White Beans with Tomatoes, Sage, Garlic and Half a Teaspoon of Pure Evil

I'm celebrating the return of Sunday suppers. It's not guaranteed every week but we've got two under our belts now and I feel good calling it a custom now. It doesn't matter how tired I am, I'm still excited for dinner with the local loved ones. I've been thinking a lot lately about the things I need and this kind of intimacy among familiar faces and warm plates of good food was really high on that list. Surprise, surprise.

College friends, neighbor friends, old Memphis friends, new Internet friends, people who fall into multiple categories. The call could come at any time and we very much take requests.

It puts me at ease in my week ahead. There are great bouts of belly laughter. Bellies filled with a meal put together largely by team at the kitchen table over wine. This week there was even a potluck element. Nathan brought a glorious pot of squash with walnuts and even though I accidentally yelled at him for being early (mistook him for Dave who, despite my protesting, is the world's most reliable sous chef whether you're ready for company or not). Even though I have all but been forced into it, I think I get to claim this newfound delegation as personal growth. Or something like that.

This week in particular we were celebrating a leg of lamb defrosted early on accident. Seven pounds of bone-in Mint Creek glory and the collected produce to plate it with. That was the easy part. Olive oil, garlic, rosemary, lemon zest and seasoning. Same for the potatoes that roasted with it. Two hours later we had this. Please excuse the furry shot, we were all very excited to dig in so any possible artistry went by the wayside.
The real star of the show was no more complicated than the lamb. You can actually see every single ingredient in the white beans in the picture up top. If you squint. Okay, maybe not the salt but you see where I'm going with this. White beans with garlic just felt right for lamb. And later that night, they felt right almost-cold from the fridge. And for the next two days they felt progressively better for lunch. Like a good stew, they only seemed to improve with time and I couldn't help but remember just how easy they were. Add broth and some kale and they could be soup. Add to toasted baguettes and they could be crudites. Add a spoon and they could just simply bring satisfaction. Nevermind the evil. It's optional. But I recommend it.

White Beans with Tomatoes, Sage, Garlic and Half a Teaspoon of Pure Evil
Adapted from Dana Treat's recipe

3 15.5 oz cans of cannelini or white northern beans
Olive oil
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 28 oz. can Italian whole tomatoes, with added puree
3 tbsp. chopped fresh sage (or shredded with your fingers)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Optional: Evil= 1/2 tsp truffle oil (subtle but pure velvet)

Drain the cans of beans and rinse them well with cold water in a strainer. Set aside.

In a large skillet, heat enough olive oil to lightly cover the bottom of the pan. Add the garlic and saute until it begins to brown. Add the beans and the tomatoes, breaking up the tomatoes with your hands as you add them. Be sure to add all the puree in the can. Sprinkle with a healthy pinch of salt and a few grinds of pepper, and the sage and cook, uncovered, until thick, about 20 minutes.

Add your evil as a finishing touch, stir and take a taste. Basically four cans, fresh garlic, sage from the garden and 20 minutes to the perfect flavorset for fall.

If you're going to get brand-y, I'll give that to you. I used Bush's Great Northern Beans. Bush's is my client but I think you probably know better than to think I'd serve something to seven friends that's anything less than superb. It would be at odds with my apron ego. The other recommendation is San Marzano tomatoes. They are slightly more expensive than the ones I've bought previously but the flavor was absolutely worth the price difference in such a simple recipe. And I like the packaging so there's that.

Monday Soup: Curried Lentil Stew with Kale, Red Onion and Coconut Milk

I've just now had the exquisite experience of craving something comprehensively wonderful and then being able to realize the bowled vision in my own kitchen.

I cook a lot. I like it. It's like meditating without the the mat that smells like plastic and feet. And still- this is exhilerating. I've never made this recipe before and yet on the first attempt I'm content. That does not happen at my house. I may be satiated, even happy, but rarely am I content. Happy is a fleeting high, content means I want to stop moving for more than a string of minutes.

It started a few weeks ago when I picked up take-out from Mana before babysitting. I think I've mentioned it before but 2.5 years since it opened, that place still blisses me out. Having fresh, inventive vegetarian food a 5 minute walk from my door has not ceased to be a treat. Anyhow, on the night in question, the special was a lentil soup. I can't say I was immediately wooed but figured I was due for something healthy to temper my standing order of collard greens and polenta.

I slurped that first spoonful and then did not take more than a few sparse breaths from brim to bottom of my borrowed bowl. Sweet and spiced and warm and textured- I've been thinking about it ever since but today the longing was so powerful that I called them. I called Mana. The first thing I asked was whether they'd be serving my magical soup this week.

Yes, I'll hold.

A new voice on the line- Jill Barron, the chef. She does not schedule her specials but she's glad I like the soup and incidentally which lentil soup did I like so much?

Quiet on the line.

Then I tried to describe the flavors. It was confirmed to be Curried Red Lentil soup. I may have then started shamelessly guessing ingredients. Palpable desperation over soup. She, rightly, refused and said to keep checking back.

I stewed (pun intended).

I had lentils.
I had a huge pot of homemade chicken stock taking up refrigerator real estate (one equal to its size had already been frozen).
I had a large red onion. And garlic. And carrots from my CSA box
I had gorgeous bunches of dinosaur kale.
I had curry and cayenne.

I had soup.

A quick audit of Google Reader directed me to this recipe on Epicurious. Well, my $.89 pound of lentils were green, not red. And I had kale in lieu of chard. Then I saw a few other recipes. Some folks were putting coconut milk into their versions. I nosed around and found a little can picked up on a whim on Argyle.

As soup is another tremendous vehicle for the stuff I love so dearly, I also took stock of a rogue purple potato and the last of my cherry tomatoes. In the back of the fridge I found a jar of Chile Colonial Chile Crunch (oh condiment of kings) and a lone Greek yogurt.

What do they say? Pride comes before the fall. Duly noted. Now seconds please.


Curried Lentil Stew with Kale, Red Onion and Coconut Milk
Makes 6-8 servings

Ingredients:
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large red onion, thinly sliced
2 carrots, peeled and diced
3 cloves of fresh garlic, minced
1 purple potato, diced (totally optional but very pretty)
4 teaspoons curry powder
1/3 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or Aleppo pepper if you have it)
5 1/2 cups of broth (I had fresh chicken broth but vegetable would work as well and makes this purely vegetarian)
5.6 oz can of coconut milk (about the size of a can of tomato paste)
1 large bunch or 2 small bunches dinosaur kale, leaves pulled from ribs
1 pound green lentils (about 2 1/4 cups)
1/3 cup bulgur wheat
Sea Salt to taste
6-8 cherry tomatoes, quartered
1 1/2 Tablespoons Greek yogurt
Chile Colonial Crunch (I'd knock it off with the namedropping but I can't think of a generic category that describes the stuff)

Directions:
Heat oil in heavy large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add onion, carrots, potato and garlic; sauté until golden, about 15 minutes. Mix in curry and cayenne. Add broth, kale and coconut milk. Stir to incorporate. Increase heat; bring to boil. Add lentils and bulgur; reduce heat to medium.

Cover; simmer until lentils are tender, stirring twice, about 15 minutes. Add the cherry tomatoes during the final stir. Season to taste. Divide stew among bowls. Top with yogurt and a proper dollop of chile crunch (it's hot, so go easy at first).

Unintended Benefits: Stuffed Acorn Squash

When Molly moved in across the way, I wasn't entirely sure what the balance of seeing each other would be, just that it was going to be awesome to have my best friend of the last ten years living in a separate apartment across the hall from mine. We hadn't lived in the same city (or country half the time) since high school so having her so close had some obvious pro's.

I love living alone but once and awhile you just want someone else to help kill the leftover wine, eat some of the salmon/pie/pancakes etc. Who better for that challenge? Since moving to Wicked Park, I've gradually recruited several A-team players to the neighborhood but again, the convenience of having Mols across the way has yet to stop feeling like a total coup.
Take for instance a recent evening when we both discovered we'd be home (only happens once every couple weeks). One of the unintended benefits of having a buddy in the house is that we get twice the options. We both take stock of what we've got in our pantries, crispers and freezers and can typically concoct a delicious dinner with shared dirty dishes. We actually both hate dishes enough that we bring our own to each other's apartments. That's a buddy.

I started my list with one thing I love (squash, specifically acorn) and one thing I have an abundance of (apples). Preheated the oven to 400 then set about making a stuffing for two acorn halves that had been gutted of their seeds.

What we've got here is 3 Tablespoons of butter with 1 Tablespoon of brown sugar cut in with a pastry cutter (you could also just dice finely and toss them together). From there, I added a diced apple that had been peeled and cored on my magic machine and a handful of sliced almonds. Then I inexplicably nuked it for 20 seconds. I think to make it easier to get a uniform stuffing (seen above). For other unknown reasons, I sprinkled a little flour over the top- maybe intuition? Maybe but more than likely I was just getting carried away with my own spontaneity. I'm lucky it turned out this time but please refrain from throwing a dash of coriander into apple pie. Trust.

To be completely over the top, I drizzled a little maple syrup over the top. Which is how this came to be known as dessert to Molly's delicious pasta bake dinner. These went into the 400F oven for 45 minutes. Yes, that sounds like awhile but again, trust. Trying to eat undercooked squash with all that goodness wiling away inside it is futile and sad. Think Sisyphus and his boulder. 45 minutes and not a second less.

Because after 45 minutes. you have this glistening golden flesh with crisp apples and almonds heaving forth from the center. As you can see here, I got so excited that I went in for a bite before remembering to snap a shot. Whoops. Glad I did though because it erased any lingering doubt that the photos were taken in vain. Delicious. It tasted bright and the apples were steamed from the inside of the squash but crisp on the outside.

We eventually exchanged our dinner forks for spoons. Because why waste it?

As an added note, I was inspired/amused by the divine Kristen at FlexyFare who loved on her acorn squash last week for "Hug-A-Carb" month in which we are enticed to hug an unsuspecting carbohydrate.

" I went all the way to second base with my carb. Watch out, acorn squashes of the world! I admired it, then hugged it." -FF

Got a few giggles out of that one.

The Good Bad Apples

About four years ago, I went apple-picking for the first time and it changed the way I looked at fruit.

I'd picked strawberries off bushes in Maryland. I'd picked wild blackberries in Massachusetts brambles, purple stains on my face disguised as violet freckles. I was familiar with the greedy gratification of living hand to mouth in the nice way, the way of seeing something sweet and eating it thoughtlessly.

But my first time in an actual working orchard was a fully sensual experience, one I've wanted to build on since but hadn't committed to making the time. When J decided to come in for a long weekend after some busybusy work weeks for both of us, we put it on the calendars immediately. After all, that's how we communicate, as kitchen-lovers and people of pie.

The day was not a traditionally pretty one. It was gray. It was wet. It was cool. I admit that J caught me pouting every time a raindrop hit the windshield as we drove north. That said, it was fall. It was very fall. And did we not have scarves? And hats? And a Culver's drive-thru?

For those of you who remain uninitiated to the Midwestern fantasma known as Culver's, there are really only two basics. #1 They call their burgers "butter-burgers." Guess why. #2 Fried cheese curds. That would be slightly battered nuggets of salty cheese. Once a year. Don't push that either because your heart might go all kinds of Independence Day due to overly gleeful arteries. We felt much better after that. Seriously- look at that man's face. The amateur might see his patient twinkle and deep dimples as a wordless expression of love, affection and mutual understanding toward the photographer. I know better and I do not fault him for this.

We had junk food and we had a plan. A plan that apparently involved a $40 plastic bag of apples.

This is me. This is me eating my way through a wet orchard, plucking pretty orbs off the trees and eating them. Both because never will an apple taste as good as it does straight off the tree in early October when it's just finished raining and because orchards less than 3 hours outside of major cities charge tourist prices to PICK YOUR OWN APPLES.


When I saw the small plastic bag assigned to us and noted the price, I was appalled. Not because I'm naturally all that frugal (getting better) but because I was there to do it myself and probably buy cider and other goodies too so try not to rip me off from the outset.

It is very lucky that J finds it enchanting when get all Huffy McTerrier Don'tWrongMe. So when you watch the video at the end of this post, try not to judge me too harshly. I swear, I've been carrying a tote bag as a purse for at least the last month and a half and it just happened to come in handy. I have a strong if altered sense of justice.

We'll get there though. J and I munched and crunched and sploshed our way all through the orchard. We even came across a lovely pumpkin patch, the namesake of the boots that saved me last winter. Pumpkin the boots and Tangerine the mixer. Sensing a pattern?


By the time we got back to the Gala aisle, we were alone and faced with an embarrassment of apple riches. Trees that were bursting at the branch to rain apples down upon us. Each piping up to become turnovers, pies, compotes and candied. It was divine.

When our plastic bag was heavy and I was inexplicably walking a little lopsidedly, we headed in. In to buy off my guilt with ciders and apple butter and decorative gourds and two of the most beautiful carving pumpkins I've ever seen. And thank God I brought the muscle with me because those buddies were heavy. I am considering doing lunges with them even as we speak.


So we drove home. A pit stop for relevant kitchen goodies and one for hugs at J's mom's house. Then we were home to take a good look at our bounty. You've never seen me so possessed as I was figuring out the price per apple. Lining them up one by one and polishing them. My precious'.
But even as I arranged them in bowls and gazed at them lovingly, I knew that the price wasn't at all the point in this case. $40 is taking a cab to the airport when you could have taken the train. $40 is the cheap blouse that falls apart in the washer. But a full afternoon of rosy cheeks and rain and mud and the kissing of fruit as it's pulled from the tree? Of my pointing and J reaching to get that big, glossy one up near the top? $40 of potential for gifts of pie and pork tenderloin? That is $40 well spent.

And man alive did those apples deliver. Golden Delicious, Jonathon, Gala and McIntosh. Perhaps one Empire. All in this pie. This pie that maybe could have used a few more minutes but don't worry because that aged white cheddar I grated into the crust? Melted like butter. And we were hungry with laughter from watching the improvised concert of the ages unfold in Lisa and Dave's new living room.

And no complaints from Jaimeson when it was warmed up with fresh coffee this morning. Because when you make a man a pie, less than two slices would be against the rules. So here you are, the vLog report of the Good Bad Apples. Now who has a good recipe for applesauce?

Apple Pickers from ToKissTheCook on Vimeo.

The last word, per usual, belongs to HC. The quintessential Halloween cat on her golden stairs, flanked by our two perfect pumpkins this afternoon.

Plate Lickers: Berry Baked French Toast Edition

I like using words like "edition" and "installment" in post titles because it infers that the entry is part of a greater cause. As though there was a plan and an editorial calendar. Or real sentence structure. That sort of thing.

In reparation for denying you actual writing as it applies to established grammatical rules, I have brought you some French toast. It's a chilly Friday morning and I'm much better at communicating with food anyhow...no poker face required. I could never be a card shark, let's just say that.

After having a thoroughly stunning weekend in San Francisco at BlogHer Food and getting my virtual girlfriend time in with a bunch of fellow food-communicators, I've been tired. Tired and busy. Too tired and busy to cook much with the exception of a rebellious night when I started making panko crusted chicken with pesto at 10pm. With polenta and broccoli. I may have put the leftover broccoli in the freezer by accident but everything else came out and it made me feel better, as chopping and stirring is wont to do.

Then I got word that Friday (today) could be a recharge day. A day to breathe in the cooler fall air and hang some pictures and drop off dry-cleaning. And go apple-picking, my favorite autumnal activity. Jaimeson arrived last night and I woke up this morning feeling as though an exercise in gratitude was in order. Dear Universe, thank you for reminding me to inhale and exhale with enthusiasm. I also owed J for the dinner I came home to last night. Man does not fool around with roast chickens.

So here is my exercise in gratitude- using the leftover baguette from dinner and some odds and ends around the house to make Berry Baked French Toast.


1) I am grateful to have affection in my life. This was dinner last night. Love is love and that is the necessity. But affection and sweetness have been around this house in spades lately, both in person and in spirit.

Preheat oven to 375. Slice bread about 1/4 inch thick and laid in a lightly buttered dish. Melt 1 tablespoon of butter and brush the tops with a basting brush. In a separate bowl, 3 eggs, 1/3 cup of milk (skim is fine), 1/2 tsp cinnamon, 1/2 tsp salt, any remaining butter. Whisk and pour over the top of your bread, ensuring all is covered. Let sit for 10-15 minutes till most egg has been absorbed. I had about a tablespoon of raspberry sauce leftover from Molly's birthday cake so I dotted across the top of the bread. Last step pre-oven? Sprinkle 2 tablespoons of dark brown sugar over the top.

2) I am grateful be invested in projects on every side of my life. I work hard because I love it. I love it because it's something I wanted to do before I knew it could be a profession. Even personal projects like redoing "my office" (I'm sitting in it now!) or learning how to make a terrine or putting together one ridiculous Halloween party...puts my insides aflutter in a good way.

Berry sauce. My fridge has gone empty. My cabinets have gone empty. But my freezer? Stocked for just such an occasion. Two handfuls of frozen mixed berries in a saucepan, then covered with 1/2 cup of orange juice and a couple glugs of maple syrup. Medium heat to a good simmer. Reduce it by a third and add a 1/4 cup of sugar if you really like the sweetness, though I don't find it a necessity. Remove from heat.

3) I am grateful to be on the move. A four hour flight to San Francisco or a 40 mile drive to southern Wisconsin, there is relief in the movement. The human equivalent of opening the windows to let the new, fresh air in. I'm too much of a homebody to be a true gypsy but there is life in other places and I hear they have macaroons and pie materials.

Bake the toast for 20-25 minutes or until golden on top and slightly risen, souffle-style.
4) I am grateful to be learning my limits. That doesn't sound terribly romantic but giving myself a few basic rules is going a long way. I need 7 hours of sleep. I need vegetables. I need kisses. I need cat food and the presence of canned tuna fish does not indicate that I can push off going to the store for another day.

Enjoy at the kitchen table and don't be shy with the sauce. Although if you're moderate, the leftovers would do magic to a bowl of ice cream or even Greek yogurt. Plate licking is fine, it's your house and you get to make your own basic rules.

Heart for Artichokes

I've been fighting off the sickness this week. Nothing social after work. At least 8.5 hours of sleep a night. Three full Brita pitchers a day. Clean sheets, all the meds a girl could ask for...you get the picture.

I reign triumphant on this beautiful Saturday morning, finally ready to come out of my self-imposed banishment. Last night I celebrated the final eve of my alone time with a little cooking, some new music and, of course, Breaking Dawn. The last book of the Twilight series. I'm so geeked out right now, I can smell it on myself. Thanks to the artichokes, it smells a lot like butter and pesto.

Watching the artichokes pop up at farmer's market and all across the interweb usually brings a host of ambivalence up in me. It's a vegetable that, while never really made at my house, was something I've always enjoyed (usually across the street at Betty and RJ's). After reading about them at Rustic Kitchen and For the Love of Cooking, a decision was made. I had all the time in the world and $3 in my pocket...just enough for 2 artichokes and 1 lemon.

For the Love of Cooking inspired the flavors in this one but my laziness gets most of the credit. She was using basil, garlic and olive oil to season her lil chokes. I had two cubes of frozen pesto in the freezer, the juice of one lemon and a pad of butter (little less than 1 TB). And a microwave. Ta-DA! Preheat the oven to 350 and get to work!

Prepping artichokes is probably the most daunting part of the process and likely why they never made an appearance in my mother's kitchen. We didn't leave her a whole lot of time for nonsense like sharp interior leaves and annoying fur. Although it's quite lovely, no? After I did it once though, not bad. As with anything, you get a system going. Be sure you've lightly oiled your baking dish with some EVOO- doesn't need to be the nice stuff and even olive oil-flavored PAM would work for this end.

Once they were all cleaed out and with the sharp points of their exterior leaves snipped, I set about rubbing them down. I am not shy with lemon juice in my mixture as it will help them maintain at least a little green color and the acid will help to break down tough leaves.

Push the pesto mixture under the leaves and into crevices and don't be shy about it. You'll be happy when you find the little treasures for good eating later. Pour a third of a cup of chicken stock and a third of a cup of white wine into the bottom of the cooking dish and cover it tightly with tin foil.


45 min to an hour later. This is where the photos end because I'm a little embarrassed. I hadn't eaten much all week and with my appetite finally returned, dinner was 3/4 of the above baking dish and five massive strawberries for dessert. I added 1 TB of chicken stock and a little extra lemon juice to my leftover marinade and used it as a dipping sauce.

Then devoured all of it with two mountains of teeth-scraped leaves to show for myself. And the photos of course, since I finally did buy a camera while Jaimeson was in town last week:)

Never Was Just One Thing

And when it gets like this, I am so many different things…all bright and bursting at the seams.

The light out front right now is quite literally golden. I got home from work and discovered that we are apparently growing pumpkins in the garden. There are blossoms erupting from the plant with two babies already proving that we’re going to bear fruit this year.

When I got down to count the blooms, I could smell the dirt and acorns and I felt about 9 years old. It was that kind of energy- the energy of a new school year and a new beginning. Smells like crunchy leaves and fresh notebooks. New lockers and bigger blankets. Jeans with high boots. Corn chowder and roasted chicken and acorn squash baked with brown butter.

The kind of energy that makes dogs crouch low to the ground when they get excited because rapid tail wagging either isn’t cutting it or there is concern that the enthusiasm might propel them off the ground. I think I actually shook my tail on the way out of work today and I’m really hoping no one was behind me. Couldn’t help it.

All I want to do is put on a light sweater, pour something red and velvety in a glass and take lots of deep breaths. This is my favorite. If we have this weather on the Cape over the weekend, I will be a serious force to be reckoned with. I will drag a gigantic comforter and a broad shouldered boy out to the hammock in the late afternoon and just lay there in the sun... a fluffy bundle of ecstatic big hair. I will need to have walked around the beach or several galleries first so I am tired enough to take the nap of my lifetime. It is hard to sleep when ecstatic.

Fall is coming…. I can feel it.

When I see ______ on a menu, I have to order it.

Everyone has a short list of items they love so much and find so rarely that it supercedes all other alternatives when it appears on a menu. For Chip, it was fried chicken livers, for CVDJ, it’s Green Tea Mochi and for Becca, its chicken fingers (these are surprisingly rare in the places we, her friends, like to drag her to).

For me, that list is perhaps a little longer. Baja-style fish tacos (I loved them BEFORE the Tribune’s big fuss, but appreciate their efforts), fresh eggplant parmesan, fried dill pickles and sweet potato fries to name a few. Also, fairly high on this list is butternut squash or pumpkin ravioli. Oh my wow. Usually served with a sage-y walnut sauce, it is a really delicious blend of sweet, salty and that “je ne sais quoi” smoky, fall taste.

That said, you can probably guess what my response was when I got my Harvest Eating newsletter today and the video below was enclosed. We now have an accidentally vegetarian run-off going between semi-homemade butternut squash ravioli and wild mushroom & spinach lasagna. Make your votes known in the commentary.

And while you’re at it…fill in the blank and let me know what it is YOU can’t help but order when you’re out and about. You may just find a TKTC version on an upcoming dinner party menu☺

Happy Halloween!

This has always been one of my favorite holidays. The opportunity to wear an ornate costume, eat lots of candy and just be a jackass with your friends is an opportunity that I really wish I created for myself more often in my day to day life.

Today, however, I had two huge meetings and no "fabulous" costume. Instead, Marianne and Mander came out to the WP and we hit up margaritas and tapas at my favorite neighborhood joint, Mas. It was delicious, we got completely caught up and now I am here. Watching Pushing Daisies on DVR, blogging out my buzz and generally thinking mischievously of my betrothed. Otherwise known as Molly's friend in France, Thierry.

So I kind've busted my own Hallow's Eve this year by skipping the super creative costume and going the look/act like a harlot route (trust me, no one is more disappointed by this than I am) and maybe wearing a cute hat was as close to dressing up as I got today, but there is reason to be optimistic. By the time Thierry and I have kids, I'm sure I'll be very into it all over again:)

Wild Mountain Nation: Seattle Photo Recap 1

But I Digress...

Special thanks should now go out to Miss Tina Lee for honoring her word and sending me some photos from two weeks ago when she was in from Minneapolis. You will now get the short summary for each image.This is Brian, the manager/drummer for Blitzen Trapper. Wild Mountain Nation has been my fall anthem this year and I know of them thanks to Cam, who also joined us that night at Schuba's. Thanks to MySpace and a close musical family, I knew that these guys needed a place to stay in Chicago. So all six of them crammed into my little place with Tina and me in my room. A bottle of Seagrams, some oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and a lot of American Spirits kept this group up till 6:30am. So now, not only do I love their music, I love them too. Plus it's just funny to wake up and see a red-headed werewolf sleeping under your kitchen table.
Tina with her hero, our waitress at Butch McGuire's. After Kendall's that Friday night, the group headed there to finish out our late-start evening. Back to SuperWaitress. Long story short, we sat down at half a round table backed most of the way into a corner. Shortly thereafter two HAMMERED girls appeared on the other half, one of them blatantly butt-bumping Tina straight out of her seat. Tina and the rest of us grumble then move on. I am in the midst of leaving a voicemail when one girl starts yelling at me for Tina's name. I motion that I'm "on the phone" although I have hung up with the message 30 seconds earlier. Girl 2 then grabbed a fistful of Tina's hair and yanked her backwards until she was almost seated in the chair she'd been bumped from, shouting about Tina "talking shit." I am on my feet but backed into the corner. Tina later said that was probably for the best because if I had done anything, they would have just hit her because she was closer. None of us had too much time to do much more than squeal (Tina), yell (me) or shake head in disbelief (Max). SuperWaitress to the rescue with a biting tongue and a swift ticket OUT of the bar to those trashy wenches. She came back with a round of shots for the table.

White Out

So my two old standby bags are in tatters and it is simply time for something fresh. I'm thinking a creamy white leather handbag would carry me between seasons in a rather chic way (should I take very good care of it) so I thought I would throw a few options out. Please vote for 1, 2 or 3:

1)
2)
3)

Burrrr-CH

It's cold this morning in Chi, so let's start pretty.
This photo was taken by sorority sister and fellow Vanderbud Kat McLellan outside of Taos, NM recently. She's got quite the eye, no? Clyle, I am totally going to call you out and say we expect great things from you in Denver as well. And I don't just mean at ski school.

To wax interior design for a minute, I love birch. I love white branches on dark mantles at Christmas and I like every other kind of birch for now. I got lucky and had mom in town last weekend and GUESS what we found at Target (I know you are just chomping at the bit)...I'd feel bad lying to you so I will come out and say it. This candle looks perfect in my living room.

Update: Another kind of Burch that I love...

Tory Burch

Apples to Apples, Dusk to Dusk

HONEYcrisp

As we've already covered, The Cook is a big big fan of Autumn. Honeycrisp apples, one could reason, is among the tastiest reasons for my preference. I can't finish this right now but check back for some scoop on a domestic diva's apple crop in Bedford, CT.

Momma Kate's Apple Crisp

Apple Crisp

8 apples, peeled and sliced
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 cup water
1/4 tsp. salt

Topping:
1 stick of unsalted butter, softened ( I almost always use margerine since
it's what's on hand)
1 1/2 cups light brown sugar
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 1/4 cups of quick oats
3 Tbls. canola oil
1 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
3/4 tsp. salt

Preheat oven to 375. Grease an oblong pyrex dish with butter. Add apples,
cinnamon, salt and water. Combine all ingredients for topping, mixing with
pastry blender or fingers, spread on top of apples. Bake for 30 minutes.
Reduce oven temp to 325 and bake an additional 30 minutes. Cool for 10 to
20 minutes before serving with vanilla ice cream or fro-yo.

Siren Song

So it's no secret that I'm a NARS junkie. My one complaint is that it takes me an extra 5 minutes to put my face on in the morning because all of those little black cases are identical apart from the type size 6 label on the back. That nit aside, new collection from Francois contains a lipstick you can expect to see me in by the weekend and even an allusion to Greek mythology. I think new make-up may be fourth only to big sweaters, being in heat and pumpkins on the long list of why I love Fall!

Call me Odysseus but I'm hearing some singing and it makes me want Viridiana lipstick. Front and center in this decadent little promo shot. Make-Up Bag has a more thorough review if you're in the mood for something delicious.