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?

Eataly by the Rules: 72 Hours in the World's Cutest Boot

Airplanes remain the final frontier of unplugged living for me. Even when the omnipresent Internet is available, I can’t bring myself to use it once off the ground. That's the space reserved for reading and writing.

It’s little rules like these that keep me writing at all these days. The problem is that a few little rules stacked up starts looking like a squirrely Jenga tower.

• No writing with an email program open. Gmail or Outlook.
  
• No writing with a movie on. I don't even have cable and yet.
  
• No writing on a somnolent post-lunch belly. (yes, this needs to be a rule)

I think you can see that it was time for some new rules...and maybe a few exceptions

Rule: If your girlfriends invite you on a long weekend to Italy with most expenses paid, never say no. If that trip involves a large conference devoted to wine and olive oil, not only do you say yes, you get that ticket booked within a day's time. And thus, one month after Becca and Gina suggested it, we were on the ground in Verona, fresh off the plane at VinItaly. The building behind me in the photo above? There were 8 others just like it. Each representing a region in Italy. Huge.

Rule: If winemakers offer that they'd prefer you try the whole line rather than the 2-3 vintages on display, "Grazie", "Prego" and repeat as necessary.

Rule: Don't judge a book by its cover but compliments on the wine bottle gets you a lovely breed of pink frissante.
Rule: If you love it in the States, you love it even more in Italy. This applies to pizza, wine, scooters and Slow Food. I bought myself a kid's book about making cheese to help improve my Italian then did an organic wine tasting. Once we'd had enough wine, Gina would give an Italian lesson based on our loosened pronunciations.

Rule: If the guy at the awesome olive oil booth insists on having his chef whip up some lunch, go with it. Jacamo, wherever you are, genius.

Rule: If it's meat and the Italian who raised the beast is the one that butchered it, you should try it. That sounds dark but donkey sausage is delicious.

Rule: Your teeth are never as red as you think they are. When you think to check, that is.

Rule: Lago di Garda is the perfect place to bribe trailer park guards with spastic winking. The photos and the sand are worth it. Also note that Europeans are pretty brilliant with their luxury trailer parks on the waterfront.

Rule: When a professional pizza man offers you a shift in his shop, you should maybe try to negotiate full-time. I could have stayed at Okay Pizzeria a good bit longer. We were clearly great for business.
Rule: It's tough to go wrong with this combo: friendly local, chipper friends, quiet wine town in the hills of Piedmont, gorgeous, traditional dinner. Just add wine. Also, watching a dashing Italian man flirt with one of your best girls doesn't get old. Less of a rule, more of a recommendation.
Rule: Waiting for Gaja is a lot like Waiting for Guffman. It's still entertaining even if he doesn't show.
Rule: It's rude to say no to moscato in the morning. You're on vacation. It was made 3 km away. Live a little.
Rule: Even dry pasta tastes better. Also, don't put truffle oil in a leather suitcase without a ziploc bag buffer. Just trust me.
Rule: On a rare occasion it will hit you that you're having one of those adventures that you will be talking about many years from now at the very moment that the occasion is still happening. Go with it. Happy is very chic for Spring. Also, welcome to Milan.

Rule: Italian elevators are built for cuddling.

Rule: This is a big one. Trust the universe. It started with a restaurant recommendation from Marco (far right) via Twitter. It ended with a five hour food PR tweet-up in Porta Romana, just outside Milan. Grazie mille to Marco, Sara and Marco for the drinks at Il Cavallante and dinner at Ristorante Dongio. You turned a a short stay in a beautiful city into a case study on why social media goes beyond connections and into community. Know this rule turned into one big, cheesy geek-out but two tweets turned into dinner on the other side of the world with like-minded people. Talk to me about that.
Rule: Adventuring is hard work. Maps make for decent blankets.

Rule: Rinse, repeat. Grazie, Prego, Grazie, Ciao.

Friends Cooking: Monday Edition

Chili Sweet Potato Hash with a Fried Egg Fresh Tomato Avocado Salsa

Every Monday, I get together with some of my best girls from college to have dinner, recap the weekend and watch some less-than-intellectual television. A very special treat for me because I don't have so much as a cable box at my house (though I don't feel like I suffer much for it). We switch houses every week and then I either cook dinner at someone else's place or the ladies come to Wicked Park on rerun nights.

You've heard about my Mondays before but I guess I just wanted to drive home why this has turned into one of my favorite days of the week. Regardless of cooking interest or skill, everyone makes an effort when it's their turn. Every week there are 5-6 of us and I think we're getting very comfortable cooking casual, delicious meals for standard dinner party numbers.

Through practice it's being proven that entertaining doesn't need to be daunting, overly-intricate or formal. Breakfast for dinner like this past week (photo above, yum) or family recipe meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans a few weeks ago. Lasagna, DIY Tacos and Scallop Salads have all been on the docket. Someone other than the cook will pick up beer, wine or cupcakes to bring along.

There have been no misses so far as I can remember and there is something (a lot) to be said for the act of being cooked for by friends. On one of the most stressful days of the week, someone who loves you has you sit down in their home and puts good food on your plate. The economy is what it is but eating at home with friends rather than a restaurant just doesn't feel like a sacrifice. As Martha would say, it's a good thing.

KP's Meatloaf