dutch oven over medium heat. Once it’s hot enough (either the oil will glisten, or the butter will start to bubble), add the onion and sautee until translucent about 4 minutes. Add a sprinkling of salt as the onion is cooking to help extract the liquid, and season it.

6. Make a well in the center of the onions, add a little bit of oil/butter, and add the spices. Stir and let the spices cook for about 30-seconds, and no more than a minute. Be careful not to burn them.

7. Add reserved squash and chicken stock. Start with 6 cups of stock, and work up to more if you need it. When I made it recently, my squash was rather big, so I ended up using 10 cups of stock.

8. Bring to a boil and reduce to a simmer. Simmer for about 20-minutes.

9. Take off the heat and let cool for a few minutes. Puree if you want, either using a stick blender, or a regular blender or food processor. Make sure to work in batches if using the latter, and be careful not to fill too full as the heat will cause it to expand/explode. You don’t have to puree, of course, but it’s more like the traditional butternut squash soup if you do.

10. Add the half-and-half or cream, to taste. Do not allow the cream to boil. It will curdle, and that's no fun. Season to taste.

You can top the bowl of soup it with a dollop of sour cream, heavy cream, or creme fraiche, but I don’t think it needs it. I’ve also heard of adding ground cinnamon, or even a spoonful of peanut butter. I never had the heart to try either of those (especially the peanut butter, which I think would taste good IN THEORY, but seriously, ew), because the soup was so good on its own. Why mess with perfection?

Hot Soup for Cold Weather

2010-11-07T11:32:00.005-05:00

So we finally got a cold front in Tampa, thank GOD. It's really depressing when it's November, and it's too hot for long pants, close-toed shoes, and anything heavier than a tee shirt. It's part of the cycle of the seasons - everything has its time and place. And just as shorts feel weird in November, once the temperature drops, it feels wrong to eat cold salad and other summery dishes. Thank goodness for soup.

I love soup. It's one of the easiest things in the world to make, even from scratch. That Campbell's crap is for suckers. Basically you can just throw a bunch of stuff in a pot, boil/simmer it for a while, and you've got soup! There are some rules, some things to remember, but all in all it's super easy. So, I've decided to do a series on soup. The building block of any soup recipe is, of course, the chicken stock. Well, I use chicken stock, but you could use vegetable stock or beef stock or really any kind of meat. Chicken is easy, though, because you essentially get two dishes in one: you cook the chicken and can use it for anything that calls for cooked chicken; then you have the stock which you can use for soup. It's a win-win.

Below is my chicken stock recipe. It may seem like too much of a hassle for some people, and I don't necessarily disagree. I happen to think it's easy, mainly because you gather some easily attainable things, put them in a pot together, and let it cook for hours. If you don't want to fuss with all of that, you can always buy chicken broth at the store. And thanks to this organic movement, you can even get organic broth at most places. I use a Publix Greenwise chicken, or other organic chicken, when I can. If I use an organic chicken, I usually use bottled water as the base because, well, I'm crazy like that. A non-organic chicken is fine if you want to support the horrible conventional agriculture industry and tap water is equally fine, because you boil it anyway. Overall, this recipe is really healthy and nourishing. Isn't chicken noodle soup called Jewish Penicillin? This stuff HEALS.

I'm trying out a little experiment with this recipe: because I talk/write/chatter/explain a LOT, (which I think it's helpful, but you may disagree), I put the necessary directions in bold, and left the gratuitous explanations and opinions in regular text. That way you can skip all my blather if you want. But why would you want to, really?

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Chicken Stock:

Ingredients:
1 chicken, about 4 lbs (look for a hen, or a stew chicken - these have more flavor; if you can't find these, get a whole chicken, which is cheaper than the individual parts. If you can’t find a whole chicken, which you should be able to, you can get the equivalent weight in chicken necks, backs, thighs, and other parts, just make sure they have the bones in them, and the skin on them, because that's what gives it flavor.)

1-2 large yellow onions with good skin in tact
1 head garlic (not just a clove, the whole danged head)
handful of black peppercorns
2 tablespoons kosher salt (half that amount if you're using regular iodized salt)
water (enough to cover the chicken by about 2-3 inches)

Special tools:
large stock pot (the bigger the better)
Large platter (for placing the cooked chicken on)
fine sieve (the kind with the handle is fine)
large bowl or stock pot (the bigger the better, as you will be straining the broth into it when you're done - if you don’t have this, get two or more large bowls. Once you strain the broth, you can put it all back into the original pot.)

1. Take the chicken out of the package, rinse under water and pat dry with paper towels. Look into the cavity of the chicken - if there are little squashy paper packets, that's the internal organs of the bird. Feel free to throw them away, or if you have a dog, give them to him/her. Dogs love 'em. Just make sure to remove the paper/plastic. Put chicken into a large stock pot. Wash your hands and all the surfaces that came into contact with raw chicken, ‘cause salmonella is gross.

2. Add water to cover the chicken by about 2-3 inches.

3. Cut off ends of the onions, and peel off the skin. But don’t throw the skin away yet, because you’re going to use some of it. Find the best parts of the yellow onion skin, the layer that’s underneath the topmost layer, but that’s still yellow, not white. Find pieces with no mold, no disintegrating, no nastiness. A little dirt is fine, because you’ll be washing it off. A few pieces are enough - roughly two pieces of 3” by 3” peel, specifically the yellow part. It’s the yellow of the onion that will give your stock a nice yellow color. Once you have your pieces, rinse them under the faucet, and wipe off any dirt, or other nastiness. Cut the onion into halves or quarters, and put into stock pot. (I should add, if you don’t feel like fucking with this, don’t worry. The yellow color is purely aesthetic. Also, if you have some saffron, that will do the trick, but it’s sort of expensive.)

4. Take apart the garlic head, and check for any dirt or anything. Rinse or wipe - garlic is usually pretty clean, so there shouldn't be much of anything. Put garlic into pot. You can leave out any of the loose garlic paper, and the top of the head, which don't add any flavor or color.

5. Add the salt and peppercorns to the water. Add any fresh herbs or even the stems of herbs (like parsley or thyme) to the water. Hardier herbs work best. I would caution using rosemary, however, as it becomes bitter if cooked for longer than about two minutes. Also, it's really overpowering. Seriously, I used too much of it in a dish I made 8+ years ago, and I still can't stand the taste of it.

6. Bring the mixture to a boil. Keep an eye on it as you're bringing it to a boil, because it can boil over if you're not paying attention. There will be some foam that collects on the top of the water once you bring it to a boil, and as you cook it. Skim this off with a large spoon.

7. Once it comes to a boil, reduce it to a simmer. I usually bring it to a boil on High, then reduce to Med-Low. Keep an eye on it for a few minutes until you're comfortable with the level of simmer. With the lid on the pot, it will always be hotter than with the lid off - so if you have the lid on, first of all, crack it a little so steam can escape, and second, put it on a lower setting - Low, for example, instead of Med-Low. You don't want it to cook on a hard boil, because that makes meat tough; you want it to be a slow simmer.

8. Let it cook for 3 hours or more. At the end, the chicken will have risen to the top of the pot. (You can let it go all day if you want, especially if you're using a hen or a stewing chicken. In fact, if you’re using one of those, you should cook it all day, or even for several days. Hens and stewing chickens are older than friers, which are usually young birds. The older bird imparts more flavor, (and some cultures believe that they’re more healing and nurturing), but they’re also tougher and take much longer to cook. A Chinese friend told us that her mother would stew a hen for three days. Obviously there’s that whole thing about not leaving a pot on the stove overnight, but I’ll leave that to you to figure out. If you use a slow cooker, for example, you could leave it for a few days. Just make sure to add more water as it evaporates. Also, don’t get food poisoning.)

9. Once your chicken is cooked, you need to get it out of the pot. Have handy a large platter or bowl. Using tongs or a hand-held strainer, dig out the solid pieces of chicken, including all the skin, bones, and flesh. The chicken will probably fall apart. That’s a good thing, but it takes a while to dig out all the pieces. Place these, as well as all the larger solid bits (onions, garlic), on your large plate or platter, and let cool. Pour stock through a sieve into a large bowl. Once you get all the solids out of the stock pot, rinse it out, and you can put the stock back in there. For storage, you can store it in jars. If you do put it in jars, let it cool until room temp, because you will otherwise break your jar, and make a mess, in addition to endangering yourself and others! Seriously, ROOM TEMP. I've put warm stock in jars thinking it was cool enough, only to break the jars. And that means ruining the stock, as well as possibly ingesting broken glass. Also, the mess. Boo.

10. Once the chicken is cooled, separate the meat from the bones and skin, and place in a clean bowl or tupperware. Discard skin, bones, onions, garlic, peppercorns. The chicken is now ready to eat. You can mix it up into a chicken salad, or save it to make chicken noodle soup with the stock you just created.

11. As the stock cools, the fat will rise to the top. You can speed this process by putting it in the fridge, but for the love of God, put towels underneath the stock pot or bowl, because that stuff is HOT and it's not worth melting your fridge shelf. Cover the top of the soup, either with the lid of the pot, or aluminum foil. Once the fat has risen to the top, skim it off. You now have practically fat-free chicken broth! (Note - if you're going the jar-route, don't skim off the fat. Instead, once it's cool, pour it into jars and put it in the fridge. The fat will rise to the top within the jar and will create a seal that will keep your broth fresh for weeks in the fridge and even longer in the freezer. If you're freezing it, get it cold in the fridge first, THEN transfer to the freezer. When you're ready to use the broth, just peel off the hard layer of fat.)

12. Use the stock in any recipe that calls for chicken broth. Praise me at your leisure.

Super Easy Tomato Sauce

2010-09-19T16:32:00.002-04:00

I love the seasonal nature of fresh fruits and vegetables. For some reason, at least here in Florida, I feel it more with fruit. I mean, sure, in theory I could get peaches in December. They would have been grown in Argentina or something and shipped the thousands of miles to my local Publix, and really, they wouldn’t taste very good. But still, I could get them. But I don’t like to. I like getting peaches in late summer, preferably grown in Georgia, although California is also okay. It’s a few thousand miles, but dammit, they’re American. Summer fruit is my favorite: blueberries, mangoes, watermelon, cherries, figs, peaches, nectarines, and plums. The California peaches and plums this season have been outstanding. California, I tip my hat to you. I made two cobblers the other day, one peach-nectarine, and one nectarine-plum. Freaking great. The black plums have been so juicy that they cannot be contained with one paper towel. Even the red plums, which seem to be a little too crispy even when ripe, have been sweet and delicious.

Being raised in the South, I also have a great affinity and deep love for the summer vegetables: eggplant (yes, I know it’s a fruit, whatever), tomatoes (ditto), zucchini, yellow squash, green beans, okra, and onions. Sadly, the Southern tomato crop has been disappointing this year. The vine-ripe tomatoes that have been on sale at Publix have been red enough, and plump enough, but they’re sort of hard and tasteless on the inside. It’s pretty tragic. Green beans are one of my favorite veges, although I don’t cook them very often because they’re so labor-intensive. I mean, going through one-by-one and snapping off those ends? Please. Eggplant is lovely, and I feel we’re in the courting stage - I’m trying to get to know it, and see how best to cook it. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated as to our budding romance.

But here’s a lovely recipe for an incredibly simple tomato sauce that I make fairly often. It’s great on pizzas, or with pasta. Add some sauteed ground chuck (and more garlic), and you have a lovely meat sauce. Or add some roasted zucchini, yellow squash, and garlic and you can have a nice vege sauce. Puree it with some chicken broth and a little bit of cream and you have a delightful tomato soup. My point is, it’s versatile. And easy. And delish. Now you have (virtually) no excuse for using the bottled variety.

****************

1-2 medium sweet yellow onions (Vidalia preferably), roughly diced
3 medium-large cloves of garlic, peeled, smashed and roughly chopped
1 t Italian seasoning, or a mixture of oregano and dried basil (or just oregano)
2 T olive oil (plus more as needed)
Salt to taste
1-28 oz. can tomatoes - either whole plum, or diced

Instructions:

1. Heat a large dutch oven on medium, and add 1T olive oil. When the oil becomes less viscous, and gets a sheen to it, like a mirage, add onions. Sauté onions until translucent, soft, and a little browned around the edges - about 5 minutes, maybe more or less depending on how hot your pan is. Sprinkle some kosher or sea salt onto the onions, just about 1/4 t - if using iodized salt, reduce this to 1/8 t, but just ditch that crap and get some kosher salt. It’s so much easier to cook with, and it tastes better.

2. Move onions to the sides of the pan, so that there’s a bare place in the center. Add about 1t olive oil to the center, and put chopped garlic directly on it. Let it sit for about 30-seconds to 1-minute, until it starts to cook a little. Sprinkle dried herbs on top of the garlic. Stir the garlic-herb mixture in the center - do not yet stir it with the onions. Stir the garlic-herb mixture every 30-seconds or so until the garlic seems well cooked. Do not burn garlic. If it starts to cook too quickly, take the pan off the eye.

3. Once the garlic is cooked, mix with the onions. Saute for a little longer - about 1 minute unless it seems to be cooking too quickly. If so, reduce heat. The onions and garlic should be slightly browned, but NOT burned. Burning is bad.

4. Add can o’ tomatoes. Stir, and scrape off bits of cooked onion and garlic from the bottom of the pan. (P.S. This is called “deglazing” the pan, and it’s used in many different recipes, and is a really awesome trick.)

5. Let tomato mixture come to a boil (you may have to increase the heat), and then reduce it to a simmer. With kitchen shears or a spatula, break or cut the whole tomatoes (if using) into largeish chunks. If using diced tomatoes, you just saved yourself some work.

6. Simmer tomatoes for about 30-min, stirring every few minutes, just to keep the bottom from burning. The juices will reduce, and you’ll be left with a delightfully chunky tomato sauce. If after 30-min the sauce is still too watery, continue to reduce. Check every 10-15 minutes to ensure that you don’t overcook it. It should be thick, not watery.

Serving and Storing:

As I already said, it's a great base for a pizza, or with pasta, or even as a soup. To store, refrigerate in an air-tight container for about a week. You can also freeze it for several months.

Best Brownies Ever, Bitches

2010-08-17T13:59:00.004-04:00

Sorry for that "bitches" thing; I know it's so five-years-ago. I was just looking for another "b" word to go in the title, because these seriously are the Best Brownies Ever, Bitches.

The sad part is that, as of this moment, I don't have a picture of said Best Brownies Ever, Bitches. But maybe I'll make some tonight and take some pictures. If I do, I will delete this little paragraph. (Apparently, I have decided not to.)

You know, living in the world as I do, in America, as I do, and attending various functions, as I do, that are catered and/or pot luck, I come into contact with a lot of brownies. Mix brownies. And they are bad. I never quite know if the people eating them and singing their praises are lying, or if they just have really bad taste. Either way, who cares? Those slightly-too-black, oily, crackled-on-top, too sweet, and always slightly undercooked monstrosities only resemble brownies in the sense that they are brown, and in the plural. That isn't dense fudginess you're eating - it's processed crap. And why? WHY? Brownies are so easy to make! From scratch, no less.

I've never really understood mixes. Cakes aren't really that hard to make. Flour, butter, sugar, eggs, milk - ta-da! It's a cake! But then I realized, "Hmmm... maybe there are people in this world, unlike me, who don't keep those ingredients on hand. Maybe there are people who don't have a bag of flour (King Arthur's!) in their pantry, or baking powder, or even eggs and butter." I suppose that's the reason why mixes exist, although it's an untested theory. The bottom line, however, is that mixes suck. They just do. So whether it's that people lie to themselves and others in order to get something sweet (and easy) or whether they honestly don't know what a real cake tastes like, well that really is neither here nor there. I would love to live in a world without mixes.

So in order to take a step in that direction, please try this recipe. It takes, like, 20-minutes TOPS to blend the ingredients together. It bakes for about 35-minutes, and that's really the worst of it because your whole house starts to smell like chocolate, and the waiting really is the hardest part. I like to be a little sadomasochistic when I make these, and wait for them to cool down. I suppose there are two schools of thought on brownies: hot from the oven, or cooled down, and I'm a cooled-down sort of gal. In fact, cold from the fridge is my favorite. I think it makes the brownies more dense, more chocolate-y. But hey, you are the master of your own destiny. (At the very least, though, indulge me and try one right out of the fridge. Even if it is well after you've eaten them hot from the pan.)

***

Best Brownies Ever, Bitches*

1/2 c. butter, at room temperature (yes, that's one whole stick)
1 c. sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 eggs, at room temp
2 oz. unsweetened chocolate**, melted***
1/2 c. all-purpose flour
1/2 c. chopped walnuts (optional)

Instructions:

1. Pre-heat your oven to 325˚; grease an 8x8 metal pan with butter - PLENTY of butter. (I'm not sure if the metal-ness of the pan matters, but that's what I've always used because that's what my mom always used. I'm sure there's some reason for using metal. The size is right, of course, because of the amount of batter you're making. But you knew that already.)

2. In a stand mixer, food processor, or with a hand mixer, blend the butter with the sugar and vanilla until they are completely incorporated and fluffy. (If you sneak a taste now, you will be happy. Incidentally, if I were ever to come up with a dessert, it would taste exactly like this. And don't give me some crap about how that's what sugar cookies taste like, because they don't.)

3. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, fully incorporating each egg before adding the next.

4. Blend in chocolate (or cocoa powder, see below).

5. Once you've added the chocolate and everything is blended, STIR in the flour. If you're using a hand mixer, put the thing down and get a wooden spoon and stir it in gently. If you're using a food processor, use the "pulse" button, and do it no more than four times. If you're using a stand mixer, put it on low, for just a few seconds. You want the flour to be incorporated (i.e. no white streaks/clumps), but nothing more. Do not try to mix it thoroughly, or blend it till it's nice and smooth because that will create very tough brownies, and who wants that?

6. Add nuts in same manner, if you're using them, which I advise because they're delicious. Not if you're allergic, of course.

7. Bake at 325˚ for 30-35 minutes. To test done-ness, insert a toothpick or clean knife into the center of the pan o' brownies. If it comes out clean, (with maybe two or three tiny, round pieces of brownie), then you're done! If it comes out with uncooked brownie, or something that's more gummy, leave it in for another five minutes. Because chocolate burns so very easily, check back often. Let your finished brownies cool at least long enough to be able to handle them without burning yourself. Store them in the fridge once they're fully cooled, and let me know how you prefer them - hot or cold.

* You know, my mom always told me that she got this recipe from an article/interview with Katharine Hepburn. Apparently they're the old school New England brownies. But who knows.

** A note about the chocolate: the recipe calls for those unsweetened chocolate squares for baking. They're in the baking aisle of the supermarket, near the chocolate chips, nuts, and shredded coconut. They come in a rectangular box. Make sure you get the UNsweetened kind, because the recipe calls for sugar, and if you use sweetened chocolate it will just be too much. An alternative to this is to use cocoa powder, BUT you must add more butter (or oil) to make up for the fact that you're using powder rather than the chocolate itself. There's a conversion on the cocoa box - I think it's something like: 1 oz. chocolate = 3 Tablespoons of cocoa PLUS 1 Tablespoon butter/oil. Just follow those directions. Some people can tell the difference between a dessert made with chocolate and one made with cocoa, but sadly, I am not one of them. And use regular cocoa powder, not the Dutch Process kind, because there's something with the acidity that you need to make up for, and I can't give you those instructions. Just follow the recipe. Unlike cooking, where you can add a bunch of stuff and it doesn't really matter, baking is more like chemistry. The ingredients react with one another in such a way as to create a certain result. You want that result, trust me. This is why, in general, I'm not much of a baker - I don't have the patience for it. This recipe, however? It's so easy, and so fast, and the results are so good, that it's worth having to follow a recipe.

*** Melt the chocolate on LOW because it burns really easily. If you use the microwave, don't put in on for any longer then 30-seconds at a time, on half-power. Seriously. It may take a while, but that's better than burning it - trust me.

American Chef in Paris

2010-08-16T10:32:00.003-04:00

So, one of my favorite literary genres (aside from tween-vampire-abstience-romance and magical-or-at-least-highly-gifted-children-who-get-to-have-amazing-adventures-because-of-their-specialness) is American-chef-who-moves-to-France-and-writes-about-cooking-and-how-weird-the-French-are. Fortunately for me, in these days of blogesphere, I have many to choose from, (although, to be fair, not all of them are written by American chefs - if they're American and they love to cook/eat, it's close enough). My favorite right now is David Lebovitz, who used to be a pastry chef in the San Francisco bay area, and who now lives in Paris and writes about food, recipes, restaurants, and yes, how weird the French are. Being the Francophile that I am, I don't like reading about people's hatred of the French; but being American, I still find them weird. Thus these American writers hit a perfect balance for me: they love their newly adopted country, recognize its strengths, and are still able to view the oddities of French culture with a degree of distance and humor. It's all very satisfying to read, for me anyway.

Before our trip to Paris (we just got back 5 days ago), I went into super-duper French immersion mode. Or rather, American-in-France immersion. Actually, more like Anglo-Saxon-in-France immersion, as at least half the books I read were by a British author, and one by an Aussie. But melting pot or no, Americans have a lot more in common with the Brits (and their brethren) than with the French. It's just a fact. One of my favorite Brit-in-France authors is Peter Mayle, who wrote the Provence series, "A Year in Provence," "Encore Provence," and "Toujours Provence." He also wrote some other books on France and the oddities of the French, ("French Lessons"), as well as a few novels. I just finished "A Good Year," about a Brit who inherits a vineyard in Provence (where else?) and decides to move there and start over. It was good; very well written.

There are a lot of fabulous things about France. The main fabulous thing is, of course, the food. Although it's a little carb-heavy for me, (baguettes with every meal!), it's fun to do when on vacation. For many reasons, we cannot sustain such wheat consumption at home. The main reason being, of course, that we can't get bread that good in Florida. It can't be done. Yes, we have an Italian market in St. Pete that makes very good bread, but it's not the same. And please don't even mention Publix. So, baguettes are for vacation. I can live with that.

But there are things that I always resolve to take home. The freshness of the food. The way the French respect their food, and linger over their meals. They way that meals are a serious business in France. And also, the fast preparation of quality ingredients that comes together on a plate and does not resemble the American (Brit, Aussie) meal of meat-starch-vegetable. That's something I aspire to. This trip, I noticed, (or took note of) something else: lunch is the big meal of the day. In America, lunch is eaten hurried, slumped over a desk, in a car, or crammed into the hour allowed by employers (if that) to find, order, and eat a meal. Further, the big meal in America is dinner. We get huge portions of meat and potatoes, and maybe some sort of vegetable, and eat it in front of the TV, a few hours before bed. Do we really need all that food so late at night? I've been asking myself that, but it's a hard habit to break.

So, along with the actual food items I brought back from France, (salted butter, spicy Dijon mustard, lavender honey), I've also brought back Lunch, the concept. Henceforth, Lunch shall be a meal of importance. It shall be accompanied by a leisurely attitude (even when time is scarce). It shall be substantial. And dinner shall be light. Thus I do decree.

****
I started this blog meaning to write about David Lebovitz's Parisian hot chocolate recipe, but then I got all side-tracked. Anyhoodle, it's really good, thick and not too sweet. It's important to use bittersweet chocolate, but if you're like me and don't have any 70% bittersweet, here's what I did: I used 3/4 Ghirardelli bittersweet chips and 1/4 dark cocoa powder. For 2 small servings of hot chocolate, that came to:

1 cup milk (I used 2%, he calls for whole - you decide for yourself)
2 oz bittersweet chips
1-2T cocoa powder

Heat the milk on the stove top till it's quite warm, and there are little bubbles forming around the edge of the saucepan. Add the chips and stir constantly till they're melted. Bring to a low simmer, continuing to stir, and add the cocoa powder. Keep stirring. Once the powder is incorporated, let it come to a simmer, but for the love of God, watch your pan because it will bubble up, may bubble over, and chocolate burns really easily.

Pour it up, preferably in small mugs or coffee cups. It's not a lot of liquid, which is shocking to the American eye. We're used to 16 oz. venti whatevers at Starbucks, and this is the opposite. Just take a deep breath and pretend you're in Paris. Everything there is smaller. And I do mean everything.

Brave New Girl, Brand New Blog

2010-08-14T09:03:00.004-04:00

So, I've decided to revamp my blog. I got a pretty pink background, tweaked the name, and made an executive decision to simplify. When I started writing blogs back in 2005 (on myspace, ha!), I wrote about my life, my adventures in LA, and (what else) my feelings. Life was so confusing, and my blogs were my outlet. I think they were pretty good, and I certainly loved writing them. But time passes, and people change.

I'm in a new phase of my life. The 25-year-old LA-transplant moved back home, met the love of her life, got married, and went to law school. Oh, and she's 30 now. Scary. So I'm simplifying things. I no longer need to write about my exploits. In fact, it's no longer wise for me to do so, as my actions will be investigated by the state bar. But even if it were wise, I think that phase of my life is over. I was an open book, or an open blog, as it were. It was wonderful, but I'm changed. Also, I met my husband via my blog. It did its work. It's time to retire the jersey.

Below, and above, you will find a new blog. New to you, new to me.

This blog will be a new outlet for my new(ish) interests. I spend a lot of time thinking about, reading about, shopping for, and preparing food. I'm a fairly accomplished cook, and I cook at least once a day. I cook dinner for my husband and myself nearly every night. My style is fresh, healthy, French-inspired, fast cooking. I tend not to follow recipes. I'm fairly impatient. I refuse to use prepackaged foods, (with the slight exception of some canned items used infrequently), and I make nearly everything from scratch. I prefer organic, although I can't always afford it. I make lots of vegetable dishes. I also tend to use a little too much oil and butter. Basically, the French way of doing things.

Because I don't follow recipes (except for baking), but merely use them as a guide, I will not (normally) have the traditional recipe layout for dishes I post. If possible, I will include the link to either the recipe that inspired my dish, or to one that I feel might work. If I have any tweaks, I'll let you know.
Hopefully that will help those of you who prefer recipes.

I also love the other things that go with housekeeping, and I may post on them from time to time. I love my home. I love a clean, beautiful, serene home. And I love decorating and crafts and all of that domestic whatnot. I know, I know, I'm fulfilling all kinds of gender expectations here. But don't worry, I'm also a lawyer. It's all about balance.

I l'ove Eggs

2010-07-17T10:25:00.006-04:00

I love eggs. Eggs weird people out sometimes, or so I hear. Especially the yolk. My husband is one of those types. He must have either scrambled eggs or an omelet, because the sight of a yolk, (even worse, a runny yolk), freaks him the fuck out. I'm tolerant, although I do get annoyed when he looks at my breakfast as though he couldn't imagine anything more disgusting. (Actually, he hasn't done that since our honeymoon and subsequent fight.)

In French, they're called les oeufs, or l'oeuf. In tennis, "love" means zero, and the commentators always talk about how it came from the french, for "egg." That always confused me - not how an egg could be used for zero, but how "l'oeuf" could become "love." My confusion was answered, however, a few years back when I heard a little British girl on TV, with a cockney accent if you must know, referring to something as "lufly" rather than "lovely." Eureka! Several centuries, perhaps, of interaction between the Brits and the French, garbled accents and misunderstandings, and you get love from l'ouef. C'est formidable!

I make some pretty badass egss, if I do say so. Pan fried were always the hardest for me, because I like them with cooked whites and runny yolks. If I break the yolk in the process, I give it to the dog and start over. She doesn't mind a bit. I feel about runny whites the way my husband feels about runny yolks. I supposed I understand his point of view after all. But, even though over-medium eggs are my favorite, they're not my specialty. Scrambled eggs are my specialty and omelets aren't far behind.

The key to good scrambled eggs lies not in milk or cream. You can obtain a creamy consistency without that. I use eggs, canola oil spray for the pan, and butter. That's it. With a fork, whip up the eggs so that they are entirely incorporated, and you don't have any globs of unmixed white. Get your pan heated over medium - you should be able to hold your palm about 2-3 inches from the pan for about 5-10 seconds. It should be warm, almost uncomfortable. If it's hotter than that, take it off the eye and let it cool down. Spray the pan completely with oil spray, over-lapping, making sure you've hit every crevice. If it smokes and turns brown, the pan is too hot, and you need to cool it down. Put in a knob of butter, and again, if it smokes and spits and turns brown, your pan is too hot. Once the proper temperature is obtained, pour your eggs into the pan, and using a heat-safe silicon spatula, (like this
). I prefer these to metal spatulas when making scrambled eggs and omelets because they're flexible and they won't melt. Metal is good for flipping fried eggs, but if soft, fluffy, delicate eggs are your aim, get one of these babies. And make sure that your spatula is heat safe! Scrambled eggs don't taste very good with melted plastic. After pouring eggs into the pan, gently scrape the bottom of the pan as the eggs set. Repeat. Stir the eggs gently and slowly as they cook. This is a slow process. If your eggs are setting too quickly, simply take your pan off of the heat and continue to stir and scrape. The eggs will continue to come together gradually, forming those little cloud-like pillows of creamy scrambled egg to which we all aspire.

Finally, and this is probably the most important step: take the eggs out of the pan BEFORE they are quite done. I know, I know, those of you who are skeeved out by undercooked eggs will find this horrifying. You will want to make SURE, dammit, that those eggs are fully cooked. But please, take a deep breath, and follow my lead. I'm not asking that you plate them while they're still raw or runny. No. I wouldn't do that to you. I'm asking you to take them out just before they're finished cooking. They should have a slight gleam to them, but they will be fully cooked. This is to ensure that your carefully cooked eggs do not become a hard, dry, tough pile of crap. This, my friends, is the key to creamy eggs without the addition of cream. And if you're truly careful, and take time to cook the eggs over low heat, your eggs will be perfection.

Next: omelets. The two main rules with omelets are one, that you have ALL of your ingredients ready to go before you even put the egg mixture in the pan. Seriously. It's such a fast process, and even snipping herbs with scissors over the pan, (which I attempt nearly every time having forgotten this rule), will risk over-cooking the omelet. The second rule is that you use plenty, PLENTY of butter so that your carefully constructed omelet doesn't stick. I guess a third rule is to make sure that your omelet has set before attempting to flip it. But that part may just take practice. If you add plenty of butter, it should make it easier.

Okay, first you need a pan. I use either a 5-in or 7-in skillet. The smaller the pan, the fewer the eggs you should use. Heat pan over medium high heat, (see the instructions above), spray liberally with canola oil spray (to keep your eggs from sticking), add generous knob of butter, (for a 2-egg omelet, 1-2 teaspoons), and pour in your well-mixed eggs (also see above for mixing instructions - you can use a whisk, but I find that a fork works just as well, and is easier). Let the egg mixture set on the bottom of the pan. Using your silicon spatula (see link above), trace around the edge of where the egg mixture meets the pan, lifting the egg so that the uncooked egg can slip beneath. Continue this until there is no more uncooked egg, but clearly the egg on top isn't fully cooked. Then turn to your already-prepared ingredients for the omelet's interior. Start with any cheese you may have, so that it has the chance to melt. Then add any cooked veggies, (mushrooms and caramelized onions are my fave), or even some raw, diced tomato. Then top with fresh cut herbs.

At about the time you add your herbs, it should be time for the flip. This is the tough part, and it may take some practice. Take your silicon spatula and trace the edge of the omelet, making sure that it is separated from the pan, and isn't sticking on any place. Go around the whole circumference of the omelet. Then decide where it's best to flip it. I usually position my ingredients right in the middle, (12 o'clock to 6 o'clock, if you will), or a little to the right side (1 o'clock to 7 o'clock, or even 1 o'clock to 5 o'clock) to make the flipping easier - it's easier to flip when the ingredients are smaller, and relegated to one half of the circle. Reach your spatula under the empty side of the omelet, bring it over the full side. By the time you flip it, it should be fully cooked. If it isn't, by all means leave it in the pan for another few seconds, but take the pan off the heat. There will be enough heat in the pan to finish the cooking. Once you flip, and with the generous addition of oil and butter you've already put in the pan, your half-circle omelet should slide right out and onto your waiting plate.

If you're making a second, repeat, remembering first to spray copious amounts of canola oil spray, and 2 teaspoons of butter for 2 eggs, a little more for a 3-egg omelet. You should use a pan that's at least 7-in for a 3-or-more egg omelet. Alternately, you can use a smaller pan, but make more omelets with the same amount of egg. In that case, pour in just enough egg to cover the bottom of the pan, and follow the directions from there.

Some of my favorite omelet ingredients are:
cheese - cheddar, feta, mozzarella, brie
cooked veges - mushrooms, onions, asparagus
raw veges - tomatoes
herbs - basil, cilantro, parsley, anything soft and not too woody

Some good combos:
tomato, mozzarella and basil - sort of a caprese omelet
cheddar, mushrooms and onions - classic omelet
brie, asparagus, and thyme
tomatoes, feta, and any herb

Omelets are wonderful on their own, with toast, or even with a salad. I don't care for garlic with eggs, so more delicate salads are best. A salad and a nice piece of bread transforms the omelet from breakfast to a wonderful lunch or dinner.

You get the idea. Use this information wisely. Go forth and make lufly eggs!

Flog: Salad Days of Summer

2010-02-04T10:55:00.005-05:00

Wow, it's been a long time, huh? I haven't written a blog in over three months, which is a record for me.

I had a request for a flog (thanks to Christy, for making me feel special!), so I decided to explore the different salads that I make and love. I've also come to terms with the fact that I am not good at writing recipes in the traditional way, (or determining measurements, or being exact, or following rules...), so I'm going to write my recipes in a sort of narrative fashion. I'm sorry for those who don't learn well this way, but it's pretty much the best I can do - or, more accurately, the best I feel like doing.

So, SALAD. I love salad. Seriously, it's one of my favorite things. My dad has this theory that women, when they go to restaurants, like to order salad and desert, while men like to order a burger or a piece of meat. I've found this to be true, for the most part, except that when Brian and I go out, I'm usually the one who orders a burger, and Brian usually orders a salad. He's healthier than I am; also, I guess I order like a dude. Burgers and beer! WOOOOH!

Anyhoodle, my mom raised us on salad, and it's such a nice, light yet filling, healthy, delicious dish. Brian and I always have a vegetable with our meals, and it's usually salad. It's perfect for Florida, because it's always so daggon hot. The lettuce we get in Florida isn't the best, especially in the summer when the romaine looks and tastes more like tree bark. In France they have the most lovely lettuce. Seriously, it was one of the first things I noticed about France. It's so delicate and buttery. Definitely not the woody romaine I'm accustomed to. It's because lettuce is a cool-weather crop. In Florida, we can grow it in the winter, (and I did, last winter!), but other states/countries can grow it in the summer if it's cool enough. Hence the lovely lettuce in France in the summer of '06. Wow, has it really been almost four years?

Okay, so here are my favorite salads:

1. Caesar, but you already knew that. You can find the recipe here. (Also, just a fun fact, Julius Caesar was never emperor of Rome. For some reason people always think that he was. His nephew (and adopted son) Octavian became Rome's first emperor, Augustus. But that was years and years after Caesar was murdered. Of course, he was killed because the senate thought that he had royal ambitions, which he probably did, and that was repugnant to the Roman Republic, but then as soon as they killed him, they let his nephew/son become emperor, so it doesn't really make sense. But I digress. Anyway, if you're ever on Jeopardy don't make the mistake that I saw a dude make a few days ago - Caesar was never emperor.)

2. Baby greens with red wine vinaigrette. For this salad, you can use basically any type of baby greens, and even some adult greens (grown up greens?) if they're delicate, like butter or bibb lettuce. Romaine is too hearty to use with this dressing, and iceberg has no flavor. I usually use baby arugula (also called rocket or roquette), watercress, baby romaine (usually in a bag), or baby mixed greens.

For the dressing: red wine, champagne, or sherry vinegar, Dijon mustard, salt, pepper, red onions, a dash of maple syrup or honey, and a nut oil - I usually use walnut oil, but you could use almond oil. You can get those oils at Whole Foods, or even Publix, but they're a little expensive. The good news is that you don't use that much of the oil, and at least I don't use it that often, so a bottle lasts a while. You can also sometimes find them at T.J.Maxx for a good price, right next to my favorite French Gray Sea Salt. Also, you can make this in a jar, and then keep the left overs for a day or two. Make sure the jar is small enough, proportionately, to the amount of dressing you're making (I like jam or jelly jars), but big enough to accommodate the onions that you're going to add later (see below), even though said onions will wilt and take up less volume the longer they're in the dressing.

The vinegar to oil ratio should be 1:3, or if you like your salad a little tart, 1:2. Add a few drops of water if you want it less tart, but also don't want to use that much oil. Plop in a nice size drop of Dijon - probably about the same amount as your vinegar. So, a teaspoon of vinegar would call for 2-3 teaspoons oil and 1 teaspoon mustard. Add a little salt and pepper, and the maple syrup (just a dash!) and mix well. Now here's the cool part: take a red (also called purple) onion, cut it in half, and then with the cut side down, slice very thin, (paper thin) slices. Put the onions, however much you want, in the dressing and let it sit for a few minutes. The onions soak up the dressing, so don't add too many lest you be left with no dressing. The lovely part about soaking the onions is that it makes them soft, it takes away the icky raw-onion flavor, and it flavors the dressing. What results is a lovely, fragrant yet delicate salad dressing. Toss it with your baby greens, making sure that you have some of the red onion in the mix. Keep the left-over dressing in the jar for a day or two in the fridge - the onions won't last much longer than that.

3. Greek Salad. I love Greek Salad. LOVE. There's this restaurant I used to go to in LA called George's Greek, and they made the BEST Greek Salad. I used to get it with gyro meat or calamari on top. Yum. The dressing is easy, but for some reason I've always found it a little tricky. I can never get it quite right. So maybe I shouldn't be writing this. Oh well, too late.

Basically, the dressing is red wine vinegar OR lemon juice (or a mixture of both) and olive oil, with some dried oregano and salt and pepper. The ratio is, again, 1:2-3, acid to oil. Here's a recipe from MarStew, which calls for equal parts acid and oil, as well as garlic. Meh, use your best judgement.

The body of the salad is a mixture of iceberg and romaine (a mixture because iceberg is so flavorless and lacking in all nutrients, but essential to an Americanized greek salad), tomatoes, sliced bell pepper, sliced red onion (you can let it marinate in the dressing like the salad in #2, or you can let it soak in ice water, which does the same thing and has the added benefit of making the onion really crunchy and crispy, but not onion-y tasting), cucumber, feta cheese (preferably sheep's milk - Atheno's is the brand I get from Publix), pepperoncini peppers and kalmata olives. It's sort of a lot of ingredients, but the last few are jarred and keep for a while in your fridge.

Tips: cut the tomato in half, and then in thirds to get crescent-shaped tomato triangles. Bell pepper is traditional, but I don't usually use it as raw bell pepper gives me a stomach ache. I usually get English cucumbers, which are better tasting but also slightly more expensive than the watery salad cucumbers. Skin, slice longways down the middle and scrape out the seeds. Then, with the cut side down, slice into half-moons about 1/4" thick. Do the onions as in salad #2 - as thinly as possible. Feta is stored in brine, so when you get it, don't pour out all the brine. Take the cube of feta out, and cut off however much you want to use. For a large salad for 2 people, I'd probably use 1/4 or 1/3 of the feta in the Atheno's container. Put what you're not going to use back in the brine, and back in the fridge. It won't keep forever, since you've already exposed it to the air, but it will keep a goodly amount of time. With the portion you plan to use, press it gently between several pieces of paper towel to soak up the liquid, then crumble or chop as you please. Pepperoncini peppers can be hot, especially the big ones that have tough skin. Look for ones that are small, and have very thin skin - they're the best. To reduce the heat, cut out the internal structure of the pepper, and rinse the whole thing. Pat dry and chop. If you hate olives (there are some people out there who do, although it makes no sense to me), feel free to omit. You can rinse and dry them like the peppers if you want to cut down on the brine-y flavor. Also, if you don't get pitted kalmatas, make sure not to break your tooth on the pit, as I nearly did once at Leonardo's Pizza in Gainesville. THANKS scenesters.

4. Caprese, also known as tomato-basil salad. This salad is best enjoyed in the summer, when both tomatoes and basil are at their peak. A pink, mealy tomato does not do this salad justice, so you may want to wait till summer, especially if you live in a cold climate. Ingredients: tomatoes, mozzarella (preferably fresh or "buffalo,"at least the very least NOT the stuff that's shredded in a bag), basil, balsamic vinegar, olive oil, salt and pepper.

Slice the tomatoes in 1/4-1/2" rounds. Slice mozzarella into slices of roughly the same thickness, although the size can be smaller than the tomatoes. Take the basil leaves and wash and pat dry. Now, on a plate, layer one slice of tomato, one slice of mozzarella, one leaf of basil. Repeat with the rest of your ingredients. This is a composed salad, and appearances matter. When you're done arranging, drizzle the top CAREFULLY with balsamic. Just a drizzle. Then drizzle with olive oil. Then sprinkle with salt and pepper. And viola! (If your basil leaves are sad, and/or you don't have enough for the layering to look good, do this: layer the tomatoes and mozzarella, then thinly slice the basil - for a how-to: , and scatter over the top of the salad before you drizzle the vinegar and oil).

Conclusion:

Basically, you can make up any sort of salad you might want. I don't want to paralyze you with too many choices, but the possibilities are fairly endless. The rule of thumb is that dressings are 1:2-3, acid to fat. By mixing up the different acids (red wine vinegar, balsamic vinegar, lemon juice, lime juice, etc.) and the different oils (grapeseed oil, olive oil, walnut oil), you can change the flavor of the dressing. Add some honey if it's too tart, or some maple syrup. If you want to cut down on calories, add up to a teaspoon of water or even orange juice - but add slowly because it's easy to ruin a dressing with too much water. If you want an Asian vibe, use a neutral oil like olive or grapeseed, and add a TINY bit of toasted sesame oil - like 1/4 teaspoon or less. Too much sesame oil is a BAD THING. So use caution. Add mustard, (I prefer Dijon, but it's up to you), or a teaspoon of flavored mayonnaise, or jam or sauce that you may have in the fridge. I once made a salad with some Boar's Head Sun-dried Tomato mayo, and it was great. Add spices if you feel so inclined, or a minced head of garlic. I've done a honey mustard with red wine vinegar, Dijon, honey and olive oil, and it's pretty delish.

You can also vary the salad by using different types of greens. Romaine is my go-to salad because the quality is usually pretty good, and I can get it for a reasonable price at Publix. But I also love arugula (Brian not so much), and watercress. Baby greens tend to be more expensive, but not by much, and it's still cheaper than getting a salad at a restaurant. One of my favorite salads, (but oddly one that I've never made myself), is a spinach salad with warm bacon vinaigrette. Here's a version with frisee instead of spinach, and it looks pretty lovely. Here's another recipe for the classically French salad dressing that you will get on ANY and EVERY salad you order in France, in one form or another. When the French do something well, they keep it, and fortunately for all of us, this is a lovely dressing. (Also, I love the blog - it's by an American chef who moved to Paris 7 years ago and writes humorously about how funny and weird the French are. If you're a food-loving francophile like myself, you may enjoy it.)

You should also feel free to add protein on top of the salad, like cooked chicken breast, or even fish. I made salad #2 with some canned sardines, and it was pretty good. I need the Omega-3's, you see. Also, I love sardines.

Good resources for other recipes are MarStew's website, and epicurious.com, as well as the Food Network website. You can usually search by ingredient, so if you bought a beautiful head of Boston lettuce, but don't know what to do with it, just type it into the search on MarStew's site and it'll bring up recipes that include it.

So, go forth and make salad! And tell me how it turns out.

Flog: Cakery

2009-10-26T13:48:00.008-04:00

So, I figured it was time for a flog. Today's topic: CAKE! My dad (or is it my mom?) says that there are two types of people: cake people, and pie people. While I love each equally, I think I'm probably more of a cake person. The only reason being that I find it easier to make a cake than a pie. It all comes down to the pie crust, and I'm like a spooked horse when it comes to pie crust. I've made one too many tough crusts. I think the problem is that I don't have a delicate hand... or palette... or sense of humor. I'm not what you'd call subtle.

I realized recently that I never posted pictures of my wedding cake, which, if you'll remember, my mom baked, and I filled and decorated. It was a fun, albeit long and exhausting process, and the results were stunning. My decorations weren't professional looking by any stretch of the imagination, and I wish I had either had more time or more practice or had used stencils, but whatever. The proof was, as they say, in the pudding. Or, cake. Whichever. You may also remember that, though we made enough cake for 300, and though we only had under 100 guests, that ALL OF THE CAKE WAS GONE at the end of the night. Seriously. Gone. I'm not sure if I got a piece, to be honest with you. But that's okay, because there's nothing I love more than when people really like the food I cook, and/or the cake I decorate.

(Cake Below: Not actually my wedding cake, but a practice cake that we brought to the shower. I didn't do the roses - they're prepackaged, and, I would guess, not edible.)

Making my own wedding cake, (with my mom - I can't forget that; in fact, it might be more accurate to say that SHE made the cake, and I helped), was really a great experience. I learned so much. I learned how to make curd, (mango), and cloud cream, (raspberry), and buttercream icing! It was my first foray into buttercream, (if you don't count my attempt at it last Halloween when I, for some reason, thought that I had to add cold butter rather than room temp, and it took a million times longer because the butter had to soften in order to become spreadable), on any serious level, and I learned that it's quite a delightful substance to create and work with. We made Italian Meringue Buttercream, which is when you boil some sugar water to a certain temp, whip some egg whites for, like, ten minutes until they're glossy and cloud-like, then stream the hot sugar into the egg whites with the stand mixer going, and end up with this delightfully shiny, ribbon like mixture, that you then mix room temperature butter into one pat at a time. It tastes amazing, and it spreads like a dream. What's best is that, when you layer it on your cake, you can stick said cake into the fridge to harden up the icing, which then forms an easy base to add more frosting. That makes doing the crumb coat super easy, (and you always must do a crumb coat!), and it makes it easy to get a smooth coat of frosting on the cake, and it helps with decorations.

Why did I not take more pictures of the wedding cake? Seriously, I can only find, like three. What the hell? Was I too much of a crazed bride to take this thing seriously? Anyhoodle, this is the stage where I had iced all three tiers, and was putting the thing together. I think it turned out alright.
Anyway, I'm glad we did it the way we did. I thought that we were insane for even thinking about making our own cake, but the thought of paying upwards of $5/slice for mediocre cake was just too much for my poor brain to handle. Was it a lot of work? You bet your sweet ass it was. Was it utterly and completely worth it, and better than we even imagined it would be? Yes, it was that, too. Am I SO relieved that my memory of my wedding wasn't tainted with the memory of bad cake? Oh, hell yes. I may have regrets about my wedding, (and who doesn't?), but the cake isn't one of them. I hope I never regret cake.

I hope Brian never regrets my cakes, either. I made this fabulous confection for his birthday last week. We shared it with family, and were still able to eat a slice a day for an entire week. It was the gift that kept giving!

Light, moist chocolate mocha layer cake, with an orange-chocolate buttercream? Yes, please! It sliced like a dream, and I don't know what kind of icings you're used to, but this buttercream was like heaven itself. When it's cold, it flakes off into buttery, chocolatey chunks. When room temperature, it's like eating a cloud - it's so fluffy, you wouldn't believe that it's almost entirely made of BUTTER, which can seem as dense and heavy as lead.

I just wish I had a piece right now! Oh well, this weekend, for Halloween, I'm making red velvet mini cupcakes with a cream cheese buttercream iced to look like brains. It's MarStew, of course. I did a lot of research on buttercreams today; I just hope that the addition of the cream cheese won't keep me from being able to pipe properly. I must have a proper pipe! Stay tuned, I'll be sure to take pictures this time.

Flog: Mac n Gruyere

2009-09-29T10:43:00.008-04:00

So last night I made a startling discovery. I unintentionally paired the perfect beer with my food. In general I'm not much of an oenophile. I like wine, and I love the idea that, when paired with the right food, it can bring out the best of everything, flavor-wise. But I don't have a delicate palate. I just don't. So pairings are sometimes lost on me. (Although, one time in Paris Jules and I had the best meal at this little restaurant and each course was paired with the PERFECT wine... and even I could tell. But that's Paris.) Brian can drink a wine and come up with all sorts of flavors, like cinnamon, or vanilla, or plum. The most I can usually come up with is "fruity" or "oaky." I recently read an article about pairing beer with food, (you can read it here), and it sounded like such fun. I'm going through a real beer phase right now; I haven't had the taste for wine in a while. It might be the heat - who can drink a red wine in this heat? White is a little easier to stomach, but still, there's nothing so nice as a cold, refreshing beer.

But ANYWAY, I ended up with my own pairing: a version of mac and cheese with gruyere, and a pale ale! It wasn't even a pale ale I had tried before. It was Widmer Brothers Drifter Pale Ale. I didn't think I liked Widmer Bros., because I found their hefeweisen somewhat lackluster. I have high standards for my hefeweisens. But I was in the mood for a little risk-taking, and was very pleased with the results. The beer was hoppy and slightly bitter, but crisp and refreshing at the same time. It's supposed to have citrus notes, but my lack of a palate didn't help me detect them. I took a bite of the mac n cheese, and then took a sip of the beer, and it was nirvana in my mouth. The nutty flavor of the cheese worked perfectly with the crisp/bitter flavor of the beer. I even made Brian taste right then and there, despite the fact that he was in the middle of washing dishes. It was THAT good.

So, why not share the recipe? Okay!

A few caveats. First of all, the name "Mac and Cheese" is a bit of a misnomer. It was more like pasta with a nice bechamel sauce, and cheese. The traditional mac and cheese is macaroni pasta, a bechamel, in a casserole dish, topped with cheese and baked like a casserole. When it comes out, it's all bubbly with a nice upper layer of melted cheese, slightly crisp on the edges. Dang, I'm making myself hungry. I didn't have the time to bake it, so I just cooked the pasta, made the sauce, and dumped some grated cheese in the pot with the pasta and sauce, and mixed it around. The result was less casserole, and more like loose, albeit delicious, cheesy pasta. I also added some sauteed portobello mushroom slices to mine, which was awesome.

Second, I made the bechamel lighter than normal by adding chicken broth and milk, rather than just straight milk and/or cream. Perhaps the French would think the worse of me for it, but fuck it. I don't need that many calories - I'm already eating pasta and cheese, for crying out loud!

Third, gruyere is a little expensive and for that reason I don't buy it often. When I do buy it, however, I realize/remember/decide that it's work every penny and that I should buy it more often. It's a nice melting cheese, from Switzerland, and it has this amazing buttery-nutty flavor to it. It's similar to a good parmesan, but it's a younger cheese (i.e. softer), and it gets gooey when melted. The flavor is perfect with pasta, as well as with toast (like a cheese toast with soup!), and black pepper sets it off wonderfully.

Instructions

1. Take one box of pasta and cook according to the directions on the package. I used Kamut Spirals, which is a wheat alternative. If you choose something like that, (either Jerusalem Artichoke flour pasta, or kamut, or whatever, I tend to think it's a little better if you cook it for a minute more than what the directions say - they tend to be a little too al dente otherwise.) Boil in very salty water. I've heard that you should make the pasta water as salty as the sea. When it's done cooking, take a bowl or a cup and scoop out some hot pasta water. Then drain your pasta in a colander.

2. Replace the pot on the stove, but reduce the heat to medium. Make a roux: Working quickly, put 1 Tablespoon of butter (or oil) in the pan, and once melted, add 1 Tablespoon flour. Using a whisk, mix the flour and butter until there are no lumps, and it's evenly spread on the bottom of the pan. Add about a teaspoon of salt and a generous grinding of black pepper. Let the flour-butter mixture cook for about a minute. It should bubble and get brown, but watch and make sure it doesn't burn. If it looks like it's cooking too quickly, take it off of the eye and let the eye cool down for a few minutes. If you let the roux burn, you're going to have to dump it out, wipe out the bottom of the pan with a paper towel, and start over. Once the roux cooks for about a minute or a little more, add some chicken broth and some milk - about 2 cups total, one cup of chicken broth and one cup milk. But, as a caution, try half a cup at a time. Half a cup of broth, half a cup of milk. If it's too thick, add another cup liquid, a quarter cup at a time, keeping in mind the half broth-half milk portions. Pour the liquid in a thin stream, whisking as you go to mix it thoroughly. As you add the liquid, the mixture will instantly thicken. Pour the liquid in slowly until the mixture has attained the right thickness - you know, not to thin, not to thick. If you accidentally get the sauce too thin, add a little bit of the reserved pasta water, bring it to a simmer and let it cook for 2-3 minutes to thicken up again. But use your best judgment.

3. Grate about a cup to a cup and a half of gruyere in a large grate.

4. Dump the pasta back into the pot, and toss to coat in the sauce. (Note: at this point, you could turn this loose-pasta dish into a more traditional mac and cheese casserole. To do so: toss the pasta in the sauce, grease a casserole dish, dump the pasta with sauce in the casserole dish, and then top it with the gruyere. Bake at 300 or 350 degrees for about half an hour, until the cheese is bubbling on top. If it begins to brown too quickly, tent some foil on top.)

5. Throw in the cheese half at a time, tossing to mix. Use less cheese or more cheese to taste. A grinding of black pepper is also good at this point, if you want.

6. Serve it up, pop open a pale ale (preferably the Widmer Bros. Drifter), and enjoy yourself. Like I said earlier, I sliced some portobello mushroom caps very thinly, and then cut cross-wise into thirds, sauteed in some butter or oil until soft and slightly browned, and ate it with the pasta and cheese. I didn't mix it in the whole dish, (Brian no likey the mushrooms), but that would be fabulous. What would also be phenomenal would be some bacon. If you add bacon, pre-cook it, (I like cooking it in the oven, although I put the bacon on a cooling rack in a baking pan with a rim because it raises the bacon up out of the grease), roughly chop it, and mix it in at the stage where you add the cooked pasta to the bechamel sauce.

Oh, and you're welcome.

Better Living Through Science

2009-08-05T13:34:00.001-04:00

So, I'm sort of a healthy food snob. Well... that's not exactly the right way to put it. I love food, but I love high quality food. I love french fries, but I buy organic as much as possible. Nachos are my favorite meal, but I use Greenwise Blue Corn Tortilla Chips, (blue corn is supposed to be better for you for some reason), no-hormone cheese, and organic ground chuck. I eat well, without eating poorly. I decided a few years ago to never again buy hormone beef - beef that comes from cows treated with steroids and antibiotics and fed a diet of corn to make them EXTRA fat. I broke that once recently, when we got our new meat grinder, because Publix didn't have any organic brisket, and I had heard that made the best burger. It didn't, by the way, but maybe that's just because I'm used to organic beef, and the conventional sort tasted bland by comparison.

And that's the thing: I have a lot of different reasons for eating organic, (animal cruelty, health, refusing to support the post-WWII American ideology of better living through science, supporting small farms, mad cow, the environment, the fact that it's BETTER FOR EVERYONE INVOLVED), when it comes right down to it, organic tastes better. We started out drinking organic milk about ten years ago, and I honestly don't think I could stomach the regular kind now. If you did a side-by-side taste test, I doubt anyone would prefer conventional milk to organic. It's the same with everything else: meat, eggs, cheese, vegetables and fruits. Organic tastes better. Amping up production to make more money also means that the quality is compromised. How is that surprising on any level?

I'm glad that eating organic and free-range is getting easier and easier with each passing year. It's also getting cheaper, which is really the sticking point for so many people, myself included. Sometimes I just can't afford the organic eggs. And sometimes the product you want isn't available in organic. For instance, I love a nice, rare steak. But Publix hasn't been carrying much by way of organic steaks lately. What's a gal to do? It pains me when the (conventional) T-bones and Porterhouses are on sale at Publix, because I want one, and they're so reasonably priced, but I can't do it. I just can't support that industry, and I can't put that trash into my body. So I forgo. There's no other way.

Brian and I have been talking about buying a half a cow wholesale. You can do that, you know. It's supposed to be cheaper than buying a la cart at the grocery store, and there's the added security of knowing where the cow came from, (no mad cow disease, please!), its diet, and whether it was free-range. That's so much nicer than picturing one's hamburger coming from one of those awful high-density feed lots in Texas, where the poor things are unable to even move, not to mention the diet they're fed. That's actually what spurred my current stance on the beef industry, Big Beef. Remember mad cow? I was so horrified by it, and by the news reports at the time that reported that a single packet of ground beef could have up to one-hundred different cows in it, that I swore off everything but organic. I didn't eat burgers at restaurants unless I knew for a fact that they ground their meat in-house, and/or that they had their own ranches. In n' Out Burger, for instance, has their own ranches. J. Alexander's grinds their own beef, and buy from one single ranch. Nowadays mad cow isn't that big a deal, (although you'll never convince my mom of that), but I'm sticking to my stance. Just because there's no real immediate threat of me coming down with a debilitating disease caused by ranchers feeding dead, diseased cows to their living cattle, doesn't mean I need to support an industry that was willing to perpetrate such crimes against nature just to turn a profit. No, sir.

Also, and I haven't heard a lot about this lately, but for a while there was all this talk about children in America developing at a tremendous rate as a result of the hormones given to dairy cows, and thus passed through the milk. I heard about girls getting their periods at ten years old, and about fifth graders having sex. Add this to the obesity epidemic, and we have a truly terrifying situation. I don't understand how this sort of thing could have been allowed to continue. Haven't these farmers, (and the government agencies in charge of regulating the industry), heard that old phrase "You are what you eat"? Beyond the obvious animal cruelty, the chickens with genetically-enhanced breasts that are so heavy that they keep the animal from being able to walk, to the cows pumped full of antibiotics and fed a diet of pure corn, there's the fact that human beings are then to ingest these animals. Why would I want to eat a genetically-enhanced chicken breast from a bird that was so deformed that it could not walk? The idea of that makes my stomach churn. The idea that cow's milk can make a little girl get her period a good three years early chills me to the bone. These are huge forces we're dealing with, and the American agricultural industry is being far too lax about it.

And I think it all stemmed from the post-WWII boom, when America looked around as the dust from the war was settling and noticed, "Hey, we're the only game in town." Sure, it was great for the economy, but our nation is suffering today from decisions made sixty years ago. America's gift, or national talent, so to speak, is the fact that we work really hard, and we know how to turn a profit. With the post-war boom came advances in science, which was then applied to agriculture. If a farmer could make $x on a tomato harvest the ordinary way, what would happen if he expanded his plot and genetically enhanced the tomato seeds to make them twice as big? He could make triple, or quadruple the money! And what about the meat industry? Hoover wanted a chicken in every pot - well, what if the chickens were bigger? They could feed more people, yes, but really, they could feed the same number of people more meat. So science took over the farm, and then the kitchen, and today we have foods with ingredients like polysorbate 80, xanthan gum, and high fructose corn syrup. These are not real foods. Real foods do not contain numbers, and usually are not named things like "xanthan." Polysorbate 80, by the way, apparently causes infertility, and I've never heard of a real food doing that. How are we expected to live on chemicals? Better living through science, indeed.

Another result of this better-living-through-science thing is the rise of the corn industry. I'm not sure if you've ever noticed, but corn is in everything. Corn is in dog food. Corn is the number one ingredient in most dog foods, in fact. It's a cheap filler, and to top it off, it's addictive. It's also murder on the teeth, gums, digestive track, and over-all health of all mammals. And corn is systemic, which means that when you use pesticide on it, it gets into the fruit itself and cannot be washed off. It's in there for good, in the very genes of the corn. How scary is that? Corn is one thing that I will not eat unless it's organic. It scares the shit out of me. I also will not feed it to my pets, which is why our dog and cat food bill is significantly more expensive than the Average American Family. Corn in pet food has been linked to all kinds of health problems in pets, from rotten teeth, to skin problems, to cancer. And why would you feed a pet corn? Do wild dogs or cats eat processed grain? How about wheat gluten? Because that's usually ingredient number two. Then there's usually some soy, which, incidentally is also really bad for dogs. It's one thing for humans to eat these processed things. After all, if you think of the evolution of humanity, we started processing wheat fairly early in the game. Ancient Egyptians were doing it by 5,000 b.c. But dogs? Not so much. I doubt they will ever learn how to process grain. So it's probably best to give them what their furry little bodies were designed to eat: protein, fat, and some vegetation. While the best diet for dogs is raw meat and some vegetables, as well as raw bones for tooth and gum health, (and I have done that diet, so I know for a fact), Petsmart sells several brands of dog food that have no corn, wheat, or soy. It may be slightly more expensive, but you'll safe time and money, (not to mention heartache), from your pet not being diagnosed with terrible diseases and having to go on terrible medications, and then dying before their time anyway.

Big Corn has apparently gotten the memo that they're not as popular as they once were. Have you seen these ads? They're usually in "Everyday Food," which makes me a little mad at Martha for taking money from these Godless pigs:
or:I find these ads repugnant. They're poorly written and poorly executed, and there's something so forced and smug about them. "Wow, you get your hair done by a doctor?" she asks coyly, implying that a mere hairdresser would have no idea the nutritional value of high fructose corn syrup (HFCS). It's just so over the top. And to top it all off, it's spiteful. Especially the second one. These ads are designed to stop the HFCS bashing that's going on today, but they just make me want to avoid it all the more. Not only is the product terrible, but so are the people behind the product.

The thing is, people are not robots, and we as human beings cannot exist on the earth without having some connection to the earth. Even if you forget all of the other great reasons to eat organic and natural, like the fact that it lessens your carbon footprint, or the whole animal cruelty aspect, remember that you are, in fact, what you eat. Polysorbate 80 was not designed to edify the human body, it was designed as an emulsifier for food and pharmaceuticals. How can we honestly think that consuming something like that is okay?

I'm not 100% organic. If it were feasible, I would be. I would love nothing more than to subsist on all fresh produce and meat. Really, I'd love to be a locavore, but in Florida that would restrict my diet to... well, whatever can actually grow in this heat, like tomatoes and squash. I love lettuce too much to give it up, even if that means trucking it in from California. Baby steps are the key. Ten years ago, I started with organic milk, (I like Organic Valley - plus, they have THE BEST chocolate milk EVER), and by cutting out conventional corn in all of its forms, especially in dog/cat food. A few years down the line, I stopped eating conventional ground beef. When Brian and I started dating, we gave up HFCS, (and I switched Kitty to the no-corn diet). A few years ago, I gave up all conventional beef. It's not that hard to make the change, especially these days. Publix has a whole line of organic products, and Tampa actually has a Whole Foods Market. It's more expensive to live organic, that's for sure, but the pay-off is so worth it. When you compare a cheeseburger from McDonald's to a burger made with organic ground chuck and hormone-free cheese, is there even a comparison to be made? Isn't it terribly obvious which meal wins?

Pico de Gallo, Eggplant, and S'Mores, oh my!

2009-07-27T14:33:00.000-04:00

So, how about some more flogging?

Whilst on vacay in beautiful Cape San Blas, we did a lot of cooking. That's what's nice about staying at a condo - you don't have to go out for every meal. Brian and I were talking about how, when we were kids, going out to eat was so awesome and exciting because we never really did it. Now, however, it's just tiresome. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's wonderful to do it a few times a month. It's easy, and there's no clean-up. But, honestly, I cook so much better than most restaurants. And, it's cheaper. So there.

Anyhoodle, I'll share with you some of my tastes of summer. I made the first two dishes on vacay, (although the eggplant dish pictures are from our house, after we got home). The final one isn't so much a recipe, as it is just pictures from the s'mores I made for Sarah's wedding.

Primero: Pico de Gallo, or "Rooster's Beak," most commonly known as fresh salsa. Brian and I love salsa, and we eat a lot of Mexican. It's easy, quick, and we nearly always have the ingredients on hand. We don't make Pico all that often, (probably once a month or less - more often in the summer), but when we do, it's heavenly. I suggest serving this with something fresh and light, like fish tacos. It's great on its own, with tortilla chips, (we prefer the organic blue corn variety, available at both Publix and Target).

Ingredients:
- tomatoes
- onion
- cilantro
- jalepeno pepper
- lime juice
- garlic
- olive oil

Directions:
1. Cut up about 5 tomatoes of medium size into a medium dice. Each piece should be roughly 1/2" by 1/2". I'm going to give you rough measurements as this is a quick and casual dish. The chop doesn't have to be perfect, but the more uniform and neat, the more pleasing to the eye. I used both red and yellow tomatoes.

2. Chop up 1 medium-sized onion. Red onions (which are actually purple and will stain your hands) work well, but most of the time I prefer a sweet Vidalia onion, which is pale yellow in color. Especially if I'm just working with red tomatoes, rather than red and yellow, I like the yellow onion because the end result is red, white, and green, which is, I believe, the same as the Mexican flag. Also, it just looks nice. But, red onions are awesome, too, so use what you like.

3. Finely chop 1 head of fresh cilantro. It should be green and fresh, not wilted or sad looking. Remove all brown bits. Cut off the last 1-2" from the end of the stalk, and finely chop the rest. It's important to have a nice, sharp chef's knife for this job. The condo we stayed at had a set of knives that were very crappy indeed, and so my cilantro suffered. But like I said with the tomatoes, the neatness of your chopping will enhance the visual appeal of the dish, but not the taste. It will still taste great.

(Sort of blurry cilantro. I like to wash it, and then, if I'm not going to use it right then, or not all of it, I wrap it in a paper towel while it's still wet, slip it in a plastic ziplock, and stick it in the vegetable crisper. The dampness from the cilantro on the paper towels keeps it fresh and ready to use.)

4. Cut up 1 jalepeno pepper into a fine dice. Keep in mind that the oils from the pepper will stay on your hands, even after you wash them, so avoid touching your eyes for at least an hour. Also, the ribs (the white part inside that the seeds cling to) and the seeds hold most of the heat of the pepper - include them if you want a hotter salsa. I usually discard them and use just the flesh, (i.e. the green part). It adds a nice amount of heat. If you like yours hotter, you can use a hotter pepper, or just add hot sauce. The rule with peppers is: the smaller the pepper, the hotter the heat. So, habaneros and scotch bonnets are REALLY HOT. The jalepenos can vary in their intensity, so if you're really sensitive you might start with half a pepper and work from there.

5. Squeeze about 3 limes into the mix. Add 2 cloves of garlic, finely diced (or pressed, through your handy-dandy garlic press, which I'm sure you ran out to buy after my Caesar flog). Then add about 3 tablespoons of olive oil, as well as about 2 teaspoons salt, and a generous pinch of black pepper.

(Yum, garlic.)

6. Now is the time to taste, evaluate, and adjust the seasoning. The essential flavors of this dish are: tart, salty, pungent, and fresh. When you taste it, what does it need? Is it bland? Does it need more salt, or more lime juice? I have to warn you - it usually needs more salt. I told you to put 2 teaspoons in, and I can guarantee you that won't be enough. But, better safe than sorry, right? So add it a teaspoon, (or better, half a teaspoon), at a time to adjust the salt slowly. Remember: when something is too salty, it's just terrible. (If, however, you do over-salt, just add half a tomato. You may also need to up the lime juice if this happens, but everything else should be fine.) If it tastes flat, as in it's salty enough, limey enough, and all the flavors seem to be there but it still doesn't taste quite right, add another tablespoon or two of olive oil. This is a light dish, but it needs the right amount of oil in order for it to taste right. Remember: fat is flavor!

7. Once you have the flavors right, and it tastes so good that you want to eat it right then and there, (go ahead, have some), it's even better if you put it in a glass bowl, (don't use plastic or metal, as these are "reactive," and the lime juice could "react" poorly - it's not such a big deal to mix it up in a plastic bowl, but just don't store it in plastic or metal), or a few large glass jars, and stick it in the fridge. A few hours marinating in the fridge will bring out the flavors even more. There will be a lot of juice, too. Leave it in there, until or unless you want to serve it up all pretty-like, and it's too juicy. But don't throw away that juice even when you do. It's so healthy and delicious - Brian likes to drink it. And if that thought queases you out, throw it on a plant, or in your compost heap or something. It's nice organic material; don't waste it.

Finally, the Pico should last, in the fridge, in glass, for a few days. It is a fresh salsa, which means, (as I've explained to Brian countless times), it cannot be frozen. It's a fleeting snapshot of summer. After about 5 days in the fridge, you should probably throw it out. On your compost heap, of course.

Secundo: Broiled eggplant with garlic.

I made this dish up, although I'm sure it's been done before. Eggplant is another of summer's flavors, and it grows well in the south, just like onions and tomatoes. It has to be cooked well, though, to make the flesh tender and the skin etible. The connundrum is, however, that it soaks up oil like a mofo, so how do you cook it so that it tastes great, but isn't a zillion calories? One way is to cook it over a grill - just a brush of olive oil on each side, and it's great. Another way is, so I've learned, under the broiler.

I chose toot and tiny baby eggplants. They really look like eggs, no?

I cut them in half and arranged them in a baking dish that I had sprayed with non-stick spray, which is, in case you were wondering, my best friend.

Then I brushed the cut sides with some oil, sprinkled some salt, and stuck them under the broiler on high, (if your broiler does it by degrees, 500 degrees is good).

I broiled 'em 'till there was some color on the cut sides of the eggplant. This took about 10 minutes, but don't trust me on that - WATCH YOUR BROILER because things burn up real quick. Also, one broiler is different from another. What you're looking for is color, brown-cookedness, as in the picture above. Once you've achieved this, take the pan out of the oven, (using an oven mit), and sort of shake the eggplant around, so that some of it is turned over. Then put it back in the oven and cook it for another 5 minutes, roughly. You want the same amount of color again. While the eggplant is cooking, get a small bowl and in it place 2 smallish heads of garlic, finely diced or crushed in your garlic press, and combine with 2 tablespoons olive oil. Mix well. Once the eggplant has achieved more color, but is not burnt, (if it burns, turn the oven down, or move the eggplant further away from the broiler, i.e. to a lower shelf), take it out of the oven again, and drizzle the garlic/olive oil mixture over the top, and toss to coat. Stick it back in the oven yet again, and let it cook just for a few more minutes, about 3-5. The garlic will get fragrant and will become more opaque. If the heat is too high, the garlic will burn fast, as it has a lot of sugar in it. When the garlic is cooked, take the dish out of the oven, and let it cool off. Then, enjoy!

(The clumps of white stuff is cooked garlic. The skin of the eggplant gets nice and deflated, and the flesh is tender. It's delish.)

Tres: Homemade S'mores!

I made these for my cousin Sarah's wedding. They were a big hit. I got the recipes from www.smittenkitchen.com - just search for marshmallows, and then for graham crackers. Since you can find the recipes yourself, and written far better than I could ever do, I'll just show you the pictures. That's the fun part, anyway.

That's just one big sheet of marshmallow, and the hearts cut out rather nicely. After layering the s'more, I just popped 'em under the broiler for, like, under a minute, and they were perfect!

The Honeymoon has just begun

2009-07-22T13:53:00.000-04:00

So, we're on vacation, or "vacay" as the kids say. Actually, I say that. We rented a condo called, (and I kid you not), the "Hakuna Matata." It means "no worries," in case you've never seen The Lion King, and let's face it, you have. We're on Cape San Blas, Florida, which is a barrier island off the coast of Port St. Joe, Florida, which is a paper mill town down the coast from Panama City. It's on the Gulf of Mexico, and the beaches are powder white and gorgeous. These are seriously the most beautiful beaches in the world, as far as I'm concered. Sure, I haven't been anywhere, but I knows what I likes, and I likes these beaches.

My cousin Sarah and her now-husband Cole got married last Saturday, and the wedding was loverly. They also rented a beach house, (there's is MUCH nicer than ours), so we've been honeymooning together. It's been fun. Last night we ate freshly caught oysters, (Cole shucked), some raw and some a la Rockefeller. We bought them from this little fish shop on the outskirts of Appalachicola, which is this tiny old cotton port town that subsists mainly on fresh seafood and tourism. They were $13 for a half-bag, which is 30-lbs. I know nothing about oysters, but Cole and Sarah said that they'd be 3-4 times that in Panama City. I have no idea what they'd be in Tampa. They were so fresh, they'd come right off the boat, that the fish monger said that they would quickly melt the ice that he filled the cooler with. Cole said that he'd never bought oysters that had come right off the boat, and when she tasted them, Sarah said they were the best oysters she'd ever had.

Brian and I are oyster neophytes, but we did enjoy them. I've tried raw oysters here and there, but they've always been too oyster-y. They've been, you know, fishy tasting. Apparently, however, that's not what oysters should taste like, because what we ate last night were fresh as the gulf breeze and salty like sea water. They were enchanting. I didn't take any pictures last night for some reason, but we still have more oysters left, so I'll be sure to take some pictures this evening. I'll also take pictures of the scallops that Brian and Cole are out hunting for right now. I sort of wanted to go scalloping, but what with the mask and sea booties, and having to chase the little buggers, (did you know that they run away?), and bring in 6-8 ft of water in the sea grass, it's probably better that Sarah and I are just going to go to the beach. Speaking of which, where are you, Sarah?

I love spending a few days at the beach. Like nearly all Floridians, I grew up with the water. My parents took us to the beach every weekend (seriously) when we were kids. I love to swim, and I'm actually pretty good at it. There's something so awe-inspiring and amazing about the ocean. And the Gulf of Mexico is like bath water. Bath water with powdery white sand. Does it get any better? Well, yes it does, when you can catch, or buy, fish that was alive ten minutes ago, and eat it with good friends. It's the life.

Marshmallows, and annoyance

2009-07-10T12:20:00.000-04:00

So, I made marshmallows last night! How cool is that? Really cool. I also made the graham cracker dough, though I haven't baked the crackers yet. I'll keep you updated.

But enough about that, I have something to complain about, and what's a blog without a good complaint-session every now and again? I ask you.

So I went to Starbucks this morning on my way into work, at about 10:15 a.m. I go to the drive thru, of course, because why would I actually get out of my car? I pull up to the little voice thing, and say in a clear voice, "I'll take a Triple-Venti-Decaf-Protein-Mocha."

And the Starbucks employee repeats my order, "So that'll be a Venti-Non-Fat-No-Whip-Mocha?"

"No, a Triple-Venti-Decaf-Protein-Mocha. Regular fat is fine."

"Okay, a grande with an extra shot, nonfat mocha."

"Ma'am, no. A TRIPLE VENTI DECAF PROTEIN MOCHA."

"Hot or iced?"

"Hot."

"Okay, pull around."

For the love of God, woman, what's so hard about that order? So, I pulled around, wondering if she even then got it right, and when I get to the window, she leans out the window and asks,

"Do you want whipped cream on your Frappuccino?"

"Yes," I said automatically, and then, "Wait! I didn't order a Frappuccino."

"What did you order?"

"A triple venti decaf protein mocha."

"Hot or iced?"

"Hot."

"Okay, it'll be a minute."

She swiped my card and gave it back, but in the several minutes it took for them to make the coffee I actually ordered, I noticed that they had charged me for a frappuccino! Now, it very well may have been the same price, or even cheaper, than my drink. It was, like, $4.50, and my drink usually costs in the neighborhood of $5.00. I may have just kept my mouth shut, but it was the principle of the thing! So, I waved her down and pointed out that they had charged me for a frappuccino. So she says, without so much as a "please", "Let me see your card." So I give her my card, wanting so badly to say, "Please! You address customers in a polite manner, and you use the word 'please'!" Anyhoodle, by the time I got my drink, she had refunded my card the price of the drink - both the drink I DID order, as well as the drink I did not order. So, I guess that in the end it was all fine. I got a free drink and all it cost me was ten of the most annoying minutes of my life.

And that's pretty annoying, no? It was practically comical, actually, if I hadn't been so irritated. I'm not going back to that Starbucks again. I've had problems with them before. Sigh. And is it too much to ask that servers and the like behave in a polite manner to customers? I mean, I know I'm just paying for a cup of coffee, but doesn't my $5 also buy some manners? Should I ask for a triple venti with an extra shot of "thank you"? Yeesh!

It's interesting when people talk of manners. It's a sensitive topic to a lot of people. It generally starts those sorts of conversations, (diatribes?), that begin, "Kids these days have no manners! When I was a kid, my pa took a birch rod to my rear if I so much as answered with a 'yeah' instead of a 'yes.'" Personally, I feel that there's just a baseline of politeness that everyone should ascribe to. It makes life so much easier and more enjoyable to interact with people without an underlying sense of hostility. I just think it's better for both parties. Anyway......

I'll keep you updated on those homemade s'mores. I have high hopes.

Hail, Caesar!

2009-07-06T12:49:00.000-04:00

So, I've been meaning to start writing about food and recipes. I don't read many food blogs, (flogs?), but there's one I like, smittenkitchen.com. It's cute; I recommend. The recipes are simple, clean, healthy, and fresh, and the photography is excellent. Actually, that's the blog I read when researching making our own wedding cake, which the author had done for a friend. She also recently made homemade graham crackers, homemade marshmallows, and then brought it all together to make HOMEMADE S'MORES. Are you kidding me? That's AWESOME. And I'm totally going to do it before the summer is over.

I've decided to start flogging, (haha), with my Caesar Salad recipe, which, in case you were wondering, is The Best Caesar Salad I've Ever Had, and Likely The Best One You've Ever Had As Well, But I'll Let You Make The Call. Seriously. Bottled dressing? No. Not here, folks. A lot of restaurants do bottled dressing. It's a joke. The only restaurant's Caesar I really like is J. Alexander. But that's another story.

Caesar salad is actually a Mexican dish, and is thus not named after Julius Caesar, would-have-been-Emperor-of-Rome-(maybe)-if-he-hadn't-been-stabbed-in-the-back. (Side note, did you know that Brutus was, probably, Caesar's son? True story.) According to the wikipedia page, the Caesar Salad was invented on the July 4th weekend, 85-years ago. Happy Birthday, Caesar! It was originally served over whole pieces of romaine, and tossed table-side by the chef. The original recipe calls for a raw egg, which makes modern readers a bit squeamish. I've tried it with the egg, (cooking it in boiling water for 1-minute to pasteurize it, but still quite raw), and honestly, I didn't find that it made it that much better. It also adds a lot of time to the whole process, so I've cut it out. The anchovy, however, really does make a difference. I know a lot of people dislike anchovies, (myself included), but it really makes the dish. And you really can't taste them, so don't worry.

In terms of special equiptment, here's what you'll need: garlic press, whisk, large bowl, cheese grater (preferably a box grater), and tongs. You don't really need any of this, though, except the cheese grater, (cause you're not going to buy the powdered stuff in the green can, are you?) and the large bowl. Instead of the garlic press, you can just mince the garlic by hand. Instead of the whisk, you can use a fork, and instead of tongs you can use those salad tossing tools, or large wooden spoons. But, the equiptment does make it easier. I use whisks and tongs for nearly everything. An overstatement perhaps, but still, they're very useful. Let's get to the recipe, though, shall we?

Hail, Caesar!

Serves: 2 large servings, four smaller servings

8 cups romaine lettuce (torn into bite-sized pieces); roughly 2 romaine hearts (I use the Publix brand Romaine Hearts)

Dressing:
1 medium clove garlic
1 T dijon mustard
1-2 t anchovy paste, (or 1-2 anchovy fillets, smushed into a paste-like substance)
1 t balsamic vinegar
juice from half of a lemon
black pepper
dash salt
about 9 T olive oil

1/2 c grated parmesan cheese

1. In a large bowl, (large enough to toss 8 cups of lettuce), juice half a lemon, through a strainer to catch all the seeds. Add the dijon, the balsamic, and the anchovy paste. Note, I prefer anchovy paste, but the fillets work just as well, they're just more tactile. I have been able to find the paste at the nicer Publixes, as well as at Whole Foods. If you can't find the paste, you can get just a tin of anchovy fillets in olive oil. You can crush them into a paste with a fork.

2. Garlic: here's the deal with garlic. Look for firm heads of garlic that smell fresh, and not old. Press the head in your hand, and if it seems too papery, or there are soft spots, don't use it. When you get the garlic home, you need to peel the paper off, right? Well, all you have to do is put weight on the clove, (the "clove" is the individual piece, the "head" is the collection of cloves), to pop the skin, so to speak. Put the clove on the counter, and lean on it with the heel of your hand. Don't do it too hard or you'll smash the clove, which is fine, but then you'll have garlic juice all over you and the counter. Once the paper is peeled off, take a small paring knife and slice down the center of the clove, from head to toe, halving it into two pieces.

There is a little root at the middle of the garlic, and it's bitter.

So, you need to pull it out. It comes out quite easily.

Although garlic is going to be stinky on every level, this little root tends to turn normal garlic stinkiness, into something totally different and gross. So, it takes a few extra minutes to cut the root out, but it's worth it. It makes the whole dish taste better. Seriously.

So, once you get the little root out, get your garlic press and press the garlic into the salad bowl.

You do have a garlic press, right? Because, they're awesome, and none too expensive, either.

3. So by now, you should have the following in a bowl: (clockwise from 12:00) anchovy paste, balsamic vinegar, mustard, lemon juice, salt, pepper, garlic.

Then, with a whisk, (or with a fork, if you don't have a whisk), pour the olive oil in a fine stream, whisking as you go. Adding the oil slowly like this will ensure a nice thick dressing. It should emulsify well this way, but if it separates, don't worry, just whisk it some more to bring it back together.

4. Dump the lettuce (already torn into bite-sized pieces) into the bowl, right on top of the dressing. Toss to coat. Add the cheese, toss to coat.

5. Divide and serve. And enjoy!

So, let me know what you think. Like I said, personally, this is the best caesar salad I've had. But I suppose you might feel differently.

Paper Thin

2009-06-26T15:41:00.000-04:00

So, I got married! Wooh! The wedding was lovely, from what I remember of it. I only got one tiny cheeseburger (sad!), and all of the wedding cake got eaten. That was enough cake for 300 people! And it's all gone. It was all gone THAT NIGHT.

We ended up making our own, of course, which is why it was all gone. My mom baked it, (I have no patience for baking something of that caliber), and I filled, iced, and decorated it. It was a labor of love. And it turned out well, I think. I'll post some pictures when I get my hands on them.

So, the question of the century: were we insane for making our own wedding cake? I'm going to say No. We were not insane. It was awesome. I'm going to go out on a limb here, and say that I'm glad we did it. Like I said, it was a lot of work. My mom baked 3 tiers, of three layers per tier, which means of course that she baked 3 cakes to make up 1 tier. So that's 9 cakes right there. And I took those 9 cakes and leveled them, layered them with filling, (mango curd on the yellow cake, raspberry cloud cream on the chocolate), and then iced them. And I had to do, like, several layers of icing per layer. It took me 6 hours on the day before the wedding just to get them ready to stack and decorate. Then it took me another 4-5 to actually stack and decorate. It ended up looking really nice, though not at all professional and perfect. But I was happy with it. And apparently so were our guests, because it's all gone.

I've been cooking a lot since the wedding, too, like a good wife. We got so many lovely gifts, mostly kitchen items, and I'm having fun using them. I'm obsessed with the new mandoline, which, if you're wondering is this lovely contraption that allows you to slice vegetables super thin. You can also julienne them, or make french fries. I'm using any and all excuses to use that thing multiple times a day. Last night I made a vege salad with paper-thin slices of radish, zuccini, and onion. Then another salad with paper-thin slices of tomato. Then I made french fries! This weekend I want to make a Shaker Lemon Tart, which would, of course, require me to cut paper-thin slices of lemon! The paper-thin possibilities are endless.

It's interesting, being married. Having someone I refer to as "my husband." I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's new and different. It's more solemn or something. Brian and I are the same; we've been committed to each other for a long time, but there is something different. For lack of a better description, there's this sensation that he can't just dump me. That sounds so negative, so maybe I should rephrase it in a posative light, while assuring you that I've never been afraid of Brian dumping me. It's just this sensation that it's for keeps. And while, yes, people can get divorced, it's just a really big impedement. So, if you get to the point of marrying someone, chances are you're invested enough not to just get divorced five minutes later, you know? It's serious; it's solemn. And it's nice to experience that sort of solemnity in my life, because I tend to make a joke out of everything. There's this line in a C.S. Lewis book that is talking about happiness, and about how sometimes happiness is too important to waste on jokes. That's sort of the way my life feels right now. Very happy, very serious, very meaningful. And it's something I've never felt before. And I really like it.

Soon we'll settle into a pattern, and I'll refer offhandedly to my husband, and not give it a second thought. But now the word is foreign, and it still makes me laugh, and I feel borderline-silly saying it. It was the same way when we first got engaged. I felt weird saying "fiance," but now it rolls off the tip of my tongue like nothing. It did feel pretentious, or like I was a little kid playing dress up. Of course, I was, what? 27-years-old? Isn't that old enough to have a fiance? And now I'm 29, and I have a husband. I think it's getting to the point where it's fun to say it, though. I was trying to figure out who I could introduce Brian to as my husband. Silly, but true.

Anydouche, I'll go now. I'm trying to come up with yet another dish that requires paper-thin, or julienned vegetables. I'll keep you updated.

As easy as falling off a bicylce.

2009-05-17T07:59:00.001-04:00

Ah, there's nothing like a fresh move. Making coffee with paper towels 'cause I don't know where the filters are. Waking up at 7:30 a.m. because we don't have curtains up yet. Introducing two households of cats to one another, who, incidentally, were the best of friends when they were three months old, which was two years ago. Now they're hissing, growling, and spitting at each other. Losing Rue, and then finding her again. Then sweetening my coffee with maple syrup instead of sugar because, while I know that I did pack up the sugar, I just have no idea where it is. (Which, FYI, is pretty good if you're ever in a pinch. I was thinking that it would taste like what Starbucks would call a Maple Latte or something, but it just tastes like normal sugar.)

This was, however, the swiftest, easiest move I have EVER had. A few years ago, I declared, (rather arrogantly), that I would Never Again Move Myself. That is, I would, from that point on, outsource my moving tasks to professionals. Well, not the box-packing part, I would still do that myself, but just the day-of, sweat-running-down-your-brow, putting shit in a rented U-Haul part. I would hire people to move me, because, dammit, I was in my mid-20s and I didn't have to put up with this shit anymore! I mean, it wasn't like I was in college or anything. I was too old for this shit!

Well, fortunately I have since been shaken from that protective bubble of arrogance, and at 29, Brian, his brother, our friend Carl, and my brother moved us from St. Pete to Tampa. And it was really easy. I mean, I didn't do a lot of the actual heavy lifting, that's true. And maybe the guys would have a different version of events, but I think everyone agreed that, at the very least, it had gone really quickly. Loading up the contents of our 2-bedroom house into a car-hauling trailer took just over an hour. Maybe an hour and a half. Unloading it took less than an hour. We were eating fried chicken by 3:00 p.m. It was just easy, and fast. Who knew?

I'm not sure what made it so easy. We weren't completely prepared for moving day. That is, there was a lot of loose shit, you know? Stuff not in boxes. Disorganized, random stuff. Stuff that, as you peel away layer after layer of surfaces, tables, couches, more tables, that all of the sudden, there's nowhere to put this random shit. The sort of stuff that you wonder, Now, why am I keeping this? yet you don't want to get rid of it, yet if you had to classify it as something, (Kitchen? Bathroom? Personal? Household?), you couldn't really. The reason why we weren't as organized as I'd like was because I was in the middle of, (and actually am still in the middle of), exam period. And I was sick. And we had an infestation. Usually I start packing weeks before, slowly organizing our belongings into a solar system of revolving boxes, each with their own gravitational pull of necessary items, clearly labeled for ease of finding once we move. But since I was otherwise engaged, Brian did everything. And I'm so thankful he did! But, it was different than the way I usually do it, because he did it all by himself.

Point being, though we weren't as organized, and, frankly, uptightly organized, as I like to be normally, it was still the best move ever. I don't know what the secret was, and I'm aware that a point-by-point analysis is perhaps a tad bit boring, but I'm just amazed at how painless the whole thing was! I wrote an earlier blog about how moving was like giving birth - painful at the time, but the pain slowly fades until you're willing to go through it again. This move was more like a C-section, or perhaps just one with lots and lots of painkillers. Which, in case you were wondering, is going to be my route when we have kids: drugs all the way, baby.

Never Did No Wanderin' After All

2009-05-11T11:28:00.001-04:00

Gather 'round, kids, and I'll tell you a little story. It's been a rough couple'a weeks in our household, but I'm not here to complain. It's more that, looking at this sequence of events that I'm about to unfold for you, objectively it seems just awful. And maybe it was, but whatever the case, I'm trying really hard not to focus on the negative. After all, it doesn't make anything better, does it? No sir, it most certainly does not.

A few weeks ago I got sick. Throat infection. During exams. For the second or third semester in a row. It wasn't swine flu. (Is that joke getting old yet? Yes? Okay.) But I was finally able to detect a pattern, and I do love to detect patterns. Pattern recognition, I call it. It seems that stress (three papers and an exam all one month before a wedding) + cigarettes (because I'm so stressed) + not working out (because I don't "have time") = throat infection for this girl. So I had to go on antibiotics. And then it came back five days later, and I had to do another round. And if you know anything about me, it's that I fucking hate antibiotics. I'm glad they exist, and that they've saved so many lives, et cetera, but I hate having to go on them. However, now that I've figured out the pattern, I can stop it in its tracks. So no more cigarettes for me, no matter how "stressed" I am, nor how many drinks I've had, it's just not worth it. It's funny that I've never used cancer as a reason to quit even my social smoking, but a throat infection will do it. I think it's because cancer is too far away and too unknown. I am, however, intimately acquainted with throat infections, so that's a tangible reason to hold on to. But I digress.

So, when I was sick I had a hard time sleeping here and there. Nothing big; it usually comes when I spend all day in bed with a cold - by night time my mind and body aren't yet tired, and I'm sick of being in bed, and so I usually have a little trouble falling asleep. No biggie. Only, I started to realize that I was sort of itchy. By last Wednesday, the itchiness was growing. At first I thought it was in my head. Then I thought that maybe it was because I hadn't shaved my legs in a few days. Then I realized, at about 1:30 a.m. on Thursday night/Friday morning that there were definitely little raised bumps where the itchiness was, and that, holy shit, there were things biting me! At about that time I decided to get my pillow and retreat to the other bedroom. I felt all creepy-crawly and I needed to get out of that bed. I didn't end up getting much, if any, sleep that night, but the other bed felt soothing and bug-free. I figured that we must have fleas in our bed. After all, our dog has fleas, our cats have fleas, and our cats are always in our bed, and the dog always on the floor of our bedroom. It must be fleas.

And that was gross enough. Fleas in our bed. An infestation of fleas. Fleas that were existing, not on the bodies of our animals, but on our bodies, our fleshy, relatively hairless bodies. And in our bed. Possibly in our mattress. Possibly burrowed into our feather duvet. In our pillows. The idea makes me shudder. But I didn't realize it was actually worse than that.

We stripped the bed, and in my sleepless laze, I vacuumed the mattress, and changed the sheets, and put the feather duvet and the mattress cover into some garbage bags, to suffocate whatever was living inside. That night we fell asleep, and slept soundly through the night.

But Saturday night was a different story altogether. I tossed and turned, and scratched. I thought it was just the bites that I had already received were getting itchier - the way a mosquito bite develops over a few days, it's usually itchier on the second or third day than on the first. But I was also anxious that I would have another sleepless night. Thursday night had been The Worst Night of My Life. In the dozen or so bad, sleepless nights I've had, it had taken the proverbial flea-infested cake. On Friday I actually felt like a zombie. Like, literally. I felt like I had been woken from the dead and needed to feast on human brains to sustain myself. So, naturally, when I couldn't fall asleep on Saturday night I was terrified that I would have a recurrence of the Night of the Living Dead. So I popped a xanax, (honestly, how did people survive without them?), and passed out sometime around 1 a.m.

And then it was yesterday. I slept nearly till noon, and as I was finishing breakfast, I noticed a crop of bites near my underarm, that little bit of flesh that's inbetween the chest and the bicept, that intersects perpendicularly with the armpit. I had had several small, raised, red, itchy little bites there the day before. But now there seemed to be more. More like six or seven. All very small, very close together. I looked closer. There was something moving. It was tiny and gray, no bigger than a period. And it was definitely moving. I had seen a few of these days before, when I was sick, in bed. I hadn't thought anything of it. I squashed it and moved on. And this was certainly the same thing, only this time it was on my skin.

So I flipped out. I ripped off my clothes and was about to get into the shower when I looked down at my other forearm. There were three somethings moving on my forearm. After showering and scrubbing every square inch of my body, we got to work. Brian had done online research while I was freaking out and showering, and he found out that they weren't bed bugs, and they weren't fleas, they were bird mites. (We've since done more research, and we think they're rat mites, tropical rat mites, to be specific. But either way, it's freaking gross.) We don't know how they ended up in our house, and in our bed - they could have hitched a ride on Matilda when she was off on one of her jaunts. They could have crawled up through the floorboards from a rat that had been under our house. The possibilities are endless, and so is the level of grossness. But however they got there, we had mites in our bed. And we could not stay there another minute.

We spent the afternoon washing everything we own at the laundromat, being careful not to speak too loudly about our plague. Then we boxed up the cats and headed over to the new house, Westminster. By the time we got there, it was about 8:00 p.m. I'd discovered the first mite at noon.

In order to keep from spreading the infestation, we had to wash the cats. Have you ever washed a cat? Washing a dog is no big deal. Even if they hate it, they won't do much more than run away. And dogs don't have the same type of claws that cats do. No, siree. We started with Darling, who's very timid, and perhaps a bit autistic. We expected her to be one of the worst, but she was very sweet, though unhappy, about it. Matilda was fine, too. Surprisingly docile, both girls were. I think they knew they were outnumbered.

We expected Rue to be the worst, considering that, in the best of times, she won't let us pick her up or hold her, or even walk too closely to her upon entering a room. We filled up the bathtub a few inches, and two sinks. We lathered in the first, and then rinsed in the tub, using the second sink as a reservoir for clean rinsing water. Rue was fine in the first sink, though unhappy. But when we brought her to the tub to rinse - holy shit, she freaked out. She panicked and tried to make a run for it, cutting me a nice, deep, shredded gash in my right palm. She got me good. Once we grabbed her, we just rinsed her in the other sink. I think the tub was too big for her or something. She was fine in the sink. Once we got her rinsed and rubbed down a bit, we let her go, and she disappeared under the dresser, her green eyes wide as saucers, looking a lot like Gollum.

We expected Simon to be the best. He's so easy-going and sweet. Usually. Not last night. He was a mess, growling and hissing at nothing. He sensed danger, and he was freaked out. We eventually got him washed, but that didn't stop the hissing and growling, and he sliced up Brian's arm all bloody. It was sort of funny, actually, because it was so out of character.

Did I mention that, after bathing four cats we also had to bathe the dog? Yeah, because, whether she had any mites on her or not, she had found a stinking pile of rotted palm fruit, (fruit from the palm tree in the back yard at Westminster), and had decided that it would be a really good idea to wallow in it. Rotting palm fruit, in case you were wondering, smells just awful. Mix that with Kitty's already pungent natural odor, and it was unbearable. So, with my hand ripped and throbbing and Brian's arm bleeding, and four absolutely flipped out cats, at 11:00 p.m. on a Sunday night, we had to wash the dog too.

Oh yeah, one more thing: we realized, in the midst of all this that the A/C wasn't working. And it had been in the high 80s all week, with no rain. The house seemed cool once we started bathing cats in a steamy little bathroom with hot water and sweat pouring down our faces, but the thermostat wasn't budging from 90.

So, we left. We grabbed clothes and the dog, and left the wet, freaked out cats in the master suite with food, water, and litter, and went over to my parents house to sleep. We finally got to bed around 1:00 a.m., after the Longest Day of Our Lives.

The A/C man was able to come today, THANK GOD, and now the house is cooling down. We still don't have internet, so I'm at my parents now, since I have to write a paper and all. Did I mention that? Cause I do, 25 pages, due in a week. And it's not bad, really, but it's still stressful. But I'm not smoking, though I've been dying to for the last week or so, because, dammit, I've learned my lesson. We move, officially, on Saturday, although we won't be staying at the other house, 418, again. We set off a bug bomb before leaving yesterday, hopefully there will be no survivors. Which reminds me, I need to reserve a truck. And take a nap, because boy am I tired.

The cats are calming down. They're so weird, as a species. Dogs are always happy to go, and only nervous that they might be left behind. Cats, however, are just weird. Simon is still doing that weird growly-hissy thing, at no one, apparently. He and Matilda are roaming through the house, exploring. Darling is venturing, inch by inch, out of the master closet, only to rush back to it when Simon hisses at or near her. Rue is in hiding. She's in the closet somewhere, under a surf board I think. She'll come out in the next few weeks. And when she does, we'll be all settled. The house really is beautiful. I'm glad we're going to be living there, if only for a year.

No bed of (buttercream) roses.

2009-05-06T16:23:00.000-04:00

So, I'm getting married in six weeks. How did that happen? If you must know, this is actually what would be the fourth wedding. When we got engaged, we planned on getting married almost immediately. This, of course, sparked the usual "Omigod, you're not pregnant are you?!" questions from our loved ones. Clearly, though, that was not the case. So we postponed it to the winter break, after my first semester of law school. Yeah. That didn't happen either. I hadn't been able to foresee the extreme mental anguish that would envelope me upon entering law school. Apparently no one knew to warn me that I would go through such an existential crisis. So we pushed it back to the summer. You know, cause another semester during my first year of law school would certainly give me enough time to plan a wedding. But by January I realized that we should push it off for another year. I mean, school was a bitch. And my cousin was getting married in May, so that would put a serious cramp in the works. Also, I needed to lose some weight. So, we planned it: June 20, 2009. And that date is rapidly approaching.

We've been trying to save money, cut corners and whatnot. Weddings are such a racket. All of these "vendors" trying to sell you dreams for lots and lots of money. It's such bullshit, all this "fairytale" wedding stuff. "It's the happiest day of your life, so you should spend a lot of money." Why? So that, as you're paying down the credit cards years later, you can look back and remember with fondness the cake that cost $7 a head? I suppose that, at least, would help you remember the wedding. But remembering it with a healthy dose of resentment is not what I hope for years down the line. Of course, my parents are paying for the thing, so it's not like I'd be paying down the credit card, but the idea is much the same. I would hate for them to resent my wedding.

That, and wasting money just really rubs me the wrong way. Don't get me wrong, I love to spend money, but I also love the feeling that the money I spent was worth it. I buy nice things, but I buy them on sale, (Ann Taylor, anyone?). I just can't justify overspending to myself. That being said, certain things are worth the price tag. Everything has a value. But a freaking Publix cake, made from that Publix mix, with bullshit Publix icing is not worth $450. It's just NOT.

So, we've decided (my mom and I) to make the cake ourselves. I haven't quite decided if we're insane or not. At this point, I think it's do-able, but that might just prove that I'm not foreseeing a majorly obvious problem that will crop up the day before the wedding, at which point I will pause and say, "Hmmm... yep. There it is. Didn't see that one coming, but should have. IDIOT." But I'm hoping that's not what happens.

See, I've been reading a lot of websites about making one's own wedding cake, and really, it doesn't seem impossible. Granted, it takes a lot of time and planning. The cakes must be made ahead of time and frozen. (Apparently, however, freezing a cake actually improves the taste, so long as it's well wrapped - obviously freezer-taste is no improvement at all!) Most wedding cakes are tiered, and within each tier they are layered. So we'd have to bake a 12', an 8', and a 6', then cut each tier into three (even and straight) layers. Then the layers we'd slather (neatly) with fruit curd and/or chocolate. Then we'd put the layers back together. Then we'd ice each tier separately and refrigerate. Then we'd assemble, using dowels(!) to ensure that the weight of the top tiers do not crush the bottom tier. Then we'd decorate. So, a lot of steps, but none terribly difficult in its own right. The decorating is actually the scariest part, because I don't know how to pipe roses! But we'd figure it out. The best part is that the cake would be organic and delicious. Besides, my mom is an excellent baker; she's much more patient than I am, and carefully measures her ingredients, which I'm not a huge fan of. I know that the end result would be perfection. But, it would take a lot of time. And planning.

Did I mention that the wedding is at my parents' house, which we also have to get wedding-ready? And that the fiance and I are moving in a week and a half? And that I'm still not done with my semester, and we have to find part-time summer jobs to supplement our incomes, and that I'm currently sick, oh AND that we've also decided to do the flowers ourselves?

Yeah, I'm leaning towards "insane" after all.

Kidding. Sort of. The thing is, there are certain things that are worth the money, and certain things that are not. I was actually planning on getting a Publix cake, because honestly, who cares? It's sweet, people eat a bite, whatever. It's more for the look of the thing - a nice, big, fluffy white cake. But I was imagining that it would be cheaper. Only it's not. There's also this new "trend" (imagine me saying that very disdainfully), of getting a FAKE cake, (like, literally fake, made out of PLASTIC), pretending to cut it for the photographer, then serving one's guests sheet cake... and I just couldn't do that. A fake cake? That's worse than a Publix cake. And all of these bullshit bakery cakes taste like shit anyway. They're all from mixes. And people don't know what good cake tastes like, because mixes are de rigeur these days. So, really, what does it matter? Why not serve up a shitty mix cake and call it a day? And that's where the "I can't bring myself to serve shitty mixed cake for $6 a head, I just can't!" comes in.

The funny thing is, we decided to do a really stress-free wedding. We decided a few months back that if something becomes too stressful, we drop it. The wedding party, par example, are all wearing dresses and suits of their own choosing. When I told the woman at the bridal salon where I bought my dress, she snorted, "Good luck with that." "Actually," I replied coolly, "it's worked out tremendously well." Betch. She's just pissy that I didn't pick out matchy-matchy dresses from her store to hoist upon my bridesmaids. And the dudes are wearing their own suits, if they own them. (We picked out one at Sacino's if they don't.) Yep, stress free, that's what I say. Except the whole cake and flowers thing. But whatever. My mom and I can bake and arrange. At least we hired a caterer. My mom was threatening to do the cooking herself. THAT would have been stressful. And how hard is it to put together some bouquets? I can arrange flowers. It's fun. I can ice a cake. It's fun. Of course, it would be easier if said arranging and said icing didn't have to be done the day before and day of my wedding, but hey. Whatever. I'm just choosing a different sort of stress. Instead of worrying that all of my bridesmaids don't look exactly alike, I'll just worry that my buttercream isn't spreading as smoothly as I'd like it do. Actually, that sounds much scarier.

Shoot. I'm ramblin' again, aren't I?

The Man on the Moon Needs a Lover

2009-04-26T10:57:00.000-04:00

So, I love to write. I think that's fairly obvious. But, like most writers, I can't write just anything. In high school, I wrote poetry and it was pretty damn good, but once I got to college, that talent had played itself out. So I switched to prose, and took a lot (a LOT) of short story creative writing workshops. And... I realized that I'm just not very good at writing short stories. I have never really understood the way plot works; it's never been obvious to me. I'm starting to figure it out a little bit, after many years of studying, by which I mean reading the same books and watching the same movies over and over again. That's helped. But in college, though my writing was good, the stories were just a big pile of nothing. I thought I liked the idea of a story about nothing, (a la Seinfeld, and even "Adaptation," which, if you're wondering, I hated with fiery passion until recently), but the reality of a story about nothing is that it's a story about nothing. It's BORING. So, I moved on to academic writing. I already loved writing papers in my English Lit classes, so I figured that I'd get my Masters, and then Ph.D. and be a professor and write academic papers all the time on the feminist interpretation of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, and stuff like that. I mean, I don't know about you, but that just sounds like a lot of fun. But I didn't get into the Masters program at UF, and rather than applying to other schools, I just decided that I would work for a while and figure everything else out later. And then I ended up here.

Where was I going with this? I did not intend for this post to be a story of the last fifteen years of my life.

Oh, yes, I love writing. I've found that these days, (or maybe for a while, maybe always), when I read something that's REALLY good, I wish that I had been the one to write it, or that I could write something equally as good. Like, (and please don't judge me), I recently read the Twilight series, and although the writing isn't stellar, the ideas are so great that I wish I could come up with something like that. As with J.K. Rowling, Stephanie Myer created a whole other world that exists within our own. I love that. And this urge doesn't just show itself with tween-lit. When I read an article in The New Yorker, I'm usually struck with its genius, it's craftsmanship. I want to be able to write like that!

But then it occurred to me the other day that, me being me, if I had written something that people loved as much as Twilight, I may not think it's so great. That is, would I get as much joy in writing things that other people love, than by reading something that I love? Would it make me happier to read Twilight, or to write it? Considering the fact that I've now read the series through twice, (please don't judge me), I'm guessing it's the former, not the latter.

I think part of the envy, at least for Twilight, is the fact that the ideas are so great. The craft of writing, what I love about The New Yorker, is something that I feel I can achieve with hard work and dedication. I think I already have the talent, and it just needs to be shaped. But, with Twilight, it's pure inventiveness, and I'm not sure I'm good at that. I never much liked playing make believe, and like I said earlier, I'm not good with plot. I can describe two characters, and the description would be well-written and probably pretty interesting, but I can't seem to make them do anything. And when I read something that is both brilliantly-written, as well as creative and inventive? Look out. I'm going to envy the shit out of it, metaphorically speaking.

One of my favorite websites marries inventiveness with good writing, and ties it all up in a bow of hilarity: www.gofugyourself.com. If you haven't read it, you should. And I hate to do the whole gender discrimination thing, but you'll probably like it better if you're a chick... and if you like fashion... and if you appreciate a good sense of humor. I was just reading the posts they do on Karl Lagerfeld, and I was laughing so hard that I was crying. And I wondered, as I tend to do, how on earth they came up with something so freaking brilliant. You must read it.

Mmmm.... laughing like that makes me feel so good. Whole. Content. So maybe it's better to be able to appreciate someone else's writing, because if I had written it, I probably wouldn't like it nearly so much.

Moving Heaven and Earth

2009-04-23T15:35:00.000-04:00

It's funny how we, as a race, tend to forget the less comfortable aspects of life. For instance, when women give birth, it's probably the most painful thing they have or will ever experience, and they (likely) swear they'll never do it again. But they do. My mom, for instance, upon having me swore she'd never do it again; but three years later, she did. She said that the pain faded from her memory. It was just as painful the second time, of course, but by then it had lessened, it had become a distant memory, fuzzy around the edges. And I think that's the way it has to be with humans; we have to be able to forget the bad, because otherwise we'd probably all commit suicide. And that's just not good for a race, as a whole.

Right now I'm thinking about our impending move: me, my fiance, our five cats (I know), our dog, and all of our belongings. And I'm puzzled with myself because I'm not dreading it, although I remember thinking after our last move that I'd NEVER DO IT AGAIN. That it was the WORST EXPERIENCE EVER. Yet here I am, feeling happy and optimistic. It won't be that bad! We'll do a lot of planning. We'll start taking small things over a few days ahead, so by the time our friends gather on Saturday with a U-Haul, we won't have that much to do at all! Right?

I'm torn because, as I just said, the last move was awful. Or so I remember thinking at the time. That is, I don't remember feeling how awful it was, I just remember thinking that it was awful. I remember the thoughts but not the emotion. Interestingly enough, we're moving back to the house that we moved out of last time. But this time I'm looking forward to it. Have I lost my mind? Was the last move really not so bad after all? Did it only seem bad? Or was it so bad that my mind has intentionally lost all the specifics of those memories in order to protect me? Is moving like giving birth?

Perhaps the two concepts aren't so different from one another. Humans are always on the move and have been for thousands of years. So, too, have humans been giving birth since, well, since humanity began. Both are annoying and painful. Both represent new beginnings. Both are messy. Both cause a person to lose sleep. Both are exhausting. Both have to do with moving something from one place to another: moving the baby out of it's womb-room, or moving one's belongings to a new space. Both require help, (possibly professional), and special tools. Both are a source of joy, as well as a source of pain. After each, you can throw a party. In theory, you could video-tape either, but I'm not sure I know of anyone who'd want to watch in either case. Both result in something new to get used to.

Well, we'll see how it goes. This move may only be for a year, at which point the memory of moving might be so fresh in our memories that we'll have the proper amount of dread. But maybe these things fade quickly. Maybe, as with a baby, the result is better than the dread. Or at least, there's enough good to outweigh the bad. I'll let you know.