tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78014485372514998062024-03-13T11:34:08.988-05:00To Kiss The CookTKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.comBlogger467125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-46029688192688763892014-05-07T19:00:00.000-05:002014-05-08T10:11:36.954-05:00French lentil salad and several lifetimes away<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8iZmWUaE2CL1qsaVt7IypOEaWI8cSXgyCRFjNIhKEcSnXdBoh4WiDhMlXwem-NnkIDlmZG6PwDWcOQM_9fFw9FKJX3dtA3CgXCFtaV5bINNYJYWzjfL6XvM2gEgi8mIwk7DJZI3XRwuI4/s1600/IMG_5650.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8iZmWUaE2CL1qsaVt7IypOEaWI8cSXgyCRFjNIhKEcSnXdBoh4WiDhMlXwem-NnkIDlmZG6PwDWcOQM_9fFw9FKJX3dtA3CgXCFtaV5bINNYJYWzjfL6XvM2gEgi8mIwk7DJZI3XRwuI4/s1600/IMG_5650.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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I have a feeling that I can only compare to running into someone I really liked once. Something akin to "I'm sorry I never wrote back but...life, you know. You look good. Really good."</div>
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Except, I guess I knew you'd be here. It's not exactly an accident. I just needed to be in this place again, almost two years later. I'm not going to promise to keep up this time. I don't know how to fill in all of the space between us and I wouldn't know where to begin anyway. No one's ever accused me of being succinct or a particularly good summarizer. </div>
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The campaign <a href="http://tktc.tumblr.com/post/85037591167/we-won">ended</a>. That year was heartbreaking and fulfilling in ways I should have expected but didn't. It was hard to justify an appetite for something light after something heavy. You don't need my explanations, I don't know why I'm bothering. I want you to know that I still think about this a lot. That even if the way I work is mostly relegated to shorter bursts in other places, it started here. And I just missed it today. </div>
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I'm about a month from 31. Peony season and all that. I <a href="http://instagram.com/p/Z6fcrBLLAA/">bought a place</a>. I finished up the kitchen last week and it's gorgeous. There's a whole wall of <a href="http://tktc.tumblr.com/post/76425995161/finis-im-so-happy">books and records</a>. You'd love it. Of course I have <a href="http://tktc.tumblr.com/post/84359322162/the-cabinets-still-need-hardware-but-can-i-just">some pictures</a>. My life in politics was short-lived and I'm back at an agency. I'm not saving the world every day but I travel a lot and I work with a few like minds. </div>
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It also gives me flexibility, which is good because my mom has cancer. That's been the last seven months. It's tough stuff but we're close and I feel like I've gotten a chance to be the daughter I always wanted to be. As though my place in our family never really crystallized until shit hit the fan. She's been a wonder to watch and her last chemo session is scheduled for the aforementioned 31st birthday. </div>
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So that brings us to this and I wouldn't have kept you here if I wasn't planning to feed you. What are we having? Why, the same thing I've had for lunch for the last four days: <b>French Lentil Salad</b>. I'm not a creature of habit, so that repetition should tell you something. Most of the components for the salad are laid out above, pre-toss. The cookies/various jars are in the photo above because I was <a href="http://instagram.com/p/nlLifDrLMx/">making a point</a> about mornings. I remember the start of "<a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2009/11/morning-person-project.html">the morning person project</a>." I guess it worked.<br />
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Note: I added meat to this because it was headed to a carnivorous household. Take out the sausage and it's not only vegetarian, it's vegan and gluten-free. You can have it all. I based the bones of this recipe on the one over at <a href="http://inpursuitofmore.com/2013/05/10/virtual-vegan-potluck-french-lentil-vegetable-salad/#more-13412">In Pursuit of More</a> but changed the dressing and added a few things.<br />
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<b>French Lentil Salad with Dijon Vinaigrette</b><br />
8 servings (lasts for days in the fridge)<br />
Salad:<br />
1 cup French green lentils (any lentil will do, I just like these)<br />
1 large sweet potato, peeled and cubed<br />
1 large red onion, peeled and chopped<br />
2 medium golden beets, ends removed<br />
2 1/2 TB olive oil<br />
1 lb Brussels sprouts, stem end trimmed, then shredded into ribbons<br />
3 apricots, sliced thin off the pit<br />
4 dates, pit removed and sliced to a similar thickness as the apricots<br />
5-6 basil leaves, sliced into ribbons (chiffonade)<br />
Optional: 1 package <a href="http://www.jollyposh.com/shop/p-2-pork-and-herb-bangers.aspx">Spencer's herbed pork bangers</a><br />
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Dressing:<br />
3 TB Dijon mustard<br />
Juice of one large lemon<br />
3/4 cup olive oil<br />
Salt and pepper to taste<br />
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1.) Soak your lentils according to package directions. Shoot for at least three hours and, lest you be intimidated, this is literally pouring a cup of lentils into 2 1/2 cups of water and walking away. Do it before bed, do it first thing in the morning, it's easy.<br />
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2.) Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with foil, then toss your sweet potato and red onion with 2TB of olive oil until it's evenly distributed and everything's a little shiny, then season lightly with salt and pepper.<br />
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3.) Separately, tear off another piece of foil and add your beets. Gather the sides, then drizzle the last 1/2 TB of olive oil over the top and pinch the ends up very tightly...you don't want any hot oil to be able to escape.<br />
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4.) Put both the tray of onion and the beets in the 400 degree oven for 30-40 minutes, stirring the pan vegetables at the 15 minute mark. Now would also be a good time to drain your lentils, refill the pot with another 2 1/2 cups of water and bring it to a boil once there, lower it to a simmer and cook for 20-25 minutes or until the lentils are just tender. Drain them and add a splash or two of the vinaigrette so the lentils soak up some of the acidity.<br />
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5.) Once the vegetables are done, pull them out to cool, including venting the foil packet for the beets. They'll be hot, but use a paper towel to rub the skins off, then set them aside on your cutting board.<br />
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6.) If you're using sausage, this would be the time to fry them up. Get them evenly browned then cut them into small rounds when you're done.<br />
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7.) Time to add it all together, then toss with the dressing. It's great fresh, when some of the pieces are still warm, but it's wonderful after it's been marinating for a couple days, too. I think this would also make a great side dish for a lunch or party. Tis the season.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9B3tKDL4OPyE8QUzUQsFZhGqFeUIXqpjuTAGnp4PMk9ZyltiPTfLwniP-Q4qXTPDTgNNk-SdmwwhF4i4csPksg69ic379uJCa29sRfl0rcRKUofzmDoDcgE5pnM8VB9lUTIltWn4h5Tvf/s1600/IMG_5651.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9B3tKDL4OPyE8QUzUQsFZhGqFeUIXqpjuTAGnp4PMk9ZyltiPTfLwniP-Q4qXTPDTgNNk-SdmwwhF4i4csPksg69ic379uJCa29sRfl0rcRKUofzmDoDcgE5pnM8VB9lUTIltWn4h5Tvf/s1600/IMG_5651.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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It was so good to see you. Let's not do the thing where we each say we should do it again soon, but no one calls. I'll just trust that it will happen again because it's important. And just in case it takes awhile, let me tell you about a few latest favorite things, a couple represented in the photo above.</div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Weck-742-500mL-Canning-Jar/dp/B00ENTNM6S/ref=sr_1_7?s=home-garden&ie=UTF8&qid=1399492814&sr=1-7&keywords=weck+jars">Weck jars</a>: Yes, they're cute. But they're also non-toxic, easy to store, cost effective, versatile, and people tend to give them back to me when I gift edibles. Sometimes they're even re-filled with something delicious.</div>
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<a href="http://fleurchicago.com/">Fleur</a>: My neighbor this past year and a good one. A monthly stroll into that shop all but saved my mental health over the course of a brutal Chicago winter. A shop filled with fresh flowers, great paper products, and brass animals. What could be better?</div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gardens-Moon-Malazan-Book-Fallen/dp/0765348780">Malazan Book of the Fallen</a>: A beast of a fantasy series but beautifully written. Ten books. Hundreds of characters. I started reading it with a friend about two weeks before we knew about the cancer and escapism is a real and wonderful thing. Highly recommended for George RR Martin and Patrick Rothfuss fans.</div>
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<a href="http://www.drinkingandgathering.com/">Sportsman's</a>: Shares a name with one of my favorite bars in college but what they lack in fried pickles, they more than make up for in Amaro. Checkerboards for tables, strong drinks, and great company on both sides of the bar. </div>
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<a href="http://hedleyandbennett.bigcartel.com/product/dakota-available-for-preorder">Hedley & Bennett</a> apron: Discovered at Sportsman's on one of the bartenders and I just had to have one. I was especially smug when I saw a <a href="http://instagram.com/p/nrEJ2JLiBt/">pile of my favorite chefs</a> wearing them this week. It's sturdy but lightweight and there are plenty of pockets. It's also gender neutral enough that I can offer it to someone else in the kitchen every once and awhile.</div>
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<a href="http://humboldthouseco.com/">Humboldt House</a>: Claire's outfitted basically my entire condo in gorgeous vintage rugs. I'm <a href="http://tktc.tumblr.com/post/83150993621/we-have-a-lot-in-common-taste-in-good-floorwear">not the only one</a> that appreciates them. She shares my love for teak and Scandinavian ceramics and hot damn do I love that shop.</div>
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<a href="http://www.cellardoorprovisions.com/#welcome">Cellar Door Provisions</a>: A tremendous new addition to Logan Square and a place I sneak off for breakfast or lunch whenever the opportunity arises. I love everything and I never leave without a loaf of their house bread, which I've taken to gifting.</div>
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<a href="http://www.aesop.com/usa/body-care/treat/breathless-hydrating-body-treatment.html?show_banner=1">Aesop's Breathless oil</a>: When we hugged earlier, this is what I smelled like. Found it in Venice over the winter and haven't looked back.</div>
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TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com5Chicago, IL, USA41.8781136 -87.62979819999998241.497477599999996 -88.277991699999987 42.2587496 -86.981604699999977tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-78739026740321409172012-10-01T06:36:00.000-05:002012-10-02T00:50:46.969-05:00La Boda Bañuelos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #222222;">I’ll admit that I knew in December
that this corner of my previous life would collect a bit of dust this year. And
I won’t attempt to catch you up on the ten months since. That’s a project for
November 8<sup>th</sup> and beyond (subtitled “An Instagram Story”). In short,
it’s been the single hardest and best thing I’ve ever done. The people are
deeply affectionate, determined, and challenging in equal, tidal portions. And we
have an election to win in 36 days--my lucky number, as it happens. With that kind
of countdown comes the knowledge that there are still miles to go until we sleep. If
you’re looking to help, I built this: </span><a href="http://ofa.bo/TKTC">http://OFA.BO/TKTC</a></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">What brings me back here is a wedding. I’m tempted to call it a piece of my past life but as important
as this campaign is and as much as everyone on it has to be ready to sacrifice
on a personal level…some things are going to rise above the all-encompassing
nature of life on a very serious deadline. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVN7qE0cqZjKhxCiTCGeh0vXcIZABYrPCLO9ub5yDw1hXKHhX-A5YLXH4kTYyJ6hmPbfaHFgnoy3JsKUcEf1zgSx0MB879Yjhe1ArHZBFCAMhCZuUh8_ozq-8XHV4DWK80B5LpoEqtZsM/s1600/Molly_JJ2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="161" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVN7qE0cqZjKhxCiTCGeh0vXcIZABYrPCLO9ub5yDw1hXKHhX-A5YLXH4kTYyJ6hmPbfaHFgnoy3JsKUcEf1zgSx0MB879Yjhe1ArHZBFCAMhCZuUh8_ozq-8XHV4DWK80B5LpoEqtZsM/s400/Molly_JJ2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The ultimate example, in my case, being the marriage of my best person, Miss Molly McGuffin Wynn, or, as of this
publishing, Mrs. Molly Wynn Banuelos. It’s a long (and blessedly direct) flight
back to Chicago from Guadalajara and in-air wifi has yet to come to Volaris. In
the company of clouds, it’s easy to spot silver linings and this post is it.</span><br />
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Below is the speech I (more or less
or wine) gave at Saturday night’s reception, along with a few selects from a
beautiful weekend about 90 minutes deep into the mountains outside of GDL. A
note that half the fun of the weekend was being surrounded by a beautiful set
of co-conspirators.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiR3HuYaCAvla6FZBTllr4McGy70LPTA6SwqnNWG_9-aAJsYwTk_mLB5NuQlGJLr6beJOceZEmPWsX9pZpI5qcPSghrVIcytsGQetpGQ7EZdmx06NWa3IA_kNgzvo83MmmsJ73hlZwZ0yM/s1600/Bridesmaids3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiR3HuYaCAvla6FZBTllr4McGy70LPTA6SwqnNWG_9-aAJsYwTk_mLB5NuQlGJLr6beJOceZEmPWsX9pZpI5qcPSghrVIcytsGQetpGQ7EZdmx06NWa3IA_kNgzvo83MmmsJ73hlZwZ0yM/s400/Bridesmaids3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">It’s also an excuse to tell the best real life love story I know. Maybe that’s cheesy enough to choke on
but I’m a sap and it just couldn’t have happened to two better
people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Special thanks to Abby and Paco for helping me to sound like I even remotely speak Spanish. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;">Buenas noches. Por favor disculpen
mi español. Lo que digo en este momento es lo único que se decir. Me llamo
Jessi y vivo en Chicago. Molly y yo crecimos juntas. Estoy segura que vamos a
seguir creciendo juntas durante los años que vienen. Asi es nuestra amistad.
Quiero decir que estoy tan contenta de estar aquí. Y, a la familia Bañuelos,
quiero decir gracias. Gracias por criar a este hombre, que hace tan buen
pareja con mi mejor amiga. Me gustó inmediatamente--y a Molly tambien.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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This seems like the appropriate time to switch back to a language
I'm a little more familiar with. Molly is the linguist of the two of us and
she's not in any position to be cleaning up after me this time. I'm
Jessi. Molly and I grew up together. I expect that we will be growing up
together for the rest of our lives. Having thanked the Banuelos family in
Spanish, I turn to the Wynns who have been a second family to me for
legitimately half my life.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCxG-bfdAN4hyphenhyphenPeoNbtpGiciPc4y-iTLAGTn58tn1MCbkf-MnHkNgTx38YeSIZJUGjsAh7eVh7_U8XwLGpViNIlXVhjMdzxPh25wfpAvX62mMyPAxmdT1iMHpOxKThyphenhyphenljwWQReAC1fQcmC/s1600/Wynn4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCxG-bfdAN4hyphenhyphenPeoNbtpGiciPc4y-iTLAGTn58tn1MCbkf-MnHkNgTx38YeSIZJUGjsAh7eVh7_U8XwLGpViNIlXVhjMdzxPh25wfpAvX62mMyPAxmdT1iMHpOxKThyphenhyphenljwWQReAC1fQcmC/s400/Wynn4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Molly is the best person I know and I don't think you'll find much
argument from my table on that point. She is slow to anger, incredibly kind,
and generous of spirit/in spirit/with spirits. She is a person who for
my entire young adult life has been the one I have pushed my luck with. The one
encouraging me to "lean into it." She is to your credit.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I've been promising to tell the story of how Molly and Jaime
met for a couple years now. It's been apparent for a while that this
opportunity would arise so I've been excited to tell one of the best stories I
know. My best friend met the love of her life while sitting on the front steps
of a flower shop in the midst of a witching hour. "Witching hour" in
this case can be defined as "the hour at which Molly and I have had two
bottles of wine and are now cackling at each other's likely not very funny
jokes. Say 12-ish on a December night in Chicago. To summarize, a witching
hour not unlike the one we’re facing now, under very different circumstances.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Molly was in Chicago visiting from Minneapolis and the two
of us had taken ourselves out for dinner at a French place, bien sur, and
treated ourselves accordingly. We were establishing our next moves for the
evening when, down State Street, came a pair of objectively handsome gentlemen,
rattling off conversation in a romance language of undetermined origin. Judgments
were made and suddenly your two adventuresses relayed a shout of "Viva
Italia!" in a manner better suited for a soccer field.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And they stopped. Because
who wouldn't be curious at that point? And because the Universe is a strange
and wonderful place, we adopted each other. Molly and I, Jaime and Armando. It
only much later occurred to us that the Italians are unlikely to have sons
named “Hai-may.” Or would think to summon me as “Yessi.“<o:p></o:p></div>
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We ran around Chicago with poor Sheridan, the Spanish
teacher, who was likely suspicious all along. And it should have ended there. A
funny run-in with a pair of tall, dark, and handsomes. Another city story to
add to the collection. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But it didn't end there. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Two continents, two years, and a surprisingly small amount
of emails later, Molly had moved to Chicago after all. And I take a lot of
credit for that. I found her an apartment, promised her meals and adventures
great and small. But there was more to her city selection and I guess I knew
that, even then. By not a small miracle, they had seen the goodness in each
other immediately. She was here for all of a month before they found each other
again and that was that. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Since then, Jaime has been the guy who made enough Palomas
for all of us. The one who manned the grill when it was raining, who could talk
to anyone at the party, and whispered sweet nothings to the gato to get her out
from under the bed. He is the kind of person who understands the importance of
perfect pancakes, danced the night away with my mom at our friend's wedding,
and he's the kind of man who took a bro OUT on the soccer field when he got too
rough with Molly. Safe to say she’d do the same for him. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I was lucky to be there the night you met. Even in the wine
haze, the next day you were different. You had seen something. You knew
something. And now here we are, five years later, and we're in the mountains outside
of Guadalajara. You've just married the not-quite-Italian man we met on the
steps of a flower shop after two bottles of wine. I'm looking at you now, knowing you're about to lean into whatever comes your way as a pair. And it’s
going to be absolutely incredible. I love you both. Felicitaciones y los
mejores deseos para ambos en el día de su boda.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com63tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-10334569807982067942011-12-08T16:35:00.007-06:002011-12-08T22:50:32.853-06:00A Change Has Come and It Comes with Pie<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6yhhsyM_0I-jXAcUStmt_ZnicF6PPATEUddFSYirmgP5AL77b_ocoIA5-m1JWErZxiqu9Wc_DAoikpH0Ca2dj4iKOxCJb_zbOddP4A72ULDAbBlKCO0IkJfu2GOLStUw2G2skWrCO_ih/s1600/P1020484.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 285px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6yhhsyM_0I-jXAcUStmt_ZnicF6PPATEUddFSYirmgP5AL77b_ocoIA5-m1JWErZxiqu9Wc_DAoikpH0Ca2dj4iKOxCJb_zbOddP4A72ULDAbBlKCO0IkJfu2GOLStUw2G2skWrCO_ih/s400/P1020484.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683890497841891506" /></a><p class="MsoNormal">Tomorrow I have the honor of doing something absurd- leaving a job I love while grinning to Cheshire proportions. Friday is my last day at <a href="http://www.edelmandigital.com/author/jessi-langsen/"><b>Edelman</b></a> after three and a half fantastic years.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">All of this because Monday will be my first day on the digital team at <a href="http://barackobama.tumblr.com/"><b>Obama for America</b></a>. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I’m joining the team to do whatever I can to ensure <a href="http://www.barackobama.com/"><b>Barack Obama</b></a> is reelected, as I believe him to be one of the single greatest agents for positive change my generation will know. I’m doing it because it absolutely qualifies as a once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity to be part of something *big*, on behalf of something I so wholeheartedly believe in. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And because this is still a food blog and this is how we celebrate… I baked a pie. I will save you from any self-assigned <i>deep metaphorical meaning</i> and just tell you it’s an apple pie topped with half blueberries and half cranberries and it was delicious.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Baked goods aside (for now), I have every reason to believe this could be the single hardest thing I’ve ever taken on. I’m on the brink of being fully absorbed into a challenge so rich that it will swallow me whole for the next year by every account, including that of my new colleagues. And yet I can feel myself humming in anticipation, ready to dig in, understand, and be useful. There is a very real chance that everything I've done to date has led me straight to this whether I was aware of it or not. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">For the last few years I have had the supreme good fortune of filling a role at Edelman that more often than not felt tailored to me like a glove, and definitely the kind with the nerdy tip points for texting. I've spent the last three years reading stories and meeting the women and men behind them. I've watched voices from the depths of the Internet become credible and recognized voices of “the people.” There are days when I even feel like I had a bit part in setting up the loudspeakers. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> Not to mention the adventures. One after the other after the next and I came home breathless and chattering nonstop. I met her! We ate there! We had the best idea! From Portland to Asheville to Austin to San Diego and New York, New Jersey and New Orleans, I was buzzing. And I was pinching myself all the while for being the one that got to connect the dots. For getting to do it in such fine company.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I work with <a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/718745958/"><b>a bunch of nerds</b></a> and it’s the highest compliment I can think to give in this context. People with the wanton ability to geek out over feed readers, measurement theories and platform coding but it goes beyond that.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> I’m talking about food policy wonks, letterpress junkies, women in waders in search of a quiet spot with all the fish. People who run marathons with hip fractures because you cannot stop them from moving and try at your own peril. Star Wars junkies, chorus girls, music nuts, a fascinating breed of style curators and even a NASCAR fan. There may even have been a few fellow kitchen witches, Gryffindors, cat ladies and bourbon lovers. Just maybe. They are the kind of people who rave rave rave on about that thing you must try because it’s spectacular. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I can’t underline the importance of working with people who are passionate. Who are excited and eager and, above everything else, they are curious. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i>How does that work? Can I take it apart and will there be something simple and true at the center of it? Yes? Then let’s go there.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Yes. Let’s. I have a good feeling that I’m not done with the nerds. If anything, the stakes may have just been raised. Now that the secret is out, you know where to find me in 2012. There’s work to be done and if you feel like helping, I will gladly take you up on that. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Be advised, I'll be asking for your vote as well.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com49tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-42936541505353975342011-11-28T09:04:00.002-06:002011-11-28T16:43:58.006-06:00Red Pepper Almond Hummus and Keeping It Simple<div style="text-align: left;">As I'm thinking many of you probably did this past week, I am just on the other side of a really nice few days with the family. Mom and Dad flew into Chicago, now the residence of both their children, and we spent a relaxed few days taking in the sights, smells and (clearly...do you know us at all?) tastes of an unseasonably warm city. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBr4FpENIdgdQws0vC-pZSj5m4iNZyvnXVEebiH7y5nG3pJPCt_geNgElfiLNJULFl1Pux-I5OH4MytT14T5Gv-jgCfQ-LJEmRUWI_kzLIGyRnzTsBodi448wePu70tZ2xe-zKK-etxU5/s1600/P1020410.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwGR6ysydnbTavX1MeoqepSvJuWhsV0p0B4auJM6mymR1kPDWq2vNpgtbWNtkdjY-gNgaqQeUFLxbfzTyABsz9yCX8VzP6s7Bwdlg8vJkR8Yig4ZPOgyHSvbusehIcc5Z3bkOHSutXD5Pa/s400/P1020416.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679878640577471618" /></a><div><div style="text-align: left;">This would be Brother giving us a tour of his <a href="http://www.kellogg.northwestern.edu/">most recent campus home</a>. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><u><br /></u></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBr4FpENIdgdQws0vC-pZSj5m4iNZyvnXVEebiH7y5nG3pJPCt_geNgElfiLNJULFl1Pux-I5OH4MytT14T5Gv-jgCfQ-LJEmRUWI_kzLIGyRnzTsBodi448wePu70tZ2xe-zKK-etxU5/s1600/P1020410.jpg" style="text-align: left; " onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnnSl5N2r2pJxcoClhVo-szZvbwHECY-gCoQZ8hEwX2MqANHrkEXwycDLNnUHkzCAWBYOmX3Tytd3WOz585Dqv8iqHu67Me3osSHZQEXp8rm_n_F2SigCHGgjZCgpWKWDvWCsaCR3BQaCV/s400/P1020408.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679881691394611394" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></a><div style="text-align: left; "></div></div><div style="text-align: left;">As Dad rightly noted, we just don't see each other very much these days so to get a couple weeks in one month's time feels like a luxury. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBr4FpENIdgdQws0vC-pZSj5m4iNZyvnXVEebiH7y5nG3pJPCt_geNgElfiLNJULFl1Pux-I5OH4MytT14T5Gv-jgCfQ-LJEmRUWI_kzLIGyRnzTsBodi448wePu70tZ2xe-zKK-etxU5/s400/P1020410.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679881690896030946" /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The other luxury is getting to play the tourist. I've lived in Chicago for going on seven years and I hadn't been to the Field Museum in that time. That is a tragedy and something we spent four full hours rectifying on Thanksgiving morning. We were first in line and got what <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">felt</span> like a private tour of the birds of North America, geologic treasures, the special Whales exhibit and the like. That's the kind of prioritizing you can expect from holiday <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Langsens</span>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0W7Ik9UFjJhnFAXKd_gsr0MYD3zKRSOrUTxoluzdPoLso6Sn9US_3bfo7JeSE-o9aw7TOBv8AVnVpq2v2gPHe-EECazRLEL59wzg8iktYyqwsnOymZnca3DZmCKnUqrGo0vbtcBZZU7th/s1600/P1020424.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0W7Ik9UFjJhnFAXKd_gsr0MYD3zKRSOrUTxoluzdPoLso6Sn9US_3bfo7JeSE-o9aw7TOBv8AVnVpq2v2gPHe-EECazRLEL59wzg8iktYyqwsnOymZnca3DZmCKnUqrGo0vbtcBZZU7th/s400/P1020424.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679878637435381970" /></a>It was decided early in the planning stages that me making Thanksgiving dinner was going to be more fuss that it was maybe worth for 3-5 people. I'm still not entirely sure I agree but I know when to defer and I don't regret the dearth of dishes in my kitchen (the dearth of turkey leftovers is another story). And while we ate really (<a href="http://longmanandeagle.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Longman</span> & Eagle</a>), <i>really</i> (<a href="http://leopoldchicago.com/">Leopold</a>) well throughout the city, I'm pleased as punch that my favorite latest snack was appreciated by the whole family throughout the weekend. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfsNHmvCbmK-1nXxY4HCTAOGZ-ed3eKvcfLGMuqNK4Aa397hIqfExPwy3P0BwhXYC0NktS-p50RwPYrsRLVKmD7Rjhij12QuYS_mT_nLGcdOI9PUCK3XJyBEPx8iG4hRHKRYqPty8a8Izy/s1600/P1020423.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 257px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfsNHmvCbmK-1nXxY4HCTAOGZ-ed3eKvcfLGMuqNK4Aa397hIqfExPwy3P0BwhXYC0NktS-p50RwPYrsRLVKmD7Rjhij12QuYS_mT_nLGcdOI9PUCK3XJyBEPx8iG4hRHKRYqPty8a8Izy/s400/P1020423.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679878628966916690" /></a>If I were to venture a guess at your thoughts, I might wonder what the big deal was. Hummus is generally four ingredients tops and it's just not terribly tricky. To that end, you would be completely correct. It's easy. But a couple quick tweaks to traditional hummus makes this stuff completely addictive, not to mention versatile, delicious and delightfully cost-effective as a holiday <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">potlucker</span>. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Red Pepper Almond Hummus</b></div><div><ul><li>1/2 small jar of roasted red peppers (no juice)</li><li>1 15 oz can chickpeas, drained and rinsed (<a href="http://www.bushbeans.com/en_US/index.jsp">Bush's</a> is a client and a favorite...the two are not mutually exclusive)</li><li>1/4 cup whole raw almonds</li><li>2-3 TB olive oil</li><li>1 tsp <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Sriracha</span> (more if you like the heat)</li><li>2-3 cloves of garlic</li><li>Thick pinch of smoked salt and some freshly ground pepper to taste</li></ul><div>1. Put all ingredients in a food processor then turn it on.</div><div>2. Throw a cracker in and adjust as needed by adding more of whatever you please to the food processor then whirring again.</div><div>3. That's it. You're done now. </div><div><br /></div><div>Covered in the fridge , this will keep beautifully for a week. The likelihood of this lasting for a week is slim at best. If you're really looking to go the extra mile, might I recommend spreading the stuff on toast, layering slices from half of an avocado on top, drizzling a little extra <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Sriracha</span> and topping it with a fried egg. Just in case you were looking for ideas.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-59954027410391166572011-11-22T08:02:00.004-06:002011-11-23T07:34:26.017-06:00Someone to Watch Over...My French Toast<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFWTwRHMJ1KiWEK0tJEVfxU48KMG0x9ZdM72cEWsTrx3xraz7osFi1ILvkhu2v_wJ0znpQ0S-VlmXJp_mg-4aQiMZuhuhoXzC4PTl5McDF6PqEul6xwhXyV62bbHAEbHqS_iUI-heKM8P2/s1600/P1020100.JPG" style="text-align: left; " onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 388px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFWTwRHMJ1KiWEK0tJEVfxU48KMG0x9ZdM72cEWsTrx3xraz7osFi1ILvkhu2v_wJ0znpQ0S-VlmXJp_mg-4aQiMZuhuhoXzC4PTl5McDF6PqEul6xwhXyV62bbHAEbHqS_iUI-heKM8P2/s400/P1020100.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673000336053400370" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">There's not much out there that competes with the all-around goodness and simplicity of French Toast. I'm not even going to bother qualifying that with an "in my opinion." If you want to argue it as fact, I'll go to the mat for French Toast and I will do so with vigor.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">That isn't to say that there aren't higher forms available. Like anything else, a French Toast variation can fall into a quick hierarchy based on the sum of its parts. Let's go ahead and name that most important quality. It's not the bread (though clearly challah is a superior choice). It isn't the presence of exceptionally fresh eggs (just the yolks, apparently). It's not the maple syrup or the amount of butter used to fry impossibly thick slices. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">You are running out of patience for my chosen approach, I can tell. We can skip the part where I decry "it" not to be cinnamon or orange zest either.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgf5WiiaGj129YSQmk94heY0A7EPI4N29eZwWAmiIi3SirjXl_6r2RGBFU8S83h_WFmol3B37qqnX1eqbxUDAwX-cwb0czmWygW8ptKPTJZUr0rTwTnXYXAKGoUmuWJavkOfxWNJtThjV0/s400/Arnie_Esme.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5677884027026892482" /></div>It's the company. The person who passes the syrup across the table. The one watching the oven timer to ensure the bread has been dried out just enough to promote optimum batter absorption. My company for the affore-heralded French Toast? Unparalleled but wholly familiar to longtime readers. I managed a weekend in the woods outside Seattle earlier this month with Pop, a man of the hour every hour and one for the ages at every age. I think the shot above is a few years old but it best captures the two of us doing what we do best. Scallops in that instance, rather than French Toast.<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjODyv28AmpTuceg4Vjzhp4T-80mce_DZ7ivmkmkeco-FL1ksCKAitfBjEE_xiBtuRpnqw5xwbqdJvy8jGlZQARK4GAGkvR9mkSHCDfGLd6TaCa1i7JE6UuC7fEnGt5pCbdb7ildF-qo6jC/s1600/P1020114.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjODyv28AmpTuceg4Vjzhp4T-80mce_DZ7ivmkmkeco-FL1ksCKAitfBjEE_xiBtuRpnqw5xwbqdJvy8jGlZQARK4GAGkvR9mkSHCDfGLd6TaCa1i7JE6UuC7fEnGt5pCbdb7ildF-qo6jC/s400/P1020114.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673000312734260162" /></a><div><div style="text-align: left;">We did a good amount of cooking, exploring, <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tokissthecook/6339580826/in/photostream">napping</a> and general indulging (balanced by some elevation run-run-running on my part). A trip out to Denny Creek took us <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tokissthecook/6320260570/in/photostream/">over the river</a>.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTv7PsCeyu0AmxUEGuz6_G6C057Gk46T0GkDPEfyQYJYy0QlGDiOuvUm9OdxjSWyPdDAGQ0lWT53DhQjOsiDuEdOdjHLa393ykr44ebexNWDjOIPkaReec9dYWIyMbbIz7Ted0TiE4hGO1/s400/P1020132.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673000320033764530" /></div>And through the woods.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzfC6Md-T-r_PAarabZnyzxMtFWyHHoiK5apRRcz0LnoqIcVwirJS5g_2GhnPLolSH_OSPHUZ4y160Z41grFrWS3vcAhVGvp5zQ9Te1rxUQntI53HQessTE04aMnz8sXaM3aU8lEpa1uwX/s1600/P1020149.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzfC6Md-T-r_PAarabZnyzxMtFWyHHoiK5apRRcz0LnoqIcVwirJS5g_2GhnPLolSH_OSPHUZ4y160Z41grFrWS3vcAhVGvp5zQ9Te1rxUQntI53HQessTE04aMnz8sXaM3aU8lEpa1uwX/s400/P1020149.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672998179791888482" /></a>And back to grandfather's house we went...for additional exercising of hereditary feast talent.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipW-p8mg24myYoZIa0xKWnTtt64nvDW4-PbvamXYNuVu-EUsBfN21aygfFwgwjwmPNl-4qyxwDqSOJZ1W6jGCXqODh0umHD2FUtRiuMPUIy2R0gnKjT1RN_cmkKhVzRNJoKqaRQ7yS-XX6/s1600/P1020154.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipW-p8mg24myYoZIa0xKWnTtt64nvDW4-PbvamXYNuVu-EUsBfN21aygfFwgwjwmPNl-4qyxwDqSOJZ1W6jGCXqODh0umHD2FUtRiuMPUIy2R0gnKjT1RN_cmkKhVzRNJoKqaRQ7yS-XX6/s400/P1020154.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672998162657896626" /></a>I'm especially proud of this one. Yes I know, pride comes before the fall. But fall was already in high season when I got to Seattle and I am just fine with the hubris that comes with a beautifully stacked lox bagel. That is a work of art. Bless you, Blazing Bagels. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYXpwzyR_ZEvRw64RwOY1lOUPuoS2toWkGnvMJTJsQsYFitUbM32Oh5fEYTeHUafozrc38szk_LtddI5pTcHwO0_nu3HwrU2uvZXpf1T2YsoRCdb4whwNToHvKNIsPxPfdSmThFSKxu7J/s1600/P1020172.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 278px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYYXpwzyR_ZEvRw64RwOY1lOUPuoS2toWkGnvMJTJsQsYFitUbM32Oh5fEYTeHUafozrc38szk_LtddI5pTcHwO0_nu3HwrU2uvZXpf1T2YsoRCdb4whwNToHvKNIsPxPfdSmThFSKxu7J/s400/P1020172.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672998157638054034" /></a>Other moments when we patted ourselves heartily on the back included the day we decided duck<span class="Apple-style-span"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span">p<span style="line-height: 16px; text-align: -webkit-auto; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); ">âté</span></span>, apple slices, crackers and pomegranate seeds counted as lunch.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw21CcFEGBxNjoMJ17lxbULNrysUCopfHexeroE3TPI3vnyW5emrKzqWwQFuYNwTp2SbfXY-rbpIU2qDpSxMrHBASg_RywS_dnJHuxzoxZ_-hvE8XlHCIwq7yJNYVFcImCc_jCaHORCpTH/s1600/P1020186.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw21CcFEGBxNjoMJ17lxbULNrysUCopfHexeroE3TPI3vnyW5emrKzqWwQFuYNwTp2SbfXY-rbpIU2qDpSxMrHBASg_RywS_dnJHuxzoxZ_-hvE8XlHCIwq7yJNYVFcImCc_jCaHORCpTH/s400/P1020186.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672998154686962834" /></a>And the night we decided to find out how sole would taste fried in truffle butter over leeks and chantrelles. In my defense, I did manage to get a lot of vegetables on the plate and we went with lemon sorbet for dessert.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxhHU3Clq8uTqqPw2GZ7MFc6V2lwNfSU0YH4LwGa5o0L-ecdAkOL3Oi1FBvZWvPvy-6R89nuI3hc_ek77MfJIjx_5n7jrXuo6M2PbnpIWuqLBg0xjxWO6UcolYa47eL1MEPsQbkvDkRN9/s1600/P1020107.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 358px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxhHU3Clq8uTqqPw2GZ7MFc6V2lwNfSU0YH4LwGa5o0L-ecdAkOL3Oi1FBvZWvPvy-6R89nuI3hc_ek77MfJIjx_5n7jrXuo6M2PbnpIWuqLBg0xjxWO6UcolYa47eL1MEPsQbkvDkRN9/s400/P1020107.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672998145226331634" /></a>But I think if I had to pick a dish to represent the weekend, that French Toast was it. I mean that was <i>it</i>. Top of the pile and that pile was covered in blueberries. I have to give thanks to Christopher Kimball because Pop had prerecorded the demo we modeled our own toast after on <b><a href="http://www.americastestkitchen.com/recipes/detail.php?docid=18093">America's Test Kitchen</a></b> (recipe linked). We added some orange zest and were lucky enough to find eggs at a roadside stand in Woodinville (assured they were <i>exceptionally</i> fresh).</div></div><div><br /></div><div>I try to get out there a couple times a year. I love that part of the world but I'm in it for the company. One night after dinner we sat and listened to music for an hour and a half. When his favorite version of "Someone to Watch Over Me" came on, he belted it out with a lack of self awareness that comes with being 92.5 and not giving a damn for anything but things that give joy. </div><div><br /></div><div>And yes, as the years have gone on there are other, shorter conversations that come up. It would be ridiculous for us to pretend that this will go on forever in kind. I think it's comforting to both of us that it's addressed in the form of him sending me home with paperweights and books and <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tokissthecook/6320266870/in/photostream/">old photos</a>. This time he pledged to be at my wedding "no matter what" and, should that come to pass, I suspect he might come disguised as a French 75 for a different kind of toast altogether. Pop is and will remain a bit of magic. It's not a secret, it's a treasure.</div>TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-36074493676495552942011-10-18T22:25:00.006-05:002011-10-18T23:57:22.385-05:00Comeback Kid- Revisiting the Morning Person Project<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNp5SbR32HLHoMmTWiFeb5IuGG2T-G_XjL29KwtEU0ZJYVpZQYGIPj3i4nVM2Yl-sJ-T_TtgcggN3d2kOwgqqMcQUhJ8ypwUDZujUbIPMto1BjxCMIB7Uleib5mkKLBvv620vnfb_s08ug/s1600/IMG_2465.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNp5SbR32HLHoMmTWiFeb5IuGG2T-G_XjL29KwtEU0ZJYVpZQYGIPj3i4nVM2Yl-sJ-T_TtgcggN3d2kOwgqqMcQUhJ8ypwUDZujUbIPMto1BjxCMIB7Uleib5mkKLBvv620vnfb_s08ug/s400/IMG_2465.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665041900939030962" /></a><div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><u><br /></u></span></div>Just about two years ago, I embarked on a shift of sorts, known around these parts as "<a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2009/11/morning-person-project.html">The Morning Person Project</a>." The premise was pretty simple. Some of the most accomplished people I know are early risers and it seemed to be the best time to regularly get a workout in. I also, frankly, just needed more hours in the day.</div><div><br /></div><div>In 2011, all of this is still true and even though I haven't mentioned it in awhile, I think I can tentatively say I'm actually enjoying it. There are a lot of things that seem to be a matter of "fits and starts" but mornings aren't one of them. If consistency can be a challenge for you as well, you know what these little victories feel like. </div><div><br /></div><div>In addition to just generally being part of the world a little earlier and, ideally, bouncing some endorphins around, I've come to take great care in planning what was at one time my least favorite meal- Breakfast.</div><div><br /></div><div>I've always done good thinking while cooking and it turns out this is no different in the earlier bit of day. It helps wake up the other side of my brain and it also sets the stage for some good moves later on. With that in mind, I've put my three latest favorites below. None of them, when prepped accordingly, is at all time consuming and they work best when rotated. </div><div><div><br /></div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13SLwAbptP-AV5wWX8V9lAr8jZSbfd3Z7Ey8lyq7ATrOda9Iyd_T4HlYJp0fYmHZHtHkJybQ1tJqjMXSoKUJEgD_yTeyFUzWoi0iYTLNIF3phbzQyBO6ztmooTIiC-APc-oSUwi6JBrGU/s1600/IMG_2328.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi13SLwAbptP-AV5wWX8V9lAr8jZSbfd3Z7Ey8lyq7ATrOda9Iyd_T4HlYJp0fYmHZHtHkJybQ1tJqjMXSoKUJEgD_yTeyFUzWoi0iYTLNIF3phbzQyBO6ztmooTIiC-APc-oSUwi6JBrGU/s400/IMG_2328.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665041903659641730" /></a><a href="http://tktc.tumblr.com/post/10686108271/you-know-when-everyone-starts-talking-about-one">Pumpkin Pie Breakfast Parfait</a>: Greek yogurt with two heaping tablespoons of pumpkin puree, topped with cinnamon and a scant handful of <a href="http://scholarsinn.com/BtownBakehouse/granola.html">Scholars Inn Granola</a> (thanks, Molls!). This is for the sweet tooth mornings and it genuinely tastes like getting dessert for breakfast for 230-250 calories*.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4N1nBLcY-TTS_tRvZOvNqLGOF3WsguQh7KMjmKC40okaxMztDiekcf3bXg2pwLQPV4DE9B7icDPSBeZZ08Kga8B-My6MvFhS05P2vrTzwVfzQyzRc-qkICZU-lSsvdyTMBJMjw4zjxN6Q/s1600/IMG_2420.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4N1nBLcY-TTS_tRvZOvNqLGOF3WsguQh7KMjmKC40okaxMztDiekcf3bXg2pwLQPV4DE9B7icDPSBeZZ08Kga8B-My6MvFhS05P2vrTzwVfzQyzRc-qkICZU-lSsvdyTMBJMjw4zjxN6Q/s400/IMG_2420.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665041894687908658" /></a><a href="http://tktc.tumblr.com/post/11227697367/breakfast-brought-to-you-by-my-neighbors-avocado">Avocado Toast</a>: A piece of whole wheat toast with half a mashed avocado, <a href="http://hottemper.tumblr.com/">hot sauce or sals</a>a, seasoning and one of <a href="http://greenroofgrowers.blogspot.com/">Bruce's</a> eggs over easy. 300-320 calories*</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vVF9i61NBfokUGbqYU6HHcbch60q-EN4D1Sf-D97IaxSRFwkHaVNGNBpVAxILHvnNafJVYC78pq92rZGrruZXvkj9Tcul1HBZHsIsYf7iwpFj1jIOwpdXQpBrCp7QhcM8yXzg6EQGEXY/s1600/IMG_2395.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vVF9i61NBfokUGbqYU6HHcbch60q-EN4D1Sf-D97IaxSRFwkHaVNGNBpVAxILHvnNafJVYC78pq92rZGrruZXvkj9Tcul1HBZHsIsYf7iwpFj1jIOwpdXQpBrCp7QhcM8yXzg6EQGEXY/s400/IMG_2395.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665041891142073666" /></a><div><a href="http://tktc.tumblr.com/post/11100930493/breakfast-this-morning-was-not-terribly">Breakfast Beets</a>: Pictured in this morning's golden incarnation at the top of this post and in a glorious deep purple above, this is my latest favorite. Maybe atypical as breakfast goes but it feels a little fancier without the extra work. Any fresh herb will do (tarragon and basil are my favorites), just roast your beets the night before (I do mine in foil), leave them out on a plate or refrigerate overnight and then rub the skins of easily in the AM. Chop, add cottage cheese, herbs, lemon juice (+zest if you're up for it) and a couple cracks of good black pepper. Finish with a drizzle of olive oil and tell me it's not genius. Thanks to my dear man, <a href="http://www.food52.com/blog/2578_jamie_olivers_smoked_beets">Jamie Oliver</a>. (275-300 calories*)</div><div><br />*This is not about to become a calorie counting blog but I'd already counted them up and am usually at least curious so there you have it.</div><div><br /></div><div>As for the rest of the morning, it goes a little like this:</div><div><ul><li>5:15 Alarm goes off. I get one snooze if I need it (i.e. I am *this close* to unlocking the keys to time travel and need to finish the thought before that pigeon stops talki...zzzzz)</li><li>5:32 Okay, for real this time. Radio on, ice water poured and four mornings out of five I'm into the workout clothes I laid out on my way to bed. This is very important because I am not firing on all cylinders and something as simple as no clean sports bras could still be a deal breaker. I've made progress but I'm no saint.</li><li>5:54 Shoes on, teeth brushed, cat fed, face splashed. Jog to the gym. Or run if it's 5:57 already (it usually is).</li><li>5:59 Deep breath. It's cool and it is that very particular brand of early morning air that feels a bit private. The second freshest breath of the day.</li><li>6-7 Any assortment of sweaty things. So long as I can wring out my ponytail at the end, I'm in pretty good spirits and, no, I don't think that's gross.</li><li>7:05 Back to the house, kick on the coffee, finish that glass of water. </li><li>7:10-7:25 Stop sweating. Morning edition is on and I am now listening to the news, attacking my Reader and drawing a picture of what the day is going to look like. </li><li>7:30-8 Wash, dry, sparkle. You know the drill.</li><li>8-8:15 Breakfast with a crispy side of email. </li><li>8:20-8:35 Off to the races with a good chunk of day already behind me.</li></ul></div></div>TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-11119143533780468842011-08-28T21:39:00.001-05:002011-08-29T10:47:50.635-05:00In the Name of Comfort and All Its Formats<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-HUChDB4k__YBDxMZOQI40EdjXgiUm9OElOIlWrZ_wyLLq5WvJ3_xV0sU0in7jgA4_2hOLdklJ9IlBdRdJY5OtYn6Ktw_vGJdKTx_f6ZbKZtLODyrzijKMAYGy1VkYA2k_UbWBCSt-uJM/s400/IMG_2068.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645547292886500450" /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This was supposed to be a post about plums and oatmeal. As you might have already guessed by that auspicious beginning, that's not an exact representation anymore. Now this is a post about comfort. About the ease of breath that happens when your molecules slow down. </div><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /><div>Of course, food can do that to us...comfort food is a real thing. I'd be curious to know what does it for you but in my world it's banana bread in the oven, onions caramelizing on the stove, citrus being zested and cinnamon in anything. All four set me at immediate ease and I take my life in a little deeper with their cues.</div><div>
<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFg5Ew17q7jlRHBUc0C0eoupGQW2ZITv0xAhAhuYJmxfWgXz4W8vyWYe3l93-o_IDNAAL36Ns7vtmYswVVb1xC9aZeIECnuARFwulngxa_vPKTCntvyqLUwnXZApsSjaqgDR1S7p-o3Gv_/s400/IMG_2047.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645547268641213810" /></div><div>I had a five star, five senses comfortable weekend. This is one of those posts that might be more for me to have a record of than it has much to offer anyone else but I needed to put it down just the same. From the weather to the company to the lack of company to the feasts, I don't know that it could have been improved upon. </div><div>
<br /></div><div>Since I can't find a way to eloquently share the bones of it, I'm making myself an outline at the bottom of this post for the truly curious. The short of it is that it had a lot of my favorite people, many of whom I just don't see much of and in whose presence my molecules ease up. As one of those people who occasionally forgets to breathe, I am so very into this.</div><div><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3gb20NOSlM0t8BW_MkwCLsQLCqDhU4P6q0H7IynlUMzoaZ-nKuGm1_jiSRrdQT73mTqDQi8p1NupzIs3zPjEWWrFRh8xlvloIZru14s8TY7VpMDT9FwngH2TXEsOAqxYZPLJvOqVGgall/s400/IMG_2075.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646097743495927410" /><div style="text-align: left;">At the risk of getting spectacularly sappy, this guy is one of them. I took this at Salvage One this afternoon during our (straight up successful) treasure hunt through Grand's vintage corridor. I realized tonight that I hadn't said anything here in the official online outpost but Brother is an official resident of the Chicagoland area for the next two years and I am breathing in a different way just coming to terms with that. </div><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It's not like we'll see that much of each other, we won't. I know that, I truly do. But I've been living a plane ride from my family for 10 years and while I miss them, it's just a fact to which I got accustomed. I typically see them three times per year. Four if I'm really lucky. And even with a lot of friends who live close enough to have Sunday dinner with their parents or take sisters for a birthday lunch, it just wasn't my reality.</div><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And now one of my favorite people is here and I can feel a different sort of root take hold. If things get dark, or even just a little gray, I have family a 15 minute train away. Or forget gray, an extra ticket to the <a href="http://chicagoist.com/2011/08/22/nice_cream_raises_nearly_5000_to_st.php">Nice Cream benefit</a> at a local brewery. Or the same seatmate for a <a href="https://secure2.convio.net/wbez/site/Ecommerce?ecommerce=store_list&ts=1191870410730&store_id=4421&JServSessionIda008=6at646y2p1.app19d">live NPR show</a> who's been sitting next to you listening in the backseat for 25 years. That still seems so wholly remarkable.</div><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So the weekend was a wonder. Filled with the friends who are family and the family who's a friend and enough quiet time to myself to be grateful for the whole shebang. It's a true comfort for someone who didn't realize she needed comforting. Sappy, overindulgent weekend post achieved. Sorry I'm not sorry. At least I saved you from a title trying to riff on the word aplomb, only about breakfast :)</div><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy-QomotRzRpcEmnubyi2m0lUyUvISrzu__xw_kze9OPZSGvSYAzA1VaxtrIWFFImJk9WB-xOwci5WralW4WrFTa2uBwFzTPXxOLuhi48ii2osQlW3g1XWCCqEF4NSCQqVqZVlh0wd5JcR/s1600/IMG_2062.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy-QomotRzRpcEmnubyi2m0lUyUvISrzu__xw_kze9OPZSGvSYAzA1VaxtrIWFFImJk9WB-xOwci5WralW4WrFTa2uBwFzTPXxOLuhi48ii2osQlW3g1XWCCqEF4NSCQqVqZVlh0wd5JcR/s400/IMG_2062.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646110420694524066" /></a>
<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Steel Cut Oatmeal with Fresh Plumbs</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><ul><li>11/4 cup water </li><li>1/3 cup steel cut oats</li><li>2 Tablespoons bran meal</li><li>2 Tablespoons flax meal</li><li>1/2 teaspoon salt (I used the <a href="http://blisgourmet.com/home/">BLiS</a> vanilla salt pictured above but only because it is the spice I am most likely to start dating at the moment)</li><li>Pinch of cinnamon</li><li>1 Tablespoon of maple syrup (I used <a href="http://blisgourmet.com/home/">BLiS</a> bourbon barrel aged maple syrup but only because it is the condiment I am most likely to start dating at the moment)</li><li>1 Tablespoon of half and half</li><li>4-5 small fresh plums cut in half and pitted</li></ul><div><ol><li>Boil your water.</li><li>Add oats, bran, flax and salt. Lower heat to a simmer and stir every couple minutes till desired consistency is reached. This is usually about 12-15 minutes for me.</li><li>Add your cinnamon then spoon oat mixture out into your favorite breakfast bowl du jour.</li><li>Sprinkle cinnamon over the top then drizzle maple syrup over the top.</li><li>Pile on those beautiful plums and trace the edge of the oatmeal with the half and half.</li><li>Take a deep breath with nose directly over the bowl and enjoy not being hungry until well into the lunching hour.</li></ol><div><i><b>Weekend in Review</b></i></div></div><div><i>Friday</i>: Portabella/Garlic Tempeh Burger take-out from <b><a href="http://nativefoods.com/">Native Foods</a></b>, ridiculously good new vegan place just up Milwaukee. Eaten with a glass of wine while watching <b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Before_Sunrise">Before Sunrise</a></b> and <b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Before_Sunset">Before Sunset</a></b> which have now both made my top 25 movies. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ohdOGzMoUkI&feature=related"><b>Celine's monologue</b></a> from the car scene in Before Sunset just about killed me. </div><div>
<br /></div><div><i>Saturday</i>: Started with a sweatfest. So much so that it was physically difficult to ride a bike that day. Kind've a beautiful thing. From there, the <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2010/09/think-on-something-really-lovely.html"><b>annual scrub</b></a> at <b><a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/paradise-sauna-chicago">Paradise</a></b> which comes with velvety soft skin and the reminder to be brave. Then off to the <a href="http://gapersblock.com/drivethru/2011/08/27/food_truck_social/"><b>Food Truck Social</b></a> for ceviche and tan lines with ZP and Emili. Just enough to hold me for <b><a href="http://www.myeverydayadventures.com/">JB's</a></b> alfresco birthday dinner at <a href="http://www.due-lire.com/"><b>Due Lire</b></a> with a whole host of fun folk. A few glasses of wine floated me to <a href="http://www.fivestarbar.com/"><b>5 Star</b></a> to crash G's big date (by invitation, bien sur) and meet up with <b><a href="http://www.lovesfool.com/">Suz</a></b>. Who then scooted me in brave attire for two wheels to <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/rainbo-club-chicago"><b>Rainbo</b></a> where the night/morning finished up.</div><div>
<br /></div><div><i>Sunday</i>: Starts with the discovery of buttermilk on its last legs, leading to blueberry pancakes in <b><a href="http://wttmb.tumblr.com/post/9528661409/tktc-i-shared-my-need-for-pancake-pals-this">great company</a></b>. A little organization before heading to <a href="http://www.floriole.com/"><b>Floriol</b></a>e for a light lunch with Ellie followed by the movies. Picked up at the theater by Brother and off we went, trolling for a Mid Century Modern coffee table on a grad student budget. <b><a href="http://www.post27store.com/">Post 27</a></b>, <a href="http://www.urbanremainschicago.com/"><b>Urban Remains</b></a>, <b><a href="http://www.salvageone.com/home.php">Salvage One</a></b>...all the good stuff. We found exactly what we needed, fell in love with significantly more along the way and then headed north to <a href="http://revbrew.com/"><b>Revolution Brewery</b></a> and the <b><a href="http://www.nicecreamchicago.com/Site/nice_cream_chicago.html">Nice Cream Benefit</a></b>. So many good things/people in one place. Brother dropped me off with my adoptive Chicago family for a glass of wine with the <a href="http://threesistersthreecities.blogspot.com/"><b>Dawsons & Co</b></a> at <a href="http://manafoodbar.com/"><b>Mana</b></a>. </div><div>
<br /></div></div></div></div>TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-32334094450334140202011-08-22T23:12:00.009-05:002011-08-23T08:10:46.858-05:00Balsamic Roasted Plums, a Burglary and a Birthday<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBu5vr6F9Z_c76CR2Ed3wIn-LjoEA9bQJiVnenftQXs9vle38kE6icTe3fWDCNIKssAKH3yP1p5h0tvQnAtfP7gPPBSsjjb7ITy6Ns4V17KJSbH5AnfupVHkk2kXDybrAoQcMo4P9RoQwb/s400/IMG_2027.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643901009830629778" /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; "><div style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-size: 13px; margin-top: 8px; margin-right: 12px; margin-bottom: 8px; margin-left: 12px; background-attachment: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 1.4; background-position: 50% 0%; "><p><span class="Apple-style-span">Ah yes, one of those things is not like the other. I'll get there. </span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span">Above we have a scene from the kitchen during tonight's Monday meal prep.<a href="http://tktc.tumblr.com/post/8438076084/mppsyd-so-the-next-time-youre-feeling-down"> Karyn</a> ran over from Old Town, showered and spent the rest of her birthday dinner in her birthday suit and a very stylish towel wrap. Gina came straight from training but skipped the shower. Joner was a frock-rocking basil-tearing machine and Bec wore one of my oversize buttondowns around, buttoned all the way up as mosquito/frosting protection. </span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span">I'd put the picture up but I think I need approval on that one first.</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span">Menu:</span></p><p></p><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; "><a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/261922/zucchini-fritters" _mce_href="http://www.marthastewart.com/261922/zucchini-fritters" style="color: rgb(0, 123, 255); ">Zucchini fritters</a> with yogurt and apricot jam</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; ">Mixed greens with balsamic roasted plums and blue cheese*</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; ">Pork scallopini (<a href="http://www.divinacucina-blog.com/" _mce_href="http://www.divinacucina-blog.com/" style="color: rgb(0, 123, 255); ">Divina Cucina</a> style=fennel pollen!)</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; ">Pappardelle with heirloom tomatoes and fresh pesto</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia; "><a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/beattys-chocolate-cake-recipe/index.html">Chocolate Cake</a> with Guiness poured over the top </span></li></ul><p></p><p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNvKbJkpN0GvqJnBfSRhCtehXb8vz0CxcmfdOdenEVStCUn8CcPLftPLtLLxrI1SfPXOulOmxNgBfjqEZkqllUTE_4ih5Uaixx1fkmn7jZ-8IKdLmo-SbqynJ1fMK4uYb3D0UH0hGHkpKq/s400/IMG_2020.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 283px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643900997549661906" /></p><p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; ">I'm grateful for beautiful nights like this one. I snuck off to the downtown farm stand to grab beautiful plums at lunch was home in time to head to the butcher shop. I've made that chocolate cake so many times that I think I could do it blindfolded and the rest...while creating a breathtaking path of dishes and destruction...came together simply. We ate outside in the magic garden and I just needed that.</p><p style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6Aoe0sOGzKaai7X_7km3aYtli9SZYt-QI-DN4fV1tJwyIaWsUyi5tPnqR14qSVvA1KIQrWrhWoqWGWCErbkmQL4YoCrL8dQVfUYQPOXzDkpBQY49uiplcwpyIxl7re9T0o0Zllf9EXfTt/s400/IMG_2022.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643900988055859714" /></p></div></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">It's been an interesting seven days. My apartment was broken into, my laptop and iPods stolen and some peace of mind taken along with them. I am a tough cookie most of the time but knowing someone was in my home is jarring. Even though it could have been a whole lot worse (I wasn't there at the time), I still feel violated. And pissed, if we're being candid. Five separate friends offered HC and I a place to stay that night and all I could think of was straight, stubborn, crimson fury. </div><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">A planned work trip got me out of town for the weekend and it was truly awesome. I still wasn't feeling quite myself but Philadelphia with a bunch of <a href="http://healthylivingsummit.com/">professional optimists</a> and an old school partner in crime were the best kinds of distractions.</div><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFPCdTZJq7XvmzGfhgA1X23w2gr09AzlsXiCAJn3JtFdSvnn179lRbCcpsY6fEbNxvbIfUEx6ML6XShQIp1iEsMWP9k0m93pi0P4w1LsA1UB5YMf7xVWCitGAlBYYUN7ttx43WgAAeRwol/s400/IMG_2032.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643900979392865698" /></div><div>Police reports filed, fingerprints collected and now we wait. It's <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2008/05/screwed-true-story-of-how-i-got-mugged.html">not the first time I've been here</a> but that doesn't make it easier. Some simple precautions like new windows, fresh locks do wonders but having a house full of people who love you and the smells that go along with that are the fastest ways to restore order to my world. Monday mission accomplished. </div><div>
<br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMRAA5CpyIpfAwKZbOYYnoT4fxUx7N8SJ-gjfE6kub40kQkqH5wZivnJwYNAdd2UdYOygeeyV4N6BmSFcJO6yeLGl5KrldG2ZgGa8aYeJr8zOZIK8Fx1LadmyfikH6hK8h3GRDKVHa0n83/s400/IMG_2033.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643900968006725426" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></div><div>I lied about the picture. I'm sorry, friends. It was too perfect. I love you enough to delete it later if you want to raise a protest.</div><div>
<br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQSGZ0FAapLxDY-ojs47WuuQNSogcWpZoGVa8LrWmz8fwwGkDumELDCh99GscD070nPdb-bwCyZhSDET_6vYQpzuOq2upq5Q6b7nz8wONSTwrwraCubtkI-DcYw2Ci2igdxjjaXj84CnkQ/s400/Beer+Cake" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643901818429701570" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /><div style="text-align: left;">A chocolate beer cake cheers to houses that feel like home and to the people that fill them with light. Dinner was very much in Karyn's honor tonight but I'm definitely going to bed feeling gifted.</div><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i>Balsamic Roasted Plums</i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><i>
<br /></i></b></div><div style="text-align: left;">6 small, ripe plums</div><div style="text-align: left;">2 tablespoons good balsamic vinegar</div><div style="text-align: left;">Smoked salt to taste</div><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Rinse and dry your plums then cut them in half, removing the pit. Toss in balsamic in a glass baking dish and top with a pinch of smoked salt. Roast at 375 for 4-5 minutes. I don't even know that this counts as a recipe, it's that easy.</div><div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Serve over mixed greens with blue cheese and just pour your roasting juices from the plums over the salad as a dressing. It's a delight.</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-80317834321801525272011-07-24T10:27:00.006-05:002011-07-28T04:24:59.702-05:00Down on the Farm<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgXTIFMZL06LbLyUCh5dLLX9ngz68GorERtb1XyasqsYfrGhyphenhyphenczCbn07MLw4gGCsDqllXHHC0ocVRinUojs4PC4JPoBJIwxAuofkGilTiBrDnQ5slCUjjmSb0k4iWkfgmyf7TeLd_-mfPa/s1600/IMG_1821.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgXTIFMZL06LbLyUCh5dLLX9ngz68GorERtb1XyasqsYfrGhyphenhyphenczCbn07MLw4gGCsDqllXHHC0ocVRinUojs4PC4JPoBJIwxAuofkGilTiBrDnQ5slCUjjmSb0k4iWkfgmyf7TeLd_-mfPa/s400/IMG_1821.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633091415983351026" border="0" /></a>It's midweek at this point but I'm still glowing from a proper Midwestern summer weekend. It kicked off with wine on my neighbor's deck, an overly wondrous nap and a birthday for one of my Mondays. If you can believe it, things just continued to climb from there.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdRRY-g41HDrppO7Oi2oFAeAMOABkBMyDIzQm4i89Uc4ARyj843VJ28mtOpSaF28pUwgbEiV7kJAQTPa7S-CtrotJ122kPmbQWBHgpe5vARs2druAWbNJ2jJINFqFeCyvawqpG8qHDQ0oZ/s1600/IMG_1808.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdRRY-g41HDrppO7Oi2oFAeAMOABkBMyDIzQm4i89Uc4ARyj843VJ28mtOpSaF28pUwgbEiV7kJAQTPa7S-CtrotJ122kPmbQWBHgpe5vARs2druAWbNJ2jJINFqFeCyvawqpG8qHDQ0oZ/s400/IMG_1808.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633063359252611570" border="0" /></a>Look at those <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2011/07/summer-berry-spectacular-and-pie-party.html">beautiful, beautiful berries</a>- it was another sweet year for the Jerseys at <a href="http://joesblueberries.com/"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Joe's</span></a>. The day was supposed to be nasty but we were running out of time to get our fruit so Molly and I drove out to Bangor anyway, fully prepared for rain and mud.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZjt_9yNM4uRSdvC1-13U_uPfdSs9QteeAdCTbqlNjpO8NwCgPYXbKBhfbSyOncpPDhzcinnOazWxw7J2Ig6WtlCl1EZLs1DGSLQri8evXtjQMjX0UYclf-SFp49TrjJ0gGQmxiRaqrW0c/s1600/IMG_1805.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZjt_9yNM4uRSdvC1-13U_uPfdSs9QteeAdCTbqlNjpO8NwCgPYXbKBhfbSyOncpPDhzcinnOazWxw7J2Ig6WtlCl1EZLs1DGSLQri8evXtjQMjX0UYclf-SFp49TrjJ0gGQmxiRaqrW0c/s400/IMG_1805.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633063353660033586" border="0" /></a>80, overcast and smelling of rain- perfect for picking. It didn't hurt that we arrived to some familiar faces on the wall.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv48ABGC-9Yka7l5vB-7n2M0nRCqa5TA0_t3ij5tTq9TnAoflwNuSqLJoIKJ-0kV5jprkADZMfaNwizJt5YkcKy9t4QP3lByTbECRdZaoTCaANgx8tpEaTbHmVwxCrrsKGanhl1dq0dTVo/s1600/IMG_1816.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv48ABGC-9Yka7l5vB-7n2M0nRCqa5TA0_t3ij5tTq9TnAoflwNuSqLJoIKJ-0kV5jprkADZMfaNwizJt5YkcKy9t4QP3lByTbECRdZaoTCaANgx8tpEaTbHmVwxCrrsKGanhl1dq0dTVo/s400/IMG_1816.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633063344830671602" border="0" /></a>Or that the sun came out as soon as our buckets were good and full. The light came in through the weave in my hat, leaving me with superfreckles I got quite attached to.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlAPHqP1Qu2Xm58dKH69lVdyzEQZkc21nWHDwuZ-ixKmEC6tRjQJYxIme2zzrJ5bfDc0rywNLH-YFqSJcyCxe4Vp4x5tqGK9r-EiOU_6gpgf1jfhcgkn5Vos80f_y2nQawloO5x_7JhaA3/s1600/Joe%2527s+Blueberry+Jam"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 208px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlAPHqP1Qu2Xm58dKH69lVdyzEQZkc21nWHDwuZ-ixKmEC6tRjQJYxIme2zzrJ5bfDc0rywNLH-YFqSJcyCxe4Vp4x5tqGK9r-EiOU_6gpgf1jfhcgkn5Vos80f_y2nQawloO5x_7JhaA3/s400/Joe%2527s+Blueberry+Jam" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633063342536177874" border="0" /></a>There was sour cherry beer to try and even a proper Blueberry jam session happening in the farmhouse. The boy with the marracas was my favorite.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyP1xXWrOS3P8U-HgSWjaY3JtN9kqPG7VEFKDqPwB0Id0O4NJyANY046AdGTYLw5EXh_hyphenhyphenolTed-FNRFg_T4xjxA-tzAKjs4hWvVPtNrfDk6BIsgYAsxLVbuPQWdhJKe7r7u6QOcVG7lgh/s1600/Midwest+is+Best"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 292px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyP1xXWrOS3P8U-HgSWjaY3JtN9kqPG7VEFKDqPwB0Id0O4NJyANY046AdGTYLw5EXh_hyphenhyphenolTed-FNRFg_T4xjxA-tzAKjs4hWvVPtNrfDk6BIsgYAsxLVbuPQWdhJKe7r7u6QOcVG7lgh/s400/Midwest+is+Best" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633063334990709682" border="0" /></a>I just love being on <a href="http://joesblueberries.com/">that farm</a>. It's full of vintage farm equipment, wood-sided Wagoneers, cold beers and a collage of the state of Illinois I'd like to have run off with.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidv5Fvfw2jPcAqcPniRGpmWg60VSfD6v2DbJgW-1t4c9BkNKch68jXFg1bNeL3nQ1E9COX6mYUwYRkWwV8hBNDzyHOWRLHFqeVjMj1HWcC2kJkdYxlh9RlzbbUSLsKETwaJ1kNY06XIWEv/s1600/IMG_1834.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidv5Fvfw2jPcAqcPniRGpmWg60VSfD6v2DbJgW-1t4c9BkNKch68jXFg1bNeL3nQ1E9COX6mYUwYRkWwV8hBNDzyHOWRLHFqeVjMj1HWcC2kJkdYxlh9RlzbbUSLsKETwaJ1kNY06XIWEv/s400/IMG_1834.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633061900095118018" border="0" /></a>We couldn't believe our luck so we pushed it and drove 15 more minutes to South Haven.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijAdzE6pawjO7b06OB7ppZTGZzUAwOsitTeRzSADdmgHeFe7fTRUOCktsZKmg5kgOyyXuDAK58M7vDoqKTYd40AjdhfBTFa62_kYIuicx-Ol8fTRl0Q080obau51P-PhCo_zOIE_D_jGwB/s1600/Beach+Bunnies"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijAdzE6pawjO7b06OB7ppZTGZzUAwOsitTeRzSADdmgHeFe7fTRUOCktsZKmg5kgOyyXuDAK58M7vDoqKTYd40AjdhfBTFa62_kYIuicx-Ol8fTRl0Q080obau51P-PhCo_zOIE_D_jGwB/s400/Beach+Bunnies" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633061894145719714" border="0" /></a>I was pretty well coated in mud from getting all up in those blueberry bushes so it was in the water almost immediately then down for the count.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6BQbKfFuHl_V16tTggtLFHQ1IH91SgywagCYvJIaPRTsusuPoWQQCbfzeQKYDA1Q7-W2DcfGc3d0VKE8JdF4_xrRWrKZY3pP6z62NgLzWR1yu5gVE50p0dIXfZQuVLR1W9x4nJgA9RS0/s1600/IMG_1843.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi6BQbKfFuHl_V16tTggtLFHQ1IH91SgywagCYvJIaPRTsusuPoWQQCbfzeQKYDA1Q7-W2DcfGc3d0VKE8JdF4_xrRWrKZY3pP6z62NgLzWR1yu5gVE50p0dIXfZQuVLR1W9x4nJgA9RS0/s400/IMG_1843.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633061890807802962" border="0" /></a>Five o'clock rolled around and we decided on a late lunch/early dinner in town. One Oberon, please. I think they brew this stuff specifically to be drunk on old wood decks overlooking Lake Michigan. This was the only one though and we drove home shortly thereafter. Unreal how close a vacation of that nature actually is- we were home by seven.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglfdVWir9aCua9-nvqpUSootocoACwXk4vPmxRrMqA1ODCWSSLEDK5UdsdfWOraHElYd0ntn6oC6m3jgeK_Gm75RvuDdBn6Lh76nSH51wOG-iAbrbxJ5l4g04SqPk1knXWKXaSoqxaPcl6/s1600/IMG_1847.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglfdVWir9aCua9-nvqpUSootocoACwXk4vPmxRrMqA1ODCWSSLEDK5UdsdfWOraHElYd0ntn6oC6m3jgeK_Gm75RvuDdBn6Lh76nSH51wOG-iAbrbxJ5l4g04SqPk1knXWKXaSoqxaPcl6/s400/IMG_1847.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633061880776177842" border="0" /></a>The next morning had its own fun. <a href="http://greenroofgrowers.blogspot.com/">Bruce</a> emailed to say he had a plethora of eggs from his chickadees and I think I waited all of 2 minutes to volunteer my house for consumption. I literally pulled an egg out from underneath a chicken in one of the laying boxes. This whole urban farm thing? I am a fan.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2VEHoiGEkTb99OtJ8xDWPNsWqUyM-WpQwCbe3IDX5dlSMNhnWtk7rPqLJxfyhyphenhyphene5TVJqj9yPqLFFusENsy1XB6cVvrBb03ZQrJXKp_vnNadgSdo_vnYCcNJD4z9KHP7QElxIq4fc2hY0L/s1600/FRESH+Egg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 151px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2VEHoiGEkTb99OtJ8xDWPNsWqUyM-WpQwCbe3IDX5dlSMNhnWtk7rPqLJxfyhyphenhyphene5TVJqj9yPqLFFusENsy1XB6cVvrBb03ZQrJXKp_vnNadgSdo_vnYCcNJD4z9KHP7QElxIq4fc2hY0L/s400/FRESH+Egg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633061875224267378" border="0" /></a>And then even though we had brunch plans with <a href="http://pink-apron.com/">Kelly</a> at <a href="http://chicago.grubstreet.com/2011/06/what_to_eat_at_delish_diner_no.html">Delish</a>, I cooked it. I couldn't help it. I have a whole new meaning for 10 minute eggs. Hope your summers are churning out equally wonderful weekends.TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-88023792950264499672011-07-17T13:42:00.006-05:002011-07-17T22:27:16.505-05:00Weekend Cat Blogging: Look at Me Edition<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihJ9V3lYatBouFan60ux190X-wqisZyiVvWiz7IeYUX_JSth4WZp7BAYjBJ8ExiJ9t_YpZtVpfgI1QlFez7A_7wbYro67mtwadDr4cPxx_nCTjFUqHSnIlbhQeYXUN8Wt7SIvs1wfXWOsK/s1600/IMG_1786.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihJ9V3lYatBouFan60ux190X-wqisZyiVvWiz7IeYUX_JSth4WZp7BAYjBJ8ExiJ9t_YpZtVpfgI1QlFez7A_7wbYro67mtwadDr4cPxx_nCTjFUqHSnIlbhQeYXUN8Wt7SIvs1wfXWOsK/s400/IMG_1786.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630398302305781090" border="0" /></a>As far as Sundays go, it's a good one. Up early and at <a href="http://lulacafe.com/">Lula Cafe</a> for breakfast with <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.rustickitchen.com/blog/index.php">Janine</a> when they opened. We don't see each other nearly as often as we mean to but it's like inhaling a series of cool, deep breaths every time we do. I don't know why that's the thing that comes to mind when we change topics so rapidly that a breath could easily be forgotten but it's refreshing.<br /><br />I'm reminded again why that place remains one of my best brunches in Chicago ( just about <a href="http://tktc.tumblr.com/post/7159232711/taking-friends-to-your-favorite-restaurant-for-the">tied for first</a> with <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2010/03/bourbon-belly-longman-and-eagle.html">Longman & Eagle</a>). Delicious. And afterward a lap around the <a href="http://logansquarefarmersmarket.org/">Logan Square Farmers Market</a> with the woman who, no joke, wrote the book on Midwestern Farmers Markets. That means stopping to chat with all the vendors and sampling along the way.<span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span> Janine is a naturally charming person but she also asks the questions I don't always remember when confronted by something tempting. For me, it was an excellent reminder of "conscious consumption" in action. And sometimes that includes a mini cone of <a href="http://www.nicecreamchicago.com/Site/about.html">Cashew Crunch</a>.<br /><br />I nabbed a <a href="http://www.logansquarefarmersmarket.org/node/92">number</a> of goodies to supplement my own <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2011/07/why-violet-youre-turning-violet-wicked.html">growing bounty</a> but a jar from the <a href="http://www.chicagohoneycoop.com/">Chicago Honey Co-op</a> and a bright bouquet from <a href="http://www.tempelfarmsorganics.com/">Tempel Farm Organics</a> topped out I think.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtw59FYW2P40BCPqIYyJH3xj5huRAujz33wIc8SBFj2ehYF9gZmdjRg25KptjSVw3U5zcY7MnvoCgbgpPWgxG17bkY1AcfrodG70FM81dWSTAMr4YFGTqyitBL2ViyABJBpuHm0EaE3B2/s1600/IMG_1787.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtw59FYW2P40BCPqIYyJH3xj5huRAujz33wIc8SBFj2ehYF9gZmdjRg25KptjSVw3U5zcY7MnvoCgbgpPWgxG17bkY1AcfrodG70FM81dWSTAMr4YFGTqyitBL2ViyABJBpuHm0EaE3B2/s400/IMG_1787.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630398304712755986" border="0" /></a>Of course just when I start to grab a couple pictures of what is now a very happy kitchen table, I am reminded of who the star of Sunday is in reality.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHGYgYEyan7hJA8owiwENpccKIOYXg18ohCMo8vwT41TrFWr3uoT4kaJK9rnzsZTOq42ARz50Eyh0_RmsVdpbPSM4dHkOGEYn8yYuXugtg-UnnsclVKKqy65m3xV-EUgMf4j65qLy5tl-a/s1600/IMG_1788.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHGYgYEyan7hJA8owiwENpccKIOYXg18ohCMo8vwT41TrFWr3uoT4kaJK9rnzsZTOq42ARz50Eyh0_RmsVdpbPSM4dHkOGEYn8yYuXugtg-UnnsclVKKqy65m3xV-EUgMf4j65qLy5tl-a/s400/IMG_1788.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630398311193702642" border="0" /></a>"Oh a few photos? Of course I don't mind."<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYb1tE0r8xEXUuOF5XhPKLdjyBQw8HYJqyN0-YaJ0l2N5wIRPDf7DtKSbDSaXvAC0kmhzHyD8eGdygEIGDISJEDFZoIE_7HKP8ayBWpwgHRQraQ8Q2e_laI_mUJ0B9kJtJO3hQQ6r11s4n/s1600/IMG_1789.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYb1tE0r8xEXUuOF5XhPKLdjyBQw8HYJqyN0-YaJ0l2N5wIRPDf7DtKSbDSaXvAC0kmhzHyD8eGdygEIGDISJEDFZoIE_7HKP8ayBWpwgHRQraQ8Q2e_laI_mUJ0B9kJtJO3hQQ6r11s4n/s400/IMG_1789.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630398319156209906" border="0" /></a>She was promptly shooed off the table but another reminder that Honeycat will not accept second billing to a single other organic entity in this house. What on earth was I thinking.TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-46802698233962892462011-07-16T10:19:00.007-05:002011-07-16T11:27:37.631-05:00Why Violet, You're Turning Violet! A Wicked Vegetable Patch Update<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyuYtiMCKMOJKVsVIFoCKJj1u3DGOn0fq6ZvsB5EIYdGoR_cAuR0Ofy-g2OM-BVYWbyE_D0TJK92_hYchA-mXYW24S5thf15tXi8cAwVE5AO3l6FjtooOF1N85LOuxWjap7X2DyBBoTNO1/s1600/IMG_1725.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 375px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyuYtiMCKMOJKVsVIFoCKJj1u3DGOn0fq6ZvsB5EIYdGoR_cAuR0Ofy-g2OM-BVYWbyE_D0TJK92_hYchA-mXYW24S5thf15tXi8cAwVE5AO3l6FjtooOF1N85LOuxWjap7X2DyBBoTNO1/s400/IMG_1725.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629984816885671362" border="0" /></a><br />Summer is really kicking up now and the garden is starting to look a lot like Mardi Gras. Less in the way of beads, boobs and blackouts and more in the sense that there is a lot of purple, green and gold out there. It's lovely. I've even started to mimic it in my meals- <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2011/04/gansu-to-garden-grilling-season-citrus.html" target="_blank">Pe</a><a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2011/04/gansu-to-garden-grilling-season-citrus.html" target="_blank">sto and spinach stuffed, grilled portabellas</a> topped with goat cheese, purple/green salad, roasted kaleidoscope carrots an a bowl of <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2010/07/easy-breezy-summertime-spicy-pickle.html" target="_blank">spicy cucumber soup</a>. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tokissthecook/5929040394/">Molly's</a> welcome home dinner and several key ingredients were pulled straight out of the Wicked Park backyard which just makes my heart happy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfRSdPCaO2mMHqATfQdp1cTkURisaFBfftCVcc89PNJCK_NM6_5LKp6YzMwA1F84mIz-Ffujr7Wmlzdi20YncfwqX2OOuWMa3OgOG4mIkIvm3NZqNnSBcTDGC516jaMJ6BFIoHS6Yw5jb/s1600/IMG_1744.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCfRSdPCaO2mMHqATfQdp1cTkURisaFBfftCVcc89PNJCK_NM6_5LKp6YzMwA1F84mIz-Ffujr7Wmlzdi20YncfwqX2OOuWMa3OgOG4mIkIvm3NZqNnSBcTDGC516jaMJ6BFIoHS6Yw5jb/s400/IMG_1744.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629974239992649762" border="0" /></a>Onto the actual update. I went a little nuts this year and when <a href="http://greenroofgrowers.blogspot.com/">Bruce</a> had several extra tomato seedlings, I went from a planned eight plants to eleven. I say this having just adopted a 12th from my neighbor Sam who had little cherries growing wild.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0fOizzADhCvfTAwQL6QtvXmkn4m8dji8PteKj160Dzut03Tq_QXuUpi12oSwWtbWNrBzw1bSncZsLwcw-xtia0zX_N7LfDU_vkvoTCYFnPrLM39o2Gnt4-JuLJ04YiQpI6pEiyPZ9DvWK/s1600/IMG_1754.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0fOizzADhCvfTAwQL6QtvXmkn4m8dji8PteKj160Dzut03Tq_QXuUpi12oSwWtbWNrBzw1bSncZsLwcw-xtia0zX_N7LfDU_vkvoTCYFnPrLM39o2Gnt4-JuLJ04YiQpI6pEiyPZ9DvWK/s400/IMG_1754.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629973054660394978" border="0" /></a>I can say it. I'm a tomato-aholic. I fuss over them first thing every morning and occasionally visit them at night as well. And now that all twelve have erupted into yellow blossoms and tiny green fruits, I don't even attempt to contain my glee in their presence.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Q4K0E-uikOJZVzgMcejwj2nVPiYyDikNM3zOxT66lyeqoO8x859Q8B-DVVsweUkjAQrwOrbNAMRm9_P9kGpz5qW0A8anzcwfTQvpSJp-5stnBtooxFeVP6NHlw4Aa20zls8kquSMcEJg/s1600/IMG_1752.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Q4K0E-uikOJZVzgMcejwj2nVPiYyDikNM3zOxT66lyeqoO8x859Q8B-DVVsweUkjAQrwOrbNAMRm9_P9kGpz5qW0A8anzcwfTQvpSJp-5stnBtooxFeVP6NHlw4Aa20zls8kquSMcEJg/s400/IMG_1752.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629973064153644882" border="0" /></a>"Look at you! You're a wonder, Black Krim! You remind me of a pumpkin. A pumpkin that will be fully appreciated sliced with krimped edges with a soft burrata. Keep up the excellent work- you should be really proud of yourself."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1OzAu3eE_eDyx0sFB9os0CKdhs8fL9GsNFfdNWJR1ryf4e_BVD7RX6MQECxLyxXD4qR0PPiQvWFOt2hUD9dnYK9KmDq0bKIIunQ7BZE9iX6_QOvC8EvFo2_L7xfwK3ZSuXLewzaNVns-X/s1600/IMG_1746.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1OzAu3eE_eDyx0sFB9os0CKdhs8fL9GsNFfdNWJR1ryf4e_BVD7RX6MQECxLyxXD4qR0PPiQvWFOt2hUD9dnYK9KmDq0bKIIunQ7BZE9iX6_QOvC8EvFo2_L7xfwK3ZSuXLewzaNVns-X/s400/IMG_1746.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629974233783040674" border="0" /></a>"And you, little black cherry. A natural overachiever. The first to ripen and surely the first treasure to be plucked and enjoyed without ever making it inside the kitchen. I just can't tell you how much I've enjoyed watching you develop. I know you have a lot of wonderful gifts to share in the future."<br /><br />Yes, I really do talk to them. The benefit of doing my fussing at 5:30-ish is that no one else is up to wonder at my rambling. In the spirit of full disclosure though, we have had one bit of disappointment. One of my San Marzano plants is afflicted with <a href="http://www.gardeners.com/Blossom-End-Rot/5354,default,pg.html">blossom end rot</a>. Wretched little illness that can really put a dent in a tomato yield. Never fear though, I think some extra calcium and a good series of pep talks should help to clear it up.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6p_5A7QonJBLyfMW5rHTClDb76V5eu8lEqXPmldr-J1W03YyBwops72i4YzqI3ZfKwtJinHbV8mk4Meu5ZZLadNlQqCYW47-wIhuKvYn7fkRFT3-O2qK_xYsKbrDoy8_-4wIFHmurbC6Y/s1600/IMG_1759.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 388px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6p_5A7QonJBLyfMW5rHTClDb76V5eu8lEqXPmldr-J1W03YyBwops72i4YzqI3ZfKwtJinHbV8mk4Meu5ZZLadNlQqCYW47-wIhuKvYn7fkRFT3-O2qK_xYsKbrDoy8_-4wIFHmurbC6Y/s400/IMG_1759.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629973032335627794" border="0" /></a>Beyond tomatoes, I did mention purple. I'm not kidding- I think it's the Wicked Patch's favorite color. These towers of leafy ruffles are called Jester lettuce and will be growing more next year.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7XRuAk5UcPa-0vcvVAO7oST9nGzT6MKqAbPf7LKXiasxQ-3X38ggFvBo4BFwasGlLsJUWA0fHxoR_1SLG-RME2Mk4-WiUB-fwtFYsEYRpMfcil8tfEoM_ZniF4StPJ3a2ErGOF6i4b9h3/s1600/IMG_1760.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7XRuAk5UcPa-0vcvVAO7oST9nGzT6MKqAbPf7LKXiasxQ-3X38ggFvBo4BFwasGlLsJUWA0fHxoR_1SLG-RME2Mk4-WiUB-fwtFYsEYRpMfcil8tfEoM_ZniF4StPJ3a2ErGOF6i4b9h3/s400/IMG_1760.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629973020297604354" border="0" /></a>It's delicious and sets of a wooden bowl of salad just so. Grows like a weed too, which works out well.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBedB7Djw3PwxOVHb94CvOAPlMcCkbZnDOV5C8oIHFsZ3JB7LJBWIXuCbqBJJw03fdh_8C1K2l_4LGk7QA7cfgMkscgUlqb06SnFVrkyrgoRtMhYRffXJgH5sSsZDswqKw_JaCKJdX9YNY/s1600/IMG_1741.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBedB7Djw3PwxOVHb94CvOAPlMcCkbZnDOV5C8oIHFsZ3JB7LJBWIXuCbqBJJw03fdh_8C1K2l_4LGk7QA7cfgMkscgUlqb06SnFVrkyrgoRtMhYRffXJgH5sSsZDswqKw_JaCKJdX9YNY/s400/IMG_1741.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629974251797011970" border="0" /></a>Ah yes, the Black Beauty eggplant has returned. Key learning from last year was that eggplant doesn't mind our garden's heavy clay soil so I trimmed down from four seriously overproducing plants last year to two this year.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQzAy_qgtdGNouzCe_-3ng3qpY67IG_Z-4llgMGVmWYOtGbGOQKlvw7rf4g00ony7tVayUahSYazGTFcLtjDS5JZBFosSNzoIcrqF1gUlOF-fkzNsu6wlAv8MdLgzAkfkhntwDv0ZnOyg/s1600/IMG_1761.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqQzAy_qgtdGNouzCe_-3ng3qpY67IG_Z-4llgMGVmWYOtGbGOQKlvw7rf4g00ony7tVayUahSYazGTFcLtjDS5JZBFosSNzoIcrqF1gUlOF-fkzNsu6wlAv8MdLgzAkfkhntwDv0ZnOyg/s400/IMG_1761.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629971418761736530" border="0" /></a>The second of my eggplants is called a Listada de Gandia. I'm convinced I need a dress in this print and it's even prettier in person. I would love any recommendations for recipes that might maintain the look of that gorgeous exterior in a finished product.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Rnq59N-bxJUshodAJhHtxB45-pLjKlJjg5lbs7IOgSzMrQjsZuLKH0NaiCC5iTV27golYxM_A8xOwCVmGRxd_NA5yK4JgOXpXJtl27CfS1Jrtkm8S8VGTNyl7bOimGvFDRCEhCAU0mxZ/s1600/IMG_1764.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Rnq59N-bxJUshodAJhHtxB45-pLjKlJjg5lbs7IOgSzMrQjsZuLKH0NaiCC5iTV27golYxM_A8xOwCVmGRxd_NA5yK4JgOXpXJtl27CfS1Jrtkm8S8VGTNyl7bOimGvFDRCEhCAU0mxZ/s400/IMG_1764.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629971410440344210" border="0" /></a>The passion for purple has not limited itself to Ground+. Not at all- here's some young hard neck garlic that's taken on deep purple clove casings beneath the white paper exterior. Did I mention young purple garlic is delicious? I used it to make the pesto in the stuffed portabellas at top.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHiR-MA0gNCUOEcvWYAokx1d2BEdxKYTtFwClGkliFnx0fe86Fe0dEmwLObME8GSMwR2FOAVswMpQ7MrqHs4k5pqT-g81EhirG4HUoiZUWLARtuL2YQkD6v9ynyW7IQYdltAZ6i-q-R12A/s1600/IMG_1767.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHiR-MA0gNCUOEcvWYAokx1d2BEdxKYTtFwClGkliFnx0fe86Fe0dEmwLObME8GSMwR2FOAVswMpQ7MrqHs4k5pqT-g81EhirG4HUoiZUWLARtuL2YQkD6v9ynyW7IQYdltAZ6i-q-R12A/s400/IMG_1767.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629971401445298674" border="0" /></a>"Red onion" has always struck me as a bit of a misnomer. They are purple to the point of being practically lilac on the inside. And oh my do they taste good caramelized. <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tokissthecook/5855550760/in/photostream">Clean Out the Fridge Pasta</a>- post coming soon.<br /><br />Once I wrapped the photo session in my own patch, I walked across to see if I could finagle some eggs for breakfast from our <a href="http://greenroofgrowers.blogspot.com/2011/06/summer-solstice-on-roof-farm-and.html">local chickens</a>. I was a little early for them but they came out to say hi anyway.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvZGIzbuJ3iiMyAOjmBHrLmP9y23twE0Mg_Eaxn5wOuQMEh-8Z3WZ7oMcC7-1sXoAGBhFiy5zh9VfgSdEQSn2paJnYNTjai906u3y3N4EHBHvpLvjhJxqug6VRKRP9ra93MKeTZzTjIDG0/s1600/IMG_1769.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvZGIzbuJ3iiMyAOjmBHrLmP9y23twE0Mg_Eaxn5wOuQMEh-8Z3WZ7oMcC7-1sXoAGBhFiy5zh9VfgSdEQSn2paJnYNTjai906u3y3N4EHBHvpLvjhJxqug6VRKRP9ra93MKeTZzTjIDG0/s400/IMG_1769.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629971380733194354" border="0" /></a>Have I mentioned how much I love this neighborhood?TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-1538085317157092152011-07-13T23:45:00.007-05:002011-07-14T11:55:12.104-05:00Austin: A Wonderful Sort of Weird<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2DbuYIJwokWGVMPy-zz6rEDH3AAF18x-R_wxVDx0lnRINn6d_g7X5exuEtSpzb9o-AG0dK4hh35b27rlR2KSEXZh79-4m8oiBUzEWBniF9O2YNtyJfYWg0t2hLhyphenhyphenhR7xsFB8rRiTZuoY/s1600/Conversationish" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2DbuYIJwokWGVMPy-zz6rEDH3AAF18x-R_wxVDx0lnRINn6d_g7X5exuEtSpzb9o-AG0dK4hh35b27rlR2KSEXZh79-4m8oiBUzEWBniF9O2YNtyJfYWg0t2hLhyphenhyphenhR7xsFB8rRiTZuoY/s400/Conversationish" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629063738413707714" border="0" /></a>As I think we've started to establish, June was a month of adventures. Per usual, most of those adventures involved a trip to a new place that was made up of dozens of miniadventures containing snacks.<br /><br />{Perhaps there are adventures to be had that don't involve snacks but they are not mine.}<br /><br />Moving on. Does anyone remember last year when I just flat out <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-am-ready-for-farmers-market-love.html">fell in love with Portland</a>? To the point that I was wantonly surfing Craigslist every so often "just to see"? That was during my first <a href="http://www.iacp.com/"><span style="font-weight: bold;">IACP Conference</span></a>. My second one, this year, was in downtown Austin, Texas.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiiyt59NJL5bftpvAS7T6AtV1S9rhyphenhyphen4qWva387QDm5BOLb1dEo7cnku_qHxkiULvihMgzOOv94QTD9j-AjmaEcly3QQY3PFkCEN4EZTBETyHdNYyBpuwCoBE-PPYi-6YFr-RGjiSPpuoDJ/s1600/Lone+Star+Bus.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiiyt59NJL5bftpvAS7T6AtV1S9rhyphenhyphen4qWva387QDm5BOLb1dEo7cnku_qHxkiULvihMgzOOv94QTD9j-AjmaEcly3QQY3PFkCEN4EZTBETyHdNYyBpuwCoBE-PPYi-6YFr-RGjiSPpuoDJ/s400/Lone+Star+Bus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628854398650720466" border="0" /></a><br />And of course the next gathering of my people (the ones who've dedicated their lives to the edible arts and related interests), would be in another exceptionally cool town that was somehow foreign to date.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglgZaH80ul9tnH0yJ-MpjeDT5R_QYJDOK9kWAYbQo1BFCcPeGdvryDJhy5JpfJRUm0zp-4FfxD2K7AYBWIohR_8r_A79KpXduD2u8R_c2MA79WECuar5qPGewAGCrEXJENJjDRN8R6VtqP/s1600/My+Hyde+Park+Home.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglgZaH80ul9tnH0yJ-MpjeDT5R_QYJDOK9kWAYbQo1BFCcPeGdvryDJhy5JpfJRUm0zp-4FfxD2K7AYBWIohR_8r_A79KpXduD2u8R_c2MA79WECuar5qPGewAGCrEXJENJjDRN8R6VtqP/s400/My+Hyde+Park+Home.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628854391718427202" border="0" /></a>This time I skipped Craigslist altogether. I've found my house. It's in Hyde Park, just around the corner from Antonelli's Cheese Shop, Quack's and Asti. A solid bike ride from downtown and a ride that if done often enough might burn off the thigh penalties attached to those three neighbors. You'll know you're close when you see a <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tokissthecook/5803938247/in/photostream">gigantic fork</a>. How <a href="https://twitter.com/#%21/tokissthecook">fitting</a>. But I'm getting ahead of myself.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgC5yuAjB865tKm-KywI8ilMswpXdTfFpE6hooetDfDlkB3FpzLCa3MFdE3rwqBEN0wHCw63P_LYDZOkmrVNraU6Gb37tRVNiX4XbX8ijVgPHzGV35qjudGGOhkydqnOfKYgn6rRrHQlFl/s1600/Capitol.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgC5yuAjB865tKm-KywI8ilMswpXdTfFpE6hooetDfDlkB3FpzLCa3MFdE3rwqBEN0wHCw63P_LYDZOkmrVNraU6Gb37tRVNiX4XbX8ijVgPHzGV35qjudGGOhkydqnOfKYgn6rRrHQlFl/s400/Capitol.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628854380420612034" border="0" /></a>The trip started on a particularly hot Wednesday. As it happened, the same Wednesday wherein the First Lady made a pretty major announcement around <a href="http://www.whitehouse.gov/the-press-office/2011/06/08/first-lady-unveils-lets-move-child-care-ensure-healthy-start-youngest-ch">Let's Move!</a> and the week leading up to <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2011/HEALTH/06/02/usda.new.food.plate/index.html">revised dietary guidelines</a>. So quite the week to be surrounded by people who are passionate about food and nutrition. And that's why it began with a kick-off covering all of the above at the Texas State Capitol building.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZX1Qt45nPjpYY-kRX74a-1J4ajdXQqVJDLtGY6wlHnmgYgwoW6mXA2rQh28aSfXV0BWSfAA9T-WdVdwa7dt910I96L1ceJQCzOpldbCq2LlRmSj2kpypP49KI6wKBFZdmTMYWUjnEbXXA/s1600/San+Jose+Patio+.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><br /></a>That was the perfect start to four full days of intelligent discussion. We didn't always agree but it was always a respectful conversation between peers. I came out better for it, energized and just really grateful to get to do what I do. Even more grateful to see an increasingly familiar bunch of faces at IACP from the food blogging world. There will be more to say on that <a href="http://www.edelmandigital.com/author/jessi-langsen/">elsewhere </a>soon, but I'll stick to romancing my travel snacks in these parts. Work/Life balance, don't you know.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLVtPNV_DninPCrEYISIkYph-_1IkmmvUb3lcp2E1Ps75NKnrQ8cPnH6frNZ0_0JK-jnMn7zT6W_P06s7IdXMJ52rOUNAERSWBAuHCZDOcvx7yspxnNhFod1-Jq1FdrxFCOXyk9JXhtSP1/s1600/CulinApp_Dori.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLVtPNV_DninPCrEYISIkYph-_1IkmmvUb3lcp2E1Ps75NKnrQ8cPnH6frNZ0_0JK-jnMn7zT6W_P06s7IdXMJ52rOUNAERSWBAuHCZDOcvx7yspxnNhFod1-Jq1FdrxFCOXyk9JXhtSP1/s400/CulinApp_Dori.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628852936187115954" border="0" /></a>Okay, so maybe one of the more grateful moments I had was when <a href="https://twitter.com/#%21/doriegreenspan">Dorie Greenspan</a> handed me one of her oh so famous <a href="http://www.cookiebarnyc.com/news/cookiebar-x-culinapp-in-austin">CookieBar</a> butter sables from an AirStream trailer. That had been tricked out by <a href="http://www.culinapp.com/">Culinapp</a>, a nifty little tablet app. Cookies+Dorie+retro transportation+digital food geekery. Bake at 100 degrees of "dry heat" and slap a smile on my face for at least a week.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZX1Qt45nPjpYY-kRX74a-1J4ajdXQqVJDLtGY6wlHnmgYgwoW6mXA2rQh28aSfXV0BWSfAA9T-WdVdwa7dt910I96L1ceJQCzOpldbCq2LlRmSj2kpypP49KI6wKBFZdmTMYWUjnEbXXA/s1600/San+Jose+Patio+.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 399px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZX1Qt45nPjpYY-kRX74a-1J4ajdXQqVJDLtGY6wlHnmgYgwoW6mXA2rQh28aSfXV0BWSfAA9T-WdVdwa7dt910I96L1ceJQCzOpldbCq2LlRmSj2kpypP49KI6wKBFZdmTMYWUjnEbXXA/s400/San+Jose+Patio+.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628854376158478722" border="0" /></a>I'll stop now, promise. I'll even transition by saying not much washes down a sable like a prosecco cocktail on the patio at the <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="https://www.sanjosehotel.com/index2.php">Hotel San Jose</a>. Conference days are long and the real world does not stop turning because you're not around. Booking this hotel back in November was about the smartest thing I've done all year. I loved it. Loved it like the Ace. Loved it like my office in a dry, hot sauna with great music, strong wifi and beverage service. If you have an Austin trip on the horizon, just book it. You'll love the neighborhood.<br /><br />That wasn't the only advance planning that happened for the trip though. I might have been on vacation the week prior to Austin but that doesn't mean I skipped out on my homework. Between standard reads like <a href="http://www.bootsintheoven.com/">Boots in the Oven</a>, <a href="http://poco-cocoa.com/restaurant-index/">Poco-Cocoa</a> and the ever so lovely <a href="http://www.stetted.com/">Stetted</a> and new reads like <a href="http://austingastronomist.com/">Austin Gastonomist</a> and <a href="http://feteandfeast.com/">Fete and Feast</a>, I had a solid bunch of research to ground my limited number of eating and <span>drinking (<span style="font-style: italic;">italics</span>)</span> opportunities.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">TKTC Austin List</span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.uchiaustin.com/uchiko">Uchiko</a>- Incredible meal. Maybe top two best Japanese meals I've ever had. Three and a half hours start to finish in absolutely excellent company.<br /><a href="http://www.astiaustin.com/asti/">Asti Trattoria</a>- Another incredible meal but on my own. A conference tradition at the end of a lot of people time. Delightful service, lovely neighborhood and the food was divine.<br /><a href="http://tacodeli.com/">Taco Deli</a>- Annie and <a href="https://twitter.com/#%21/nealdmurray">Neal</a> insisted. And they were right. Taco Deli breakfast tacos picked up from <a href="http://www.joscoffee.com/congress/jossouthcongress.htm">Jo's </a>near the San Jose was a spicy way to start the day.<br /><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://eastsideshowroom.com/">East Side Showroom</a>- The bar that made me miss living in the South. Or True Blood. Or both. This place is a nonnegotiable for a cocktail with music. Another winner from the Murrays and I've promised myself I'll get to neighbor <a href="http://www.shangrilaaustin.com/">Shangri-La</a> next time.<br /><a href="http://hotdogscoldbeer.com/">Frank</a>- A serendipitous lunch with <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="https://twitter.com/#%21/stetted">Megan</a> and <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="https://twitter.com/#%21/ATXGastronomist">Kathryn</a> that involved fries dressed up as nachos and a hot dog so rich I excavated. Frank and Doug would have a lot to talk about.<br /><a href="http://www.amysicecreams.com/2.0/">Amy's Ice Cream</a>- <a href="http://www.twitter.com/lilaatethis">Lila</a>, <a href="http://www.twitter.com/ravensfeast">Brenda</a> and I may have had Grasshopper cones for dinner one night.<br /><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://woodlandaustin.com/">Woodland</a>- With a pie chaser. Of course.<br /><a href="http://www.lambertsaustin.com/">Lambert's</a>- Real friends bring you brisket in a soaked through paper bag while you work an Expo booth. It is known.<br /><a href="http://www.quacksbakery.com/">Quack's</a>- Worth the field trip for the most <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tokissthecook/5804491728/in/photostream/">adorable flooded sugar cookies</a>. Molly McGuff-approved.<br /><a href="http://www.antonellischeese.com/">Antonelli's Cheese Shop</a>- Do I really need to say more than cheese, salumi and wine? No.<br /><a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/cake-and-spoon-austin">Cake & Spoon</a> (Farmer's Market)- Miniature <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tokissthecook/5804483450/in/photostream/">quiche</a> that reignited my love for caramelized onions.<br /><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.hotelstcecilia.com/">Hotel Saint Cecilia</a> The pretties party patio that ever existed. I want to take that gigantic tree with me wherever I go. They hung chandeliers from its branches. Chandeliers, you guys.<br /><a href="https://www.sanjosehotel.com/index2.php">Hotel San Jose</a>- I know I already mentioned it but it really was the scene of some of my favorite evenings. Sangria with <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://whatsgabycooking.com/">Gaby</a> and <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://lilliankang.com/wordpress/">Lillian</a>, coffee with <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.zingermans.com/">Ari</a> (!)...just a delightful spot for a chat.<br /><a href="http://www.gourdoughs.com/">Gordough's</a>- Fresh doughnuts from a trailer. I had the Elvis to complete my comparison to <a href="http://voodoodoughnut.com/index.php">VooDoo</a>.<br /><a href="http://oddduckfarmtotrailer.com/">The Odd Duck</a>- I would not have made it to Odd Duck or Gordough's with some urging from Ben. I'm going to go out on a limb and say if <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="https://twitter.com/#%21/brhau">Ben</a> has a hunch and he shares it with you, you should just say thank you and follow at a hustle.<br /><a href="http://www.brokenspokeaustintx.com/"><span style="font-style: italic;">The Broken Spoke</span></a>- I can't and won't keep this to one line.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeNvO06eYnQ4Xh4MoTqlyZU0_GEn6y891k8wa8RsDBNzJ5WEBbqQHCJ7JI0CL4E_w1mFRHz_ZLVrpet2r3GQyoPuwoVpZkQZlU-z8s4jYyrMlVOdcw3cnNWvRVf07UsN4hpApIyMLUm-vj/s1600/Quack%2527s.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><br /></a><br />All this said, I hope you're getting how affectionate I feel toward Austin. I'll be back. I'll have twenty other places I didn't get to try when I do. But as in all other things, I loved this place through the lens of the one I loved before it.<br /><br />I never shook Portland.<br /><br />In the weeks ahead of Austin, I knew <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://twitter.com/ravensfeast">Brenda</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/#%21/daniellecentoni"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Danielle</span></a>, two Portland conference comrades made last year, would be in Texas with me. Brenda's invitation to join an existing Uchiko reservation meant a night among the kind of people you just feel like you've been sharing tables with for years. <a href="https://twitter.com/#%21/ravensfeast"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Brenda</span></a>, <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="https://twitter.com/#%21/lilaatethis">Lila</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/#%21/AndreaSlonecker"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Andrea</span></a> became my adopted pack of sorts for the rest of the week, thus only furthering my devotion to Portland even while running around an entirely different kind of place.<br /><br />To the point that, even now, I have moments when I make a mental note to invite them to that dinner at that place and then remember none are in walking distance in the way I somehow expect them to be. That's what happens when you eat an extravagant amount of uni with someone, they bring you barbecue brisket take-out then everyone eats ice cream for dinner and eventually goes two-stepping.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLguIhUB6DYsBcZPpXgZO2v-ynMK8_Y6CMg0brSB_eOQ5azOrirYdufwCcSNVbC5VGyu6llQaWgEmZmFGRZ69tfqIHctY5LOExQUPwb_vbb_o3U0E_xRBa7lw7SFSwlnUq_pd-FsUU8yhR/s1600/Broken_Spoke.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLguIhUB6DYsBcZPpXgZO2v-ynMK8_Y6CMg0brSB_eOQ5azOrirYdufwCcSNVbC5VGyu6llQaWgEmZmFGRZ69tfqIHctY5LOExQUPwb_vbb_o3U0E_xRBa7lw7SFSwlnUq_pd-FsUU8yhR/s400/Broken_Spoke.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628851712358202962" border="0" /></a>Speaking of which, my last night in Austin was spent at a Honky Tonk which by some series of small miracles was totally documented. The two photos at the very top, the one just above and all the delights below were shot by the ever so multi-talented <a href="https://twitter.com/#%21/foodshed">Brenda Crow</a>.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFKXH5dbfrxl3D4E0IweyDT0K3aMJgECwLT9i8KDNTn_OZUKwP859l8cLk2cmmri5kZpq_7KTIRJknV1LAgf_i3bgwiBD0afJSt05g_zbBUvrrPwjc6gQtcc-LFxForJ5mWgxJJJFeD6tO/s1600/George.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFKXH5dbfrxl3D4E0IweyDT0K3aMJgECwLT9i8KDNTn_OZUKwP859l8cLk2cmmri5kZpq_7KTIRJknV1LAgf_i3bgwiBD0afJSt05g_zbBUvrrPwjc6gQtcc-LFxForJ5mWgxJJJFeD6tO/s400/George.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628852915335507234" border="0" /></a>This is George. He might be some of the best Austin has to offer. George and the other regulars at the Broken Spoke represented an approach to nightlife that unfortunately seems have diminished over time. It's joyful. No worries about who came with who, everyone just dances with everyone and you get asked. George is pushing 80 but even the younger guys-it was never creepy, it was just good fun.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN12y5Nq1Ihm_ouX8IVVkZyzbaUHUu2AUEcpa9k1S31ETrB8KdPkL82gSWpd4QFgWgQGYUJKbde479bdb1cK014HyiXpXruPufyZpWbwwx0vPTp8V-YXeH06lBGJ4fMcXgOfzl7-eD16EY/s1600/Two-Steppers" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN12y5Nq1Ihm_ouX8IVVkZyzbaUHUu2AUEcpa9k1S31ETrB8KdPkL82gSWpd4QFgWgQGYUJKbde479bdb1cK014HyiXpXruPufyZpWbwwx0vPTp8V-YXeH06lBGJ4fMcXgOfzl7-eD16EY/s400/Two-Steppers" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628851705069299506" border="0" /></a>Even for dear, uncoordinated me. George took it upon himself to teach all three of the ladies in attendance how to two step. I dance about as well as <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2009/08/turn-around-bright-eyes-drag-queen.html">I sing</a> so this was quite an undertaking but again...oh it was just fun. Great classic country with that throaty twang and a steel guitar...I want to go back. Not in general, tomorrow.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKQGQxjfxe6PxLx-WJGSmPyJkMEbn-Wc8uRcUja93nWy4qkBIcO0LGxYXzU2BdARov-sN5x81ZqjriTm8eBBI3IUwN3G1wEzaGh8wmWfbb3hJBXj7O8zK43jv-OQnClvqcwVQrnmu-ZpU3/s1600/Tony" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKQGQxjfxe6PxLx-WJGSmPyJkMEbn-Wc8uRcUja93nWy4qkBIcO0LGxYXzU2BdARov-sN5x81ZqjriTm8eBBI3IUwN3G1wEzaGh8wmWfbb3hJBXj7O8zK43jv-OQnClvqcwVQrnmu-ZpU3/s400/Tony" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628851699203654834" border="0" /></a>Part of that, again though, owes to company. This is Tony. Once <a href="http://twitter.com/mikethelin">Mike</a> left, Tony was basically Bosley to our Angels. He can clearly hold his own.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeEndvdGFavztl7zWkWeCO5iIRVJEXE5uWPbyPQXZ8MBE2NF6LEBB9NtrPuy3m6UOfYxoqiPRezDq95nfg6CuPCyJY62Ki9Pj8rETa9M6fs-b-AprqiVNCUYg0adJCnGrmpjkUUdxcf7Iq/s1600/Andrea" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeEndvdGFavztl7zWkWeCO5iIRVJEXE5uWPbyPQXZ8MBE2NF6LEBB9NtrPuy3m6UOfYxoqiPRezDq95nfg6CuPCyJY62Ki9Pj8rETa9M6fs-b-AprqiVNCUYg0adJCnGrmpjkUUdxcf7Iq/s400/Andrea" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628851690077888210" border="0" /></a>This is <a href="https://twitter.com/#%21/andreaslonecker">Andrea</a>. Andrea is going to give me an excuse to go to Alinea, Girl and the Goat, Longman & Eagle and Big Star all in one weekend. <a href="http://www.twitter.com/lilaatethis">Lila</a> had to leave a day earlier but my goal is to get all three of them down at once.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7UuQ56u70VZOr7LFcqttpNrnOSXFYwBfitQM0Pr7apiO3F-vb53SGP4f29cCFWU1EKPQHK8CbDSFegsaP0b7APqosiVkQAoSFjBlVFhqGh0NcTvN00YW838BZzcM1uzPhd0s4_rW-tYN0/s1600/Photophobia+Progression" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><br /></a>And that was me up top in a similar series. Enjoying the hay out of the city, the honkytonk, the Lone Star and the company. But that's the thing with adventures...they aren't meant to last forever. Eventually the pie and the brisket and the 20 hour days and the cocktails and the talking till you're hoarse will catch up with you. Like a 6 year old crashing after a particularly good birthday party, no one even needs to ask, it is written right across your face.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbRKGwW997LxJb_507f9IEtBNcTRmknWI65bebWUPd03RoMMd4HcDJD955TX_qHMmONQaK4elgLfRd-HsDgvVmCfwswehi2NIERnE8TRHlDZK1besaS2ddoC1-6cIWxWE9QwYGWXSxGiH-/s1600/_MG_9840.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbRKGwW997LxJb_507f9IEtBNcTRmknWI65bebWUPd03RoMMd4HcDJD955TX_qHMmONQaK4elgLfRd-HsDgvVmCfwswehi2NIERnE8TRHlDZK1besaS2ddoC1-6cIWxWE9QwYGWXSxGiH-/s400/_MG_9840.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629065380755076530" border="0" /></a>The party was fun but gather your goody bag and say goodbye to your friends. It's time to go home.TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-72513492198048374982011-07-07T07:20:00.017-05:002011-07-08T07:58:10.519-05:00The Garden of Good & Evil: Year Three and an Ode to the Eves<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRU_BJbandcJZI9hmQBm4-rkHNeipPAPZJ4-6pNISXgy2ZLFnE-1hPdpB1yN_JuVXsUkps73nZg35hWN1heWIMqtwoWsXOvExkzrhXKhjWppBdbQbfioGy61k4K0TRrUK-T9ddu3edUqdv/s1600/Leftovers.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRU_BJbandcJZI9hmQBm4-rkHNeipPAPZJ4-6pNISXgy2ZLFnE-1hPdpB1yN_JuVXsUkps73nZg35hWN1heWIMqtwoWsXOvExkzrhXKhjWppBdbQbfioGy61k4K0TRrUK-T9ddu3edUqdv/s400/Leftovers.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626603131065462098" border="0" /></a>These were the leftovers if that tells you anything about the kind of party it was.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1uVf3MYNI8KfsYiX_Ol0bz1c74fJ-MzwTrfSEBHepfVL_oN-2WvhFXqx4yP78jdJyhSwboB6hAqn8gR-d8Sggfeq0LsS5NBoyYXeXsd1ebbMRDcMES_yXfcIT-g3f9FcK1Vmdth4ij5P4/s1600/Before_After"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1uVf3MYNI8KfsYiX_Ol0bz1c74fJ-MzwTrfSEBHepfVL_oN-2WvhFXqx4yP78jdJyhSwboB6hAqn8gR-d8Sggfeq0LsS5NBoyYXeXsd1ebbMRDcMES_yXfcIT-g3f9FcK1Vmdth4ij5P4/s400/Before_After" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626602762264037298" border="0" /></a>And this was the evolution of the spread if that tells you anything about what kind of party it was.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcevZAy-0dPx2FqwqM2gF2c1tUDVKnWarhN9PFu9wuK5rMjTaSDU2J-JhT9jqhM1dn4BAoRwf6dK3zY3LIDqc6NhiL9YmBdjLcITfBYt0bh_o73AtIuxPRMel9QALvZh5DHXR4DhYhyw-Z/s1600/IMG_1600.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcevZAy-0dPx2FqwqM2gF2c1tUDVKnWarhN9PFu9wuK5rMjTaSDU2J-JhT9jqhM1dn4BAoRwf6dK3zY3LIDqc6NhiL9YmBdjLcITfBYt0bh_o73AtIuxPRMel9QALvZh5DHXR4DhYhyw-Z/s400/IMG_1600.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626806321713273186" border="0" /></a>And the two singing and dancing lovemuppets were my co-celebrants if that tells you anything about what kind of party it was.<br /><br />It was supposed to rain all day long and we never felt a drop. Equal numbers of friends showed up in yoga pants as in maxi dresses. Both claiming room for cake. Two different pitchers of alcoholic nectar and a jug of cucumber water never seemed to run out. Stevie Nicks was on rotation with Animal Collective and the potatoes I roasted when I was perhaps a little toasted came out perfectly. That's what kind of party it was.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHj2Q2s2csV78aPiatgdVqg8QM1hTtGf1qSS0bO74Y1AEYOqashSBa5HLyue1IMPa1Ina3C1wLmTJFVLd5yXMoEi49zUxzeevcDYELmGvkAuf-XxOTwE56fLLd1CBFdPnsAUEFmNmeTC84/s1600/Molly%2527s+Vision.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHj2Q2s2csV78aPiatgdVqg8QM1hTtGf1qSS0bO74Y1AEYOqashSBa5HLyue1IMPa1Ina3C1wLmTJFVLd5yXMoEi49zUxzeevcDYELmGvkAuf-XxOTwE56fLLd1CBFdPnsAUEFmNmeTC84/s400/Molly%2527s+Vision.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626602748761222306" border="0" /></a>The Garden of Good & Evil party is an annual ode to my girlfriends disguised as my birthday party. The first two years I co-hosted with my <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2008/06/garden-party-by-picture-proxy.html">much beloved friend Caroline</a> who is now living in Telluride. I got really lucky this year when it turned out two kindred spirits who also happened to be Geminis liked the concept. And so. Hadley came bearing the best mango salsa and homemade hummus and craft supplies. Molly L brought cheese plate skewers and a general's eye for detail (that's her supervising the hanging of paper lanterns above).<br /><br />Ah, but what is that concept? The garden part is pretty obvious. Wicked Park is a little bit of magic right in the city and it loves a soiree. The Good is meant to be something wholly holistic. Deep stretching, yoga, a little revival for your insides. My own <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tokissthecook/3583284987/in/datetaken/">guru of sorts</a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pleasure-Healing-Mindful-Practices-Self-Nurturing/dp/1572245743"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Mary Beth Janssen</span></a> came down two years ago to lead the Good.<br /><br />Yes, this is all very hippie dippy. I love hippie dippy. An afternoon where the only thing anyone is allowed to bring is <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tokissthecook/3586041050/in/datetaken/">flowers</a> or <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tokissthecook/5848508056/in/photostream">wine</a> unless they are moved to cook in theme (or bring a pineapple- thanks Alexis!). Then we all sit in the grass telling dirty jokes, drinking spiked lemonade, making new friends and then there's cake. Fini.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLK0SSq12bQPi3ybK3et0HWWQkOPxfFEUxbZcIhQ2Ff3ORK844f3vGnxoaKTHCaL_CBCJk1vgSK1XxT5H9TejLe1ccXmgGLWzJqnsNTwT9drQVnrPIHhrji0FRIMcn_6ozU2GGRxlWmxC/s1600/Kitty+Yoga.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixLK0SSq12bQPi3ybK3et0HWWQkOPxfFEUxbZcIhQ2Ff3ORK844f3vGnxoaKTHCaL_CBCJk1vgSK1XxT5H9TejLe1ccXmgGLWzJqnsNTwT9drQVnrPIHhrji0FRIMcn_6ozU2GGRxlWmxC/s400/Kitty+Yoga.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626602727114274978" border="0" /></a>This year, due to the alleged rain, we were fully prepared to make vision boards in the living room in lieu of yoga. But when the guests arrived and the sun stayed out, I'll be the first to admit I got a little too excited and wanted to break out the wine to celebrate our Good fortune. So HC is the only one who really got her stretching in this year. In the spirit of self love and preservation, we weren't too hard on ourselves. Or at all.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5OTUMjypxHKMROS-GZqEOyHgYT1gssV3UsnS8FiUyWHnizZXjOkwRT65ooY9PWGK60ZWgWo_fjeUIXGM2MGsEhcfIyNEK2mn0JFN6v4NwfSIhZ7_WOQ7NZsHTadz4KeqD_ZQS2aEOz3_r/s1600/Enchanted+Beverage+Station.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5OTUMjypxHKMROS-GZqEOyHgYT1gssV3UsnS8FiUyWHnizZXjOkwRT65ooY9PWGK60ZWgWo_fjeUIXGM2MGsEhcfIyNEK2mn0JFN6v4NwfSIhZ7_WOQ7NZsHTadz4KeqD_ZQS2aEOz3_r/s400/Enchanted+Beverage+Station.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626602716164331346" border="0" /></a>This is the enchanted beverage station. I'm only half kidding when I use names like that. I mean there was a swan champagne cooler courtesy of the <a href="http://lizzkannenberg.tumblr.com/">Milwaukee</a> <a href="http://www.myeverydayadventures.com/">Duo</a>...that's basically the definition of enchanted. The main party beverage has traditionally been Wicked Lemonade which is the ever-so-glamorous concoction of Crystal Light Raspberry Lemonade with Black Cherry Vodka, sparkling water and some fresh raspberries in every clear plastic dixie cup. Look friends, you know I love my frou frou fancy cocktails and my dark syrupy bourbon but there is no shame here. We aim to please in bulk. Apart from a rather unfortunate incident involving a nonexistent water:lemonade:vodka ratio two years ago and an <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tokissthecook/3585235245/in/datetaken/">enthusiastic group of GG's</a> (who will all promptly disown me), it's only been beneficial by the barrel. This year we also managed copious amounts of sparkling wine and a delicious sangria a la Ellie.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPOMkECm5OJldztyl6RoHy1uDRk28iJCWzUlE-sHGya5SeA1FGeU1IIQYgOz56oyJXZfwnYT06mDHO29VKZIIare6Q2sSqbJFCWY1NApmgaPy7igLz5egn9TZiAfJK8CNWyvP7YmxlYEj/s1600/Lady+Laughs.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPOMkECm5OJldztyl6RoHy1uDRk28iJCWzUlE-sHGya5SeA1FGeU1IIQYgOz56oyJXZfwnYT06mDHO29VKZIIare6Q2sSqbJFCWY1NApmgaPy7igLz5egn9TZiAfJK8CNWyvP7YmxlYEj/s400/Lady+Laughs.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626595436596797666" border="0" /></a>Lest you think all that colorful seating went to waste though, you would be wrong. The Evil refers to more of a pleasantly dark sense of humor than anything actually demonic. Sparing a mixed audience the details, it was kind of like a tupperware party hosted by Bacchus. Only instead of an actual nymphic creature we got Samuel who was pretty darn close and just the most adorable person ever. I might be inclined to whisper more about this over a glass of wine but for now that is all I feel at liberty to share. Onward! To the feast!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-JsQVONxwAWHSEtXLlmxHw_7zrGVEeREF-EgpTYydiJU76E0mWsq0q5e2m-XuEcrq94RvHFvLEqmCUjdu93YawphuWHw_tA5fFpA_zp_D8izcPte0MfeSIpf2WTsEZ-lXkH3_Y5WOmCw/s1600/Salad+Bar.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-JsQVONxwAWHSEtXLlmxHw_7zrGVEeREF-EgpTYydiJU76E0mWsq0q5e2m-XuEcrq94RvHFvLEqmCUjdu93YawphuWHw_tA5fFpA_zp_D8izcPte0MfeSIpf2WTsEZ-lXkH3_Y5WOmCw/s400/Salad+Bar.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626595426076758658" border="0" /></a>At this point in the afternoon, I was leaving my camera all over the place so the only snapshot I have of the spread I snuck inside to prepare was taken with my phone. Alas, better than nothing. Tradition dictates a large salad bar is a popular way for friends to be able to customize their meals.<br /><br />Earlier in the day, <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tokissthecook/5848501862/in/photostream/">HC and I grilled up almost ten pounds of free range chicken breasts</a> that had been marinating overnight in lemon juice, olive oil, garlic and rosemary. To that we added a couple varieties of mixed greens, sugar snap peas, sliced sweet peppers, cherry tomatoes, roasted golden beets, homemade croutons, walnuts, dried cherries and some of <a href="http://greensug.blogspot.com/">Jo's fresh eggs</a> hard-boiled and ready to be shelled. Those are good friends who can't come to the party but give you eggs their chickens laid. They were also in the cake. Magic chickens.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIMRrKbXcRa0vG6NE_YVpfejSzXDw1nJChbcHyBJ_3RG-_KnSpwYJuZqQ7zIyP-YsNcNfVlaYIEBVbmhXNNHl_ehuIuQmueGNa4wt5Opvx2Cnuv5hR0ayHshrNfZtJIdkeZIfofvc6Nn6f/s1600/Kannenberg+Plate.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIMRrKbXcRa0vG6NE_YVpfejSzXDw1nJChbcHyBJ_3RG-_KnSpwYJuZqQ7zIyP-YsNcNfVlaYIEBVbmhXNNHl_ehuIuQmueGNa4wt5Opvx2Cnuv5hR0ayHshrNfZtJIdkeZIfofvc6Nn6f/s400/Kannenberg+Plate.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626595413495870034" border="0" /></a>We did three dressings- Lemon Vinaigrette, Pop's Caesar and a Spicy Ginger Peanut. Lizz modeling her plate so helpfully above also showcases the aforementioned baby potatoes that were on a whim thrown into a baking dish, coated with live oil and put in the oven with full sprigs of rosemary resting on top. This could have gone terribly awry but instead went terribly delicious. Those potatoes might be foolproof. As the fool, I would know.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3TZhcSd95CexjuG7BpQU5Jdzyd-H8k5e-uxVkmDTjG-Yet_UsJ4nGGl2xsecC9mxkd1r9WMgJmhzgdGUW036RdFFOdoBKA5-yCCcUqkI-fjzbQZc3rzExftMt20ErZyagpv2ApiuMu7s6/s1600/Yard+Charlies.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3TZhcSd95CexjuG7BpQU5Jdzyd-H8k5e-uxVkmDTjG-Yet_UsJ4nGGl2xsecC9mxkd1r9WMgJmhzgdGUW036RdFFOdoBKA5-yCCcUqkI-fjzbQZc3rzExftMt20ErZyagpv2ApiuMu7s6/s400/Yard+Charlies.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626595401692027682" border="0" /></a>When I got back outside to start corralling people in for the salad bar, I remember just surveying the crowd in the yard. I hear from a lot of people that it's been particularly hard to make new girlfriends in the city. I could see that but I also feel like I need to recognize I'm sitting on a treasure trove of awesome females. Some newer to me than others but all just wonderful. There is nothing that makes me happier than when they meet each other and fall in genuine like.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrksATY61IVGH2nEjOeyddgKVUR8iktPzd0ekeIu9PxrYOgeLheqkYIDmkynzsn_2eEI6BdUropLSHeAd_Mlf_gw6Vh-6zHJTjBNFxJzyft7QQfWtK6FmrXmcXZH9Wc9ymgfsdWZ7WhXa0/s1600/Dinner%2521.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrksATY61IVGH2nEjOeyddgKVUR8iktPzd0ekeIu9PxrYOgeLheqkYIDmkynzsn_2eEI6BdUropLSHeAd_Mlf_gw6Vh-6zHJTjBNFxJzyft7QQfWtK6FmrXmcXZH9Wc9ymgfsdWZ7WhXa0/s400/Dinner%2521.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626595389457595250" border="0" /></a>Going through the pictures afterward was a stream of "Doh! Of course you two love each other!" It's easy for women in their early twenties and thirties to get caught in a cycle of being set up and setting others up for romance. Love that- appreciate it! But being set up with a friend is a whole other kind of thing I forget about too often. Anyone else notice that? And then friends move away and it starts all over again.<br /><br />I feel like an auctioneer going "Beautiful NEW mother of one, fresh to Miami Beach, culinary school grad and all around Grade A girlfriend material- who's got a match for farmers marketing and play dates and dog walking with strollers?" I'm ranting now. Chime in any time if you know what I'm talking about.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCTssXXvuyiSHupD9ux24gNQCztBPMknJAOHsSF4oCLwe3oFa3EpJj5zmxjJQ-oAg6Wn57-ae6hQ4BHrK2KiE4RSGFJkokn-6D0Tq97NmtpdSJ65A_gAUmhsVZZRCHvWJftS6MIkNvvmuZ/s1600/IMG_1602.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCTssXXvuyiSHupD9ux24gNQCztBPMknJAOHsSF4oCLwe3oFa3EpJj5zmxjJQ-oAg6Wn57-ae6hQ4BHrK2KiE4RSGFJkokn-6D0Tq97NmtpdSJ65A_gAUmhsVZZRCHvWJftS6MIkNvvmuZ/s400/IMG_1602.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626801119393869218" border="0" /></a>That was where I was going with the ode to the Eves. I'll be honest- year 27 had a couple proper rough patches. Mischief that was only managed by the presence of friends in walking and/or Internet distance. So here is a piece of cake for you. You beautiful, fully imperfect, hilarious bunch of hooligans. I don't care what year it is, you are some of the most charmed pieces of my life and I am very grateful for you.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEncinM0BxDzsPZexOTn9hVAtBujq5mWOK4f-Wq4oKLKq0zp_EuEIbidDnPjIQK7lMxyU2eBtWpEqvZOKVFvY2ZP9TeYZtmWVz5jKj5OL6gDtcvJMrbThahAv71kvrb6zvLHUazf7Yy5xQ/s1600/Cake.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 386px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEncinM0BxDzsPZexOTn9hVAtBujq5mWOK4f-Wq4oKLKq0zp_EuEIbidDnPjIQK7lMxyU2eBtWpEqvZOKVFvY2ZP9TeYZtmWVz5jKj5OL6gDtcvJMrbThahAv71kvrb6zvLHUazf7Yy5xQ/s400/Cake.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626593162657972466" border="0" /></a>Please do forgive the colorful mess of a frosting job on your confection.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHC7UJBYLl1Ss59iZuYlIhnefJBxqtWrK4EkWsY7q2t5nfvThYW9RWEpIebi2WL7-naPcS5EYIidZDIQthKpk8BTdBTGBLh5Uj3RjPG11fWPW9DqnnQCVbhemn7JnAh2UgBHU7a3Ebs05U/s1600/It%2527s+My+Party.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHC7UJBYLl1Ss59iZuYlIhnefJBxqtWrK4EkWsY7q2t5nfvThYW9RWEpIebi2WL7-naPcS5EYIidZDIQthKpk8BTdBTGBLh5Uj3RjPG11fWPW9DqnnQCVbhemn7JnAh2UgBHU7a3Ebs05U/s400/It%2527s+My+Party.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626593147319274498" border="0" /></a>It was done by your colorful mess of a hostess. Who is currently still fighting back vanity in sharing this photo everyone else thinks is terribly apropos and I think the only picture taken of me during the whole of the party (I am an excellent camera dodger. Blasted Instagram, Shecky). Not my most polished but accurate and happy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Tg2ysO6sIJyQBJUDXqUiCchc3YQ-bUrwRAHXXHF-FnNTtkKqCyY7ROY16DvBmV6A1yMqLTI7t1ihMACmGhvo8TLTqYJLkX5il_wGeVozTgvytFYhDhf3qKPGn9OlphPUsb7w060XiyL0/s1600/Rainbow+Chip+1-3"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 100px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Tg2ysO6sIJyQBJUDXqUiCchc3YQ-bUrwRAHXXHF-FnNTtkKqCyY7ROY16DvBmV6A1yMqLTI7t1ihMACmGhvo8TLTqYJLkX5il_wGeVozTgvytFYhDhf3qKPGn9OlphPUsb7w060XiyL0/s400/Rainbow+Chip+1-3" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626593140994813026" border="0" /></a>Now here's a quick tutorial on how to make your own rainbow chips. My own inspiration was <a href="http://notwithoutsalt.com/2011/02/28/homemade-rainbow-chip-cake/">Ashley Rodriguez's significantly more professional tutorial at Not Without Salt</a>. I'm telling you essentially the same thing but so you can see that if I can handle this, you can too.<br /><ol><li><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">Start with ramekins filled with while chocolate chunk for as many colors as you plan on making. Melt in the microwave via 30 second increments.</span></li><li><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">Stir in 2-3 drops of food coloring to start with. You can always add more.</span></li><li><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">Spread on to parchment paper laid on a tray or cutting board.</span></li><li><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">Freeze for 10-15 minutes.</span></li><li><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">Chop.</span></li><li><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">Ready for frosting.</span></li></ol><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgQq0KZ5_42V5ckmVLdAq-VjTLacjxKWZcEi2c5IRt3TgPQc8vTcdbs6zv_8dIrZyoY3Lx1QulCzM3G2SjqNpsediHpKaT67q8qBcGM4WGbkuHXAJC_bGUHbLjNa6FCf-iscKjIfWIsO8R/s1600/Rainbow+Chip+4-6"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 100px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgQq0KZ5_42V5ckmVLdAq-VjTLacjxKWZcEi2c5IRt3TgPQc8vTcdbs6zv_8dIrZyoY3Lx1QulCzM3G2SjqNpsediHpKaT67q8qBcGM4WGbkuHXAJC_bGUHbLjNa6FCf-iscKjIfWIsO8R/s400/Rainbow+Chip+4-6" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626593131774612930" border="0" /></a>I'm going to advocate adding them to <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/cream-cheese-frosting-recipe/index.html">vanilla cream cheese frosting</a> to go with this <a href="http://iammommy.typepad.com/i_am_baker/2010/04/the-best-chocolate-cake.html">chocolate cake recipe from I Am Baker</a>. Bold statement: All frosting should be cream cheese frosting. Do not flinch when five or more friends swarm the bowl to take care of the leftovers.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB20aRv8kI86kBakhmkaDBYrwGj4zDIRLjwcmURUK-yy4Hlx21rgPysYOzTY9yqkiYYLI9GlHRN5koJKtO-5NhC2VllY48l44Sd7wuJ8bw-53bIV8BuXiP4E6H8LYgsXlzEHgrYjiVjC2g/s1600/Pretty+Dishes.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB20aRv8kI86kBakhmkaDBYrwGj4zDIRLjwcmURUK-yy4Hlx21rgPysYOzTY9yqkiYYLI9GlHRN5koJKtO-5NhC2VllY48l44Sd7wuJ8bw-53bIV8BuXiP4E6H8LYgsXlzEHgrYjiVjC2g/s400/Pretty+Dishes.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626593125255216434" border="0" /></a>And speaking of leftovers, how much prettier does a whole heap of dirty dishes look with those lovely flower arrangements all over the place?TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-53716681508608665712011-07-05T11:58:00.013-05:002011-07-06T11:32:45.294-05:00Summer Berry Spectacular (and a Pie Party)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK8_8nqAL7-pEabeHVA4M3N6Evppy_LZXDNgE-WoELPGlON_Lx4VlAH8q2oCyY27FtYuW-o2EGmyYlgoI7F9hKGKr6iaIPiGUnsAzrIdkLD8SbFfCTDQvFvaRKd2L5C1-OThRun7QwMi9y/s1600/IMG_1681.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK8_8nqAL7-pEabeHVA4M3N6Evppy_LZXDNgE-WoELPGlON_Lx4VlAH8q2oCyY27FtYuW-o2EGmyYlgoI7F9hKGKr6iaIPiGUnsAzrIdkLD8SbFfCTDQvFvaRKd2L5C1-OThRun7QwMi9y/s400/IMG_1681.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625916025605897330" border="0" /></a><br />I am wrapping up a four day weekend in the summer sunshine. Four days of relaxed schedules, friendly cookouts, garden tending and patio parties. It's every bit of bliss inferred. On top of that, I baked every day. Saturday, Sunday, Monday all had a different ode to summer fruit in its finest forms (including juice-running-down-face-au-natural).<br /><br />Today, though, we're talking about my favorite of the oven-plied loves...pie. When I heard <a href="http://glutenfreegirl.com/were-having-a-pie-party/">Shauna</a> speak at <a href="http://www.iacp.com/">IACP in Austin</a> a few weeks ago, the thing she said that resonated most was this:<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBLOeOOy3z2HyZwN0ngPlLdFsX70dZdDdKpwRNnc5pp6CXAQNfosOEApLyXwmHlxswL9_OAg8Uv_sceeqbbIWHAEbTHirWwn03nfFaD35YJK2eXeKUr8yoeePMvgBzPRgfDF054Ohf6KPq/s1600/Picture+1.png" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 187px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBLOeOOy3z2HyZwN0ngPlLdFsX70dZdDdKpwRNnc5pp6CXAQNfosOEApLyXwmHlxswL9_OAg8Uv_sceeqbbIWHAEbTHirWwn03nfFaD35YJK2eXeKUr8yoeePMvgBzPRgfDF054Ohf6KPq/s400/Picture+1.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625917171994471602" border="0" /></a>I bring pie just about everywhere. There are some photos below of what happens when we need to mix things up a bit but my first love is whatever is in season wrapped in a golden swath of crisp layers I made with my own hands. Thanks to <a href="http://www.artofthepie.com/artofthepie/Blog.html">Kate McDermott</a>, I don't even use a food processor anymore. It's just not necessary and a pie crust is certainly not a thing to be fretted over. Hence the necessity of the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=229924600367014">Pie Party</a>. As though a better occasion ever existed.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghvh87DLAmuPkPzJiso0lZGY2NfpkHvz-p42c2mRI2yg2_xrfv6K5EJ9MXHbUgsxJ0Zrqd2FBlI9c9kVhVkyyDZgTbKsfS2pzB6Z0NJ40hRaZQ4vFoUEcRxqAgxcV_mij2SN3gyGoKBOnG/s1600/IMG_1683.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghvh87DLAmuPkPzJiso0lZGY2NfpkHvz-p42c2mRI2yg2_xrfv6K5EJ9MXHbUgsxJ0Zrqd2FBlI9c9kVhVkyyDZgTbKsfS2pzB6Z0NJ40hRaZQ4vFoUEcRxqAgxcV_mij2SN3gyGoKBOnG/s400/IMG_1683.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625915519401254434" border="0" /></a>When Shauna announced her plan for a #PieParty, most of us didn't even have to consider an occasion. More of an "if you bake it, they will come" sort of thing. My friend <a href="http://www.lovesfool.com/">Suzanne</a> has recently taken homemade ice cream up as her personal passion so her place seemed to be the one most in need of a pie partner. Blueberry Pie it is. I had blueberries on my mind anyway.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjJSnFCygCrmmi0ZUiQu6xtYOXuQpWl047w07Lzz80xD_FLPqiDE13YhvO66GqHWiIv284MY1fapcyslaC2ed8_KbEAq4uQ77msAimKPzmvv7Mvel7k_nyDRUvbJijQMBte7cED0mNqNx/s1600/IMG_6075.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjJSnFCygCrmmi0ZUiQu6xtYOXuQpWl047w07Lzz80xD_FLPqiDE13YhvO66GqHWiIv284MY1fapcyslaC2ed8_KbEAq4uQ77msAimKPzmvv7Mvel7k_nyDRUvbJijQMBte7cED0mNqNx/s400/IMG_6075.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626035161530613042" border="0" /></a>This will be my second year "leasing" a blueberry bush from <a href="http://www.joesblueberries.com/"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Joe's Blues</span></a> in Bangor, Michigan. Last year's adventure is documented with great affection below. I'm told by those who would know that July 21st will mark the beginning of picking season this year. That's in two weekends for the planners out there.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgyoj0-0EojITPr3bLWVIkGfdNNaI8INXNDh1vphItGwVk1ORdh27rUG5oJHDkreqIdZwEfZdkUJzDfCSJ1EOWF6_vnXW50PicwjvLCA85Fe9A8bWlSNwzatjUWQuhj-OyzrTll8Hj7hP7/s1600/IMG_6090.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgyoj0-0EojITPr3bLWVIkGfdNNaI8INXNDh1vphItGwVk1ORdh27rUG5oJHDkreqIdZwEfZdkUJzDfCSJ1EOWF6_vnXW50PicwjvLCA85Fe9A8bWlSNwzatjUWQuhj-OyzrTll8Hj7hP7/s400/IMG_6090.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626035208822573538" border="0" /></a>I recommend the <a href="http://www.joesblueberries.com/">Corrado's operation highly</a> if 20lbs of fresh, sustainably grown blueberries sounds good to you for $35. Seriously, clear some space in your freezer. <a href="http://mananyacooks.posterous.com/">Mananya</a> is in on a bush this year as well. I don't think I've ever leant my face or massive orange sunhat to a more <a href="http://www.joesberries.blogspot.com/">worthy summer cause</a> though this was a hilarious surprise to find in our mailbox:<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0ZW3KXxdGCPn1VGF1bJlj9Hxok9bXRXYIDdcUiKeItHQT5nr1Wwdc6HmdqxT0zvG3-DvYTATIyGVT2Px1wZNrWGblSEF6fS5-4OkwABIbekaw75iz0MTo0gKT-ItKELcNtocrpNIDqzQ/s1600/IMG.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0ZW3KXxdGCPn1VGF1bJlj9Hxok9bXRXYIDdcUiKeItHQT5nr1Wwdc6HmdqxT0zvG3-DvYTATIyGVT2Px1wZNrWGblSEF6fS5-4OkwABIbekaw75iz0MTo0gKT-ItKELcNtocrpNIDqzQ/s400/IMG.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626035213887402546" border="0" /></a>Bring along picking companions who are by nature efficient beings and happy to be just the littlest bit filthy. If one of them happens to have a 4WD vehicle to make the post-pick venture to the "swimming hole" afterward, all the better, but it is not for the faint of heart.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyNI4Gkc7Uo420xi7olbh8VzzbzCkt3BlpYD7L_NBjqGsefvn8uBNdqfoGzk7hqWxZqxluqrzCXOOgBIDY9JnR8aqTM8G9d71dTM91YhzRD_eObfXCVMQ71qT1-k2huH1uH9c3bTLMjP25/s1600/IMG_6088.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyNI4Gkc7Uo420xi7olbh8VzzbzCkt3BlpYD7L_NBjqGsefvn8uBNdqfoGzk7hqWxZqxluqrzCXOOgBIDY9JnR8aqTM8G9d71dTM91YhzRD_eObfXCVMQ71qT1-k2huH1uH9c3bTLMjP25/s400/IMG_6088.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626035200190156098" border="0" /></a><br />This is an easy day trip from Chicago and close to a number of fine little beach towns if you're inclined to rinse off in Lake Michigan afterward. Hats are encouraged. Frank let Molly and Patty borrow two of his tango hats and they looked so cute we just about took them with us.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gWBeG-grb4tsRYIA6_R0PwPnwKGcxtdeH4DsEKCShk7Qyrb9SUpTZ0If7UKyhMd-vSdgTkDw6QTEbLpSahNY-a0Y23dS7aM4dLtNkNUHEu-jq6uyTGAXjD6oLg3FWBv0c-kl8zHGBO0V/s1600/IMG_6104.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gWBeG-grb4tsRYIA6_R0PwPnwKGcxtdeH4DsEKCShk7Qyrb9SUpTZ0If7UKyhMd-vSdgTkDw6QTEbLpSahNY-a0Y23dS7aM4dLtNkNUHEu-jq6uyTGAXjD6oLg3FWBv0c-kl8zHGBO0V/s400/IMG_6104.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626035230478028642" border="0" /></a>Thankfully we thought better of it and took our blueberries for a beer and a BLT instead. Incidentally no one raised an eyebrow when we walked into the tavern with pounds and pounds of blueberries. Goodnight I love Michigan. And blueberries. And the pies that are made in their honor.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Blueberry July Pie</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Crust</span><br />1 package of Kerrygold (I typically do half butter, half lard but sacre bleu I was out of the pig's portion)<br />2 1/2 cups flour<br />1/2 tsp salt<br />pinch of cinnamon<br />1/2 cup-3/4 cup ice cold water<br /><br />Make sure that butter is really cold and cut it into rough 1/2 inch chunks. Drop in the flour that's been dropped into a cold bowl with the salt and cinnamon and start working your (cold) hands to pinch the butter into the flour mixture until you get it mixed into not quite uniform pea and almond size pieces. Add your water (remove any ice) and mix with a fork till you get a slightly sticky ball. Split in two, wrap each half in plastic and chill for 2 hours.<br /><br />Roll out and lay the bottom layer carefully into your pie dish.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Filling</span><br />6 cups of fresh blueberries<br />1/2 cup orange juice<br />1/4 cup amaretto<br />scant 1/4 cup sugar<br />pinch of salt<br />2 TB tapioca<br /><br />Add it all together and fill your bottom pie crust. Add the other crust on top, fold the edges under and pinch at even 1/2 inch intervals so the pie is sealed. Cut vents to your liking in the top and bake atop a foil lined baking sheet for 45 minutes-ish at 350.<br /><br />Other Baked Berry Goodness for which ice cream is nonnegotiable:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ySF7Rv-sXXnUMbZosDVSbpuiW9KH4I7Hy9LwFKNsGqKUPF2hw8p3CaueoN799ilnqWOYoKgWWpZcIZnUNlWdQUZE6HG5OW_yF2pobJxDmw5Fi5lbmMUXQ_ViOwDbSLIxoHGF6QE7wFEO/s1600/IMG_1679.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ySF7Rv-sXXnUMbZosDVSbpuiW9KH4I7Hy9LwFKNsGqKUPF2hw8p3CaueoN799ilnqWOYoKgWWpZcIZnUNlWdQUZE6HG5OW_yF2pobJxDmw5Fi5lbmMUXQ_ViOwDbSLIxoHGF6QE7wFEO/s400/IMG_1679.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625915511266219906" border="0" /></a>Now pie is not the only way to show love and friendship. It's a good one but there are clearly lots of others, particularly this time of year. The summer berry crisp above is a story for a different day made for <a href="http://tankboy.tumblr.com/">Jim</a> and <a href="http://shellster129.blogspot.com/">Michelle's</a> housewarming cookout. It is easy and delicious and was based on <a href="http://reluctantentertainer.com/2011/06/summer-berry-crisp-recipe/">Sandy's Summer Berry Crisp</a> with amaretto used in lieu of cointreau, strawberries for blueberries and almonds subbed for walnuts. Negligible changes based on my personal pantry- the recipe is a good one!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhup61q-AriV_KLjZDfkMso5vwijcyf3T_hwuRWZnY_5Ii1EbOjHizN-6OVH3Z5IJpyljbsriQdbsrWN1hpZFAVYT5Z16OFzFRAqs5NMfZXKT_BaQTYmJiqxe15rhjpqqfkcnbAY7R4mP8M/s1600/IMG_1692.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhup61q-AriV_KLjZDfkMso5vwijcyf3T_hwuRWZnY_5Ii1EbOjHizN-6OVH3Z5IJpyljbsriQdbsrWN1hpZFAVYT5Z16OFzFRAqs5NMfZXKT_BaQTYmJiqxe15rhjpqqfkcnbAY7R4mP8M/s400/IMG_1692.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625915506231699522" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGQ2f8HkYmhyphenhyphentvhBL6qWIAvP-uFbGfXOrazhXwLx8XcKVRcnZSO6eVDWatl3-ctjz73_oHBhNAMSyRzLRcLbdVrBP5TKyAwzf0WnnsQL3aqiGop4VKwDHn8thecn4dMWspkm9i35EdJCEk/s1600/IMG_1699.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><br /></a>The recipe that actually made it to the Fourth of July was a request from <a href="http://walktothemailbox.com/">Gina</a>, our hostess for an especially patriotic Monday dinner. <a href="http://www.whereisthelolo.blogspot.com/">Our almost-new-mom-friend-in-Sweden</a> had shared some perfectly craveable <a href="http://sunshineandcarousels.blogspot.com/2011/06/blackberry-peach-cupcakes.html"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Peach Cupcakes with Blackberry Buttercream Frosting</span></a> and they were every bit as good as advertised. Laura, I don't think we can ship one to Scandinavia before it melts/the baby arrives but you should feel good that another <a href="http://kennethandkristin.blogspot.com/">lovely pregnant blondie</a> benefited from your find.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3MchiqzOpM_GZGF39JnGUvTrlxg7eeO8ANnAQdL8E3Ughnf27fDoGIhAPoA32kyISso26V1SQ9B1icduG5aUmUD9_rr0URxd9pzHCV_LpScWPWTvDknidOhS22yXWNZOG62gBzK-ZeNv7/s1600/IMG_1701.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3MchiqzOpM_GZGF39JnGUvTrlxg7eeO8ANnAQdL8E3Ughnf27fDoGIhAPoA32kyISso26V1SQ9B1icduG5aUmUD9_rr0URxd9pzHCV_LpScWPWTvDknidOhS22yXWNZOG62gBzK-ZeNv7/s400/IMG_1701.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625915461803922914" border="0" /></a>All in all just a really lovely weekend. I almost said "with a few of my berry best friends" but then I remembered I am a pie person and not a shortcake. Pies don't suffer that level of foolishness. I think they revoke your lard license.TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-85327545244451864312011-06-27T22:33:00.001-05:002011-06-28T09:16:14.701-05:00The Italian Word for "Pause": Strawberries and Cream<div style="font-family:georgia;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;"><i>A note from the start…I’ve been waiting. Waiting to say so much because it felt like I’d never have the time to do it. It’s not the first time I’ve done this but, as happened before, just because I’m not writing about it doesn’t mean it’s not happening.<span style=""> </span>It’s been an adventurous couple of months. Marked by more travel than I’ve ever done so close together. By the end of June, it will be 18 airplanes, 7 cities and three places I’d never been before (Austin, Asheville and Oklahoma). <b>19,710 miles all told</b>. Most of those miles garnered on an Italian vacation with my family in which I felt a million miles away from anything but was in fact only 2% of that. </i></span></p></div><div style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7TezLcAKOjRlFWoOXBrAFxbk3MrE5GaslP9tc_1_DrqoWosNYcmvY5D4IPufWzjcsWOoOet_rmIK9NwYX32XR09zAp3edEH6bIheOmr32obXMnZF1GJ8jeQajhBW3N4GErboVX47u-ysA/s400/IMG_1265.JPG" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620074588330920626" border="0" /></span></div><div style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 115%;font-size:100%;" ><span class="Apple-style-span">Vacation sounds pretty Griswoldian. Not bad (and not always inaccurate) but not the best word. 2011 by definition seems to move about a mile a minute and several fast-paced projects have had me rotating at an occasionally brutal clip. I love it but eventually I needed a break. It couldn’t have been timed any better. So yes, it was a vacation. But more than that, it was a rosemary-scented, sun drenched, mossy tile roof-topped, highly tannic, golden garlicky pause. To the tune of rolling bouts of laughter as only your immediate family can provide. I start with this picture because it’s the view from my bedroom window that week, taken very, very early in the morning. It is the beginning.</span> </span></div><div style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2rV1o9-dj2l-cQOPpPT7_LIXnaJqc7g2pqjUx31UbUpDtObbQVJwMAxylsH4qwdEFdI78Z2ikAn06puu5lCivtiF6y-F-V_yoi7kZWi8inmiUFd0lhTh0h14c6pVZ17cR8c7pT1hqDw_/s1600/1Good+Morning.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW2rV1o9-dj2l-cQOPpPT7_LIXnaJqc7g2pqjUx31UbUpDtObbQVJwMAxylsH4qwdEFdI78Z2ikAn06puu5lCivtiF6y-F-V_yoi7kZWi8inmiUFd0lhTh0h14c6pVZ17cR8c7pT1hqDw_/s400/1Good+Morning.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620070837282238658" border="0" /></a></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">My parents rented a house on a working vineyard in a tiny town called Pianella, 20 minutes outside of Siena. It was a grand old farmhouse that had been lovingly kept seemingly for the full 500 years it’s graced the crest of a characteristically Tuscan hilltop. The trip in was pleasantly uneventful. Feeling the need to always dress in character (casually posh European jet setter, natch), I arrived in Florence wearing red suede heels and a favorite straw hat though in the 12 hours of travel post-Chicago, the person between those two items was rumpled and dazed with a bit of melted chocolate on her white button-down. I’d been re energized by a sparkling conversation with a retired Stanford Physics professor on my way in from Munich. Then the entire family met me at the airport (Dad, Mom, Brother, Aunt and Uncle) so that level of enthusiasm just about counts for an extra couple hours of sleep.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="line-height: 115%;font-size:100%;" >Day 1: Rain, sleep and a bath with perhaps the prettiest view in the house from the tub.<span style=""> </span>It was the only real rain we had the whole trip and it was the perfect opportunity to catch up on the rest I’d been missing while being unapologetically immersed in <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Name-Wind-Kingkiller-Chronicles-Day/dp/075640407X">a new book</a>. Various family members tried their hands at making coffee from the French press and the fridge had been stocked with various meats, cheeses and fruit prior to our arrival (a girl could get used to this). As had the wine closet.<span style=""> </span>With the windows open, all those rich, related smells<span style=""> </span>of coffee and bath steam, ripe pears and rain on dark soil, fresh pages<span style=""> </span>and a juice glass of Chianti (because we couldn’t find the wine glasses) made it easy to imagine never going home.</span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4o_Rp7uAVrLf1cuqD4HNkiqvb5xzGcecwJchPAxzNuQU4UnJWpfnLx-iO6g0U9LnSJGk7Uypm_Hiht88IXOAyLT8oTjfBXz2mdIysu0k4RssVXSkElwSeWZAfeGLys7BXpFjWHHNbWegq/s1600/2Langsen.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4o_Rp7uAVrLf1cuqD4HNkiqvb5xzGcecwJchPAxzNuQU4UnJWpfnLx-iO6g0U9LnSJGk7Uypm_Hiht88IXOAyLT8oTjfBXz2mdIysu0k4RssVXSkElwSeWZAfeGLys7BXpFjWHHNbWegq/s400/2Langsen.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620070818393353666" border="0" /></a></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Oh yes, for those of you new to TKTC, the toothy foursome first pictured here would be my true, nuclear north.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">My friend Danielle made note when I was first back that I am, at 5’9, a shortie in my family. We all drank tall glasses of milk with dinner (or at least that was what my Dad attributed it to growing up). I like that none of us can quite believe our luck here. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Day 2: A different day entirely. I was up with the sun to snag the second shot above and it was one of about 10 I took, not quite believing it to be real. Along with Mom, Aunt Pat (Mom’s sister as will become rapidly apparent to you, the reader, when you seem them in photos together) and Uncle Bill (Pat’s husband and the co-chairman of I Married a Kirwan Anonymous) and I struck out early toward Cortona, nestled on something more akin to a mountain than one of the rolling hills in our bit of countryside. We toured a museum, had some lunch and I slowly started to get that familiar feeling of insignificance whenever I’m in Europe. Everything is so much older. That town was settled and civilized 1,000 years ago. </span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1S22MP5Xtuo8_t75VDJXH3HfyUdHaF4V2X2u9wnVM_BBVh_t56HMI1gqUe-K3T6KipgaPCNoVFHeb0VD8Hpp9u5WZFU_YJFrZV2YE5aT57Fy7IHPB9nECz5eLmPeZU927a8XEMcgY-Hu/s1600/2MontP+Piazza.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1S22MP5Xtuo8_t75VDJXH3HfyUdHaF4V2X2u9wnVM_BBVh_t56HMI1gqUe-K3T6KipgaPCNoVFHeb0VD8Hpp9u5WZFU_YJFrZV2YE5aT57Fy7IHPB9nECz5eLmPeZU927a8XEMcgY-Hu/s400/2MontP+Piazza.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620070817361874498" border="0" /></a></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">From there we drove to meet my Dad and brother in Montepulciano.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">I’d been there for the first time in 2005 on an exquisite post-college adventure with the one and only Molly McGuffin and was excited to be able to go back with family.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">We tracked down some Brunello to fortify ourselves for the trek uphill to the main piazza and were again rewarded at the top, not just with wine but with a view that was quite simply the most remarkable set of views in the entire region.<br /></span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihwL0CTsiVrDnhlu3MAR670v7SKy5uLx2Mv9ykTdUGM0TxK_zC-CCko9LIjLIA1bvTr8rw1yyBT7Cds0wA08MLa-t1GosPwJZFTyM5_BujD3ucvel0_h1VxzPVULmK9tMesCpMo5x0fFkb/s1600/2Doorways.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 305px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihwL0CTsiVrDnhlu3MAR670v7SKy5uLx2Mv9ykTdUGM0TxK_zC-CCko9LIjLIA1bvTr8rw1yyBT7Cds0wA08MLa-t1GosPwJZFTyM5_BujD3ucvel0_h1VxzPVULmK9tMesCpMo5x0fFkb/s400/2Doorways.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620070808823247682" border="0" /></a>Alright maybe I’m exaggerating but if I am it’s only because there are so many views to choose from so until I see all of them, it would be impossible to properly judge. I agree with you, I should really start committing myself to seeing every vista in Tuscany. It would be irresponsible not quit now.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisd3blFwzf_GWFfTJlybk4TAPYGVWMiRfPMapGhb8TWFOfngIYkpsiukgcGD8ffCposHoS4FvIwxDZDtJ3S49QrNhNePQrRdDr8JYVyyUXBMk-UM8ne7GxpCn7UyXYNLzZfzr_cMRQe4CB/s1600/2Apollonian.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisd3blFwzf_GWFfTJlybk4TAPYGVWMiRfPMapGhb8TWFOfngIYkpsiukgcGD8ffCposHoS4FvIwxDZDtJ3S49QrNhNePQrRdDr8JYVyyUXBMk-UM8ne7GxpCn7UyXYNLzZfzr_cMRQe4CB/s400/2Apollonian.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620070795856383554" border="0" /></a></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Brother greeting the sun in Montepulciano. Poor Boston had it worse than Chicago last winter and he was locked away with some intense projects for what Spring Beantown did have. We both showed up looking a little sallow so every uninterrupted sunbeam in Italy was gulped from a crystal cup. This picture reminds me both of the Rapture and of Twilight. I’ve made peace with that.<img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9PtL5mi4xIrutGQQjZdhd6E39da8C36fbZMRiQ6DEE1xuOyHr9RxNn_F14Pnyg0qJO9piwvZrHcsplTvSe6FZDGq4gMFurIhsGdqitgzpD6dec-NcZz9utRTD7g35JcF7GB65VzJqHKGR/s400/2Shutterbrother.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620069256786709586" border="0" /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">You guys know how much I adore brother dearest. I will likely tell you again but right before we arrived in Italy, Brother found out he'd be moving to Chicago in August for <a href="http://www.kellogg.northwestern.edu/">grad school</a>. First time in 10 years that we'll live in the same city and I'm a big ball of joy for it. Tack that bit of awesomeness onto Dad's retirement, parent's 30th anniversary, aunt and uncle's 40th...keep the wine opener out and maybe buy a spare.</span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgsjqv1POwfJU4Oi8boks0P8oS76aAMNoUFSQpWG0A3JvKHyob1_QQI5oZ49E59Lrj4KVf2yxTGsGeN8uJjSOcaFHqoHoYQ3OIs2w5hx8AxJSmLPZHEVfFo8bTRuqfZKH0HzuhZaGjEFD/s1600/2The+King+of+Montepulciano.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 294px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgsjqv1POwfJU4Oi8boks0P8oS76aAMNoUFSQpWG0A3JvKHyob1_QQI5oZ49E59Lrj4KVf2yxTGsGeN8uJjSOcaFHqoHoYQ3OIs2w5hx8AxJSmLPZHEVfFo8bTRuqfZKH0HzuhZaGjEFD/s400/2The+King+of+Montepulciano.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620069244240913218" border="0" /></a></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">The rest of the afternoon was spent tooling around town, Brother and I sharing my Dad’s old D100 and my humble point and shoot (the family mantra is “Langsens share” after all). We even managed a short, wonderful stop at <a href="http://www.crociani.it/vendita.it.php">Susanna Crociani’s cantina</a>. She’d introduced herself via Twitter prior to my trip and I was so pleased to find her there when we were in town. I walked out with a few beautiful bottles, my favorites being the one she made for <a href="http://www.crociani.it/prodotti.en.php#11">her brother George and</a> her “experiment”…a sweet, almondine <a href="http://www.crociani.it/prodotti.en.php#8">VinSanto</a>. This made it's way into the first of a few Italian kitchen concoctions I've brought home to keep. More on that later.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">Onward to Florence.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">This is where I can be fully judged. I was maybe dragging my heels a bit Tuesday morning. I’d been to Florence and have a sadly notorious lack of patience when it comes to churches and museums. Small galleries? One after the other after another. But I’m not crazy about crowds, particularly on vacation. I want to be where no one else is. I like the find. I like the local joints. This occasionally leads me to forsaken alleys and mild food poisoning but at least there’s a story there.</span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4LUdLXkGlFd9mRY5_Be5urYU8ubTXd_adK1zxfoVzgsV1BwT2G5-CEy_yih0FEc7IKcaSCL6u7YBC0Q0IidyKxNWbuvNWjdHtyBOT1X9TpeJH1L-5Vr4Y6mWsaZVgoBBF5AIZ0izTgEY/s1600/3Driveway.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij4LUdLXkGlFd9mRY5_Be5urYU8ubTXd_adK1zxfoVzgsV1BwT2G5-CEy_yih0FEc7IKcaSCL6u7YBC0Q0IidyKxNWbuvNWjdHtyBOT1X9TpeJH1L-5Vr4Y6mWsaZVgoBBF5AIZ0izTgEY/s400/3Driveway.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620069230630784066" border="0" /></a>Alas, this was the view that greeted us at the top of the driveway that morning (36 cypress trees per side, Aunt Pat counted). You don’t come across a view like that without wanting plow toward it, Manifest Destiny intact. So I gathered my angst and slept most of the way there, covered in crumbs from my Italian breakfast sandwich special (crusty bread spread with Gorgonzola, pears, prosciutto, greens</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> and a dab of jam). To the city we go.</span></div><div style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmrYDWwBBMbB71V6R45-IkXgfYg3Au9ur2yHc2jSJX-3-w8gUcYCtOCxw0rGKMgP4zHN4j8Y5sTk1A8xCSggBdCwxCxPDwr7LHNND5-zkWEh_YZ0TZEJuHmHYyvk5L3cvZqfQBUeYLGbzx/s1600/3Flying+Florence"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmrYDWwBBMbB71V6R45-IkXgfYg3Au9ur2yHc2jSJX-3-w8gUcYCtOCxw0rGKMgP4zHN4j8Y5sTk1A8xCSggBdCwxCxPDwr7LHNND5-zkWEh_YZ0TZEJuHmHYyvk5L3cvZqfQBUeYLGbzx/s400/3Flying+Florence" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620069223081640018" border="0" /></a></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">I was wrong in my hesitation. You told me so. Moreso, Mom could have told me so but she has too much grace to actually say it if I am properly abashed. We had a guide for the Uffizi who told all kinds of stories about the Medicis and the art their empire inspired. Even in packed galleries, in unwise shoes (“but I want to look Itaaalian,” said the 14 year old Jessi who follows me on all family vacations),</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">it was fascinating.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">I was still craving some solo adventuring by the end of it but how fantastic are the photos my brother caught of us with our guide at the end? </span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVX0uTG7VKeCjQhBcLfesFmLp6bR7VdXrJYdG9F-ZiyusfVPm_9GtKgD62WtwnIt5NLIbC0XuL8qc4HzPrH_nSYBvcdIPovJljlX7-SzVT1WoHf_RtqQ85BZp-dGzqRjHxARvDPBA1Lj3B/s1600/3Santa+Maria+Novella.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVX0uTG7VKeCjQhBcLfesFmLp6bR7VdXrJYdG9F-ZiyusfVPm_9GtKgD62WtwnIt5NLIbC0XuL8qc4HzPrH_nSYBvcdIPovJljlX7-SzVT1WoHf_RtqQ85BZp-dGzqRjHxARvDPBA1Lj3B/s400/3Santa+Maria+Novella.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620069214189034178" border="0" /></a></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:100%;">The main place in Florence that didn’t exist to me when I was there many moons ago was <a href="https://minnewyork.com/manufacturer/santa-maria-novella">Santa Maria Novella</a>.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">The apothecary, named for the beautiful church and piazza above, produces gorgeous scents and it’s a bit of a mecca for fans of fancy lotions and potions. Hundreds of years old, produced by a monastery and a singular luxury I found when I was in no position to have any luxuries. When I moved to Wicked Park, I smelled their potpourri in a shop and fell for it so intensely that I tracked it down at <a href="http://www.lafcony.com/smn/">LAFCO</a> in New York. It’s strong but I love it and a little bit goes a long way. So I’ve been using it in my apartment since and I was thrilled to pick up two little packages straight from the source. I managed a few other goodies too. I think I’d have bought magic beans from them if they left me in there long enough. <a href="http://www.garancedore.fr/en/2010/06/16/santa-maria-novella/">Even Garance loves it</a>.<br /></span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkcC_dRwLEbOYxfqztRaiyaIFHexGIfRMghzdNJyFdFcsHXYiRPMd4Qoi_zkE8Vj9TzJd0XIJEkfq6wKWmZD9-RSwjhLjfvHzz95TteTgR2WAMcM3cfjHTkFew7fxXdYvf2F8phd2XZ_5K/s1600/3Things+I+Love.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkcC_dRwLEbOYxfqztRaiyaIFHexGIfRMghzdNJyFdFcsHXYiRPMd4Qoi_zkE8Vj9TzJd0XIJEkfq6wKWmZD9-RSwjhLjfvHzz95TteTgR2WAMcM3cfjHTkFew7fxXdYvf2F8phd2XZ_5K/s400/3Things+I+Love.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620067900583015058" border="0" /></a>On the way to meet the rest of the family, I picked up some pistachio gelato using the two full phrases I know in Italian and the man with the scoop spoke Italian back to me, winked and then continued in Italian. As though we were in on some charming little joke I’ll never know the punchline to. I’m good with that. Si si si (wink back)- Buon giouornato! And off I went. Joy in heart.</span></div><div style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It was a lovely day but a particularly exhausting one.</span><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><span style="font-size:100%;">In Italy for three full days and jumping headfirst into meat, cheese and pasta almost exclusively makes one especially wan and in need of a home kitchen’s sustenance. On the drive home it was decided this would be a good night for dinner in. We stopped at home to drop off the menfolk and Mom, Pat and I rolled down to the tiny market in Pianella. Beyond a rather hilarious driving mishap in which we couldn't figure out how to get the stick shift into reverse and thus pushed the car into a forward facing position while it neutral, dinner was easy, simple fare.<br /><br />Roasted asparagus with orange zest and olive oil made on the same land we were living on. Fresh farm eggs scrambled and slow cooked with tomato, herbs and prosciutto and a fresh green salad with vinaigrette shaken in an empty olive jar.<br /><br />But we had dessert too, of course. A <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/38231710@N05/5733032422/in/set-72157626665114347">team effort</a> that made everything taste even a little bit better.<br /></span></div><div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><span style="font-size:100%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: georgia;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6aa9_lK9oMW8n0_97oBLB0bxifyDd3RU2NGRVh8Oe3ThtLGr_hqXL2yIGhi4RL-IebRABhutr6UdgMD6XCq44Ea7FuvsHwvJNlQZgw6iE48-i5dEk5mxdzJUk80J7mIo7mSZEtcAXjJld/s1600/8Strawberry1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6aa9_lK9oMW8n0_97oBLB0bxifyDd3RU2NGRVh8Oe3ThtLGr_hqXL2yIGhi4RL-IebRABhutr6UdgMD6XCq44Ea7FuvsHwvJNlQZgw6iE48-i5dEk5mxdzJUk80J7mIo7mSZEtcAXjJld/s400/8Strawberry1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620065030705145394" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:georgia;">Photo by </span><a style="font-weight: bold; font-family: georgia;" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/38231710@N05/sets/72157626665114347/">Dad</a><span style="font-family:georgia;">, styled by Brother. I was still finishing dinner so the guys took the tray out to the patio to ensure I'd having blog photos. There is nothing about any of this that doesn't make me smile.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;font-size:100%;" >Strawberries and Cream Parfaits</span><span style="font-size:100%;"><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">1 quart fresh strawberries as red and ripe as you can get them</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">1 pint heavy whipping cream</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">1 box/package of light crispy cookies (we had yogurt cookies on hand but crisp ladyfingers or even vanilla wafers would work)</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">3/4 cup Vinsanto or good Sherry</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">1 Tablespoon sugar</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">1.) Slice your strawberries into a bowl and toss with 1/2 cup of your Vinsanto, cover for at least 20 minutes.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">2.) Load your cookies into a zip top plastic bag and beat them to manageable, uniform bits. Including the cookies was Aunt Pat's moment of genius. I think she meant to serve them on the side but that would require anything be beaten and why skip that part if you don't have to? Don't feel bad for the cookies, they recover beautifully.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">3.) Whip your cream and when you start to get soft peaks, add the remaining 1/4 cup of your Vinsanto and your single Tablespoon of sugar. Keep beating until you've got a whipped cream that sits tall on a spoon.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">4.) Put it together. Crumble in the bottom then the gorgeous cream, then the tipsy strawberries. Repeat. You see why we don't pity the cookies. Sandwiched between sweet wine-soaked summer berries and drunken, full fat Italian whipped cream. Cookies never had it so good.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">5.) Throw them in the fridge until you're ready to serve. After about an hour the whipped cream and strawberry syrup will just be beginning to compromise the cookies. You'll have just the loveliest bunch of textures.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">If an unexplained breeze passes under your spoon on your second bite and it smells ever so vaguely of lemons and cypress trees, take a deep breath and enjoy that perfectly Italian pause. Then fill up your spoon again.</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: georgia;" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePATXy4cY_XK2ZYCzU1dYulEhWpAAZXxPWfAhspQDE-F6VIo8DhSVGX0fiFhcWy8s8vztSmM3yc2j1QI_d9HWZEy5DsosaP2FvUkDjRSQ_jDmX5v4kZxVXnBt8bv_456XFgEiuEQIGCz4/s1600/8Strawberry2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePATXy4cY_XK2ZYCzU1dYulEhWpAAZXxPWfAhspQDE-F6VIo8DhSVGX0fiFhcWy8s8vztSmM3yc2j1QI_d9HWZEy5DsosaP2FvUkDjRSQ_jDmX5v4kZxVXnBt8bv_456XFgEiuEQIGCz4/s400/8Strawberry2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620065028004483746" border="0" /></a><br /></span><br /></div>TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-27205300881742649252011-04-22T11:35:00.005-05:002011-04-22T11:43:55.636-05:00Thinking Ahead to a Fall Feast<div><br /><iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/11518682?title=0&byline=0&portrait=0" width="400" height="225" frameborder="0"></iframe><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/11518682">Sisters of the Pie</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/byluuvu">by.luuvu</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.</p></div><div style="text-align: left;">As I have <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2010/11/tgi-pieday-pie-to-bring-you-back-from.html">raved and raved</a> about for close to 8 months now, I took a pie-making class from <a href="http://artofthepie.com/artofthepie/Welcome.html">Kate McDermott</a> in Seattle and it was as close to transcendent as pastry lesson could really be. There are very few places I'd rather be in November than Provence with she and her counterpart Kate in France, <a href="http://kitchen-at-camont.com/2011/04/22/sweet-pie-and-other-ideas-from-camont/">Kate Hill</a>. Kate Hill may be better known to some of you as a mother of <a href="http://kitchen-at-camont.com/category/charcutepalooza-at-camont/">Charcutepalooza</a>. If you happen to be available, a fan of proper farm to table cooking and unopposed to fall in Provence- <a href="http://kitchen-at-camont.com/programs/111111-pig-pie/" _mce_href="http://kitchen-at-camont.com/programs/111111-pig-pie/" style="color: rgb(0, 123, 255); ">Pi</a><a href="http://kitchen-at-camont.com/programs/111111-pig-pie/" _mce_href="http://kitchen-at-camont.com/programs/111111-pig-pie/" style="color: rgb(0, 123, 255); ">g & P</a><a href="http://kitchen-at-camont.com/programs/111111-pig-pie/" _mce_href="http://kitchen-at-camont.com/programs/111111-pig-pie/" style="color: rgb(0, 123, 255); ">ie</a> is for you. </div>TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-24320943829023819122011-04-12T05:36:00.003-05:002011-04-12T11:32:55.006-05:00Gansu to the Garden: Grilling Season (Citrus Basil Scallop Skewers and Pesto Stuffed Portabellas)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3LYOJAI_DN8nbCpINir8xq8lUQcEe8MY6oHCSyml05vFkU8F2aD5kWnJi7m0ErbSakdXfk2VW6SzjfjhA_lNzGqCofmhQmbnh5xHCe1cwMhkk_wNimmH6gGxZhewZuvD4H9ESClJsNn5F/s1600/IMG_1213.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3LYOJAI_DN8nbCpINir8xq8lUQcEe8MY6oHCSyml05vFkU8F2aD5kWnJi7m0ErbSakdXfk2VW6SzjfjhA_lNzGqCofmhQmbnh5xHCe1cwMhkk_wNimmH6gGxZhewZuvD4H9ESClJsNn5F/s400/IMG_1213.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594544865413573042" border="0" /></a>For those of you residing beyond the Great Lakes' finest grid, Chicago just wrapped up a banner weekend. It was this beautiful, sunny bit-o-glory that glittered like a preview of a fine season to come. Saturday was spent harvesting compost, spreading that fertile wormy goodness out on the new vegetable patch, planting onions and garlic, breaking up peat moss and the like. I was devoutly rank by the end of it and it felt like pure perfection.<br /><br />Sunday opened up to much the same but I don't regret investing most of it in a bar-tending class with the Martini Queen of the South Side- pretty sure you'll see some of those skills popping up as the summer works its way forward. That being said, we were determined to squeeze a few additional outdoor hours in once class wrapped. Time to christen that grill.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJj1NTuV3_ptZg5VqhvnMSRWnvSGHt7uyl8lZVxaMjlvKxGl5j16BiBL8qDY_1nmHpxjtrVZV_Awu9BTQqpO1JgWapH1IwdbLGk5bWq6mYdVJUXtgNAbpiWStlkBijV_zMbcUxeqBt_aAb/s1600/IMG_1205.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJj1NTuV3_ptZg5VqhvnMSRWnvSGHt7uyl8lZVxaMjlvKxGl5j16BiBL8qDY_1nmHpxjtrVZV_Awu9BTQqpO1JgWapH1IwdbLGk5bWq6mYdVJUXtgNAbpiWStlkBijV_zMbcUxeqBt_aAb/s400/IMG_1205.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594544854552656978" border="0" /></a>Sorry for all the we-talk but it was the usual suspects. Molly, Jaime, Dave and Lisa- with all the travel schedules it legitimately felt like we were all variations on the Goldilocks bears, creaking out of hibernation. <a href="http://spicysammich.tumblr.com/">Dave</a> is freshly returned from a month in China (hence the Gansu reference) and Lisa is still so excited that she's cooking. "She who brings the wine" has discovered quite a cook's streak and I don't see her slowing down anytime soon. In fact she's quite eloquently laid out her approach to both of these recipes over at <a href="http://ellemichelleunedited.blogspot.com/2011/04/if-i-had-food-blog.html">Elle Michelle</a>.<br /><br /><a href="http://ellemichelleunedited.blogspot.com/2011/04/if-i-had-food-blog.html"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lucky us</span></a>:<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd28O6-mFzJbvglrIhRakpxmFpHPaCPJ1NENI0AS1yUTYiS3Hhl-CCmWdex3ag3e32g3QkTbk_hBbUBxTnWJJBiYnDT4bXQ6AzhXMnU2zEPdJERuK2t8H58zoJLc6i40BhsPauGJo_6R3N/s1600/IMG_1204.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd28O6-mFzJbvglrIhRakpxmFpHPaCPJ1NENI0AS1yUTYiS3Hhl-CCmWdex3ag3e32g3QkTbk_hBbUBxTnWJJBiYnDT4bXQ6AzhXMnU2zEPdJERuK2t8H58zoJLc6i40BhsPauGJo_6R3N/s400/IMG_1204.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594543657127465874" border="0" /></a><br />Sharing the screen time above was my main contribution- Citrus Basil Scallop Skewers. Cooks Illustrated has a <a href="http://www.cooksillustrated.com/recipes/article.asp?docid=903">handy how-to on grilling scallops</a> in their May/June issue and I just so happened to have a bag of the frozen bay variety in the freezer. I love it when that happens.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Jq5o-RpcMejb_93ks2b-LOGGPDkAictx-xXDLas2F2inx26w907ZTuOmG1qQtT5bI_3Po4hdDfYb7BaoWGLAl5ys-xJjwQk0z9rxiXjVn24j00_xkr0af0ywgTHhOkvNX2fcoU5iS8zv/s1600/IMG_1197.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 296px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Jq5o-RpcMejb_93ks2b-LOGGPDkAictx-xXDLas2F2inx26w907ZTuOmG1qQtT5bI_3Po4hdDfYb7BaoWGLAl5ys-xJjwQk0z9rxiXjVn24j00_xkr0af0ywgTHhOkvNX2fcoU5iS8zv/s400/IMG_1197.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594544845822963074" border="0" /></a><br />The recipe tasted pretty great but I think it might have looked even better. Keep your Skittles, this is the much-preferred method of tasting the rainbow.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWCsvznMQgv-kuO81ERi_0cH_dmIsnXPAJ9sAG2G8nPw4mEtamoi86Len0_ZaZYCJ_Bsf_K57ikIrwKtUMlxtCx7KW6gTsN6OkDhma0NhDeWR1LhQyNCigKlYGlGnsN1h_8EA6rjNlChIV/s1600/IMG_1209.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWCsvznMQgv-kuO81ERi_0cH_dmIsnXPAJ9sAG2G8nPw4mEtamoi86Len0_ZaZYCJ_Bsf_K57ikIrwKtUMlxtCx7KW6gTsN6OkDhma0NhDeWR1LhQyNCigKlYGlGnsN1h_8EA6rjNlChIV/s400/IMG_1209.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594543650698639154" border="0" /></a>Just above the skewers themselves was another grill friendly creation. It is a non-secret that I love mushrooms. A friendlier food never did exist in my opinion and, by the by, I held that opinion long before my <a href="http://mushroominfo.com/mushroomchannel/">Mushroom Channel</a> days (client). That being said, those lovely caps were a riff on my <a href="http://mushroominfo.com/mushroomchannel/2009/08/09/grilled-stuffed-and-summered-portabella-mushroom-caps-2/">first favorite stuffed portabella recipe</a> from a couple summers ago.<br /><br />Seeing as there was less <a href="http://www.bellsbeer.com/index.php?cID=48">Oberon</a> involved this time, I had the good sense to simplify. That recipe accompanies the skewers below. I also just have to note that Oberon season is upon us again and it's the equivalent of being grateful for the sunshine only you can drink it. I said it. <a href="http://www.bellsbeer.com/index.php?cID=48">Bell's Oberon is drinkable sunshine</a>.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWC161AkvYaVnVjcO-rcfUzGAYkcQGe0sU1wnDnVILVD-N_JFw6IxHNrHIFGtMrt4RlAYp7J-91Yo3FoqSWuBgls2w-mXinnxpyylIRxi9kNBV6Bs7Rr5_ogDGAei8xYia0OaFwUM62nkd/s1600/Dave_HC" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWC161AkvYaVnVjcO-rcfUzGAYkcQGe0sU1wnDnVILVD-N_JFw6IxHNrHIFGtMrt4RlAYp7J-91Yo3FoqSWuBgls2w-mXinnxpyylIRxi9kNBV6Bs7Rr5_ogDGAei8xYia0OaFwUM62nkd/s400/Dave_HC" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594543665876594210" border="0" /></a>In the midst of the grilling process, there was plenty of time for Dave to chase his favorite tail around the garden (not literally though, my timing was just funny for that one on the left). Typically HC has sprinted in the opposite direction whenever Dave comes over. His affection for her is that powerful. I think she must have missed him though because that Hocat was feeling quite coquettish, a reminder of the season.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5eys_RdVV1utuU_rAXgmuGX46WTxeGg9N-Xd3O4bN8XlirwW3fMOE4i4erhZxP5VjXAIYf7bYtNHCLT5fjaAu787O2Jm60xYfwxwBAKZO1bpZCRCvGqvptZ9WGAUOqDS780_FxPfp398M/s1600/Baby+Pie" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 165px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5eys_RdVV1utuU_rAXgmuGX46WTxeGg9N-Xd3O4bN8XlirwW3fMOE4i4erhZxP5VjXAIYf7bYtNHCLT5fjaAu787O2Jm60xYfwxwBAKZO1bpZCRCvGqvptZ9WGAUOqDS780_FxPfp398M/s400/Baby+Pie" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594543644542597538" border="0" /></a>We finished off dinner with a baby apple pie a la mode- a 7 inch pie dish is the perfect amount for six eaters. That brings my tally up to four pies in two weeks. In case you needed another reminder that the season is changing.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Citrus Basil Scallop Skewers</span><br />5 wood skewers that have been soaking in water for at least 30 minutes<br /><br />2lbs bay scallops, rinsed and dried (And thawed if they were frozen. Come on, guys.)<br />1 blood orange cut into 1/2 inch wedges<br />1 tangerine cut into 1/2 inch wedges<br />1 cup whole basil leaves<br />15 brightly colored sweet bonnet peppers<br /><br />1 TB flour<br />1 tsp cornstarch<br />1/2 tsp citrus salt (kosher salt will be just fine but go fancy if you're feelin it)<br />Lots of fresh ground pepper<br />1 TB citrus zest (I used orange but anything would work here)<br />2 1/2 TB vegetable oil<br /><br />First, put your skewers together. Take one pre-soaked skewer and stab one of your bigger peppers. From there the order is as follows: folded up basil leaf, 2 scallops, blood orange slice, 2 scallops, basil leaf, tangerine slice, 2 scallops, pepper and repeat one more time till you get to the end of the skewer and it looks about as pictured.<br /><br />Second, mix all of your grill marinade ingredients in a small bowl (makes a loose paste) and brush both sides of your completed skewers.<br /><br />Grill at a medium flame for about 4-5 minutes per side or until they've have a nice, even char grill lines. Enjoy!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Pesto Stuffed Portabellas</span><br />1/4 cup prepared pesto (I defrosted some from last summer)<br />1/2 tsp Dijon mustard<br />1/2 cup spinach leaves<br />1/2 cup basil leaves<br />3 portabella mushroom caps, excess dirt brushed off and stem removed<br />Cooking spray (I am a new convert to the <a href="http://www.spectrumorganics.com/?id=89#j219">Spectrum Organic Olive Oil Spray</a>)<br />Your favorite goat cheese (<a href="http://www.prairiefruits.com/">Prairie Fruits</a> for me, please)<br /><br />I actually found that the easiest way to start was to give each mushroom cap a light coating of olive oil all the way around then season it generously with fresh pepper. Then I felt ready to start filling.<br /><br />Stir the pesto and Dijon together and spread an even amount at the base of each mushroom. It's only a small amount of mustard so it doesn't disrupt the pesto flavor but does add a nice bite. You could also achieve this with some fresh lemon juice. From there, start alternating layers of basil and spinach leaves. Three of each is more than enough but it will wilt down. From there, press your goat cheese into the the top leaves to secure all the filling. Top with chopped leftover greens.<br /><br />These are on the grill the same amount of time as the scallop skewers, though please don't flip them :) 8-10 minutes total (with lid on) or ready when the cap turns dark brown and the goat cheese is getting golden on the top.TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-86454892269899680542011-04-02T10:29:00.003-05:002011-04-02T10:49:59.723-05:00Dirt, Grit, Growth: Spring and a Not Quite Nicoise Salad<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisLjmtaDbZxHxUk4Fn_J1JO22zLUv8RVAzoOoNkxSb4q7gDBHKKZ4I3GcHFdsHhfzjUVTUjDnhibVdNKcmy2g2xaWH6TRGeyTzdoQJdAhhYQ2FVlO-bSOo7kwS3nVIof2UC11-Mroz_8Mq/s1600/IMG_1138.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisLjmtaDbZxHxUk4Fn_J1JO22zLUv8RVAzoOoNkxSb4q7gDBHKKZ4I3GcHFdsHhfzjUVTUjDnhibVdNKcmy2g2xaWH6TRGeyTzdoQJdAhhYQ2FVlO-bSOo7kwS3nVIof2UC11-Mroz_8Mq/s400/IMG_1138.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591011250060941618" border="0" /></a>Spring is coming. I'm looking down from 36,000 feet on April 1st and below me it's already been warm enough to melt the snow once, just not thaw the larger bodies of water. Since then, in keeping with a March reputation, there's fresh dust on the ground so the bulk of what's below is white but only half-heartedly so. It's lingering just a little bit longer but it'd probably let you in with your own pop and snacks if you tried to sneak it past at the movies. It's got plans later and its heart isn't really into militancy anymore.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTIen5P4iuGgnMjVYjuPLnCL5Lq19iOprM3-sWvQGTIZSNDaPyyAISnSYXPgu4xxG73AbwT3_2EIPpgFgSNXm-Wb8CQEU7YW8w2wlbwcxQCFI0zLl-_vD28QELK4Z4EbX8n9h0KMZ23Le/s1600/IMG_1133.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTIen5P4iuGgnMjVYjuPLnCL5Lq19iOprM3-sWvQGTIZSNDaPyyAISnSYXPgu4xxG73AbwT3_2EIPpgFgSNXm-Wb8CQEU7YW8w2wlbwcxQCFI0zLl-_vD28QELK4Z4EbX8n9h0KMZ23Le/s400/IMG_1133.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591011244346617634" border="0" /></a>The post-prime garlic cloves I haphazardly tucked into a shallow ditch in October? Sprouting strong green scapes- eight count marching up out of that sticky clay-infested dirt. I've secured a squared, sunnier plot this year and am now in the enviable position of needing to transplant the garlic I never really expected to come up.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxU3RB_YZm-9sY_vseqW35Yx776t_lJN_5DyUWL-HK-j-MAV0EbSAQzHbc5XAf4qP7rm6aS-8jR6E1ZFPOK2uLpQ6VCTzo1pZm3_inrl5Ax26nkEfUki4ZVcErpUSHN9CCCsJS5eP2DdD/s1600/IMG_1142.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGxU3RB_YZm-9sY_vseqW35Yx776t_lJN_5DyUWL-HK-j-MAV0EbSAQzHbc5XAf4qP7rm6aS-8jR6E1ZFPOK2uLpQ6VCTzo1pZm3_inrl5Ax26nkEfUki4ZVcErpUSHN9CCCsJS5eP2DdD/s400/IMG_1142.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591010863777451442" border="0" /></a>In a frenzy this morning, I also managed to pick up my cool weather seedlings and then broke ground in my new patch without ceremony. Okay, maybe not entirely without ceremony. For as fast as I clawed through that dirt today, there were weeks of <a href="http://greenroofgrowers.blogspot.com/2010/12/seed-sources-for-2011-hudson-valley.html">toiling over seed catalogs</a>, filling in communal excel spreadsheets and transplanting ambitious seedlings that had outgrown their tiny cups. <a href="http://walktothemailbox.com/"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Gina</span></a> came over as I was putting the first of the seedlings into my plot behind the house. Even before they made it into the dirt, I'd harvested a little arugula and some joker lettuce for our lunch. Not enough to be the dominant ruffage but herein lies the ceremony with a Not Quite Nicoise Salad "recipe" below. Those few fronds are meant to represent the fresh crunch of many salads to come.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNliHSKaXLPq_dlFcJ82llnoaVwxo89E6oVL9ky3V6R9O9vDsyFALbWK0Cga-4B2vuooiC8leAHuUZ4uOyxTO6r_N8odLK5R_dk54abPw7JTjZ_46iReebK8Ls2qcNINyhmPZDwzLR2X0F/s1600/IMG_1144.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNliHSKaXLPq_dlFcJ82llnoaVwxo89E6oVL9ky3V6R9O9vDsyFALbWK0Cga-4B2vuooiC8leAHuUZ4uOyxTO6r_N8odLK5R_dk54abPw7JTjZ_46iReebK8Ls2qcNINyhmPZDwzLR2X0F/s400/IMG_1144.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591010861219926354" border="0" /></a>Bruce has been the absolute patron saint of growing, providing a home with lights, rich dirt and seemingly boundless curiosity for the process. Growing from seed, knowing how much food could come from a $2 seed packet...these were firsts for me this year. He and Heidi have been running <a href="http://greenroofgrowers.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Green Roof Growers</span></a> for years and coupled with my landlord Ala's intrinsically green thumb, my luck at finding this apartment continues to resonate four and a half years after I moved in. My kale affection is well-documented and to be able to take advantage of its growing season on two ends this year is just really exciting. I imagine myself attending dinners with bouquets of kale tied up with gardener's twine. Maybe some wild arugula providing an attractive ruffle around the edges.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi64I9CT2Ja1Xvxyb-54WSR5N_6NslK8QZWv64PbZ6aPJPCkVcewIX7FGWBG-7HDK_UdJT04111iNgtWDsjAIEoFGcyVQnFxiPTzyxTiSYjMrDAd1EKT8Whq_eu4N9lAS6ZBPht0n1nLdSe/s1600/IMG_1141.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 318px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi64I9CT2Ja1Xvxyb-54WSR5N_6NslK8QZWv64PbZ6aPJPCkVcewIX7FGWBG-7HDK_UdJT04111iNgtWDsjAIEoFGcyVQnFxiPTzyxTiSYjMrDAd1EKT8Whq_eu4N9lAS6ZBPht0n1nLdSe/s400/IMG_1141.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591010856586653218" border="0" /></a>It feels like a good year for walking the walk. I spent my second annual Saturday in like-minded company at the <a href="http://www.familyfarmedexpo.com/">Family Farmed Expo</a> and was so happy to be nodding along with the rest of my crunchy kin. I'm trying. I'm trying to vote with my dollar, to budget in a way that better represents the rest of the world in what I invest in my food. I've always cared. It always mattered. I just haven't always been very consistent in what sounded like the right thing and what ended up being the easiest.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzRdJggFH0y2lrh9P5tgoNUKBYzi1e3xU1PYcOgft5LMIP9-P-eJjZE1o8GriN3ovgoJsKXCrAVDX6HjrJOH4tnnaVdNfLdSjSKYFThwdUCImSl-GxmWknI_YrqU4IXJpGLtwBv9OP6uwR/s1600/IMG_1143.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzRdJggFH0y2lrh9P5tgoNUKBYzi1e3xU1PYcOgft5LMIP9-P-eJjZE1o8GriN3ovgoJsKXCrAVDX6HjrJOH4tnnaVdNfLdSjSKYFThwdUCImSl-GxmWknI_YrqU4IXJpGLtwBv9OP6uwR/s400/IMG_1143.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591010849561543890" border="0" /></a>And on an ever so brief personal note, it's April and I've got a March reputation of my own. My wintry mix was the travel and womenfolk whom I love dearly. While the travel and girlfriends aren't going anywhere (I'm on a plane to Seattle while writing this but likely there already for the posting), I'm thawing out. An uptick in daylight and energy lends itself well toward other pursuits. There've been some false starts but my shoulders are finally relaxed and the cold is less daunting this way. Feeling new on the heels of a sleepy season is good for the soul. Bring on the Bambi levels of twitterpation, my greens are in the ground and my salad days are beginning again.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Not Quite Nicoise Salad</span><br /><br />Mixed Greens (I use the boxed organic mix with spring greens and spinach)<br />Purple cabbage, shredded<br />1/2 cup chopped olives (I had Cerignola, Nicoise, and those delicious extra salty and wrinkled black ones from a Pastoral run)<br />3 potatoes sliced and steamed<br />6-8 grape tomatoes (couldn't resist at the store but ready for them to be in season properly)<br />Handful reduced fat feta<br />3 hard cooked eggs, quartered<br /><br />Simple vinaigrette (juice from 1/2 lemon, 1/3 cup olive oil, teaspoon Dijon mustard, salt and pepper)<br /><br />Arrange however contents your precious little heart then toss with the vinaigrette. Delicious and satisfying lunch, also recommended with a warm demi loaf of crusty bread and some salted butter.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmQYza3n9NSkT7_F7rHJIPCuhLXmJboew1eIDKyc2vi_hdRk0nBRjISCMk3gZVSX4MT3B6ciWSC-gFTI-JNe8aH-cU0ErlX5mXAlmoOXv-rPVGKaAcKwAhKoAiR8RezMWfihVDK9WRuNU/s1600/IMG_1146.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmQYza3n9NSkT7_F7rHJIPCuhLXmJboew1eIDKyc2vi_hdRk0nBRjISCMk3gZVSX4MT3B6ciWSC-gFTI-JNe8aH-cU0ErlX5mXAlmoOXv-rPVGKaAcKwAhKoAiR8RezMWfihVDK9WRuNU/s400/IMG_1146.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591010843964423074" border="0" /></a>And because I hope you post your lists too...here's what will be growing for me this year!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2012 Wicked Vegetable Patch Roster</span><br />Arugula<br />Joker Lettuce<br />Lacinto (Dino) Kale<br />Red Russian Kale<br />Pentland Kale<br />Italian Parsley<br />Tatsoi<br />Bok Choy<br />Vitamin Green<br />Beets<br />Scarlet Nantes Carrots<br />Marvel Striped Tomato<br />Black Krim Tomato<br />Black Cherry Tomato<br />Valencia Tomato<br />Red Pear Sel Tomato<br />San Marzano Tomato<br />Listada de Gandia Eggplant<br />Black Beauty Eggplant<br />Santa Fe Grande Hot Pepper<br />Bee Balm<br />Rosemary<br />Lavender<br />Oregano<br />Sweet Genovese Basil<br />Sacred BasilTKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-29600121912765839822011-02-13T23:11:00.006-06:002011-02-14T13:42:57.165-06:00Marauding on Weekend Street<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM4KT9yeIJs3ndpvJFzpez4jC5XNhVtGowXW2s5ZbBxa4IGEvpYlIjxl2olkE1U9uknt24iFj3FJN3rAIOLgsnv_sn2pY__FLyxVKiwbBgMN0gU6K4X5oFpzVSTR0l6ey1QYUPZYMweox8/s1600/IMG_0941.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM4KT9yeIJs3ndpvJFzpez4jC5XNhVtGowXW2s5ZbBxa4IGEvpYlIjxl2olkE1U9uknt24iFj3FJN3rAIOLgsnv_sn2pY__FLyxVKiwbBgMN0gU6K4X5oFpzVSTR0l6ey1QYUPZYMweox8/s400/IMG_0941.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573419807964101058" border="0" /></a>It was just one of those good weekends. Friday night started with a knitting lesson with some new friends for Karen's hilarious <a href="http://karenondeck.com/Learn_to_Knit.html" _mce_href="http://karenondeck.com/Learn_to_Knit.html">30th birthday project</a> (I'm a little obsessed with this idea). That came with wine and a lovely spaghetti squash dish for dinner courtesy of Leah. Then thanks to the power of Twitter and an open-minded partner in crime, I got to toast <a href="http://hellokatie.tumblr.com/">Katie</a> for her birthday at Innjoy with <a href="http://www.twentysomethingtestdummies.com/">Robin</a> and TC, then finally made it to the Burlington for one of <a href="http://www.facebook.com/jessilangsen#%21/event.php?eid=127726920628786">Jim and Michelle's DJ gigs</a>. <p>Saturday afternoon was pretty much strong-armed by t<a href="http://www.dentalsalon.com/?gclid=CI7O1MX5hqcCFUS8KgodtCe0fQ">he dentist</a>. That was probably the least fun piece of weekend but I had a <a href="http://www.npr.org/2011/02/10/133621135/ed-helms-in-scranton-or-cedar-rapids-hes-plucky">Fresh Air podcast</a> and Terri Gross really did help pass the time. Reward was a fun trip to Whole Foods. If my face hadn't been numb, I might have even had a glass of wine. That would have been absolutely tragic given the circumstances so I just shot wanton looks at everyone else's wine and tried to avoid smiling so I didn't frighten the children. This became a totally moot point because I arrived home to see a snow family had been built in our front yard by the much beloved neighbor kids. They'd made a snow incarnation of Honeycat (<a href="http://tktc.tumblr.com/post/123651853/honeylovers-hc-has-no-shortage-of-affection-at">who adores them</a> as much as I do). N,o I don't have a picture of either the snowcat or my crazy Two-Facesque expression when I found it. Face still numb, smiling like a crazy person. I love neighbors/neighborhoods.<br /></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdcCqOCeU-82_8YPKvN9dArcpNRucthvq7OafKYr0F8zC98CTWA9XmtmkxW4HSlNVSC8JwztrjNmo7TV28M0AnRVFZNo1UZ9vevC_HvEZVXOSFZ5qxSH0dxrfUo14rbuigS6HN7wi6HW-/s1600/Big+Star.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 305px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpdcCqOCeU-82_8YPKvN9dArcpNRucthvq7OafKYr0F8zC98CTWA9XmtmkxW4HSlNVSC8JwztrjNmo7TV28M0AnRVFZNo1UZ9vevC_HvEZVXOSFZ5qxSH0dxrfUo14rbuigS6HN7wi6HW-/s400/Big+Star.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573419807366046786" border="0" /></a>Saturday night (once I had full use of my face back) was just a beautiful chunk of absurdity. A bunch of us met up at <a href="http://www.bigstarchicago.com/">Big Star</a> and even the wait was a joy thanks to some delicious margaritas and some "preview tacos" holding us over (that would be KP and I up top, photo credit to G's iPhone). Different people came to meet us throughout the night and by the end of our taco tenure, there was dancing. So much dancing that we decided to take our talents elsewhere and ended up at <a href="http://rodanchicago.com/default/">Rodan</a>. More dancing. Til the music stopped. Were we done? Apparently not. Off to the <a href="http://theflatironchicago.com/">Flat Iron</a>. Pool and 90's hip hop and ohmyGOODNIGHT it is 5 in the morning. As in a half hour before my alarm goes off for the gym on weekdays. I could not tell you the last time that happened.<br /><br />I slept for a lot of a beautiful day on Sunday and I wouldn't take it back. I opened the windows and the cat and I just languished in heavy covers, fresh air and sunshine. I called Gina from bed and we recapped the evening with cracked voices and laughter that hurts a little bit because it feels like your brain is part of a pinball machine. When I did get up it was done with jaunty step. A long walk around the neighborhood, a cake to bake and all the fixings.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBEP7GNDdYHZa2kJmoM9HN_81ymDfLtwCZRjhhcBlmG7-hHdtFDj-Nhd2p_fKZPG4FePkMKnoYy7QQGRdnoNdCTgvhSqEiyjrROx-kVSSGmJJf2tNrlpcKB0DtL-QFN7sEJ6uhrUG1P6e/s1600/Sunday"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBEP7GNDdYHZa2kJmoM9HN_81ymDfLtwCZRjhhcBlmG7-hHdtFDj-Nhd2p_fKZPG4FePkMKnoYy7QQGRdnoNdCTgvhSqEiyjrROx-kVSSGmJJf2tNrlpcKB0DtL-QFN7sEJ6uhrUG1P6e/s400/Sunday" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573421946437051010" border="0" /></a>The weekend shop closed with a proper Sunday supper. Lo and Christina are two of my best friends from college and it was just the most delicious rewind to have them around the table. Dinner was inspired by <a href="http://www.konabistro.com/">Kona Bistro</a>, our favorite restaurant in Oxford. <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2010/01/smashed-salmon-salad-tribute-to.html">Smashed Salmon Salad</a> (which has even been documented here before) and "<a href="http://orangette.blogspot.com/2004/08/and-then-cake-came-forth.html">Winning of Hearts and Minds Cake</a>" from Orangette. I wish I could have shown a clip of it to the three twenty year olds sitting in our dining room on West Collins. They're both wives now- <a href="http://robertlarkinjones.com/">one husband</a> makes tremendous chocolate cookies, one sent his wife to my house with miniature artisan grilled cheese sandwiches. Which is to say, they are both winners in my book. Everyone with joy in their work and life in general. These are good things.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg43AtboS9sq1CdifaC3N4SSjhDlgcyEa65BKJeodyZASgfhvzJuzkdEp8NvmtspQ6WAMxG7oVFGEYe8iIgeVWw-6GbKWTKs64u16ikPyZ59YEkWoXhYQ3GenYDV1qLDqzl48rk2e5965XT/s1600/DSCN0527.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg43AtboS9sq1CdifaC3N4SSjhDlgcyEa65BKJeodyZASgfhvzJuzkdEp8NvmtspQ6WAMxG7oVFGEYe8iIgeVWw-6GbKWTKs64u16ikPyZ59YEkWoXhYQ3GenYDV1qLDqzl48rk2e5965XT/s400/DSCN0527.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5573419800747866226" border="0" /></a>This is a strange type of post for this place- more of a journal entry and kind of a throwback to days of yore. I just don't want to forget it. Not the time untangling yarn and telling stories, not the cabs dotting the west side, not the solo adventures in food shopping, not the hiccups or the hijinks. I don't want to forget cool sheets and the sweetest cat or a house that feels like home and smells like cake.TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-91938128607014016392011-01-25T23:38:00.013-06:002011-02-05T15:11:37.666-06:00In Search of Spice<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6YNoHJxcD_Uc1XDODZ92PrZ4SpSTMVzN1qDz6KhVmVlrQqpEWh9K9vF0bv_0Vy3u43jTpt6ohGWf9P2F4aYylp214UgklT9XBhY80DFvaB0EN5iB-JGmZm-Qtresrg63yvkAORBUvS48Z/s1600/IMG_0892.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6YNoHJxcD_Uc1XDODZ92PrZ4SpSTMVzN1qDz6KhVmVlrQqpEWh9K9vF0bv_0Vy3u43jTpt6ohGWf9P2F4aYylp214UgklT9XBhY80DFvaB0EN5iB-JGmZm-Qtresrg63yvkAORBUvS48Z/s400/IMG_0892.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566366746776881474" border="0" /></a>The dregs of winter are upon us, friends. As with every season, there's a bright side and a Deathstar side and while winter seems more frequently placed in the stormtrooper's camp, I'm not about to write it off so simply. We're just digging out of the biggest blizzard in at least a decade and just when you think that aforementioned light might be buried the deepest, you remember it is snow after all. My neighbors seem to shine the brightest when reflected off all that white.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUQ1TGqwzxdbCiNZui3Je7payDi0QTaxTQH40gWPgxKPrCn6Wk94bKgFdaE7Cms4xaYH8pOymnMFLJ6mPOWOt7xAUk7JPhSPHA1ssPrIPn3RVV_HslDNd1oX00lJUCy1lK4p6UEpcZCS-O/s1600/IMG_0913.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUQ1TGqwzxdbCiNZui3Je7payDi0QTaxTQH40gWPgxKPrCn6Wk94bKgFdaE7Cms4xaYH8pOymnMFLJ6mPOWOt7xAUk7JPhSPHA1ssPrIPn3RVV_HslDNd1oX00lJUCy1lK4p6UEpcZCS-O/s400/IMG_0913.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570310305828701442" border="0" /></a><br />Everyone's smiling like third graders with their rusty shovels and their shiny stories. Digging each other's cars out, complimenting canine footwear, making snow creatures. We're at our best when winter's at its worst. This is where we secure the bragging rights that take us through the rest of the year and we'll all be tuckered if New York is going to hijack our rightful, wintered glory.<br /><br />It's not all ponies though, there's the cabin fever, as well. Cabin fever and its deeply disturbed cousin complacency. Get off my couch, complacency. For the last few weeks it hasn't mattered as much because I've been running around the country so the couch and its sleepy occupant were left to their own devices while I was in Denver and <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2010/03/in-flight-writing-part-2-nashville.html">Nashville</a> (oh be still my heart after all this time). I head to DC on Monday and Montreal next week and Orlando a week after that. I'm taking in a lot of views like this one (on descent toward Denver).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMfhJTaZ5IgalX1-wfziu_uMAG-RBSQagQOqFNioeH88j_mfXYaF5WnepFYD0GIn-UuKEqQJ-vOHulaYWGxcLSfbvtv6bPbLVjjBU_izbtiVMeZNYZk3kFcTX2TvtL2oYAdvaKme4JHP5f/s1600/IMG_0869.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 246px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMfhJTaZ5IgalX1-wfziu_uMAG-RBSQagQOqFNioeH88j_mfXYaF5WnepFYD0GIn-UuKEqQJ-vOHulaYWGxcLSfbvtv6bPbLVjjBU_izbtiVMeZNYZk3kFcTX2TvtL2oYAdvaKme4JHP5f/s400/IMG_0869.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5570310314542629842" border="0" /></a><br />The truth is, I am so much happier when I'm speeding around trying new things and places and people. That need not be relegated to when I'm on the road- is anyone else prone to constantly finding greener grass in other pastures? Because I spent an evening at <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/No-308/131295703557837?v=wall">No. 308</a> in East Nashville and had myself convinced for days that there wasn't anything like it in Chicago. And while that might be true for Robert's, I can get my Mumford & Sons/Jackson 5 dance party on at the Whistler (or anywhere else in Logan Square) not 10 minutes from my wicked front door. It's not the same but it's a similar breed of smoke. Now I'm rambling (HA- you probably called that 10 minutes ago). Blame it on the Deathstar but I need to be spicing things up on the home front a little more and I am nothing if not overly literal.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0hJje9wYfnGoWcRnirhamVGxYIDQFV_fxDA7Sy5fv_sfw1KZjt03S0OFeaNSQ0mhsrB8oEjr_ZwfEAAasY_zCikCn8wgV6_UOYSsPeAw_RQIko_kTe8hvYhcY3ktdCzhVZEP2b5YVu5-p/s1600/IMG_0893.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 163px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0hJje9wYfnGoWcRnirhamVGxYIDQFV_fxDA7Sy5fv_sfw1KZjt03S0OFeaNSQ0mhsrB8oEjr_ZwfEAAasY_zCikCn8wgV6_UOYSsPeAw_RQIko_kTe8hvYhcY3ktdCzhVZEP2b5YVu5-p/s400/IMG_0893.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566366161981016290" border="0" /></a><br />On a snowy Sunday in Old Town after many lists and recommendations, I bit the bullet and totally refreshed my spice rack at <a href="http://www.thespicehouse.com/"><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Spice House</span></a>. I had a coupon for 15% off and was already partial to their simple labels and careful quality. Most of my spices had been traveling with me since my four year stint in Oxford, Ohio. Ground spices are only meant to last for a year according to Cooks Illustrated so I was pushing my luck seven times over. Felt really good to just toss everything and start fresh and for less than $70, I managed the following:<br /><ul><li>Garam Masala Curry Mixture</li><li>Ground Ginger (China Number One)</li><li>Aleppo Pepper, Crushed</li><li>Ground Cumin</li><li>Ground Organic Turmeric</li><li>Whole Coriander Seeds</li><li>Granulated Garlic Powder</li><li>Saffron, Spanish Superior Grade (1 gram- a little goes a long way)</li><li>Spanish Smoked Paprika, Hot</li><li>Hungarian Sweet Paprika</li><li>Curry Powder, Sweet</li><li>Organic Saigon "Cassia" Cinnamon</li><li>Mustard Powder, Medium Heat</li><li>Ground Cloves</li><li>Whole Fennel Seeds</li><li>Whole Black Tellicherry Peppercorns</li><li>Dried California Parsley Flakes</li><li>Organic Dill Weed</li><li>Ukrainian Village Seasoning<br /></li></ul>Now what to do with all this bounty? A few ideas.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZuLAaodKP0JrIikJnvI_iLm01uQ0KPm3-Zkbv6xhA6dOm1pORa4O-rah1LfVL1zoYTCvksDXrcNJFvDmQBcFr-fmB2ZueMu3-gKPhdkYzAFxKTG4_nCo_IE_jJXFH1DBMzJBSR5yFlD_e/s1600/IMG_4713.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZuLAaodKP0JrIikJnvI_iLm01uQ0KPm3-Zkbv6xhA6dOm1pORa4O-rah1LfVL1zoYTCvksDXrcNJFvDmQBcFr-fmB2ZueMu3-gKPhdkYzAFxKTG4_nCo_IE_jJXFH1DBMzJBSR5yFlD_e/s400/IMG_4713.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566366136599959714" border="0" /></a>My favorite snack/salad topper. Chickpeas rinsed, patted dry and roasted for 12 minutes at 400 in a very light coating of extra virgin olive oil. Once they're out, spice as you like but my personal blend is Aleppo pepper, sweet paprika, curry powder, turmeric and Maldon smoked salt (which I put on everything these days). If you line your baking sheet with foil, cleanup is a breeze. These are the best.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCVUw7qRJPRVIveXEkgSxVRtvnZzst1j8H02I6Zurk6TFTjfTp4zD8iSEOzNTuSunzI1AO9JPLTGPz5BDb8zieQ7Vecshw2jz7x2goH-t_9ggYdjtQ9TntphITNUNWWaD4sFHBxCj7Fz-u/s1600/IMG_0895.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCVUw7qRJPRVIveXEkgSxVRtvnZzst1j8H02I6Zurk6TFTjfTp4zD8iSEOzNTuSunzI1AO9JPLTGPz5BDb8zieQ7Vecshw2jz7x2goH-t_9ggYdjtQ9TntphITNUNWWaD4sFHBxCj7Fz-u/s400/IMG_0895.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566366151689453618" border="0" /></a><br />Another new neighborhood favorite- <a style="font-weight: bold;" href="http://www.thebutcherandlarder.com/">The Butcher & Larder</a> - has opened its doors and relieved us of what was once a neighborhood desert for sustainable, ethically raised meat. I took home two of their house sausages, broke them up then sauteed with tomatoes, Aleppo pepper, garlic powder, dried parsley and some sage I found clinging to our plant in the garden (very hearty plant, noted). Served with a pillow of fresh Pecorino atop roasted spaghetti squash.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAwBnnwilddvWdCdeKvbsrr0B-ODKLYiqDJIhTDUMKYLPhltWLK25cp49XvkTDFyUR3J8cLd71QvpN5WVX1eU1Ciic7MSrO49PYeWNowDhEgZSqeIoU9YhBEueqjcuK3bJOCCnvwiwm2hm/s1600/IMG_0875.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAwBnnwilddvWdCdeKvbsrr0B-ODKLYiqDJIhTDUMKYLPhltWLK25cp49XvkTDFyUR3J8cLd71QvpN5WVX1eU1Ciic7MSrO49PYeWNowDhEgZSqeIoU9YhBEueqjcuK3bJOCCnvwiwm2hm/s400/IMG_0875.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566366147014626002" border="0" /></a>My other B&L purchase- a lean shoulder cut of beef. Covered in Ukrainian Village Seasoning, seared on all sides in a cast iron pan then popped in the oven till medium rare (about 7 minutes at 425).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjfUesrzJ-BVfZmiTPEmX0zJSMnL90o5JGsgiXmiKJQmhPAGrWao1Nid5CVvIccF6-m8iRJzGgO58RZ-rYTE6dtOCXsUrqduOgSGqqlxpo3DsAp8FIAt_hyphenhyphen7ZB5r2gs_5QnjkjJluX4Dlq/s1600/IMG_0604.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjfUesrzJ-BVfZmiTPEmX0zJSMnL90o5JGsgiXmiKJQmhPAGrWao1Nid5CVvIccF6-m8iRJzGgO58RZ-rYTE6dtOCXsUrqduOgSGqqlxpo3DsAp8FIAt_hyphenhyphen7ZB5r2gs_5QnjkjJluX4Dlq/s400/IMG_0604.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566366159392911938" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal">And finally, an actual recipe. Because this is about to change your roasted sweet potatoes and then it will move on to charm everything else it touches like fat slices of toasted Italian bread or root vegetables. Based on a recipe of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Couscous-Other-Good-Food-Morocco/dp/0060913967/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1209883226&sr=1-1">Paula Wolfert's</a>. I got really lucky and discovered it just in time for dinner with my friend Janine, the brains/beauty behind <a href="http://rustickitchen.com/">Rustic Kitchen</a>.<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Moroccan Spiced Butter</span><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">½ teaspoon of Maldon smoked salt<br />4 spring onions, white part only, chopped (reserve the green bits for something lovely)<br />2 cloves of garlic, chopped<br />1 heaped teaspoon of smoked paprika<br />1 tablespoon of cumin seeds<br />1 teaspoon of coriander seeds<br />1 teaspoon of fennel seeds<br />½ teaspoon of hot chili powder<br />Small handful of parsley, chopped</p><p class="MsoNormal">½ cup of unsalted butter, room temperature<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Using a mortar and pestle, crush the sea salt, spring onions, garlic and spices to make a paste. Add the parsley, and pound until quite smooth. Chop the butter roughly and pound it into the paste until well combined. Form the butter into a log, wrap tightly, and place in the fridge to rest till it gets its bearings.<br /></p>TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-34989432704621513592011-01-03T22:42:00.002-06:002011-01-03T22:45:20.685-06:00Year of the Green Goddess<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_fJmWoUT6kkL4R01rPKtbKPnXOFYU5au5zvTG-Vt9jRTWon30AvW9dPyrDr9Pnc4GSXFB-vM8KV_Q4fCWqRKGXFj2Hb096P4XC13whejrntrNZEhTM71p-VffApV29QbV2Nw0qojEkX_j/s1600/IMG_0840.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 230px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_fJmWoUT6kkL4R01rPKtbKPnXOFYU5au5zvTG-Vt9jRTWon30AvW9dPyrDr9Pnc4GSXFB-vM8KV_Q4fCWqRKGXFj2Hb096P4XC13whejrntrNZEhTM71p-VffApV29QbV2Nw0qojEkX_j/s400/IMG_0840.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558167910363200994" border="0" /></a>That sandwich was a month on toast. A good month. Not a perfect one but a little braver and with a very satisfying crunch at the end there.<br /><br />If you're wondering (and I'm always wondering), that is multi-grain toast spread on top with a thin sheen of <a href="http://www.rarebirdpreserves.com/">Rare Bird</a>'s Plum Cardamom Orange Preserves which are then holding a substantial blanket of baby spinach in place. Beneath that we've got some fresh roast chicken (a <a href="http://tktc.tumblr.com/post/232437091/i-am-sitting-in-my-kitchen-eating-this-spectacular">favorite</a> in these parts) and lower still, mixed greens. From there, we pick the sweetness back up again with thin slices of Granny Smith apple. All good things, yes? Good, great in some cases, but not magic. The magic is that last element before we're back to toast (ashes to ashes). You can barely see it on the bottom there.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgimuJE0u7OdMtOk0x4FEURB9xm_1J2ZNEeXLddGBeANAM-d_O9uAwIjOuHqOxnbPWtwktC9hnIyh-2uC9YePKHcIjJHrzngWNebdDnzF887uBKaI6ivkeVoVlIVmt-PuA8vK87m6_8tVi3/s1600/IMG_0809.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgimuJE0u7OdMtOk0x4FEURB9xm_1J2ZNEeXLddGBeANAM-d_O9uAwIjOuHqOxnbPWtwktC9hnIyh-2uC9YePKHcIjJHrzngWNebdDnzF887uBKaI6ivkeVoVlIVmt-PuA8vK87m6_8tVi3/s400/IMG_0809.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558166821843829810" border="0" /></a>A closer look. Thick and rich and fully earning its name- Green Goddess.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHj7HGixJ-jsaCwIqnOmgwZhyphenhyphenIw-jlXoHwzu_bBFx-gKAcGt9bX-f6uxkhzuw4n1NGM0LquSYVnK9367y_-WjG8zUxIxXIBYBNcK9xSRd60lqvyxZGbpeTxFihyPFT-ZWwRIFyzFGLqMkX/s1600/IMG_0806.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHj7HGixJ-jsaCwIqnOmgwZhyphenhyphenIw-jlXoHwzu_bBFx-gKAcGt9bX-f6uxkhzuw4n1NGM0LquSYVnK9367y_-WjG8zUxIxXIBYBNcK9xSRd60lqvyxZGbpeTxFihyPFT-ZWwRIFyzFGLqMkX/s400/IMG_0806.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558166834502014466" border="0" /></a>These are the ingredients for magic and it was a group effort so my thanks to <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVwX-TeLxT6zPpXAPt_MX6HtziTMwkjH18L28ti9faOzrUJsPgXdG-KJeZdGPU3PyzyxLVgvSmsnnupnCOcQEcgVkhd6d_tdQGXPHRN6HouY5l04GditUQ-OwzZ_XfW7BPh5i_OKgaZb4V/s1600-h/Seymour_Esme.JPG">Pop Pop</a>, <a href="http://www.elanaspantry.com/green-goddess-dressing/">Elana</a> and <a href="http://thewholekitchen.wordpress.com/2009/07/28/fresh-herb-ranch-dressing/">Jenn</a> for their respective bits of inspiration. Pop really was the original goddess charmer and I have clear memories of sneaking dips of romaine spears into the blender in the fridge when he was acting as chef-in-residence on his visits. Anchovies are never negotiable when it comes to Pop and I quite agree with him. One thing I did on my own though? No mayo. No oil. Just all manner of green things and some fat free Greek yogurt. Three veggie trays, two salads and one sandwich later, you would never have known that this was holistically healthy by the responses (mine included).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQL6wWhWg7wNLPG9_Zw3sav9FOdjXfIN2WG9ORVXH_LCRks5OJLDIpyoi-3WDjfsSYi103d2-XnNc8lfu1Oss-IN4x2qDCAas7WnF8XilUtJHoB0LJeQChjS-2Sr2_jw5m4prXnEVPGoga/s1600/PC300536.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQL6wWhWg7wNLPG9_Zw3sav9FOdjXfIN2WG9ORVXH_LCRks5OJLDIpyoi-3WDjfsSYi103d2-XnNc8lfu1Oss-IN4x2qDCAas7WnF8XilUtJHoB0LJeQChjS-2Sr2_jw5m4prXnEVPGoga/s400/PC300536.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558166831125249090" border="0" /></a>I brought this one to <a href="http://www.walktothemailbox.com/">Gina</a>'s annual Eve of the Eve dinner. It did a tremendous job balancing out all that wine.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjdihABaXlFteBjrotDEr7bswusEcjYE-TUZ_OeY_J99bHsPvJUJwEDHhTLjeR_V78kWlYOIv1MAkPYgnXfM1TtiMV1tHUJpla11NS1UD2y2NIjkDtI6tfg6SmodetcjzNmKi_rDf8AfNI/s1600/IMG_0825.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjdihABaXlFteBjrotDEr7bswusEcjYE-TUZ_OeY_J99bHsPvJUJwEDHhTLjeR_V78kWlYOIv1MAkPYgnXfM1TtiMV1tHUJpla11NS1UD2y2NIjkDtI6tfg6SmodetcjzNmKi_rDf8AfNI/s400/IMG_0825.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558166818474355026" border="0" /></a>I brought this one to North Woods New Year's at <a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/robertljones">Bob</a> and Christina's. All the while, whenever I started to run low on the special sauce, I treated it like a starter and just kept adding yogurt, herbs and the like.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Green Goddess Dip/ Dressing/ Spread/ Fantastma</span><br /><br />16.7 oz container of fat free or low fat Greek yogurt<br />4 whole cloves of garlic<br />1 tin of flat rolled anchovies<br />1-2 cups of fresh spinach leaves, depending on your preferred level of green<br />2 green onions, roughly chopped<br />1/3 cup fresh basil leaves (leaves of 4-5 stems)<br />2 TB fresh tarragon leaves<br />1 TB fresh oregano leaves<br />1 ripe avocado (halved, pitted and removed from shell)<br />Juice of half a lemon<br />1/2 tsp of kosher salt<br />Freshly ground pepper to taste<br /><br />Optional: 1-2 ounces of Roquefort. Great tip from Pop but clearly a little evil. Not a lot for the whole recipe but does add a little something.<br /><br />Put it all in the bowl of a food processor and whir till you have a uniform mixture. Scrape down the sides, whir some more. I added a little more spinach and some extra lemon at this point for color and zing. And then I made sure it was safe for at least three coated spatulas. I'm a health hazard, what can I tell you? If you want it a little looser for salad dressing, a little water goes a long way.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnAxR2XDNiC_5u4evvi93T2Rj4i3ZKl2ReLTsigUP7bdjJdBvvRaqZuSQyVaP87gSjlTQenXgi8Vdvf7SDiahW1atSN9JGISRnY1wbzY46oO4yY9cuK3OAaKSFTNrKF8N_hbL2UuxjwTSw/s1600/IMG_0785.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnAxR2XDNiC_5u4evvi93T2Rj4i3ZKl2ReLTsigUP7bdjJdBvvRaqZuSQyVaP87gSjlTQenXgi8Vdvf7SDiahW1atSN9JGISRnY1wbzY46oO4yY9cuK3OAaKSFTNrKF8N_hbL2UuxjwTSw/s400/IMG_0785.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558171101422930530" border="0" /></a>Unrelated but I noticed this in all my veggie plate prep...how gorgeous is the inside of a red pepper? Happy New Year. That really was a great sandwich.TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-50214859350239741532010-12-12T15:18:00.006-06:002014-03-24T15:04:53.065-05:00Snow Day (Spinach, Sausage and Shallot Quiche)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_XbDjvasvJMP_wC3tNHTwP5OqvKmwJe-bnZCULbXtbq2FxLG0VNCoSM7VOQZQcchoHJSZix5ld8CMmc0yMiAKIYqAoDClq8Fy1p6e1VChyQE1fWej0HN12-ZjPTFk28RdJzLjG5ksbbX/s1600/IMG_0672.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_XbDjvasvJMP_wC3tNHTwP5OqvKmwJe-bnZCULbXtbq2FxLG0VNCoSM7VOQZQcchoHJSZix5ld8CMmc0yMiAKIYqAoDClq8Fy1p6e1VChyQE1fWej0HN12-ZjPTFk28RdJzLjG5ksbbX/s400/IMG_0672.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549911145768249138" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>This is what a Sunday snow day looks like. This is what it tastes like too but never let it be said that I am cruel enough to ask you to imagine that. For the record, you're looking at a spinach, sausage (banger, if we're going to get specific) and shallot quiche, baked into my <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2010/11/tgi-pieday-pie-to-bring-you-back-from.html">favorite pie crust</a>.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGVzXawJ3YD2NidWVxzdgCWzeFnNNPlqDUUUpXu7_TD8FgKoSOz_lV7_fn4EWPNFxCuTNO7TQ0IKCNx1i-yVyisQLzWc90323JF9dt0N3covC30i8A-Mhyphenhyphen3dOHp4duqlcnsJQRkTKC65U/s1600/IMG_0680.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGVzXawJ3YD2NidWVxzdgCWzeFnNNPlqDUUUpXu7_TD8FgKoSOz_lV7_fn4EWPNFxCuTNO7TQ0IKCNx1i-yVyisQLzWc90323JF9dt0N3covC30i8A-Mhyphenhyphen3dOHp4duqlcnsJQRkTKC65U/s400/IMG_0680.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549911139843848114" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>To be even more specific, this is another view of the same snow day.<br />
<iframe frameborder="0" height="300" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/17738719" width="400"></iframe><br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/17738719">Sunday Snow Day</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user362418">ToKissTheCook</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
<br />
For those of you in warmer climates (cough *parents* ahem), this is what a snow day looks and sounds like. Please forgive the low-fi recording but I think you get the idea.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOMN_ZXVmp96JQzYXDXcYzJgVm24hc2tFyiz5gvzqrlp306-BW3A_1r-W1lJpvGMJvtB_eXuoAVqwgs5ap_MhfPmmgZdTmUkvJ9kBcrO6pm9utne3u4Mh0r_on9Stz9p6Qf_XwAEsmEvZQ/s1600/IMG_0674.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOMN_ZXVmp96JQzYXDXcYzJgVm24hc2tFyiz5gvzqrlp306-BW3A_1r-W1lJpvGMJvtB_eXuoAVqwgs5ap_MhfPmmgZdTmUkvJ9kBcrO6pm9utne3u4Mh0r_on9Stz9p6Qf_XwAEsmEvZQ/s400/IMG_0674.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549911131607681282" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
Yes, I think we all prefer the view from here a little better though it has to be said that from inside a cozy house, hot coffee in hand, looking at evergreens heavy with snow isn't the worst way to spend an afternooon. It's potentially the best way to spend an afternoon when it involves a long lunch with <a href="http://homemakershabitat.com/">Miss Rebecca</a>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2LIu1OS3i3ZP8yCg0Pkh4gWdFfd-W6IYs3IbrUIQ295PXzzmAKolukdBG-pXBWCaQtj13ja1TgWuyF1GHauJCdDH823K3j77IqzF3VMzKxLQbJhyphenhyphen1QeJwx4ycwBpIeVUlVBk35LnZJr03/s1600/DSC_0116.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2LIu1OS3i3ZP8yCg0Pkh4gWdFfd-W6IYs3IbrUIQ295PXzzmAKolukdBG-pXBWCaQtj13ja1TgWuyF1GHauJCdDH823K3j77IqzF3VMzKxLQbJhyphenhyphen1QeJwx4ycwBpIeVUlVBk35LnZJr03/s400/DSC_0116.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549915316661034482" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 266px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>The coffee in this case is my latest little addiction- <a href="http://www.thebean.com/Details.aspx?productID=486">Tanzanian from Steaming Bean</a>. A friend brought an extra pound back from a Colorado adventure and I'm officially hooked.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVhV2k69vfMcA4VWXgZ58QFDfOnvHJBPI670SsulEf0TrKWlU0JuEnAQ60BuXuWbiRazX0loLWnoskInBWMmXYKQHdGsWqUW3TOuRSBQeqJ5haoa6vvyym9K05Ex6YPjleLaDBM7qjQyhC/s1600/IMG_0675.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVhV2k69vfMcA4VWXgZ58QFDfOnvHJBPI670SsulEf0TrKWlU0JuEnAQ60BuXuWbiRazX0loLWnoskInBWMmXYKQHdGsWqUW3TOuRSBQeqJ5haoa6vvyym9K05Ex6YPjleLaDBM7qjQyhC/s400/IMG_0675.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549911121984991026" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>Incidentally, it washes this down really well and will properly defrost any toes that dare trudge through the snow toward quiche.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHkz0WseaihSxcBvGTzV7re3-qQ7B_bVA0vLAeIXIJkpzi0qADIxnRNNLf9VmdtePxHg-W5MRLGElRkNCEK9T0_gNCf5g9Y3IPcaprTKJsFnqZBCG4JtvQdvDVloQv2tqrODG1EGDwq4q/s1600/IMG_0683.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHkz0WseaihSxcBvGTzV7re3-qQ7B_bVA0vLAeIXIJkpzi0qADIxnRNNLf9VmdtePxHg-W5MRLGElRkNCEK9T0_gNCf5g9Y3IPcaprTKJsFnqZBCG4JtvQdvDVloQv2tqrODG1EGDwq4q/s400/IMG_0683.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549911110851066354" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>I love days like this. I was up early early early for no particular reason and just started making pie crusts. Then watched Hannah and Her Sisters followed by a snowmelt sweatfest and then the lunchy brunchy business above. Tonight is a turkey dinner with yet another neighborhood friend/family and I go bearing apple pie. A great day and it's just nice to write that down from time to time.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Spinach Sausage and Shallot Quiche</span><br />
1 half <a href="http://artofthepie.com/wordpress/?p=1027">pie crust recipe</a> ( or just make a full one and save the other half for some other noble cause)<br />
1 8 oz package frozen organic spinach (thawed and wrung of as much liquid as possible)<br />
5 pork bangers (<a href="http://eatspencers.com/">I love Spencer's</a>- great quality, posh tasty)<br />
2 shallots, minced<br />
1 cup shredded or shaved Pecorino cheese<br />
7 eggs<br />
3/4 cup whole milk (2% would work fine)<br />
Pinch of Nutmeg<br />
Salt and Pepper (hooked on <a href="http://tktc.tumblr.com/post/2071025282/dear-bsquavita-i-now-put-it-in-almost">Maldon Smoked Salt</a>)<br />
<br />
1) Put your pie crust together, chill it for at least an hour, roll it out, put in your pie or quich dish and put it in the fridge till you're ready to fill it.<br />
2) Preheat oven to 400 F.<br />
3) Saute your bangers in a frying pan over medium heat, ensuring even browning on all sides. Bangers tell you they're done by splitting open. Once your little meats are split and browned, put them on a plate lined with paper towels and let them cool a bit.<br />
4) Saute your shallots in the banger drippings. There are healthier ways to do this but I ran 5 miles this morning and was feeling a little cheeky/counterproductive. Sue me.<br />
5) Scramble your eggs and use a basting brush to glaze the top of your quiche crust. You'll appreciate this later when your edges are all glossy. Once that's done, add your milk and continue to beat egg mixture till everything is incorporated and it's a uniform consistency.<br />
6) Add spinach, bangers, cheese and sauteed shallots to egg mixture. Season but go a little heavier on the pepper than the salt- both the bangers and the cheese are giving you a little extra sel already.<br />
7) Pour mixture into your pie crust, tent loosely with foil and bake for 1 hour at 400. Check it at 45 minutes and remove the foil if you need some extra browning on top.<br />
8) Once the quiche is set in the middle (no more jiggling), pull it out and let it cool for 10-15 minutes before slicing. Know that sounds like torture because the house is going to smell really really good but it's worth it to have slices that actually come out of the pan in the way nature intended.TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-15245641631670248642010-11-24T08:13:00.004-06:002010-11-25T09:59:48.799-06:00TGI Pieday: Pie to Bring You Back from the Brink<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBVtCM_mayNIKLAubSr6pNPkCeNqY3n045cgoy_3RClMAI9_OJjCcYntU4WbFcXmcEKhUAdpsOSmQ6aoitIRVclHaNXFLjUnR_TCGcxh52ZUwnKJhgrZW0iP_3qpIuDdG3lEI0KuOFyHdU/s1600/Pie+to+be+proud+of.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBVtCM_mayNIKLAubSr6pNPkCeNqY3n045cgoy_3RClMAI9_OJjCcYntU4WbFcXmcEKhUAdpsOSmQ6aoitIRVclHaNXFLjUnR_TCGcxh52ZUwnKJhgrZW0iP_3qpIuDdG3lEI0KuOFyHdU/s400/Pie+to+be+proud+of.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522914697895584626" border="0" /></a>It's not really a secret that I'm a pie person. It's my thing. I can make a mean cake but it will never be pie. Pie is proof that somewhere in me lies the ability to be patient for all the right reasons. Pie requires me to know what I'm doing but hold it loosely without overthinking. All things I could stand to mimic in other nooks. But pie did not spring from a kitchenwomb fully formed. In the last few years, I've tried all butter crusts, half butter/half shortening crusts, crusts with ice water and crusts with ice vodka. Hand pies and lattice pies and pies that required a turkey baster to unjuice.<br /><br />The pies themselves have been chocolate cream, lemon meringue, apple cheddar, cherry bourbon (Manhattan), cherry peach, strawberry rhubarb, coconut cream and, finally, peach straight up. All throughout my pie-making history I've made them for the people I loved and they consistently reflect the state of my non-pastry being. I'm a big believer in the ability to infuse food made by hand with a little bit of what you're going through at the time, a la <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Like_Water_for_Chocolate">Like Water for Chocolate</a>. With pie crust, all ten fingers are literally in the dough- kneading and patting and shaping- how could you not lose track of a few stray pieces of love, lust, sad or worry? The crust- it knows.<br /><br />But in <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2010/09/think-on-something-really-lovely.html">August</a>, I wasn't making pie at all. In the height of Midwestern fruit season, that was a signpost and all it said was "lost." I was at a fork in the road and I had nothing of substance to eat with that fork. No clear direction in the proverbial yellow wood.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibaBM0ZKjHG6QbqJQy_0HIXNisOUMrcsk9rGg0iggzFOdOiC7yRKgR-th4d8XzkPDKjnWbGIXgup7RTNUJebBy0jmHJU7pHrZe5tABgxeWf2uWWwREz4sRuBLK1N5LT9Q7Fx5uS5svtOTi/s1600/Kate_McDermott-Art-of-the-Pie.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibaBM0ZKjHG6QbqJQy_0HIXNisOUMrcsk9rGg0iggzFOdOiC7yRKgR-th4d8XzkPDKjnWbGIXgup7RTNUJebBy0jmHJU7pHrZe5tABgxeWf2uWWwREz4sRuBLK1N5LT9Q7Fx5uS5svtOTi/s400/Kate_McDermott-Art-of-the-Pie.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522914693302163074" border="0" /></a>Sometimes the light ahead appears from the least deliberate of places. Meet Kate. My pie angel and the voice of <a href="http://www.artofthepie.com/artofthepie/Welcome.html">Art of the Pie</a>, which incidentally sounds exactly like her speaking and you should read it regularly. I met her at the end of August when I headed up to Seattle for a pretty fantastic weekend at IFBC and some <a href="http://tktc.tumblr.com/post/60244359/weekend-in-seattle-edible-photo-recap"><span style="font-weight: bold;">quality time with Pop Pop</span></a>. The fact that there was a pie class offered through a conference I was technically attending as part of my job is yet another marker that I'm in the right line of work.<br /><br />I signed up at the last minute and knew immediately that I was in the right place. Kate is every bit herself, but she reminded me of a cross between my friends <a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/cosmicdenmother">Mary Beth</a> and <a href="http://www.rustickitchen.com/blog/?page_id=6">Janine</a> in spirit.<br /><br />Beyond introducing me to the pie crust I'd been looking for, she showed us that it just doesn't have to be that hard. No need to peel the peaches before slicing them, they're fine as they are. No fussing with a food processor when a couple forks and cold fingers would do. No crying over dry pie dough. It's almost always fixable and when it's not? You can start over. I didn't realize until then that I was looking for the permission to do exactly that.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixENMYoIKunfM-bfEc2y8CDr8D3vqIJ0boRD9VpiRQEF9Hqj2ERA6LDbJqL26bLUs6FKjEef8838unx9HkBJ5M7MATuApZ3s-5GdckxvXyryx2woekisDjyvA4DjO3d9wr283iruiVmwid/s1600/Metropolitan+Market_Peachorama.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixENMYoIKunfM-bfEc2y8CDr8D3vqIJ0boRD9VpiRQEF9Hqj2ERA6LDbJqL26bLUs6FKjEef8838unx9HkBJ5M7MATuApZ3s-5GdckxvXyryx2woekisDjyvA4DjO3d9wr283iruiVmwid/s400/Metropolitan+Market_Peachorama.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522914683953839794" border="0" /></a>The pie we made in class was a peach pie with peaches from Frog Hollow Farm. This is a place I was totally ignorant of until August and I'm not entirely sure how that happened. All I can offer by way of excuse is that my Southern/Midwestern life has been thousands of miles from the perfect groves of peaches, apples, pears and apricots. Kate passed an uncut peach around the class, followed by a plate of slices. You did not need to actually get your snout right down to the fuzz to smell the sweetness coming off the whole fruit. When the slices got to me, I knew why. Whoa. I'm a fan of more locally grown Michigan peaches but this was another hemisphere of flavor.<br /><br />I don't know how they did it but I needed more peaches and I needed them fast. As a gift of timing, it turned out that we were in Seattle for the end of Peachorama at Seattle's City Markets which meant I could actually buy fresh Frog Hollow peaches while in town. The next chance I got, I was in line with my own pallet-o-peaches and everything I needed to recreate that pie for my grandfather (the perfect audience for all edible treasure).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQEMNjG-YbFxn3rs067-ChJo2bHqGdcLu4Rw02ZAhVt-TXg96FyO0LhWFsGAF41eSN7GX3nGho4xL5aOeNyixguhzzXBt1md3JwqbDeBoIW2c5tublYHrAvXDQC7ZCBJD1tM02O-rFKWXS/s1600/Peach_Pop.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQEMNjG-YbFxn3rs067-ChJo2bHqGdcLu4Rw02ZAhVt-TXg96FyO0LhWFsGAF41eSN7GX3nGho4xL5aOeNyixguhzzXBt1md3JwqbDeBoIW2c5tublYHrAvXDQC7ZCBJD1tM02O-rFKWXS/s400/Peach_Pop.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522914680556866530" border="0" /></a>Once the conference wrapped, I got myself straight back to Sammamish with all my treasures in tow. I couldn't rectify the leaf lard situation (Kate's reco) without some serious sourcing but there's nothing wrong with an all-butter crust so long as you're using a Euro-style butter (Kerrygold, Plugra).<br /><br />Another little revelation beyond the leaf lard was the inclusion of tapioca with the fruit to hold the pie together. I'd never had anything with tapioca in it other than bubble tea and had also been a little wary of thickeners in my pie. Flour always seems to dull the flavors a bit and Arrowroot and Cream of Tartar can be detectable flavors if not stored correctly. Kate's pie actually sliced without hemorrhaging all the sauciness that makes a proper bite. Not a hint of minerality. I'm officially a believer, particularly for juicy fruits like high season peaches or cherries.<br /><br />I sliced a peach for Pop to snack on while I worked out the crust with a floured wine bottle. By 8 we were happily couched watching Moonstruck and digging into a beautiful piece of pastry still warm in the middle. I was one slice into the first of my new pie life and actually brought peaches home to make another pie for friends immediately.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi30zGcVQxnAdIJMGPsCfGpdEVlGDE5w9XO7nEAL1NGv2kY_-hR_5LyQzuQht26-e-dtDliEy0IizFn_YuLPq1ZxmQKTpCEnvl5Cx7PxaX09DOtUWfxKHDHpxwYPY317ZByv2a4Qyn-ABdQ/s1600/Peach_Popam.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi30zGcVQxnAdIJMGPsCfGpdEVlGDE5w9XO7nEAL1NGv2kY_-hR_5LyQzuQht26-e-dtDliEy0IizFn_YuLPq1ZxmQKTpCEnvl5Cx7PxaX09DOtUWfxKHDHpxwYPY317ZByv2a4Qyn-ABdQ/s400/Peach_Popam.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522913250337681474" border="0" /></a>We may have had it cold for breakfast with a little yogurt before I left for the airport. These are the things one does with an unapologetically hedonistic grandfather. At least I know I come by it honestly.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQnkZ_kDz9UtYFZAIdkf2GbD86tWBuc7BGnlT3wS623A7l34SNvVNddAY9_PZe0235UCaRwzk4k-0Rdxakz3o0T8P39QF8qmEwX15fqT9ooLZdGC_Q5sV6JdhzF789rNhaTE_zTXi4cwh9/s1600/Jeffys_Game_Changer.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQnkZ_kDz9UtYFZAIdkf2GbD86tWBuc7BGnlT3wS623A7l34SNvVNddAY9_PZe0235UCaRwzk4k-0Rdxakz3o0T8P39QF8qmEwX15fqT9ooLZdGC_Q5sV6JdhzF789rNhaTE_zTXi4cwh9/s400/Jeffys_Game_Changer.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522913226914064674" border="0" /></a>Once I got back to Chicago, I got in touch with my pig people at <a href="http://www.slagelfamilyfarm.com/">Slagel Family Farm</a> on the hunt for leaf lard (the fat between the kidneys on pigs) and they did not disappoint. Three days later I retrieved a 5 lb tub of lard from my customary pick-up at Mado. The waitstaff was just ramping up when I got there and I explained my plans to them. I still think I owe Rob and Allie a pie for opening up the connection with Slagel. Seems like an appropriate gift on the opening of there new butcher shop, <a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/butcherlarder">Butcher and the Larder</a> (all responsibly, sustainably raised animals). Note that the tub actually says "Jeffy" which amused Molly to no end. The lard is mostly tasteless but definitely has a subtle, savory hint of bacon. Can you imagine anything better to complement a sweet peach pie?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZaDLw0kygN41eacdstGRx10ISaPY5DY47SzaG8J1EL3bgQrV0CflWTsQCNw1vitHwH9vA4kdHGvn_0ugNtoHSqncOq8Z7CFI0ZGRQNiMBwAlou3UBxv6umIhLlemcErjbO-a0JaVCKGX/s1600/Peach_Chi_Molly.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZaDLw0kygN41eacdstGRx10ISaPY5DY47SzaG8J1EL3bgQrV0CflWTsQCNw1vitHwH9vA4kdHGvn_0ugNtoHSqncOq8Z7CFI0ZGRQNiMBwAlou3UBxv6umIhLlemcErjbO-a0JaVCKGX/s400/Peach_Chi_Molly.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522913217139152050" border="0" /></a>True to promise, Kate's crust recipe held up and my Chicago peach pie had the layers of crust I'd been looking for (thanks to the different melting points of the lard and butter). I know I sound dramatic here but I'd been working at it for years- this was big.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBqolwxo-_Obbj0tPNHavr1-wbwPqcz_Jg8F3-6M_lGLkYAbEcSJwVgYHTQPd8MSMezGc_2X7MmFaqXtQBbE_ALd-fpSYbouIDYUs4uXqedq1pPs3ve_C0m4c6PWx85HPHV4wJk-C-iPRj/s1600/Chocolate_Cream-Dawsons.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBqolwxo-_Obbj0tPNHavr1-wbwPqcz_Jg8F3-6M_lGLkYAbEcSJwVgYHTQPd8MSMezGc_2X7MmFaqXtQBbE_ALd-fpSYbouIDYUs4uXqedq1pPs3ve_C0m4c6PWx85HPHV4wJk-C-iPRj/s400/Chocolate_Cream-Dawsons.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522913210264897538" border="0" /></a>Now that I had my crust, it was game on for baking. I made a little chocolate cream pie just because the <a href="http://www.crockpotsandrooftops.com/">Dawson sisters</a> stopped by.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHU0lVeCLLXU8X8Lq_RNi9xVCMt7ztoMXYs-282-PDxFDc8UOLOV_zotloyKGN6wwFxkAwkFLINs3b7u6Y6g5_A3eTUZrlGf_-6Js6aoxMLRQKTRlMCZw5YgiVMNzp6EkkYtKfbqqdbAxY/s1600/Coconut_Cream_Molly.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHU0lVeCLLXU8X8Lq_RNi9xVCMt7ztoMXYs-282-PDxFDc8UOLOV_zotloyKGN6wwFxkAwkFLINs3b7u6Y6g5_A3eTUZrlGf_-6Js6aoxMLRQKTRlMCZw5YgiVMNzp6EkkYtKfbqqdbAxY/s400/Coconut_Cream_Molly.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522911724887295010" border="0" /></a><br />I made a miniature coconut cream pie for Molly's birthday. By the by, these <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00005MG3Z/ref=oss_product">little pie dishes</a> are a bargain and come in every color of the rainbow.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLgIwj-9FsgpxqLOE8_famM9GGCW1YFjYdm1TSP6eqYs9uEgCyrs0nPc1icQsbqm82DKoUsl76JXLkPAfYpxiIjPFmDfy3Mo2YBZ1ddWq2RV_UBq35tSojbTGV377wiBmhdjA_kel6bDoq/s1600/Chocolate_CreamSF.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLgIwj-9FsgpxqLOE8_famM9GGCW1YFjYdm1TSP6eqYs9uEgCyrs0nPc1icQsbqm82DKoUsl76JXLkPAfYpxiIjPFmDfy3Mo2YBZ1ddWq2RV_UBq35tSojbTGV377wiBmhdjA_kel6bDoq/s400/Chocolate_CreamSF.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522911713312267506" border="0" /></a>There was another little chocolate cream pie for <a href="http://nicoleisbetter.com/">Nicole</a> and <a href="http://www.alifeintranslation.com/">Jamie</a>'s visit to Chicago.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFj4TFRTUONJS4n2FfEtRfXrj2mjM2czQZKvT2zG7Tw8yfr2-9DjmuH4GzDP4hGLstwc0JPhFL30HDpjJ1plhC7_rjq1qKGtIQ9naXamrhqacHbdS5M8RNslOe8tZxMxK4jRLzVBtcu7pK/s1600/Apple_pre-oven.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFj4TFRTUONJS4n2FfEtRfXrj2mjM2czQZKvT2zG7Tw8yfr2-9DjmuH4GzDP4hGLstwc0JPhFL30HDpjJ1plhC7_rjq1qKGtIQ9naXamrhqacHbdS5M8RNslOe8tZxMxK4jRLzVBtcu7pK/s400/Apple_pre-oven.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522911708955645826" border="0" /></a><br />Then apple season arrived by the truckload from Michigan and Indiana.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyK4Dq28pOTiFdu7uc3P5JJzAYdkpfna-fdebl6G8_xZc4c16f5bryNv2Z3-LeNoFaAB4c2ejfNa-apdJaoOGEezsMyKtCDMwjvmvp7Z5YG7P_utvwPgvdeZK1IBb0X9SI3hlc4LaeFTAz/s1600/Apple_baked.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyK4Dq28pOTiFdu7uc3P5JJzAYdkpfna-fdebl6G8_xZc4c16f5bryNv2Z3-LeNoFaAB4c2ejfNa-apdJaoOGEezsMyKtCDMwjvmvp7Z5YG7P_utvwPgvdeZK1IBb0X9SI3hlc4LaeFTAz/s400/Apple_baked.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522911701311768114" border="0" /></a>The crust held up when latticed with ribbons of pastry puffing up in all the right places.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8PyANZDA7KmSOySb2RTZmMSKNaYUtKRMOxC-dA51NcxhSOFcYbTHqMhed2ND_rkt9pVS4FPM0GGf_JvU0A075LX_VSebVeqWXdZg95sBB1bE_FZLKkMM5Oj1_QzQcJ8j9wj2JAUCdeMll/s1600/Peach_Cookout.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8PyANZDA7KmSOySb2RTZmMSKNaYUtKRMOxC-dA51NcxhSOFcYbTHqMhed2ND_rkt9pVS4FPM0GGf_JvU0A075LX_VSebVeqWXdZg95sBB1bE_FZLKkMM5Oj1_QzQcJ8j9wj2JAUCdeMll/s400/Peach_Cookout.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522911698134279314" border="0" /></a>The crust held up in general. Tomorrow, Thanksgiving, marks the unofficial climax of pie season. I hope that those of you who are baking will take this crust into consideration and fill it with all the thanks you want to give to the people at your table. I'm thankful for the pies that got me to this one and the ones still ahead of me. I'm grateful for a kitchen consistently full of people I care about to eat the pies that are made there.<br /><br />I know it sounds cheesy but it's not. It's pie. And pie is love.<br /><br />Kate McDermott's <a href="http://artofthepie.com/wordpress/?p=1027"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Pie Crust Recipe</span></a> can be found on her blog, <a href="http://artofthepie.com/wordpress/">Art of the Pie</a>. If you are ever in the Seattle area and in need of spiritual pastry guidance, she meditates on 8 inch pie plates <a href="http://artofthepie.com/artofthepie/Classes.html">regularly</a>.TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-12930790728565994092010-11-10T15:06:00.007-06:002010-11-10T22:09:23.609-06:00A Creature of Habit: Travel Traditions<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz15Gf2FV9z2rirdnbF7DJjvmZIH4SCPch-8RXb8pJRHPO6iIYgY65okHuJ-1D2639taJflmE7FVihCry-x94sxlAY_8DuGCa7B7oPV9vOrZ_jwPz2RMgGKwfYr4hTVgpJV_gL0mWj_ANt/s1600/Tartine10b.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz15Gf2FV9z2rirdnbF7DJjvmZIH4SCPch-8RXb8pJRHPO6iIYgY65okHuJ-1D2639taJflmE7FVihCry-x94sxlAY_8DuGCa7B7oPV9vOrZ_jwPz2RMgGKwfYr4hTVgpJV_gL0mWj_ANt/s400/Tartine10b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538030660265958146" border="0" /></a>I'm about to contradict myself. Let's not pretend it's the first time. In my last post I got all lament-y about my lack of consistency. All I had to do was go back to San Francisco- it took me all of 2 hours to fall back on something familiar and fantastic.<br /><br />I was in town for the <a href="http://www.foodbuzz.com/pages/festival">Foodbuzz Festival</a> last weekend and lo and behold, I was on the ground and chomping at the bit to get to my beloved 18th and Guerrero. <a href="http://www.tartinebakery.com/">Tartine </a>isn't exactly a secret but, like all the good places, in the last three years of fall pilgrimages it's felt more and more like my own. The tastiest tradition I've ever had on the road.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ikWwlomRhR9ZyoVnQbLogG0UdvWyx39JeZhITyuHIPb5_CCaRNBIkwK3UD1ukryK9KBP2C1_VbvU3v7I1eyvfjzapgoz8xtepW6G1e0xznHddSD25DK8-KwXsavURmhyphenhyphen8bkud2bVaLa3/s1600/Tartine08.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ikWwlomRhR9ZyoVnQbLogG0UdvWyx39JeZhITyuHIPb5_CCaRNBIkwK3UD1ukryK9KBP2C1_VbvU3v7I1eyvfjzapgoz8xtepW6G1e0xznHddSD25DK8-KwXsavURmhyphenhyphen8bkud2bVaLa3/s400/Tartine08.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538030663488267282" border="0" /></a>I arrive in San Francisco with a belly already rumbling after an early morning and a long flight. I get myself checked in at the hotel, I check in on my emails and then I check into 16th Street on the BART. Like clockwork. Even with all its fanfare, there's still reliably a spot at a communal wooden table waiting for me in the middle of the afternoon. I plug into the spot with the best view of the door so I can watch the Mission's eclectic brand of persons strolling in and out.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM3eROHNkdhkfZs9-KC8KHqaTeysgeTb3pDLrawbov2RVj_ygeqnUG-_7O214NqHN6QclSeAz10IRfh6Czte8blLOt-zDpas_YidKIKQRO6f613qDX416O-qjkomZPnZBqJJN27Ww8um0h/s1600/Tartine10a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM3eROHNkdhkfZs9-KC8KHqaTeysgeTb3pDLrawbov2RVj_ygeqnUG-_7O214NqHN6QclSeAz10IRfh6Czte8blLOt-zDpas_YidKIKQRO6f613qDX416O-qjkomZPnZBqJJN27Ww8um0h/s400/Tartine10a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538030654841836674" border="0" /></a>Then there's the order. Three years have seen only the slightest of alterations and I've now gotten several friends on-boarded to the same, perfect combination (<a href="http://www.myeverydayadventures.com/2010/07/01/san-francisco-recap-with-photos/">Jess</a>, <a href="http://rhodeygirltests.com/">Sabrina</a>). One croque monsieur, formerly turkey and now shiitake. The main course and perfect for someone who went light on breakfast but has a way to go till dinner. A slab of Tartine's famous bread saturated but for the crusts with béchamel, gruyere, thyme and seasonal vegetables. It's warmed and toasted through when it's laid on the table several minutes later. In a rare bit of portion control, I set half aside last week so I could have it for breakfast the following morning (top picture). One of my better ideas.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzvEsI1c_WFUAZMwjimA1aDsDSUkwpjTDkTJDK6ckuYNzfHkk3nIn4yX32pBARUMf_u10vgMpgAuWZcXYJa6Od1nA3BfkWQjmZmnHIROIWS-WH127oSSorczi7L1AdTSZHS4kvdkp43_Tv/s1600/IMG_0430.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzvEsI1c_WFUAZMwjimA1aDsDSUkwpjTDkTJDK6ckuYNzfHkk3nIn4yX32pBARUMf_u10vgMpgAuWZcXYJa6Od1nA3BfkWQjmZmnHIROIWS-WH127oSSorczi7L1AdTSZHS4kvdkp43_Tv/s400/IMG_0430.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538138857173875298" border="0" /></a><br />The next component is where the truly blush-worthy noises come into play. The lemon cream tart. Thursday, <a href="http://www.wearenotmartha.com/2010/11/eating-my-way-through-san-francisco/comment-page-1/#comment-9224">Chelsee</a> came to meet me for her first introduction to this heralded place de pain. She'd eaten lunch already but joined me with her own tart, it's that beautiful that you know on sight that you need your own. Now I'm a published sucker for lemons but this is just a new league. The cream is so balanced between sour and sweet, the most graceful cloud of cream resting right on top (convinced that baby angels scoop up the cream with their creaseless little palms). In the picture above (2009), it's pretty clear I was already halfway through my dessert when my sandwich arrived. I was powerless.<br /><br />The recipe is in their first book but I'm thus far too entranced in my little getaway romance to want to approach it in my own kitchen. I'm hearing that <a href="http://www.chicagomag.com/Chicago-Magazine/September-2010/Floriole-Cafe-and-Bakery-Lincoln-Park-Mini-Review/">Floriole Bakery</a> in Lincoln Park has made a solid run at this favorite confection of mine. I'd almost rather not know. I love my tradition. I love the people and textures and the sense of locality I get to borrow on brief San Francisco runs. Maybe I'm still not consistent, per se, but I sure do love a tradition.TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7801448537251499806.post-28529507810065846512010-10-26T13:13:00.005-05:002010-10-26T13:42:07.453-05:00Dayplating: Midday Joy in a Salad Plate<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf6pa47N9IQyQ6KUy-CaAERqHmSn-RInwV9XTu4eiy-h6SOrabWOKm0PiJeRshGesWzQmHzkoBg05eTQnHvZtwf2zjnSyo9EHlH9fI1zG9p2_Y67gjjpFRplcEDSAGd022fQgx6sdvf5Xp/s1600/Lunch+Salad.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf6pa47N9IQyQ6KUy-CaAERqHmSn-RInwV9XTu4eiy-h6SOrabWOKm0PiJeRshGesWzQmHzkoBg05eTQnHvZtwf2zjnSyo9EHlH9fI1zG9p2_Y67gjjpFRplcEDSAGd022fQgx6sdvf5Xp/s400/Lunch+Salad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532420073582083506" border="0" /></a>We've been doing strength-finder tests at work for the last couple weeks. Many of you in corporate America and otherwise will have encountered some kind of personality test in the process but what I love about this one was the lack of a downside. No wrong answers, as it were, just a different forte, another niche. I love finding out what combination my coworkers fall into and I've even started thinking about the people outside these walls in similar terms. We all have our little tics and tells and it's fun to sort them out. Embrace the naval gazing for bit, as it were. Agreed?<br /><br />Even though the strengths themselves are positive, there were a few that have never been assigned to me that I'm working at. Consistency, for one, is notable by its absence. I do not know what it is about the way I'm wired that fights process and routine. <a href="http://tokissthecook.blogspot.com/2009/11/morning-person-project.html">It can be maddening</a>. Even my body has a hard time doing something the same way twice- I have no muscle memory for sports. I can't swing a club or a racket or a bat the same way twice. That said, when someone gives me a process that shuts off my internal chatter (or at least channels it for a few minutes), I'm blissed.<br /><br />Hence the love of cooking. It's flexible enough that I don't have to do everything the exact same way. I am not a professional and have never had the desire to go to cooking school. Cooking comes with it's own set of hard and soft rules and you can celebrate the differences while relying on the process, the benchmarks. I love that. There are others who would say that cooking is highly specific, mathematical even. It's glorious that one umbrella term can incorporate so many different kinds of practitioners because man alive, I'm still not a math person so that can't be how I cook.<br /><br />I'm quiet when I'm prepping. Chopping and stirring and placing and saucing. I'm processing, sure. The way I suspect many career runners do (only often to opposite effects). So in an effort to find some middle ground, I'm bringing my tried and true quiet time to the office with me a couple days a week. It's unrealistic to think I can do it every day but it's helpful when I do.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig6bT1RvanG1e28ysDnPYdt8Bzfoei7w3boKm48HhechUH_6xZHLbegNm_M9ZelrouHACMIZwc5ZmncUPMr4Ft7ukB5zDdtQ0yZYQrZ1Fu6RN1BPLaTMHcPqYys1ZZ3E-RnRLk8M66M_Br/s1600/006.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig6bT1RvanG1e28ysDnPYdt8Bzfoei7w3boKm48HhechUH_6xZHLbegNm_M9ZelrouHACMIZwc5ZmncUPMr4Ft7ukB5zDdtQ0yZYQrZ1Fu6RN1BPLaTMHcPqYys1ZZ3E-RnRLk8M66M_Br/s400/006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532420218561007330" border="0" /></a>Today was one of those days. I had all my ingredients partially prepped and brought to the office where I keep a real plate for just such an occasion. Then the hour struck and I took 10-15 minutes to quietly cut up the last of my Black Cherokee tomatoes, a roasted golden beet, an apple from my CSA box. I'd brought green and purple kale shredded with some leftover romaine and the remnants of some <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Newmans-Own-Dressing-Cranberry-16-ounce/dp/B003IKSAWO">cranberry walnut dressing</a>. The topper was walnuts as well- stored in a baggy with fresh pepper and sea salt from home.<br /><br />It was nice. Really nice to have something beautiful and healthy to put together in the middle of the day. I loved the process. I feel more focused thanks to a salad. Again, I hesitate to put too many rules on it- don't want to draw the ire of my own nature- but from one side of my brain to the other? I'm hoping a few things start to stick- salad plates and beyond.TKTChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08760907261488761102noreply@blogger.com6