In the Name of Comfort and All Its Formats

This was supposed to be a post about plums and oatmeal. As you might have already guessed by that auspicious beginning, that's not an exact representation anymore. Now this is a post about comfort. About the ease of breath that happens when your molecules slow down.

Of course, food can do that to us...comfort food is a real thing. I'd be curious to know what does it for you but in my world it's banana bread in the oven, onions caramelizing on the stove, citrus being zested and cinnamon in anything. All four set me at immediate ease and I take my life in a little deeper with their cues.

I had a five star, five senses comfortable weekend. This is one of those posts that might be more for me to have a record of than it has much to offer anyone else but I needed to put it down just the same. From the weather to the company to the lack of company to the feasts, I don't know that it could have been improved upon.

Since I can't find a way to eloquently share the bones of it, I'm making myself an outline at the bottom of this post for the truly curious. The short of it is that it had a lot of my favorite people, many of whom I just don't see much of and in whose presence my molecules ease up. As one of those people who occasionally forgets to breathe, I am so very into this.

At the risk of getting spectacularly sappy, this guy is one of them. I took this at Salvage One this afternoon during our (straight up successful) treasure hunt through Grand's vintage corridor. I realized tonight that I hadn't said anything here in the official online outpost but Brother is an official resident of the Chicagoland area for the next two years and I am breathing in a different way just coming to terms with that.

It's not like we'll see that much of each other, we won't. I know that, I truly do. But I've been living a plane ride from my family for 10 years and while I miss them, it's just a fact to which I got accustomed. I typically see them three times per year. Four if I'm really lucky. And even with a lot of friends who live close enough to have Sunday dinner with their parents or take sisters for a birthday lunch, it just wasn't my reality.

And now one of my favorite people is here and I can feel a different sort of root take hold. If things get dark, or even just a little gray, I have family a 15 minute train away. Or forget gray, an extra ticket to the Nice Cream benefit at a local brewery. Or the same seatmate for a live NPR show who's been sitting next to you listening in the backseat for 25 years. That still seems so wholly remarkable.

So the weekend was a wonder. Filled with the friends who are family and the family who's a friend and enough quiet time to myself to be grateful for the whole shebang. It's a true comfort for someone who didn't realize she needed comforting. Sappy, overindulgent weekend post achieved. Sorry I'm not sorry. At least I saved you from a title trying to riff on the word aplomb, only about breakfast :)

Steel Cut Oatmeal with Fresh Plumbs

• 11/4 cup water
• 1/3 cup steel cut oats
• 2 Tablespoons bran meal
• 2 Tablespoons flax meal
• 1/2 teaspoon salt (I used the BLiS vanilla salt pictured above but only because it is the spice I am most likely to start dating at the moment)
• Pinch of cinnamon
• 1 Tablespoon of maple syrup (I used BLiS bourbon barrel aged maple syrup but only because it is the condiment I am most likely to start dating at the moment)
• 1 Tablespoon of half and half
• 4-5 small fresh plums cut in half and pitted

1. Boil your water.
2. Add oats, bran, flax and salt. Lower heat to a simmer and stir every couple minutes till desired consistency is reached. This is usually about 12-15 minutes for me.
3. Add your cinnamon then spoon oat mixture out into your favorite breakfast bowl du jour.
4. Sprinkle cinnamon over the top then drizzle maple syrup over the top.
5. Pile on those beautiful plums and trace the edge of the oatmeal with the half and half.
6. Take a deep breath with nose directly over the bowl and enjoy not being hungry until well into the lunching hour.

Weekend in Review

Friday: Portabella/Garlic Tempeh Burger take-out from Native Foods, ridiculously good new vegan place just up Milwaukee. Eaten with a glass of wine while watching Before Sunrise and Before Sunset which have now both made my top 25 movies. Celine's monologue from the car scene in Before Sunset just about killed me.

Saturday: Started with a sweatfest. So much so that it was physically difficult to ride a bike that day. Kind've a beautiful thing. From there, the annual scrub at Paradise which comes with velvety soft skin and the reminder to be brave. Then off to the Food Truck Social for ceviche and tan lines with ZP and Emili. Just enough to hold me for JB's alfresco birthday dinner at Due Lire with a whole host of fun folk. A few glasses of wine floated me to 5 Star to crash G's big date (by invitation, bien sur) and meet up with Suz. Who then scooted me in brave attire for two wheels to Rainbo where the night/morning finished up.

Sunday: Starts with the discovery of buttermilk on its last legs, leading to blueberry pancakes in great company. A little organization before heading to Floriole for a light lunch with Ellie followed by the movies. Picked up at the theater by Brother and off we went, trolling for a Mid Century Modern coffee table on a grad student budget. Post 27, Urban Remains, Salvage One...all the good stuff. We found exactly what we needed, fell in love with significantly more along the way and then headed north to Revolution Brewery and the Nice Cream Benefit. So many good things/people in one place. Brother dropped me off with my adoptive Chicago family for a glass of wine with the Dawsons & Co at Mana.

The Goodness and the Go Forth

Sun Wah Saturday

This is a celebration post. Not because anything terribly momentous has happened recently but because I woke up this morning after a great weekend and this whole day has been one little sparkler after the last, lighting up an exceptionally busy day. It's even not just today, it's been the last few days...and weeks. So here's a list of things that have the grins going.

"Now & then it’s good to pause in our pursuit of happiness & just be happy."- Guillaume Apollinaire

1) Music from a part-time city lover. Portland is invading Chicago with aural goodness this week. Tonight the Portland Cello Project is in town, playing a free show at the ever-so-gorgeous Pritzker Pavillion. I've been long convinced that the cello is my spirit instrument. To have it paired with unlikely cover songs and that essentially odd duck persona that develops in the Pacific Northwest... it's more than I could really have thought to hope on.

That's how I'm starting this week but I'll be ending it among an entirely different Portland posse...those Trappers are back. I managed to weasel my way into a basement rehearsal when I was in Portland back in April, listening to a few of the new tracks in the process. Because of that, I can say with superb confidence that if you can catch Blitzen Trapper's Lincoln Hall show on Saturday night or be in the vicinity of the stage for their Lollapalooza show (2pm Budweiser stage), you will not only save yourself a smack of regret but you may be compelled to bake me some zucchini muffins. Or...something.

Forget the muffins, I'll just be glad to see you.

Though if you do have an abundance of zucchini, a warm muffin happens to pair beautifully with Stumptown coffee.

2) Flower power karma corral. I ordered flowers for a friend recovering from surgery this morning. Not 30 minutes later, I got a picture of a beautiful bouquet that another friend had been sent by her crushman. Having picked some up for myself at yesterday's farmer's market, I can attest to the fact that they raise a person's quality life by an exponent of at least 6.5 smiles per day- whether they are a gift for someone else or just you (in this case, me).

3) Swimming on two wheels. I spent the whole weekend on my bike. Not only was it 30 miles of personal tour guidesmanship but it was a hell of a workout. A workout that delivered me to not one, not two, but three separate feasts this weekend and then brought me home lighter than I left. Peking duck at Sun Wah (you need to do this as soon as possible), Brioche French Toast at LM and Green Curry from Silver Spoon (but at Gina's)... and I STILL got on the scale to good news this morning. This bike is a miracle machine. Not only that, but when you ride through shady spots, the breeze feels like swimming through cool currents. Riding that bike is properly lovely and the best part is that it is physically impossible for me to multi-task while doing it.


4) On the town with my girl Friday. Molly McGuff and I, despite our physical proximity, rarely have schedules that totally match up on the weekend. Friday night we discovered that we were both available for dinner and thus we feasted. And in the process of feasting, we had some wine. And that wine told us we should venture into the world and so we did. To Rainbo, to Bar Deville, to nostalgic shots of tequila and a photo booth. That wine is pretty persuasive but tequila is still tequila. Worth it.

5) Delivering the good goods. It's not quite a secret that I've got a little thing for kitchen bits. I manage to keep my hand out of the prodigal "big purchase" cookie jar but man does my cup runneth over with brightly colored spoons and mixed medium bowls. Being that it is wedding season, I have found my favorite gift to give and, of course, felt like I needed one for myself. So I ordered a pair of these lovely French carafe sets from Brooklyn Kitchen (a truly lovely little site) along with a couple other odds and ends (like a large ice cube tray for slow melting in my bourbon, a pie server and some grapefruit bitters). My box arrived but I was one carafe short- an easy mistake because who orders two (ahem...then two more...good gifts are hard to come by)? I shot an email over to the BK folks and was sent the missing set that day with a nice note and fantastically soft t-shirt. Happy happy.

6) Pages and Pages. It's been a great summer for reading. In addition to reading the books everyone seemed to be talking about (The Help, Girl with the Dragon Tattoo), I've polished off The Known World, Eat Memory, several cookbooks and my current (and potentially most beloved), Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential. Where have I been? I love this book- thanks to Amanda for the reco. If you like food, feeling like you've got the inside scoop and some shameless sex, drugs and rock and roll as translated by a no-nonsense chef, this is your salacious summer read.

At the heels of these final chapters, I've already selected the next: Everything is Going to Be Great by Rachel Shukert. I'd heard some good things but her perspective on the Eat Pray Love phenomenon is what made this a must.

Easy Breezy Summertime: Spicy Pickle (Cucumber) Soup

I have forever been a girl built for autumn- better suited for well-worn jeans and someone else's sweater than weather that makes my hair identifiable via satellite.

And yet.

This year I am in love with the summer. Even in the heat, I feel a breeze. I am drawn to early mornings where I can fuss over that patch of edible earth. I roam toward golden afternoons on two wheels (that's mine with the basket).

Isn't it just like summer to make my Internet eye wander? Wander from the screen toward a dappled patch of grass or vine-ripening fruit. Wander from the city toward sandy shores (some salty, some not). And, inversely, wander away from the evenings formerly spent typing. I have four posts loaded right now and not a one of them had any words...just the pictures. My goal for this week is to clear that up because man alive...summer is too good for eating not to share it.

My mom was in town last weekend and I thought it would be an appropriate time to formally give you her cucumber soup recipe. This was the summer classic growing up- I can still see the gray ceramic mugs she served it up in. Every member of the family beaming when they opened the fridge and saw that blender in there, frosted from the chilling process. I love cold cucumber soup. I love it so much that, as an adult, I've taken to adding heat.


That's a strange way to say it but it's true- spicy pickle juice changed the course of this recipe's story. That's what made it mine- different from my mom's but clearly, gratefully derivative.
I attempted to type up this recipe a couple years ago but have had the hardest time doing it here, where things become official in a sense. Lucky for me, I won't have to.

As with all good recipes, Cucumber Soup now has several storylines going. There's not much more satisfying for a home cook than having someone take something you love and make it their own.

So it worked out that the person who introduced me to McClure's Spicy Pickles (and to the summer glory of coastal Michigan) is the one who has the fully typed and lovely recipe up on her blog today. You know the backstory, now take two people's word that this is a summer soup to be immediately added to your arsenal. It's worth wandering toward.

Danielle has her spin posted over at Foodmomiac, mine is below (they're similar but not the same).

• One seedless English cucumber, peeled and cut into 2 inch chunks (if you only have a cucumber with seeds, just remove them)
• Small handful of fresh dill
• 1 cup spinach leaves (kicks in both color and some lovely health benefits)
• 1 cup plain Greek yogurt
• 1/2 tsp onion powder
• 1/2 tsp garlic powder
• 1 can low fat cream of chicken soup (I've tried to find a proper sub here. I can't. Forgive me and yourselves.)
• 1/2 cup McClure's spicy juice
• Freshly ground black pepper and sea salt to taste

Combine everything in a blender. Chill for at least an hour while you enjoy a cool beverage on the patio.

Of Pancakes and Patios

It started with pancakes.Specifically, these pancakes.

Jaimeson and I were presented with a beautiful, office-free Chicago morning and no plans to speak of. I clearly love making plans so I have very little explanation for why this feels so incredible. Our conversations first thing sound like an extended word association game where onomatopoeic sounds count. One of those words? Buttermilk. I giddily remembered that I had some in the fridge. Buttermilk in the morning only means the good kind of pancakes.

Alas...we've no real fruit to speak of.

Time to text these two.

You see Molly (right) has been my best friend since high school and frequent co-adventurer. And in a coup that can only be described as Napoleonic (with much larger hair), she has moved to Wicked Park. To the only other apartment in my building. Directly across the hall. The mirror image of mine. I could get into other aspects of best case scenarioism but I think that will reveal itself. She and her Jaime were playing a similar game of mumbled Good Mornings across the hall and she confirmed that she was in possession of...a banana.

Thusly, banana pancakes with syrup and blueberry compote were born. The four of us sat around with bedhead as I flipped pancakes onto plates as each was released from its buttery cast iron haven. Even Ala, landlord extraordinaire, came by for a couple of "whatever smells so good." At this point we were all wondering about what the day might bring...maybe grilling out later?

As the day meandered (lazily), it became abundantly clear that a cookout was in order. The previous weekend yielded Jaimeson running back and forth from the grill with lambchops in the middle of a thunderstorm so we were abundantly grateful for a warm, dry evening. Enter, Bon Appetit, August 2009.

I am not a current subscriber to Bon Appetit but a coworker had received two extra copies and offered me one so I greedily accepted...and proceeded to read cover to cover. One recipe, one photo essay after the next...I was enthralled and craving. You know the term "food porn" exists because photos of ingestibles can be an incredibly sensual experience, yes? Welcome to a 1977 Playboy.

The piece on peaches was particularly inviting but we were nothing short of inspired from cover to cover. We chose some must-haves and set about to the Mexican market and Jewel. First course is pictured above. Melon and prosciutto has been a long time favorite but a fresh basil leaf into the mix? It just works (inspired by p 56). I did the full recipe of sorts on Tumblr.


Smoky corn salsa. I hate to start with what could have been a standout of the whole night but I'm feeling especially chrono-sensitive. We grilled it all. Thanks to Jaime, we grill our corn husk-on which is not what the recipe calls for but I refuse to eat corn any other way now so there it is. When it comes in from the Coleman (as on the far left) it smells so sweet, earthy. And then you peel back the husk and you've got nothing but gold with little spots of light char on the kernels. From the corn to the peppers to the green onion it was all perfectly toasted. With sauteed cumin and garlic? Hot chipotle sauce? It sang. It sang ballads. Page 48. Trust.

Jaimeson going in for the corn salsa. Our guests are starting to look like a wine advertorial. If it weren't for all the beer bottles.

Speaking of beautiful grilled things, welcome to Jaimeson-burgers. 1 lb ground sirloin, 1 lb ground chuck, six cloves of garlic. Yes, six. They are incredible. And don't take my word for it, take the word of our friends still outside who didn't know we could hear them RAVING about the burgers with aged cheddar draped over the tops, raving with pungent garlic breath in each other's faces and joy in their eyes.

Beer bucket.

Now would be a good time to say that just because it now appears I'm skipping to dessert doesn't mean that we didn't have something other than burgers. We also managed Horseradish Potato Salad (page 44) with fresh asparagus tips added in. It was good but my shots and interactions were a touch blurry at that point so let's just leave it there.

Back to peaches. I know I already mentioned the sexy involved with this peace but talk to me about roasting high-season peaches with Italian almond cookies and butter. Talk to me and notice the glazed, open-mouth response you get. It was an easy recipe that allowed for me to prep the amaretti crumble ahead of time but roast the peaches on the spot, leaving lots of time for friends and merriment. Low-maintenance and smoking hot...my kind of dessert.

I urge you to click the picture for the close-up but it was prett-straightforward. Pit the peaches, sprinkle crumble generously and bake till glory (page 89). Serve with a generous helping of vanilla bean ice cream and a kiss of amaretto over the top.

The terrible twosome after another fabulous co-hosting job. I am not jaded into thinking I'm anything but a pawn on these nights. All the charm is with these two. I just chop things up and keep pouring cold red wine on top on my sangria fruit.