The Garden of Good & Evil: Year Three and an Ode to the Eves

These were the leftovers if that tells you anything about the kind of party it was.

And this was the evolution of the spread if that tells you anything about what kind of party it was.
And the two singing and dancing lovemuppets were my co-celebrants if that tells you anything about what kind of party it was.

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.

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 much beloved friend Caroline 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).

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 guru of sorts, Mary Beth Janssen came down two years ago to lead the Good.

Yes, this is all very hippie dippy. I love hippie dippy. An afternoon where the only thing anyone is allowed to bring is flowers or wine 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.

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.

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 Milwaukee Duo...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 enthusiastic group of GG's (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.

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!

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.

Earlier in the day, HC and I grilled up almost ten pounds of free range chicken breasts 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 Jo's fresh eggs 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Please do forgive the colorful mess of a frosting job on your confection.

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.

Now here's a quick tutorial on how to make your own rainbow chips. My own inspiration was Ashley Rodriguez's significantly more professional tutorial at Not Without Salt. I'm telling you essentially the same thing but so you can see that if I can handle this, you can too.

1. 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.
2. Stir in 2-3 drops of food coloring to start with. You can always add more.
3. Spread on to parchment paper laid on a tray or cutting board.
4. Freeze for 10-15 minutes.
5. Chop.
6. Ready for frosting.

I'm going to advocate adding them to vanilla cream cheese frosting to go with this chocolate cake recipe from I Am Baker. 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.

And speaking of leftovers, how much prettier does a whole heap of dirty dishes look with those lovely flower arrangements all over the place?

Green Un-Machine: Homemade Spinach Fettuccine

The soft heft of fresh pasta has haunted me since Italy. Ever since I started making my own pie crusts a few years ago, I've wondered when I would finally break down a particularly stubborn fear set to make my own.

Turns out the when is in the years category. I've helped to feed pasta dough made by pros into pasta machines so I at least had a basic idea of how it should feel but I'd never pulled it together from scratch. Turns out it just took a quiet Sunday night when the Internet had been taken over by Lost fans to coach me away from my computer and toward a low shelf of forgotten cookbooks.

The book I ended up opening was Chez Panisse Pasta Pizza and Calzone by Alice Waters. Surely, if anyone can guide me through scratch cooking at its finest, it's the Madame of the American Slow Food movement. I happened to have a fresh supply of spinach and figured I'd go really nuts with a spinach/parsley pasta given that it didn't change the steps to dramatically.

One thing I'll say right off the top: pasta dough is more resilient than pie dough. It actually prefers a little handling, requiring 10-15 minutes of steady kneading before it rests.

Stop giggling.

Once the dough has gotten ahold of itself while wrapped tightly at room temperature, it's time to kick it up. Flour your work surface, flour your pin and put your back into it. Even with a sweat on my brow, I knew I couldn't get the pasta as thin as an actual pasta machine could. I'm alright with this.

There will be a time for machines but sometimes you just want to know you can do something with your own two hands. I'm so used to the buttery slip of pie dough that being able to maneuver the pasta was refreshing. Roll, roll, peel, flip. Roll, roll, stretch, peel, flip. It was cathartic.
Soon enough, I made peace. The pasta and I had reached where we could, so I rolled my sheet up tightly and cut the most uniform fettuccine I could muster. They were imperfect, slightly clumsy and were very clearly made by hand. They were beautiful.

I laid them out, exhausted, on a drying rack to rest for another hour. Even when the time came to cook, I had butterflies scooping up my bounty and approaching bubbling, salted water. Ready or not.

Sigh. Rustic and toothsome and perfect right out of the pot (which incidentally only takes about 5 minutes).

The pasta and I worked hard as just the two of us so I didn't take further pairing lightly. I flash toasted a small handful of pine nuts in a dry pan then wilted some additional spinach in my good olive oil.

At this point I stuck my full face in the bowl because it smelled so ridiculous. My good olive oil du jour (or rather, di giorno) was brought back from Alba and it's like it had been waiting months just to touch fresh pasta. Fragrant and spicy with a sliced garlic clove mingling somewhere in the mista. I topped it with the Parmesan I had on hand. Admittedly a cheap trollop as cheese goes but the pasta was graceful and I ate heartily.

Spinach Fettuccine
adapted from Chez Panisse

6 to 8 ounces of spinach leaves
1/4 cup Italian parsley leaves (hallelujah! we can get this locally now)
2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 egg, lightly beaten
salt

Remove the spinach stems if they're obtrusive and pull the leaves of the parsley if you haven't already. Puree in a food processor until you have about 1/3 of a cup of dense, dark green mass. Add the beaten egg, puree. Add salt, puree again.

In a separate, large bowl dump in your flour and make a deep well in the center. Use a rubber spatula to our the spinach puree from the processor bowl into the middle of this well. Now, start mixing the flour and spinach a little at a time, starting at the inside and working in a circular motion to incorporate from the middle out. This will take a minute if you're going to incorporate it evenly.

Once you have one mass in the middle and all flour involved in the green drama, add a couple drops of water. I used water with lemon because that's what I had in my glass. It worked. You want it to have just enough moisture to hold together but as Alice says, only experience will allow anyone to do this by feel. Being as this was my first time, I happened to get lucky and am still in no position to tell you what's what.

Turn it out onto a floured work surface and knead with abandon for 10-15 minutes. flatten and fold and flatten and fold twice....it's tough, it can handle it. Cover and leave for 45 minutes to prevent a skin from forming.

Forty five minutes later ("the magic of television..."), roll out. No, not to the club. Roll out your dough as flat as you can. Once you can get it no flatter, roll it up tightly (ensuring both sides have been freshly floured, as pictured). Cut your pasta to the desired width. Fettuccine is about an 1/4 of an inch.

Lay them out to dry for another hour before cooking. Everyone's working hard, I'm sure you could use a break. Check your email, have some wine. Maybe watch an episode of Firefly.

Now get a large pot of water boiling and do not be shy with salt for the water. Once you have a steady boil, add your noodles and cook for about 5 minutes. Check the texture/taste.

Just slightly salty and al dente?

You're done. Dress as desired.

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.

The UnVeiling: Jaimeson Edition

For the duration of this blog, I've been inconsistently discreet about my paramour and his professional life. Today I’m going to break from whatever opaque secrecy I’ve had and say that the music man you've known mostly as Jaimeson has been working on something rather rad for a very long time and the first piece of it is being previewed on Aurgasm.

This particular selection off Coalition of the Unwilling was composed by Jason Kanakis (that would be him) with lyrics by the ethereal Priscilla Ahn and sung by the belovelied Laura Jansen. Three favorites in one song and goodnight I could not be more proud.

Good Night?

It's Friday night. I don't know if it's my body still decompressing from the craziness of March/early April or if I managed to mentally age myself an extra several decades.

If we're going to be really honest, I think Spring is out to get me and I'd just as soon not tempt fate till May. I'm a Fall person anyway, for me Spring is "Well yes, that's nice and all that things are greening but let the sun out and let's drink wine in the garden already. *ACHOOOO*"

I'm not Spring's favorite either. My acupuncturist (yes, I have one of those now) says that people are more likely to have mystery issues in the Spring. The season itself has too much energy than can't be expressed through wood- the medium of the season, apparently. So my diagnosis (once my tongue was deemed "very healthy," you would not BELIEVE the things you can tell from a tongue) was that I have a lot of internal energy and it's having a tough time expressing itself. I buy that. I buy that like I buy the fortune cookies and horoscopes that say nice things I presumed of myself anyway.

So I'm walking an extra lap around the block and stretching in the mornings and I'm mostly laying low at night.

Like tonight:

• Making chicken stock and matzoh balls.
• Arranging tulips.
  
• Organizing my taxes
  
• Talking to the cat (That little biz is in cahoots with Spring. Steals my earrings, chicken, sleep and dignity)
  
• Watching a documentary
• Listening to my iPod on random (the musical version of "shopping in my own closet")
• Folding laundry

Goodnight.

Not really "Goodnight", goodNIGHT for emphasis. It's 9:20pm so I have a good solid hour of hard partying until I'm in bed with my Cooking Light.

I'm not going to make it this way till May. Not every night. I can't.

So instead I'm going to go on tour for three days.

Yes, I'm going on the road with a couple awesome musicians through the Rocky Mountains.

• I will have excessive amounts of wine with Sass and Carlyle.
• I will sleep in Colorado, Wyoming and Utah respectively.
• I will visit radio stations and try to look like I can play so much as the tambourine (I will tease my hair to help disguise my lack of musicality).
• I will have whiskey drinks and fish tacos.
• I will have coffee and a camera on the state line.
• I will have Jaimeson. For the first time in 5 weeks and 2 days...if you're counting.
  

I will be on tour in the mountains this time next week. And I may not go to bed at all. Better get my goodnights in now...it's time for adventuring again.

The Birds and the Bees (Giveaway!)

This is a dedicated post. Dedicated to my amazing friend KP who is dedicated to the children of the city of Chicago. This loving wonder of an Amazon is about to undertake what is across the board talked about as the most awkward, integral conversation of adolescent life. With classrooms full of 5th-8th grade students.

It's Sex Ed season in the city schools. Mixed messages are doled out alongside maxi pads and Teen Spirit every Spring and this one is no different. Except one of my good friends (and arguably one of the more hilarious people I've met) is responsible for it. Which puts me into complete stitches every time I consider it (sorry KP).

My point...I told Karyn I would ask the Internet for some pointers to help her help kids. The following needs to be accomplished and I think you'll see she needs all the help she can get:

• The basics for both XX and XY
  
• The basics for when XX and XY get XXX and Y they do that
• How to get that done without anyone getting sick or multiplying
• How to not do that until marriage/abstinence
• How to evaluate situations (saying no, etc)
• Innocuous explanations for all the half-truths heard from older siblings/cousins/neighbors
• Understanding different kinds of people and families
  

So let's help KP. What do you wish your counselor had told you during this pivotal period? IS there anything that would have made it easier?

Top 3 submissions are winning hair products from my former life's secret stash!

*Use of veiled euphemisms is encouraged but not stringently enforced. If you feel you like your point would most constructively made with themes not typical to this blog, email tokissthecook@gmail.com.

Cheezy Like (Cheddar & Onion) Biscuits

This poor blog is a sad state of affairs. You know you've been on hiatus when your significant other tells you it's time. I still presume him rather ambivalent to my corners of the internet for some reason. It's not that life has gotten dull or stale (HA) or that I've quit cooking (HAHA) or kissing (LMAO). It's just that I frequently find myself all tapped out. And I look at this lovely thing and I see a template that I've seen a dozen other places. I think my blog needs new shoes or something. Maybe a matching URL.

I often wonder if a new look to call my own wouldn't be just what the doctor ordered. Or if I simply need to try a little harder to be a morning person. I was a morning person on Saturday, the light on those damn biscuits as my witness.

I shouldn't use language like that with them, it wasn't their fault. Saturday was the one collegiate tradition I still uphold with friends and continues to resonate with me year after year. In preparation for what can be a rather colorful day (if by colorful, you mean green), and properly introduce it to Jaimeson, in town for a few days, our plan was to take Friday night off. Make dinner at home. Bake the biscuits. Watch a movie.

The appeal of two bottles of wine did not factor in for either of us until it was too late and there I am trying on the bridesmaid dress I'll don in several weeks with my big fur hat. Waltzing around the kitchen and living room to bayou music with my ever-so-amused paramour. (Shakes head)

So you can understand that in such a state, I may have over-handled some biscuit dough. May have dropped a step off the process. May have made English muffins rather than the flaky, buttery biscuits I'd envisioned.

Oh no. I could not show up at breakfast with these. And yet I was in no state to keep baking and at least able to recognize it fully.

Que 5am. I'm awake. I'm AWAKE and panicked. There are very few areas of my life in which I could qualify for OCD behavior. Not my desk. Not the dishes. Not the laundry. Not the hair.

Really just cooking and baking. And these "biscuits" by groggy, soggy, soupy morning light? Unacceptable. Good thing Jaimeson picked up that extra cheese because I shut HC in the bedroom to sleep with him and I got. to. work. I knew I was working with a great recipe, Rustic Kitchen/Janine have yet to steer me wrong, but dough of any kind requires a light touch and not a small amount of eccentricity in a baker. #1 mehhhh but #2 CHECK.

Second time's the charm. I pranced right back to bed just in time to rouse the troops with a triumphant piece of biscuit in hand (J is not said to like mornings but I usually go with food and sweetness and have never had a problem). And thus we took our offerings to Boo's and that is where my camera stayed. Probably for the best...you wouldn't believe the rest of the day if I told you. And I'm not entirely sure that I would have told you anyway.

Recipe can be found at Rustic Kitchen. It's delicious and may save lives.

Because It Changed Everything Part 1

I started To Kiss the Cook a year ago, plus some interest due to procrastination. To say that I had no idea what I was getting into would be an epic understatement. Begging the question (from most people) "Why did you start it?"

I had developed a reputation among friends for 3-5 page quarterly emails. Massive. And I always assumed that people skimmed them and then pat me on the head. But then someone would reference the abundance of details therein and I would be encouraged. I'd had other friends start blogs while they traveled abroad and became acquainted with a couple other women who had made a real run at the internet and seemed enriched by it. So even though my blog is a little more censored than the old email chains were, it filled the gap and allowed me to talk through my kitchen adventures at the same time.

The first big change: TKTC as a Romantic Litmus Test

When I started ToKissTheCook last fall, I was talking to someone I called Chip. Nothing serious, just two people looking for dinner company who had an uncanny (and less than wholesome) amount of friends in common. The short of it is through a rather off-putting turn of small world events, we each discovered things we didn't like much about the other person. It happens. I won't get into my beef because it's rather irrelevant now but his issue was this website. I had talked about him, positively and vaguely, in the early days of this website when it was only my girlfriends reading it. An important lesson in full disclosure for me but an interesting reaction from him- he did not get why I wanted to talk about it or anything else for that matter. Alas, we are now both with the people we were hung up on when we were talking to each other so I suppose all's well that ends well.

Which does lead me to a contrast.

My blog used to be linked my Facebook page. It's not anymore but after the whole bit with Chip, I was adamant about not hiding anything. The security blanket? The one person who I'd opened up about a bit more than Chip was not on Facebook. And while I never wrote anything I'd be ashamed about him reading, it'd never crossed my mind that he would happen across it. Then after a year and a half of being actual friends, the little email popped up and I needed to say it. I told Jaimeson about my blog in January.

I think he caught the Facebook stream occasionally but once I took it down, he never mentioned a single thing again that lead me to believe he was reading it. And he has a rather nomadic lifestyle (eg not in front of a computer 10-14 hours a day) so I wasn't offended by his perceived lack of interest, I was a little relieved. And then I was confident he was not reading it and went on gushing more and more as things between us started to evolve. As I am in PR and talk about music (his livlihood) a lot, I tried to be careful not to put anything up that would strike an off-note with a publicist/ friends of his who saw my blog crossing a clips page and used instead hyperlinks to MySpace and iTunes rather than full artist names to avoid Google Alerts.

And life went on. And we had adventures and I was in it. "In it" in a way I hadn't been into anything in such a long time and probably not ever as an adult. I'd written a couple rather personal posts about it that I put up and then took down days later. Then put up again and took down. Some of you likely remember those.

Then he was here visiting in June and it was a few days before my birthday. We went out for barbeque, crashed a rooftop roller derby party and then met some friends of his at Liar's Club. It was a great Chicago night and having had him here with pie for a few days, we'd settled into the most deliciously sincere versions of ourselves. When we got home that night, recapping our various adventures, I got a bear hug for no reason. And he said "I started reading your blog again yesterday."

And my heart stopped. And it was maybe 3 seconds in real time but two statements ran through my head as coming next:

1) We have a lot of fun together, but I'm a rather public person and I can't have any part of my personal life out there, even if it's encrypted. I'm sorry.
2) I like you but I don't think I'm as into this as you appear to be and I don't want to hurt you. I'm sorry.

Neither of those scenarios included the following (what actually came out):
" I almost didn't tell you because I didn't want you to feel like you needed to censor yourself. You have such an incredible outlet and I love getting to read about what's going on from your perspective, in your voice. I didn't know, I really didn't know for sure that you felt the same things I did and it's amazing and I hope you don't mind that I read it."

You would think my heart would start again there but it didn't. I was shocked. I shouldn't have been but I was and I don't think I said much after that but there were some kissing noises and I can't recall a single other thing, apologies :)

And because of the way he said it, I haven't censored myself about the giddiness and the anticipation and the adventures. I think he catches it from time to time but I don't know how often and I like it that way. So that was really big. That he knew who and what I was and how I felt about him and pie and adventures and he liked me anyway. And it helped me to trust what was happening. What's still happening. I highly recommend letting someone into your life who's best-case scenarios match up with yours time after time after time.

"Want to watch a movie?"
"You know, I DO want to watch a movie. I kinda want to watch Harry Potter or something like that."
"Why don't we go to blockbuster and buy the latest one? And get candy?"
"And POPCORN. And turn all the lights off!"

Win.

The second big change: TKTC as a career woman coming mid-week.

Sugar Penalty for The Sweet Life

Molly's birthday cake, Barefoot Contessa Coconut Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting, served with Raspberry Sauce and Camille's homemade Coconut Ice Cream

Dear Lovely Friends d'Internet,
How are you? I am fine. No, seriously....I know I keep disappearing on you but I'm still kickin and in some areas, kickin some ass. We'll blame the pain meds for the crass language.

Yes, pain meds. I think we've discussed my tendency toward dental dilemma before. I have to have a root canal tomorrow and at this point I'm just excited for the novacaine- the last 36 hours have really been a new level of discomfort. As you can see, I'm a fan of getting the bad news out of the way first.

The good news? Can't keep a good woman down (ok, maybe not 110% good woman but definitely trying and the rest is really just little bits of mischief here and there). Because I had a great weekend- wine at Bin Wine Cafe, Palomas at Salud, lil Dyl in my 826 Chi class "Happily Ever After?", the girls over for cake and wine for Molly's birthday(see top), GREAT SEASONAL BEER at the Map Room with artisan salami flown in from Pike's Place....all in the midst of 7 inches of rain. Not too shabby!!

And work is rocking. I'm busy. I'm working really hard and it's not slowing down anytime soon. Which is fine by me...things are heating up in the kitchen and I like it that way. Most of all- I'm a month and a half in and knowing it was the right move. I'm working on the things I want to work on, I'm working with people (on all sides) that I want to work with and this is why you go to the big leagues...you learn something new every damn day. There go those gauche pain meds again- back to your proper-ish southern belle tomorrow:)

Odds and Ends:
Late dinner at La Madia in River North last night. Even on my soft things/soup only diet, P and I had a GREAT dinner- house-cured olives (not as good as Bin's but still pretty awesome), "pizza fondue," chicken-spinach-ricotta ravioli in brown butter sauce, scallops with late summer corn salad and a bottle of Delta Pinot Noir.

Taco Soup recipe from Mom. Jaimeson and I ate two meals of this on the Cape over Labor Day and with mom dancing around going "it's just so easy!!" I knew I was going to need to make some. She's not kidding. Brown a pound or two of ground turkey in some PAM then add the following:
- 1 packet taco seasoning
- 1 packet dried Ranch seasoning
1 can diced tomatoes (I used one with onion and garlic)
1 can black beans
1 can red beans
1 can white beans
1 can corn
2 cans chicken broth
2 small cans V8
TKTC Note: + pinch of Ground Ancho Pepper and a pinch of cinnamon

I hope you recycle cause that's a lot of cans. And seriously- just dump the cans in once the meat has browned and let it heat through. Ta-DA! Serve with a little low fat sour cream/Mexican crema and the cheddar of your choosing. It makes a lot. I had a bowl that night, a tupperware for lunch today and still had this left over...Two single serving Tupperware containers and probably three servings in the big guy. Or just two if we fast forward two weeks and Jaimeson and I are up late watching True Blood, drinking wine and being hungry.

What I'm listening to:
Good Arms Vs. Bad Arms by Frightened Rabbit (another spot ON request from Brother)
I'll Find a Way by Rachael Yamagata (tour starts Saturday)
Paper Planes by M.I.A. (from Lex- you should see me listening to this on the train...so street)

Boys of Summer

I've been away, to be sure. And I've missed this but life has been in the mix and who am I to say no when life does that? Not me. Not ever me.

Specifically? I'm freshly returned from my parent's on Cape Cod. I realize now that I only loosely alluded to the trip which has been planned for some time and was a solid 4-5 days long. As opposed to Denver which came up at the last second and was less than 24 hours. The difference? I went to Denver for work and happened to get to see a good friend in the process.

This weekend? A little different. You see, I brought Jaimeson home to meet my parents. First time I've brought a guy home in...years.

Which I suppose brings us to the inevitable question of "How did it go???"

• Jaimeson appeared in Boston (having flown all the way from LA) wearing a full seersucker suit, pressed white shirt and a pink tie.
• Over the course of the next three days, things maintained that level of awesome.
  
• J and Dad took to calling each other "Dude" in occasional address.
• Brother and BBGF (Brother's Beautiful GirlFriend) took us to a reggae show at the Beachcomber. Lots of white folk and/or dreadlocks + several pretty amazing Marley covers. We drank cold beers in campfire light waiting for the show to begin.
  
• The six of us had a stellar dinner at Blackfish in Truro where every single person shared bites off their choices. This after a 10 min negotiation so there weren't too many duplicates in ordering and after Dad revealed our family motto to Jaimeson. "(TKTClastname)s Share."
• Mom interviewed J about "Band Life" and this may be transcribed for an upcoming post as it was amazing.
• Dad shared his secret musical talent as a player of clarinet...to which J volunteered they should duet on "When I'm 64." Brother about had a coronary at the sheer prospect and I'm still hoping some kind of bribery might make that possible.
• We had a perfect beach day. Seriously. 10am to 4pm with sun, a seal and a squeal heard round the world (that would be me getting into 60 degree water). J and I walked for all of 5 minutes before coming upon a stretch of nothing but dunes and surf. I love the Cape.
• Said 60 degree water made me feel ridiculously alive. Bobbing along in the waves with a 6'3 anchor gives me a newfound "badass" perspective on an ocean that's wiped out many a boogie board in my day. Before and After below.
  

I could go on in bullets but we're getting to one of my very favorite parts. We'd decided to make to dinner Sunday night to take advantage of some of the bounty happening in the garden. By "we" I mean it was a full group effort. Even Brother got in the mix by making sure wine glasses didn't run empty!
The Menu:
Goat Cheese with Red Pepper Jelly and Crackers
Smashed Potatoes
The World's Most Glorious Greek Salad with Lemon Oregano Vinaigrette
Sirloins topped with fresh basil pesto
Corn on the Cob

As though Jaimeson hadn't already become the family crush, he stepped in to combine some garden variety ingredients into a masterful salad of cherry tomatoes, sugar snap peas, feta, romaine etc and the dressing. He'd rubbed a clove of garlic around the inside of the wooden bowl and then whipped oregano from the garden with fresh lemon juice, olive oil, more garlic, red wine vinegar and a dash of S&P. To kiss the cook indeed. Look at this spread!


The giggling technically began while we were prepping in the kitchen and only got worse as dinner started. Fun fact about your TKTC... I have a problem with the giggles. Almost always at family dinners, something will set me off and I. Can't. Stop. So as soon as J rather innocently makes an unexpected quip, Brother and Dad set out to prove a point. I think I still have a little potato in my nose from trying to stop (unsuccessfully). Just look at them...I never had a chance!!!

After an ice cream run to the Chocolate Sparrow and a cocktail or two at the Chatham Squire. We four little lovebirds (maybe little nosomuch- we average at 6 ft) stole a comforter out of the house and laid it down on an upstairs deck. You could see every star- every constellation and the fog of the milky way. Unreal. So much so that we all fell asleep and I get the distinct feeling that I was all but carried in like a tuckered out 5 year old. What a perfect day.

Monday was another trip to the beach for J and I then a sprint to Hyannis to catch the bus to Boston. After getting checked in, I got another highlight...my girls. Jaimeson, ever so good at "holding court," held it up indeed at La Famiglia Giorgio in the North End. Sues and Sarah picked an amazing spot and two bottles of wine later, I was once again ready to be carried off to bed. Brother drove us back to our hotel and after a short night, I left for Chicago at 6 am.

I know this was a very topline piece (and look how long THAT got) but I'm hoping you see it. I think you probably do but let me tell you that having that many people you care about so intensely around for 4 days? My heart is swollen from the love and the life in that house. They know him now. And I feel like through that, I may know him better myself. And it keeps getting better and life is in flux. How divine:)

"Re-Blog" Remix

I could write quite the large post about the differences in community between the classic blog platforms and Tumblr but my first day of work is tomorrow and I may need to consider going to bed at some point.

That said, my favorite thing about Tumblr (2nd to ease of use) is the idea of the "Re-Blog" or basically the ability to quickly throw a Ditto on anything a buddy of yours introduces to the internets. Today I saw two quick quotes that I really liked and will thus share the old-fashioned way (the sources are worth adding to your readers):

“ If you are ten years out of high school and you say, ‘damn, those were the best years of my life,’ I don’t want anything to do with you. You scare me."
- Stephen King via better than cupcakes

“When sharing music becomes foreplay, you know you have something beautiful.”
-via sleepanddream

Five other tidbits:

• Capucine (rather, her maman) of "Too Much Candy" fame is also on Tumblr.

• I took two pounds of basil (the size of a bunch of swiss chard...no joke...bought for $2 at the farmer's market Saturday) and made an ice cube tray of overflowing pesto. It's my savings account for when I need to taste summer in the winter and a rainy day fund for when I come home ravenous but lazy.

• Tomorrow I will have a bigger food post, including a special treat from Pop Pop that I recreated for dinner tonight because it sounded so good and I was aclready craving (sauteed bay scallops on fresh greens with dried cherries, goat cheese, crushed macadamia nuts and homemade dressing).

• I have no idea what to wear tomorrow.
  

• There are various withdrawal symptoms that seem to come into play after I've had quality time with a particular person. They are getting stranger. General malaise. Misplaced furniture. Sleep disorders. Giggling in public places at things that are not funny to the general public, nor generally myself, excluding specific company (ex: the eating of babies).

One of the more persistent "maladies" is the spontaneous display of various books throughout my apartment as a by-product of J's rather handy disposition. In June, it was The Alchemist that magically appeared on my coffee table. The Alchemist, as it turns out, makes an excellent straight edge for the re-hanging of mirrors.In July, it was Night by Elie Weisel. A heavy book considering its diminuitive size, I forgot till tonight that Night was being used to help buffer the unholy imbalance between my bass and other speakers on the TV. If my memory goes any further, there will be a full library of delicious Jaimeson ghosts in stacks around the apartment before I remember all their original purposes.

• Ok, enough silliness. I have work tomorrow! I shall again be useful and join the commute into the pillars of people of this great Metropolis!
  

wish me luck...i'm leaving extra early in case the CTA proves to be too complicated for she who can't remember why there are books all over her apartment.

Just Peachy

I used Foodmomiac's system for peeling peaches and this is what ended up on my cutting board last night. Just me or are naked peaches in high season a little on the sexy side? Gorgeous.

And delicious, might I add...we enjoyed a hybrid of the cobbler and Epicurious' crisp around 2am last night when we finally got in from the airport. I'm gonna need a nap but he's here and we had our sweet-summer-lovin-peach-brown sugar-butter crisp with vanilla buttercream ice cream and a hulking glass of wine and life continues to be pretty damn peachy!!

TKTC Note: Peachy status further improved by mastering my single-serving stovetop espresso-maker this morning (Thanks Mol!!) with cold peach crisp on the side. Ah, summer:)

V-Feasting

I have all the makings of a fantastic vegan feast tonight. I just need to know what to do or where to look for some hot hot recipes??

I have: Lite Firm Tofu, a bunch of Rainbow Chard, Brown Rice and an assortment of spices and condiments.

Ideas?
Overcoat was kind enough to direct me toward veganyumyum.com so the linked recipe for Sweet Chili Lime Tofu might fit the bill if I can sub chard for collard greens and brown rice for quinoa. Or even this Marmalade Tofu with Kale and Lemon Pearl Couscous. I'm trying to avoid the grocery store even though it's among my favorite places.

Other Headlines:

I woke up at 3:30am last night to seriously loud alley cat sex. HoneyCat and I both crowded at the window to catch the peep show but mostly it was just a bunch of loud wailing with one cat in attack mode on its back. So...not that different from what I imagine happening with the three remaining Ukranian hookers on my block at about that same time.
When I couldn't get back to sleep, I said a little blessing for the time difference and called my favorite mustache. He then proceeded to talk dirty by walking me through the tomato, feta and garlic omelet he was making with caramelized red onion. I'm re-creating that one for brunch tomorrow and am already anticipating the delicious of it all.

In really super sexy news, I have swimmer's ear. I must have just turned nine and June and it's actually 1992. Eardrops are still de rigeur. And I have to "step away from the Q-tips." At least I like my doctor. And now that I'm 100% public transit, walking through Ravenswood Manor in the middle of a beautiful workday to get to the office was a little kickass. Even though I'm 9 and my ear hurts.

Going for a run (with cotton in my ears...HOT) and coming home to make something healthier than the bar food I've had the last two nights.

Much love,
Meatless

Feels Like Vacation

Glorious weekend. The weather was on the chilly side of pristine, different plans every evening and still plenty of time for reading in the garden and wandering around the neighborhood. The rundown went as such:

Thursday- Home for a fast nap after work then off to Columbia for Kurt's Annual dock party. Bunch of pirates but I was so exhausted I slept till 11 the next morning. Unheard of.

Friday- Once I got up and around, I held off on the suburbs for an extra day in favor of attending a last minute cookout around the corner at Blake & Meggan's (who are so cute and going to be my new neighborhood friends!). I came bearing "Tennessee Caviar ." You can tell I'm missing Mom a bit when I start making all of her standby recipes- I'll post our version Tuesday! We had a LOT of wine, found fireworks in every direction and an all-around festive evening.

TKTC Note: Not going to dwell on this but WHY after three years of being single (for the most part) do all manner of people show up at the exact minute I'd rather be off the market?! Murphy's Law?! Or maybe they can smell it? Other people have experienced this phenomenon, yes?

Saturday- On the Metra by 10:30am and then....Lake Bluff.

Lake Forest/Lake Bluff adopted me as its lost Midwestern child sometime in college when I kept collecting friends from there (CVDJ, Bobby J, Abs, Caro, Jaimeson, etc). It's beautiful and walks the line between idyllic American town, Stepford and the Ice Storm. Heavy on the first but the kids that grew up there will be the first to relate stories specific to the other two. I should reiterate that it is in fact gorgeous and I've been taken in by four separate families who are among my very favorite people.


Speaking of, Caro's family invited a few of us to the pool for the day. The pool where I remembered how fantastic it feels to jump into cool water and be fully submerged. Then pull myself out, take a sip out of a monstrous seabreeze (poured by a heavy-handed teenager in the clubhouse) and drip dry. No sunburns, just fun and food. And lots of Lily Pulitzer.


The second half of Saturday was spent at Nairb's (that would be him and Roman prom posing at Lake Bluff beach). Nairb's parents were out and about and literally left him the keys to the castle and meat in the fridge. This particular field trip consisted of solo cups of whiskey cocktails and an extensive game of pick-up-sticks for later.

The Fourth of July is Caroline's absolute favorite holiday. "Christmas in July!" says Caro.

In keeping with our surroundings, we built a fire, made gourmet s'mores and told ghost stories till the wee small hours. Neums and Nairb know all kinds of goose-bump inducing items about the town's history and we had an old fashioned good time listening to the Robert Plant/Allison Krauss album and sipping.

Sunday: A fabulous morning run (weather-inspired), Baked Eggs with Bobby J and CVDJ then reading in the garden and chores for the remainder of the day. I also just finished Muhlholland Drive and think I may have to accept being confused on that one while still thinking Naomi Watts is a rockstar. Got more fabulous fun today but I'm going to do a proper post- it involves a very cute dress!