adventures in kookery

Sour Times

2012-01-19T13:49:00.000-08:00

What a year it's been, and I'm only in three weeks deep. But thick into the split pea soup that life feels like when it gets all muddled, foggy, and lumpy. Perspective is a thing of the past, it went out with 2011. This used to be a breezy lighthearted food blog that actually posted recipes, now it's a sour true confessional.

It's times like these that I am grateful that no one I know really reads this thing. My computer is the confessional screen, behind which I am faceless and unknown. It all comes rushing out, and then it is lost in a galaxy of words and a universe of humanity and all the conditions associated with that. I'm in a wholly wretched mess that is turning my head upside down and my guts inside out. It will be OK because there is no other way it can be. But there will be a stain.

Serving as a suitable distraction is the news that the Kiddles school is closing in June. I can't express my sorrow over this without sounding dismally uncool and fatally unironic, so I won't even try, and will instead suffer the slings of sentimentality. This little school in it's tidy little building felt like home the minute I walked through it's door with a pre-K aged Samwich. The warmth and family feeling that filled it's halls was obvious to everyone who visited. And being associated with their school helped me to let go of some of the bitterness and corrosiveness that I felt about school and teachers, which was a hold-over from my school days when I was plonked into a school that didn't know what the hell to do with me, so they just threw me away (figuratively speaking ). I actually joined the PTA, something I definitely snorted at in my pre- kiddles school days. I helped run the yearly plant sale and organized the dinner dance one year (poorly, I freely admit). I loved this sweet little Jewish school that emphasized the importance of the Golden Rule and acceptance and appreciation of all difference types. And now it is over. My kids are going to go to a new and bigger school and will have to adjust, and this is the one good thing that comes out of it. Life is all about adaptation, they might as well learn this sooner than later.

And then there's the book. When I conceived this book I had definite notions and ideas of how it would be. Existing perfectly in my mind it was to contain everything I wanted to say through words and flavors and pictures. It didn't take me long to understand that everyone else working on the book (coauthor, editor, publishing co. at large) had their own definite ideas as well, and that sometimes I just have to suck it up, because after all, who am I? I'm an unknown girl with some good ideas. It takes more than good ideas to publish a book. I recently lost the round regarding the book title, and that burned a lot. I don't get to name the baby, I feel like it's starting out with the wrong name. Regardless of any disappointment, I can't give up on it. I've got to fight right through, take the kicks when I have no other choices, and push through whenever there is an opening.

And I have to be grateful. Always be grateful for what I've been given, good and bad because from it I am growing and learning and adapting and becoming the person I am meant to be.

I end this True Confessions post with a recipe for Lemon Cake, because nothing is just one way.

Lemon Yogurt Cake

(adapted from Marlene Sorosky)

2 sticks unsalted butter, at room temperature

2 cups granulated sugar

4 large eggs

juice from 2 large lemons (about 1/2 cup)

6 oz. greek yogurt, lemon flavor

2 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking powder

3/4 teaspoons baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon grated lemon rind

Lemon Yogurt Glaze

1 cup sifted powdered sugar

1/4 cup lemon yogurt

1 tbsp. lemon juice

1. Grease a 12 cup bundt pan. Preheat oven to 350F

2. In a large bowl cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in lemon juice and lemon yogurt.

3. In a smaller bowl stir together flour, aking powder, baking soda, salt, and lemon rind. Mix on low speed until incorporated.

4. Spoon batter into bundt pan. Bake in oven for approximately 50 minutes, or until toothpick inserted into center comes out clean.

5. Cool for a few minutes and then invert onto baking rack to cool completely.

6. For glaze: in bowl sstir together sugar, yogurt, and lemon juice. Spoon glaze over top of cake allowing it to run down the sides.

10,000 Hours

2011-12-17T07:55:00.000-08:00

Just started reading Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell. One of the first chapters in the book is titled: The 10,000 Hour Rule. His theory is that being truly great at something doesn't take talent so much as practice. Doing it over and over again, educating yourself, training, making mistakes, working out problems. Effort and time is what distinguishes the Great from the good. Ten thousand hours is a lot of time to spend on something, and really requires perserverance and a great amount of passion, perhaps this is what actually makes a person Great at what they do. That is what is their talent actually is; Great perserverance and passion. Of course being the self absorbed writer that I claim to be, I thought immediately how I don't have enough hours of doing one thing: Maybe I have an accumulated 8,000 hours doing a bunch of things that are kind of related: Candymaking, Cooking and Baking, and writing about it (among other things). I wasted at least 2,000 hours shopping, gossiping, and psuedo-existential cotemplation. Not sure 10,000 hours of Mothering can even be claimed.... Technically I've put in much more than 10,000 hours, as there are 8,736 hours in a single year. But how many of those thousands of hours were performed with full gusto,consciousness, and awareness? I'd like to hope at least a coupla thousand.

Thanksgiving 2011

2011-11-26T06:53:00.000-08:00

While still enjoying warm and cozy Thanksgiving leftovers, a blog entry is a great idea. It's important to let nothing go to waste, neither good food nor a good mood. The cooking began on Monday night with a loaf of pumpkin walnut bread and a pan of cornbread, as well as a tray of mini sweet potato knishes. Tuesday was Baking Day: chocolate pecan pie x 2, cranberry crumb bars, pumpkin pie, and a caramel apple pie. Wednesday had me elbow deep in two kinds of stuffings (sausage cornbread and classic sourdough herb). I tinkered with a dry spice rub for the chicken wings (needs to be a little more herby). Cooking fresh cranberries into a chunky sweet tart relish, blanching brussels sprouts, mixing up a maple dijonette dressing , and finally making a few cups of white bean sundried tomato spread ended my night on a fresh and healthy note. Thursday: A big platter of crunchy Persian rice was assembled first thing in the morning. The Korean ribs were marinated and then braised, the tofu squares were pan fried to a nice crispiness and the honey-sesame-soy sauce simmered in the saucepan. Fresh chopped parsley and onion and a pinch of turmeric and salt was all the ground lamb needed before it was shaped into kebabs.

The three round tables we rented for the occasion, were set in orange tablecloths and yellow flowers and a spray of candy corn for sweet measure. The buffet table had a horn-of-plenty offering a variety of rolls and mini pumpkins, and there were turkey shaped tealights. And then it was four o'clock, two out of three of my kiddles were dressed in appropriate attire. After a few last minute switcheroo's I settled on a sparkly hostess ensemble that was hopefully festive and elegant but was definitely comfortable. Hub was sporting oven mitts, as he was experimenting with his brand new smoker out in the back.

And then the guests started to arrive. And I had to readjust and execute the next phase of operations. The people aspect, the personality intergration, the real world part of cooking and entertaining. When left to formulate and grow in your head and imagination a big holiday meal or party is as great as you want it to be. The scene from your head can be played out in the coordinating plates, cutlery, napkins, potted plants and of course, candy. It serve as a lovely backdrop where everyone happily sips apple cider, and are pleasantly catching up or getting to know each other. The kids gladly wear the paper bonnets and pilgrim hats (complete with gold sticker button) that were purchased for the occasion. People are brimming with thankfulness and cordiality.

Real life: The guest who needs a diet coke while you are spinning around in the kitchen ("Umm yeah, it's not on the side board?...Hmmm, ouch! burnt myself. "Hub!!! Can you get the diet cokes from the fridge downstairs?") the kid who insists on wearing his ratty Manning football jersey, the cranky family member who just can't help but grouse, the kufte kebabs that are running behind schedule, the mini knishes that need more work. The headache hiding in the back of the head. The chronic latecomers, who throw kitchen timing into disarray.

These gatherings do have a few sweet and perfect little vignettes in time.

There was the Mmmms and the yummms. There was the oldworld older couple who couldn't get enough of the tofu. And the grilled wings that were devoured by the bored teenagers. And the pumpkin walnut bread that was the sleeper hit of the meal. The ribs were gone in a few, along with the kebabs. And the sausage stuffing that continues to please. And then there are parts you have to look for: the table of old-timers happily chatting and catching up, the New York newlywed couple discussing with neighbors the virtues and drawbacks of abandoning City life for a semi-country pace. There was my toast that I kind of flubbed on, but was still OK. And then there are the leftovers.... and the idea that I don't have to cook at all this weekend.

By the time dessert time rolled in, I was beyond preconceived notions and expectations, I was sipping a glass of red and let someone else locate the extra forks and pie slicers. The pumpkin pie was surprisingly my favorite dessert of the feast. However, as we had a few chococrazies at our gathering it was unsurprisingly that the chocolate pecan pie made with a bar of chopped 70% Scharffen Berger garnered the most support and appreciation.

But now, what I am feeling most thankful and warmly about are the leftovers.... and the delcious fact that I don't have to cook at all this weekend.

CLINK!

2011-11-12T07:15:00.000-08:00

Hear that CLINK ? That's my first draft in the can. Guided by doggedness, light terror, slight tension, real enthusiasm, and more than a little Mazel, we did it. Five weeks that were cut up with marathon Jewish holidays, the flu, and a week-long power outtage. Of course, there is a world more of work to be done on this beloved manuscript, before it is fully formed and gleaming ready to enter the world. But it is beyond the tricky first trimester.

I ended the cookbook fittingly with a recipe for Whoopie Pies with an option of classic marshmallow frosting, or a more serious Dark Cocoa Buttercream. That was fun. During this process I've learned several things: thesaurus.com is an invaluable tool, loaded brevity is crucial in expressing an idea, I have a strange relationship with my kitchen appliances, sleep is overrated- but so is tired-looking skin, you can never go wrong when trying to create goodwill.

Up next: really trying to get a handle on my doughs, cooking for Thanksgiving- turns out, issuing an open call will result in many guests.

Whoopie Pie

1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour

2/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

1 ½ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

4 tablespoon butter, room temperature

4 tablespoons vegetable shortening

1 cup packed brown sugar

1 large egg

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup milk

1. Preheat oven to 375F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

2. Sift together flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt into a medium sized bowl.

3. In large bowl beat together the butter, shortening, and brown sugar on low speed until combined, increase speed to medium and beat until light and smooth. Add egg and vanilla and beat for another minute.

4. Add half of the flour mixture and half of the milk to the batter and beat on low speed until combined. Add remaining flour and milk and beat until completely incorporated.

5. Using a tablespoon drop batter onto prepared baking sheets and repeat spacing them at least 2 inches apart. Bake each sheet individually for about 10 minutes each, or until the cakes spring back when pressed. Remove from oven and let cool before filling with frosting. (Makes 12 whoopie pies)

Classic Marshmallow Frosting

1 cup marshmallow fluff

4 tablespoons milk

½ cup vegetable shortening

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

½ cup sifted confectioners sugar

1. Beat together the marshmallow fluff and vegetable shortenening, beginning slow and gradually increasing speed until the mixture is smooth and fluffy.

2. Reduce speed to low, add confectioner’s sugar and vanilla, and beat until blended. Increase speed to medium and beat for a minute or two more.

Cocoa Buttercream

1 ½ cup confectioner’s sugar

½ cup cocoa powder

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature

4 tablespoons heavy cream

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

¼ teaspoon salt

1. In medium sized bowl beat together the confectioner’s sugar, cocoa, and butter starting low and increasing speed t medium until frosting is crumbly.

2. Add heavy cream, vanilla, and salt and beat on high until smooth.

Book Marks

2011-10-16T19:17:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm in the thick of it now. So deep into this first draft, that it's what I dream about at night, and it's on my mind all day. I'm too close to it to really have a fair opinion of it right now. All I'm doing is pushing through. Trying not to neglect everything else in my life- while trying to carve out enough time to get it done.

Happy New Year

2011-09-27T21:40:00.000-07:00

It's really a new year for me. Today is my birthday- the first day of my 38th year. It zooms by - but at the same time every day is lived in actual time, maybe sometimes even in slow motion. I want to make this upcoming year a good one. I am determined to be productive. This book will be my main focus. I am trying to say everything in my words and flavors.

I want to read all of Roald Dahl's books to the kiddles this year. And take them on some fun excursions in the City. I want to live more healthy this year, do yoga regularly, breathing exercises, and all that good-for-you stuff . I want to do something special for Hub for our tenth anniversary in March. I'm ready to finally master pie crusts this year.

This year I want to work on being less irritated. See more art and less TV. Cook and share lots of good food. And try and remember to be grateful.

Mainly Maine

2011-08-24T06:25:00.000-07:00

In Maine

we are glad to be part of a land

that remains so beautiful under it's green skin

of woods and open fields, that is glitteringly

bordered by thousands of miles,

of breaking waves, and that is lovely

too, with an unbroken tradition

of concerns, with the kind, enduring grace

of it's neighborliness.

-From Neighborliness by Kate Barnes

I love New England. I loved the idea of it before spending 4 years of college there; and my notions were not disappointed while living outside Boston- from the age of 18 to 22. I have quietly loved New England for a long time now. So I always try to steer family summer trips Northwards. All year long my affection sleeps, as I focus my passion on the City. But when Summer arrives my tenderness for New England stirs itself.

This adventure begins in Portland, Maine. Hub's Sis Deene is visiting from Israel with her husband and three boys, so we really wanted to present them with something grand and striking and American. The colonial architecture and aspect of the old port town was definitely something different for our Israeli cousins. As was the chilly summertime rain.

We brought my mom with us as well, because we wanted her to spend some time in this beautiful part of the country. Until this trip, her experience of New England was limited to the Comfort Inn, Waltham MA. I knew she'd love it- and she did. While the boys took a three hour boat trip, Mom, Girlette and I explored the shops and cafes around Congress street. And it was at a cafe called Paris in the Morning that I tried my first Whoopie Pie. It was maple pumpkin, and I've since come to realize that it was mini-sized. The cake part was soft and spongy and tasted like sweetly spiced pumpkin quick bread. The cream filling was subtle in it's maple-ness but undeniable in it's cream cheese-iness. Hmmm interesting, I thought to myself, more research was needed.

Mt. Desert Island Ice Cream on Exchange St. was also another delightful discovery. Flavors like Chocolate Wasabi, Thai Chili, and Sweetcorn made it apparent that this wasn't your Gramma’s ice creamerie. I decided on the Fig. And I can really say that I've never had anything like it before. The ice cream had a deep caramelly sweetness to it and the chopped dried figs interspersed throughout my generous sized scoop provided a pleasing texture and reinforced the sweet figgy taste of the ice cream. I was off to a wicked good stahht!

The afternoon spent with Les Kiddos (six in all) at the fantastic Portland Children's Museum provided me with plenty of time to review in my mind the wonderful taste discoveries I had just enjoyed. A simple plan was hatched: I was to sample as many Whoopie Pies as I could handle during our stay in Maine, in the hope that I’d be inspired to concoct my own version for the cookbook. The fig ice cream was shelved mentally in my Possible Truffle Flavor file.

Get ready for the revelation of the Century: Travelling in a group of eleven is difficult, especially, when more than half of the group is under the age of ten. Notions of fine dining and elegant sight-seeing are hurled out the window. After a dinner at Denny's whose memory I wish I could surgically remove from my brain, I knew that I would have to sneak away every now and again, to maintain my sanity as well as make any delicious discoveries.

My mother kindly granted Hub and I a date night opportunity, which we eagerly spent at Becky's Diner on Commercial St . Becky's is a very ordinary looking diner, but what is contained between the laminated pages of a very ordinary looking diner menu explains the attention it recieved from Bon Appetit. Our waitress was a plain spoken Yankee girl, who described the specials with an economy of words and evenness in expression- that still managed to convey the scrumptiousness of the items. Hub decided on the broiled haddock and I had the fishcakes. As we waited for our food, I studied my fellow diners. Locals and tourists, a few Hipsters thrown into the mix (Portland has a strong hipster element- kind of like a Brooklyn up North feel). New England thriftiness was exhibited by the single piece of bread we each recieved as we waited for our dishes.

The food was....mouthwatering. It was delicious. It was a joy to eat. From the moment I took the first forkfull until I walked out the door, I was smiling. I was as happy as a kid enjoying her favorite birthday meal. I could not stop eating until every scrap was gone. The cole slaw was crunchy and sweet, the fries were crispy and well- seasoned. Every part of our meal was marvellous. Our astute waitress capably steered us in the right dessert direction. And she had the good sense to make a fresh pot of coffee for us to enjoy with our Blueberry Cream Cheese Layer Cake. A die-hard sweet tooth can always sense what a fellow sweet tooth needs. With a lightness in my heart and a belly full of good food, my fondness for New England was reconfirmed.

One of the things that I really appreciate about New England is the plain-spoken character of it's people. They speak simply. They use less words. There is an editing that occurs in their daily vernacular. There is a reserve to their attitude. This kind of stoicism makes my exuberant verbosity seem frivolous and even over-the-top. But I'm OK with it. I'm not a Yankee. I’m not a Maineahh.

After Portland we went up to the Moosehead Lake region where Hub’s bro, his wife and 2 kids joined us for three days of camping in the rain. It wasn’t so bad, it was actually fun in a rustic, once-in-a-lifetime, roughing it kinda way. The campground was just outside the town of Greenville, and believe me when I say that I took every and any opportunity to make runs into town. Be it for paper plates, milk, or to do laundry at Wishy Washy. And it was on one of these laundry runs that I made another great discovery: Northwoods Gourmet Girl. This little gem is located across the street from the Laundromat. Unable to watch our clothes tumbling for another second, I did a little investigating.

The room is large with clean lines and is on the spare side. I sat at the bar and exhaled gratefully. All was quiet and calm, the lighting was soothing, my sneakers were drying, and I was alone. No one was asking me for anything, there was no crying, whining, fighting or shouting. And I now know what to serve with my Krab Kakes: roasted corn, tomato and pepper salsa and a spicy remoulade. And then there was the dessert… a blueberry cobbler that felt like it was beamed down to me directly from God. A soft cakey biscuit sandwiched pleasantly between warm, syrupy and deep dark violet blueberries and a scoop of slowly melting vanilla ice cream in a fine dusting of cinnamon. Surely this must be a gift from God when you’re damp, cold, and cranky after dealing all day and night with damp, cold, and cranky kids.

Upon further investigation I learned that this was the same Gourmet Girl whose bottles of homemade ketchup and jams grace the shelves of the high end kitchen supply store in Portland where I spent an hour and about $60 in (Tupelo honey, Dishing Up Maine cookbook, and assorted gourmet chocolates). My prediction: Gourmet Girl will be as big and wide ranging as Stonewall Kitchen in a few years. Except she’ll be for the Hipster Foodie. Who can resist an ingredient list that includes TLC?

After camping, we moved on to the Sunset Cabins in Rockwood. Never before has a bed been appreciated as audibly and by so many. Flushing toilets as well. The cabin’s kitchen beckoned and I responded by broiling up some salmon and haddock. We enjoyed our fish and the variety of salads I assembled (pasta, garden, and Asian cole slaw) while sitting at picnic tables in front of beautiful Moosehead Lake.

By this time in our trip there were several conclusions I was able to make about Whoopie Pies. Wicked Whoopie Pies are my over-the-counter choice. It has a good cream-to-cake ratio, and is not overly sweet. My favorite flavor is the vanilla chocolate chip. I did not like the peanut butter one that the competition makes.

It’s hardly surprising that the best Whoopie Pies are homemade. The Maple Whoopie I had in Portland was a great intro to this regional treat. I had a tightly saran wrapped Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Whoopie at Jamo’s General Store in Greenville, that was also darn good. Sadly, I do not think I will be whooping it up at next month’s dental appointment.

We climbed Mt. Kineo, the lot of us (minus a grown up or two and a kid or two). It rained and we kept on going. We kept on climbing through tantrums, tussles, and terror until we reached the top. I was very proud of us.

On Sunday we packed up the cars and crossed the border into Canada. S’ long Maine, Bonjour Quebec! This time I was shameless in my desire to learn more French. I broke my teeth at Subway when ordering our 6-pouce sandwiches. I perservered at the Hotel Jardin in Veille Quebec while checking in as my Mari (aka Le Hub) found parking. I ordered my vin blanc at Portofino the Family-style restaurant that was smart enough to give us our own room and isolate us from civilized company. I hissed “Arret!” (and about another half a dozen angry epithets) as my Kiddlers had epic melt-downs in a couple very public spaces. Hub, Deene, sis-in-law Mishtophe, and I clinked “Salut” after everyone was at last, quietly sleeping. Not fluent yet, not by a long shot- but a little more suave.

We went through Vermont on the way home. Vermont is my all-time favorite state. Burlington is just such a great town. The amount of young people and the vibrancy of it’s food scene really makes it gleam. Tried to get into American Flatbread but it was packed three deep at the bar on a gloomy Monday night (rain, rain go away…).

Our drive home the next morning in clear and gentle sunshine showed the green pastures and sloping fields that hem the country road in their most beautiful light. The Vermont countryside is soft and rolling and wonderfully green. It is in contrast to the craggy and rugged Maine landscape where forests of pine trees line the road for miles and miles on end. Both states are natural beauties, but one is more severe and ascetic. The other lush and curved.

“I love her valleys broad and fair,

The pathless wood, the gleaming lake,

The bold and rocky bastions, where

The billows of the ocean breaks: “

From New England by Albert Laighton

Progress

2011-07-23T09:07:00.000-07:00

Done with the Hanukkah chapter, and I'm pretty happy with it. Hope to wrap up July 4th Chapter in the next few days . Testing summer salad-as-a-meal recipes. Grilled Steak and Veggies Summer Nicoise Salad, has potential- needs to be expanded and the garlic grilled pitas need to be served immediately for it's full effect. Note: Include grilled corn in next version.

Hub's sis and fam arrived today from Israel . More captive Tastebuds- yippee! Perfect crowd to test out cherry cola ice pops. Tonight's Bibimbop was hopeful. I seared tuna in a crust of sesame seeds, cracked pepper and a little salt, made some gochuchang which is a spicy Korean pepper paste which is mixed into the jasmine rice that the seared tuna, matchstick carrots, snow peas, and bean sprouts rest colorfully atop. I also brewed up some spicy sweet soy sauce which is the dressing for this filling yet light summer salad. On the whole very delicious- except I might suggest serving the gochuchang on the side for the benefit of milder palates.

The Blue Cheese dressing that I shook up last night was also noteworthy. I plan on serving it over a wedge of iceberg lettuce garnished with cherry tomato halves. A nice side to the simple tuna sandwiches I plan on serving tomorrow night for dinner. Might make a salad pizza for Thursday Pizza Night (TPN). I'll report back from the tastebud set.

Blue Cheese Dressing

1/2 c. sour cream

1/2 c. buttermilk

3 tbsp. mayonnaise

1 tbsp. minced red onion or shallot

1 tsp. worcestershire sauce

2 tsp. garlic powder

pinch of sugar

salt and pepper

1/2 c. blue cheese crumbles

Mix up all ingredients in a large jar.

The Sweet Taste of Summer- The Bright Side of Winter

2011-07-16T06:56:00.000-07:00

Like everyone I have taken some lumps, but on the whole life has been pretty good to me. I am currently living my dreams of being a writer and a mom. OK, so I had to readjust the setting of the dream, but in this version I'm only 30 minutes away.

That's just the thing about dreams, you have to be flexible to let them come true. Nothing is perfect, except for a dream that just lingers softly in your mind and heart. Making the dream come true, working on it, bringing it into being- well, that's where flexibility and effort and a little heartbreak come in.

The first chapter for the book is due in two weeks. After my initial baffled "Huh?" reaction, last week I sprung into action. We decided that we would start with Hanukkah, which 10 days into the process I'm having another "huh?" moment, this time with irritation. I'm smack dab in the middle of the loveliest summer weather I have enjoyed in a long time. So while working on Hanukkah I'm also doing July 4th. I'm serving fried food for dinner, accompanied by light crunchy summer salads, and fresh, sweet, fruity desserts. I haven't heard a complaint from the tastebud set yet.

Donz and I are trying to figure out the format of the chapter introductions and recipe headers. Being a writer I care as much about the words as I do the food. The two go hand-in-hand, without one there cannot be another. Donz is breakneck-speed busy, with a show a day, and a couple of meeting sprinkled into the mix, in addition to her homelife which includes a couple adorable kids, and a husband. And we are trying to figure how this all works, and how we work ourselves into it. As is my way, I'm figuring it out as I go along, sometimes I'm a few steps behind- once in a while I'm a little ahead.

For guidance I have turned to books. I have consulted with Julia Childs editor; Judith Jones. She was very helpful, informing that many of the best cookbook authors were unschooled culinarially. She also told me that many were over 40 when they got their start. But her best nugget of advice was to have passion and a point of view.

I also turned to a contemporary. Molly Wizenberg's "A Homemade Life" is based on her blog Orangette. In addition she was a contributor to Bon Appetit, and that's how I became acquainted with her food and words. Since I didn't follow her blog, the book is fresh and new to me. She has a charming style, I say this through gritted teeth. She is very very talented. And she deserves the attention and acclaim. She has passion and a point of view, which she expresses often-times with beauty and grace. What more can you ask for?

So here's what I've come up with: My best offering so far, the one that delights everyone the most - is the summerfruit kuchen. It's a snap to make and can be personalized to taste. I like it with plums personally, but nectarines, peaches, or apricots work just as well. The cake layer is soft and sweet thanks to the juices of the fruit layer on top. I made this stonefruit dessert every day last week, for many of my taste buds. It will fit nicely into my Fourth of July menu, which has been a pleasure to devise. Summer is my muse, and the plentitude of fresh fruits, veggies, and herbs provides me with real inspiration.

My Hanukkah menu, which calls for an inspiration that takes me in the opposite direction, has been a little more challenging. Why we decided to start with a holiday that is placed in the heart of cold and barren (vegetationally speaking) winter, mystifies me, and makes me think that my intuitive powers may need some fine tuning. I have recipes for three different kinds of fried fritters so far, that are solid. My jelly donut muffins are good, and the chocolate dipped dreidels are adorable. I'm still playing with a couple of crispy-fried ideas. Trying to get myself back into a winter-state-of-mind, which happens to be a difficult time in the year for me to begin with, is a bit of a drag. But, on one of our hot and sticky days, it's not hard to yearn for the cool austerity of winter. I need to idealize winter, and get that Brighter side of Winter in the Hanukkah menu.

Summerfruit Kuchen

1/2 c. butter/marg

1 c. sugar

2 eggs

1/2 tsp. vanilla

1 c. flour

1 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp cinnamon

1/2 c. reg milk, soymilk, almond milk, coconut milk

4-5 thinly sliced peaches, plums, apricots, nectarines (or a combination)

2 tbsp. sugar (I like turbinado)

1 tbsp. butter/marg

Preheat oven to 350F

On medium speed and in a medium bowl mix together butter/marg, sugar, eggs, and vanilla until a batter forms. In a sperate small bowl whisk together flour, baking powder, and cinnamon. Add to wet batter and mix in until combined, the batter will be thick. Fold in milk to make a smoother more spreadable batter. With a spatula smooth out batter evenly over bottom of greased baking pan. Place fruit slices in whatever design you desire over batter, overlapping, and ensuring the top is completely covered with sliced fruit. Sprinkle sugar over surface and dor with butter/marg that was cut into 6-8 little slivers. Place in oven for 40-45 minutes, the fruits will be shrubken and golden around it's edges, and a toothpick inserted will come out mostly clean (save for a few clingy crumbs).

Enjoy this fresh taste of summer with ice cream, whipped cream, or on it's own.

Montreal

2011-07-05T07:53:00.000-07:00

Bonjour tout le mond! Just back from Montreal. This French weekend getaway was well-placed, so much so that if it wasn't for it, I might have found myself in the loony bin or receiving a visit from the coppers. Last week was tough. It contained several scenes that I am ashamed to even recall. Sometimes you gotta hold on for dear life, and last week was one of those weeks. Clutch onto sanity, balance and equilibrium; scrounge around for even a shred of patience and kindness, dig deep and try to find your better nature. It ain't easy. There are a whole lotta excuses: The flooded basement fills the house with the rank odor of cat piss, it's that time of the month-my exclamation point. The first draft of the book is due in three months and I am paralyzed wondering what to do next? And the collective culture in chez nous is that Maman has no other purpose in life other than the blind and unyielding service to Hub and Kids many needs. And last week there was a lack of female adult conversation that serves as a crutch sometimes. Crutches are necessary when one feels themselves stumbling and hobbling around in discomfort and pain. But it doesn't stack up, for me the measure of a successful person is how she overcomes her situation. I didn't overcome nuthin' this week.

The purpose for our visit up North was a wedding, our long-time friend Zelig was getting hitched to une fille Canadienne. They had the good sense to pick the perfect spot in the Montreal Summer Calendar: Jazz Fest. Friday morning I threw a few sundresses in my bag, my pink batik caftan with the plunging neckline for the wedding which called for "Shabby Chic" attire (?), and as an afterthought a few lacy undergarments for Hub's sake. And of course Judith Jones memoir: The Tenth Sense, My Life in Food". She was Julia Child's Editor, as well as many other reknowned food writers.

To further set the scene: As La Mother-in-law pulled up to pick up les jeunesses, I hosted the battling impulses of Motherdom; wanting to hold onto them and be with them and make up for all the horrible lost moments of the past week. But also needing to breathe, wanting to be unattached and unhindered to experience life on my own terms. And then they were gone, and we were off. Vive La Liberte!

A recollection of the weekend's best moments: Waking up in an elegant and stylish hotel room, to the thrilling notion that the day was all mine, to do as I pleased. With that delicious thought, I closed my eyes and drifted back to sleep next to Hub.

Sauntering through the fashionable shops and boutiques near L'hotel (two summer blouses and a bangle). Forcing myself to speak French, dreadful accent be damned!

Brunching with Hub at a Super-Duper French Brasserie. Decent Mimosa. Sampled a Montreal bagel, and am not ready to give up the New York ones yet. The Montreal bagels are smaller and sweeter and chewier. Hub's Oeufs en Cocotte were delicieux! His Bloody Mary was just right.

Our meandering path to Old Montreal cut right through Jazz Fest. The sights! The sounds! The chance to just walk, observe, and enjoy! The revived inclination to flirt!

Dinner at Kitchenette was good. Texas home cookin' fare; comfy, cozy, flavorful stuff. But the dessert is what made the good 'n tasty meal great. Sticky Toffee Pudding Sundae with Cracker Jacks- it was gone in two minutes. A sweet and dense square of toffee pudding topped with a dollop of classic vanilla ice cream and bathed in warm homemade caramel sauce, with a homemade cracker jacks as a garnish (which I thought were more of a distraction).

Then there was brunch and a brief hike up Mont Royal with NY friends also in for the wedding.

The wedding. Zelig was previously married, and after his divorce he went through a bit of a rough patch. This wedding was a triumph of Romance and Second Chances and all that good stuff that makes a lump rise in your throat. It was clear to all how happy and in love Zelig is with his bride. Instead of the usual speech Zelig crooned a love song to his new wife. It was a heart-melter. The wedding band was phenomenal. Even if I wanted to, I could not stop dancing. It was as though all the stress and aggravation of the previous week was released on the dancefloor.

Late to bed, early to rise. It was back to New York the next morning. I return with the desire to be better. To be a better mom, to write a better book, despite feeling overwhelmed by both assignments.

Book

2011-06-28T17:30:00.000-07:00

Just as I imagined it would be. It took what felt like forever to get the contract, and then to get it finalized. And the first draft is due in three months from yesterday. Of course, this to me really is a dream of a problem. But I am shit-scared. I am so worried that I won't be able to harness it and express it in a beautiful and effective way. I think I have 2/3's of the recipes that I need. I have to figure out the last third, while coming up with the narrative with Donz. I am now exiting overwhelmed and entering pre-panic concern. How do I do this?.... you just do it. That'll be my answer- whenever I ask that question.

A book! Me writing a book- look at me world, I am writing a book.

Emilie's Sweet 'n Silent Visits

2011-06-23T11:30:00.000-07:00

“It’s a decent pie…it’s fine” she said unenthusiastically after swallowing a forkfull of the triple berry pie that she baked for dessert. “It’s great! It’s delicious!” the women countered as they happily devoured their wedges. She rolled her eyes as she stared at her plate, poking at the crust with resentment. “Well, what’s wrong with it?!” asked an exasperated Dina.

“I would be so proud if I made this pie. And my husband? He would be thrilled!” was Amanda’s contribution to the pie’s defense.

“I’m berry happy right now” came from Anna, ever the goofball .

“Roxanne, you’re never, ever satisfied with anything you make, no matter how tasty and perfect it is” Caren correctly observed.

“It’s just missing something” Roxanne said with the slightest tinge of bitterness in her tone.

Now it was their turn for eye rolling. “You always say that!” said Caren as she placed the last of her piece in her mouth.

Roxanne took a swig from her mug of black coffee, and then chased it with a gulp of white wine. She felt drowsy and keyed up all at once. Her friends had never tasted Emilies’s baking, she reminded herself. If they had her chocolate cake or peanut butter tart, or carrot cake or peach pie or anything Emilie made they would realize the difference between Roxanne’s “good” baking, and Emilie’s magical desserts.

She briefly considered explaining Emilie to her friends, but as usual she dismissed the impulse. How could she describe Emilie without making it sound like a juicy nugget of coffee klatch gossip? She knew her friends would seize upon the details of Emilie’s late term miscarriage, they’d make shows and sounds of pity, but like Roxanne, they would never really understand how this could result in this woman’s complete and utter silence.

“I’ve had cake that tasted so good that it made me cry.” Roxanne said without sentiment.

“I don’t think cake could make me cry- no matter how delicious” said Dina

“Maybe if it was chocolate” mused Amanda

“I don’t know about crying, but if it was good chocolate I could come” this, of course, belonged to Anna.

“By cry do you mean a single tear or were you full on sobbing?” asked Dina the skeptic.

Roxanne remembered when she dropped off a lasagne for Emilie and her family, days after her miscarriage. She wanted so badly to say something comforting, to offer her some kindness, she stumbled around for words, Emilie’s emphatic silence making her act more and more awkward. She retreated from her house feeling spurned and embarrassed. And pissed with Emilie, which then made her feel bad. But still, hadn’t she gone to the trouble of caring, and making a freaking lasagne! Her better side reminded her of the trauma Emilie had just suffered.

For three weeks Roxanne’s phone calls, emails, and texts to Emilie went unanswered. The day that Roxanne decided that there was just no excuse for such rudeness, Emilie turned up at her door holding a big beautiful carrot cake. With a wary smile she extended the cake to Roxanne. Roxanne felt shamed as she received the double decker cake covered in a light and swirling layer of fluffy white frosting. She looked from the cake to Emilie’s face. A plainness had settled over her fine features. Her blue eyes had a dull gray aspect to them. “For me? Wow…” Roxanne clearly remembered being a little confused by the cake. Emilie just stood at the door, looking at Roxanne, as if trying to organize her thoughts. “How are you doing, Em?” Roxanne asked feeling trepidation as she waited for her friend’s answer and reaction. Emilie smiled thinly, nodded, and turned to leave.

“ Well, if you don’t like it. I’d be happy to relieve you of it and take it home with me and give to my kids, they’d love it with some whipped cream” Caren offered helpfully.

“It’d be great with vanilla ice cream” suggested Dina

“ Ben and Jerry’s make THE BEST vanilla ice cream. It has actual vanilla beans in it, so it looks and tastes very gour-met” Anna took pains to pronounce the T.

Roxanne recalled the cream cheese frosting that topped Emilie’s carrot cake in a flash. It was flecked with those delicate little vanilla beans. She was confused, and more than a little unsettled after her strange interaction with Emilie. Roxanne placed the cake on her kitchen counter, and with her pointer finger took a swipe of the frosting. First it was a gorgeous and simple sweetness, followed by a fresh tartness, which flowed into a luscious creaminess. With a plastic knife she indelicately carved out a piece. The carrot was bright orange and flecked the spice colored cake, much like the vanilla beans decorated the frosting. It was soft and fluffy to her fork. And it tasted like home, it tasted like warmth, it tasted like a mother’s love. The cinnamon and nutmeg was like a hug. The beautiful flavor filled her heart and almost made it burst. Tears sprang to her eyes.

Emilie’s sweet ‘n silent visits. That’s how Roxanne came to refer to the semi-frequent visits from her long-time friend. She’d show up at her door and wordlessly hand her a different dessert every time. On a crisp mid-autumn afternoon she received a maple pecan bundt cake that was sturdy and dense and mellow in it’s golden sweetness. It made Roxanne think of the turning leaves outside. And begged for a mug of coffee and some friendly chatter to go along with it.

The day before Passover it was a flourless chocolate cake, that took her seder from dark, rich bitterness to an exaltant sweetness and ended in the brightness of the infused orange rind.

Change just takes some getting used to, fighting against it only increases the discomfort. Roxanne knew this instinctively. But she struggled with Emilie’s new non-verbal way of being. Her husband, Greg, was no help. He hid his unease behind caveman humor. “ A woman who bakes cakes and pies instead of talking? Sounds almost too good to be true”.

She ran into Edward, Emilie’s husband, at the wine store, and noticed the extra pounds added to his frame.

“What do you think goes with a dark chocolate truffle tart?” asked Edward conversationally.

“When in doubt, I always say Cab”

Edward selected a mid-priced bottle. “I don’t know if she ever made this tart for you before, but it’s…. magic. The chocolate is endless … and even a little bit sexy, if it‘s possible for a baked good to be sexy .”

Roxanne wondered what to say. On the rare occasion she saw Edward since Emilie’s miscarriage and subsequent silence, Roxanne followed Edward’s cues and pretended that everything was fine and that Emilie had just discovered a new-found talent when it came to the obsessive baking.

“Mmmm sounds incredible! That Cabernet will do nicely, I’m sure” Roxanne said jauntily.

“My friend Jordan is going through a divorce. Her kids are having a really hard time with it. The daughter was kicked out of school, and her son got some girl pregnant. And I‘m sure Jordan, has that thing…what‘s it called? Workout Anorexia, y‘know what that is? It’s when you workout obsessively.” said Caren sadly.

“Who left who?” asked Amanda

“ Jordan found out he was cheating with a co-worker” Caren revealed in a stage whisper.

“Ugggh how predictable!” Amanda shuddered

“Yeah, she was suspicious for all the usual reasons, and then she did some snooping and found a few texts that she says are beyond obscene- perverted shit apparently”

Anna reached for the triple berry pie and cut herself another slice. She gestured to the coffee pot. “Any more of that left? Let's make another pot”

5/28-6/4

2011-06-04T07:21:00.000-07:00

Had to back away from the Van Gogh re-edification project. Thought of the Alexander McQueen exhibition in short spurts. Came up with a few really refreshing and tasty ice pop ideas. And one sweet li'l truffle named Blueberry. I was tinkering around with the blueberry filling of last week's pie. The blueberries, sugar, cinnamon, and lemon juice was cooked down down to a thick and juicy compote-like consistency. Swirled with fresh frothy cream, it was a beauty to behold. Although sweet, creamy, fruity, and lovely to taste it is not the summer thirst quencher that the mango-lime-strawberry popsicle is.

The leftover pie filling was the starting point for a delightful new truffle flavor. The replayed image of a wedge of blueberry pie in a beautiful puddle of vanilla bean flecked ice cream led me to fill vanilla bean infused white chocolate ganache with tiny spoonfuls of soft jammy blueberries. I had to hold back on the inescapable sweetness and introduce a dark and slightly bitter note in the form of the dark chocolate coat it wears. But the dusting of cinnamon graham crumbs takes it back to it's homey dessert origins. The initial response has been overwhelmingly positive.

Recognizing where chocolate was most needed, a few bonbons were quietly slipped into a few needy hands, as all eyes were focused on our First Graders who performed so well onstage. The smiles and the deep sighing is all that is needed to know. However, the tale of a terrible day full of in-law friction, morphing into a fine day after enjoying the truffle, was happily received.

The fish in chips recipe made for the kiddles the other night needs a lot of work, but might be something in a few more tries. The mac 'n cheese is solid- especially when topped with french fried onions.

As for Hub's birthday Open House, we are not on the same page. Considering it's next week- we need to figure it out. Being a man who is turning 40, he wants to eat red meat and celebrate his deepening masculinity, while beating his chest. Visions of fat slabs of beef and stein's filled with ale fill my head whenever his ideal birthday party is imagined. But when left to my own devices, bowls of fresh,crispy green salads thinly slicked in flavorful aromatic dressings occupy my vision. And platters of cheeses and fruits, and every kind of bread to soak up the pitchers of fruity sangria's and exotic punches. Of course, all of this is just biding time until Dessert. A table covered in jewelled toned pies (blueberry, strawberry, peach), A tall and proud chocolate layer cake, a devious little chocolate tart, a couple cream pies (key lime, banana peanut butter). Of course a sturdy bundt ( Lemon? Maple Pecan?), caramel sandwich cookies, salt caramels with pink peppercorns (?!) an assorted truffle platter, shooters of butterscotch pudding. And a fanciful cheesecake.

The obvious question is how to coalesce the two? How to make it work without too much dissonance? Serve the sangria in beer steins? Make a garden deli party? Trays of meat tastefully arranged and garnished, served alongside finger friendly potato knishes, and bowls of fresh green salad, and an gourmet inspired cole slaw- OK, maybe, but dessert is all mine.

May 20- May 27

2011-05-27T14:13:00.000-07:00

Words, words, words, stir, stir, stir, think, think, think, drink, drink, drink. The week in review.

Started reading Leaving Van Gogh by Carol Wallace this past weekend. Because college was almost a million years ago, any academic knowledge acquired is steadily leaking out of my brain. The stacks of cookbooks that line the room, reveal a certain kind of tunnel vision. Leaving Van Gogh is not a cookbook inspired by the colors and subjects of Van Gogh's painting. The only edible things that were mentioned in the book were coffee and absinthe. It is a historical novel told from the point of view of Dr. Gachet, Vincent VG's physician and subject in a few paintings. She described Vincent's canvases lovingly. She represented Vincent and his struggles with real sympathy and regarded his huge talent with admiration. It sent me straight to the Met this morning to get up close to his canvases to study his thick and rapid brushstrokes and strong colors. His paintings are so full of feeling and personal sentiment, a very normal looking woman was secretly observed tearing up and sniffling while looking at Wheat Field with Cypresses.

The museum visit was the culmination of a week spent in quiet rumination, which is another way of saying there was room for a nation of heavy thoughts and unhappy questions. It could have been one of those coincidences that happen when Mercury is in retrograde, or is upside down or something cosmically trippy like that, but almost every planned social interlude was thwarted by what can only be viewed as garden variety flakery. A wide array of flaking: the "oops! I totally forgot!", the "damn! I am supposed to be at ________ at that time" double booking, the "sorry, I'm feeling so tired", and my favorite: "My friend wants me to take a yoga class with her, and I kinda really want to". As I walked across Manhattan I noticed how every second person was huddled over their personal communication devices. Eyes glued on those little contraptions of wonder and social alienation. When everyone is staring at their palms, moments of spontaneous connection are much less likely to happen. It is oddly ironic to have 182 friends, but not be able to meet anyone in person for a cup of coffee and some pleasant chit chat. Well that's not entirely true, there was book club on thursday night.

It was a good showing at Daz's. I made a blueberry pie twice. The first one boasted a beautiful lattice crust but was not nearly sweet enough, so that was deemed a mistake that the kiddles and hub picked over. The second one was sweet and had the slight suggestion of cinnamon, due to the addition of a cup of sugar (instead of half a cup) and a generous pinch of cinnamon, a squirt or two (not 4 or 5) of lemon juice, and finally, stirring it all up so that the individual berries are coated in what looks like crystal frosting. Daz made a couple delicious springtime salads. Her pasta salad is a personal favorite- it is full of flavor and texture. She also made a watermelon feta concoction that was quite refreshing. She purchased a couple of bottles of Skinnygirl Margarita's that went down nice and smooth. The pie was rather enjoyable when served with a scoop of Ben and Jerry's Vanilla ice cream that the hostess had thoughtfully provided. The flaky wedge of soft, sweet,slightly tart berries in a puddle of vanilla bean flecked creaminess is one of those simple culinary joys that is worthy of quiet festivity. Her home is elegant and tidy in a rustic style, and it made the blueberry pie taste that much better.

So the contrast of that tasting experience clashed quite a bit with my eating experience in the city the next day. After departing from the museum, Streus, a college friend who was visiting from Los Angeles, and I strolled down Fifth Avenue and chatted amiably. The memory of what is was like to have a leisurely personal conversation returned. It was a perfect spring day in Manhattan, warm bare skin was all around. We walked and talked all the way down to 60th, where the venerable Plaza Hotel stood before us. New York Magazine had a review of The Food Court in Plaza a few months ago, and interest was piqued.

They didn't renovate the Old New York grandeur out of the Plaza. It is still sparkly and grand and grandmotherly (if your grandmother has over-the-top rococco tastes like mine). Downstairs is a village of little boutiques and stands. The Food Hall takes up a lot of space, and the seating arrangement seems a little confusing. Guests are seated at counters and islands and there are stations for various cuisines and options; seafood, grill, pizza, salad. Streus, had to get across town to meet up with friends. Bye, bye. Kiss, hug. I'm glad we saw that McQueen exhibition, yeah, let's do it again next time you are in town.

Seated at the edge of the pasta station right next to a distressed and vintage looking mirror, the white tiled floor was noted, and the art deco in Paris motif to the room was understood. It was loud and crowded. The service was uninterested and impersonal. I decided to be good and ordered the watercress salad and a side of parmesan french fries for good measure. The salad was bland, the thin little pannini hiding in a jungle of salad was nothing to talk about, and the shmear of lemon jam on the plate was not lemony enough. The parmesan fries were as good as McDonald's fries- which is praise (McDonald's fries are pretty good). The parmesan added nothing. Thankfully the 2 gourmet soft pretzels (feta and olive, roasted garlic) procured from the pretzel truck outside the Met, were tucked away in a bag for later. The restaurant represents a side of New York that is irritating in it's self importance.

Once outside the Food Hall Payard's perfect little confections beckoned, and the passionfruit macaron was good. The salted caramel was delicious; buttery, soft, bitter-sweet. But the pretzels were enjoyed the most while window gazing at Bergdorf's. The garlic pretzel was so soft and buttery and garlicky. It was my culinary adventure of the day. I'm still trying to digest the McQueen exhibition: Savage Beauty. It was something completely new for me.

Next up for next week: An article on gourmet popsicles. A couple boxes of truffles, new spring flavor raspberry? blueberry? Hub's 40th birthday open house has to be considered. Need to try out a couple of weeknight recipes on the kids ( sausage pie, mac 'n cheese, and fish in chips). Homework for the week: Finish Van Gogh Vision and Reality, and think about McQueen exhibition.

2011-05-17T11:19:00.000-07:00

They say that breaking up is hard to do.... Eustacia was my first Mom-in -arms friend. We met at a baby play group that was run by an earnest middle aged Hippie Momma in a dinky church basement . The class was more of a support group for confused, anxious, frustrated first time Moms than anything else. Samwich was 5 months, and it felt like it had been that long since I had left the house, and longer since I had any sort of satisfying social interaction.

In that collection of six first time Mommies, Eustacia and I gravitated towards each other. I suppose we sensed our mutual refugee-from-the- City status. That, and the Jewgirl vibe that we were hormonally emitting from our pores.

We hung out on a regular basis. Wiling away the kid-filled hours together, trying to figure it out. During those baby years, I started to get into cooking/baking/chocolatemaking. I experimented and came up with many of the truffle flavors that I still make now for my orders. It was a time I remember as being kind of thrilling. New baby, new neighborhood, new house, new friends, new interests and hobbies, new hubby. New is exciting. I am never bored with new.

Eustacia was an art teacher in her former life. But felt mixed about going back to it after having her second child. Mommying in the age of MARTHA, endowed all of our kiddie birthday parties with polish and a subtle one-upmanship. Being a visual artist Eustacia started to experiment with royal icing for her boy's 4th brthday party. As a Thank-you-for-being-my-friend gift I bought her a set of animal shapes mini sized cookie cutters, so that she could make bags of animal crackers as the party favor.

She opened a Cookie boutique last year. Her stuff is beautiful, whimsical, and detailed. Her life is consumed by the shop and the work. As soon as she decided to start a cookie business it was all we talked about. After she found a space and signed the lease, I helped her clear out the former tenant's junk, made signs, and kept her company. All the while I was quiet about all the stuff I was working on. Her store and her new life was the news.

I tried to be supportive. I brought lunch to the store, stopped by for visits, listened. I gave her praise and encouragement. I got the book deal, but never mentioned it to her. I was going through a bit of a rough spot with Hub, but kept that to myself as well. I started to feel like a cardboard cut out of myself whenever I was with her. I wanted to be there for her, I wanted to maintain our friendship, but after a while had to face that she could only give me what she had.

I am confrontation-phobic. Maybe it has something to do with being a Libra, but really it's because I am a wimp. I had to say something to her, I was feeling flimsy and more than a little resentful. So I finally told her that I cared about her and enjoyed our friendship, and that I understood the position she is in, but I could not carry the weight of the friendship on my back anymore. She knew what I meant, and could not disagree. It was the most cordial, civilized, and rational break up I've ever had.

The tea bread I made this morning, would be just the thing we'd convene over in the old days. It'd be paired with coffee, and there'd be few servings of gossip to go along with it.

Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour,

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

I know, I know, quoting Robert Frost is a bit much. We weren't Thelma and Louise or even Lucy and Ethel, but she was someone I shared a period of green and gold with.

Apple Cinnamon Tea Bread

1/2 c. butter, softened

1 c. brown sugar

1/4 c. buttermilk

2 tsp. baking powder

2 eggs

1 c. all-purpose flour

1 c. whole wheat flour

1 tsp. cinnamon

1/4 tsp. salt

4 medium apples, shredded or grated

Preheat oven to 350F. Grease oaf pan and set aside.

In a large bowl, beat butter for about 30 seconds. Beat in sugar until combined. Add buttermilk and baking powder; beat until combined. Add eggs, beat until combined. Add flour, cinnamon, and salt; beat until combined. Fold in greted apples.

Spoon batter into the prepared pan. Sprinkle streusel topping (recipe below) over batter.

Bake for about an hour, or until a toothpick inserted near middle comes out clean.

In a small bowl combine 1/4 c. brown sugar and 3 tbsp. all-purpose flour, 1/2 tsp. cinnamon, cut in 2 tbsp. butter. Stir in 1/2 c. chopped walnuts

Spring: Take Two

2011-05-13T11:29:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was a perfect spring day. The kind of day that inspires art. I wrote a post that attempted to convey the splendour of the beautiful afternoon. But I realized that everything I wanted to say was penned by the Romantic poets, depicted by Van Gogh or Monet, and conjured by Vivaldi and Dvorak. At the end I decided that the best I could offer was a berry pie; a juicy, sweet-tart very berry pie.

I was excited about my assignment; an edible tribute to Spring. I put the post away for later, to be continued after I completed the the pie. No pre-made pie crust for this offering, I needed to make the dough from scratch. I regard pie crusts as the final frontier in baking, I haven't found a dough yet. I settled on a Martha version, hoping for better results this time.

Skip forward through swathes of lush green grass dotted with tiny bright yellow buds. Bright spring sun fades into a crisp night. I reviewed a few recipes on the internet, and came up with a plan. I imagined the pie while relaxing in bed and watching TV before going to sleep.

Gray, overcast chilly morning. The dough is crumby. My flinging over spring draft is missing. I meet up with Daz at the diner and the conversation is on the somber side (yet, no less interesting). Think about how it's just as well that I lost yesterday's flowery post draft. Keats does it so much better.

The berries are plump and juicy and deeply colored. I use a combined 6 cups of raspberries, blackberries, and blueberries, add in juice from half a lemon, half a cup of sugar, the scrapings of one vanilla bean and some flour to absorb the berry juice. I gracelessy graft the dough together and piece up a lattice crust. After baking it in a preheated 375F oven for about 50 minutes the aroma is good, and the berry center is inviting. I'm not sure it's a glorious tribute to Spring, but it'll be a nice ending to tonight's dinner.

Who Doesn't Love a Good Wedding?

2011-04-29T11:24:00.000-07:00

I like to think of myself as too cool to be interested in anything as preciously pompous and irony-free as the royal wedding. But in truth before I became a jaded and snarky New Yorker, I was a subject of the British Commonwealth, a child of Mother England's premier penal colony: Australia. The Aussies have mixed feelings about the royal family, which they refer to lovingly as those Pommie Bastards, but in general share a grudging kinship with. Aussies think of the English as their stuck-uptight cousins, whom they enjoy taking take the piss out of. During my entire time in Oz, The Royals were a tabloid cover fave (it was during the Di-Fergie epoch).

So I had some context when I worked out at the gym this morning and watched the replay of the wedding. The Queen was in a sensible suit with matching sensible hat and shoes. Duty and tradition informs her every move. She seems hardworking, but strict and cold and tough. Not the kind of grandmother that grabs your punim and surreptitiously places a twenty in your pocket. I can actually imagine her declaring "Off with your head" when dispeased. There was goofy Prince Charles -boo (...as in boorring) and Camilla, who seems to utterly lack in style. Camilla's veddy British kind of dowdiness makes the memory of Princess Di even more vivid. And there's no doubt who is the mother of those quirky jr. princesses; Beatrice and Eugenie. Those hats were downright nutty.

She looked beautiful and demure. Kind of refreshing to see a celebrity bride keep her ta-ta's to herself. Felt bad for Wills, he looks a lot like his mum and has her same shy manner. At times he appears embarrassed and uncomfortable with the whole thing.

They really do know from pomp and pageantry over there across the pond. I think the royal wedding puts most Hollywood productions to shame. The entire affair was a tasteful and brilliantly arranged spectacle, from the eccentric hats perched on the heads of the lady guests, to the elegant pagentry, complete with hordes of Union Jack waving extras. The denouement was that chaste little kiss (times two) on the balcony as they waved to their loyal subjects- the unwashed masses. Approaching it from an American point of view, it does seem slightly bizarre that this is real and not characters acting out a script.

It is especially surreal when images of horse drawn carriages, and a magnificent medieval cathedral, are juxtaposed with the scenes of utter devastation and chaos in Alabama. But I think therein lies the appeal, the world is a mess. People are struggling and suffering. Nature is in revolt. Getting lost in a good old fashioned fairy tale is tempting. Monarchs have always understood that. Give the people a little sip at the banquet, for tomorrow it's back to the fields.

In honor of Will & Kate and the utter Britishness of it all, I served the kiddles afternoon tea. I made thin little cucumber sandwiches cut into neat triangles, and bought some rich butter tea biccies (biscuits). The tea I served was more moroccan in flavor due to the mint leaves that steeped alongside the tea bags in the tea pot. All in all a very pleasant affair, that my Yank-ified children devoured before watching Phinneas & Ferb. Only Girlette showed an interest in the Royal Wedding. I recognized that dreamy wistful look in her eyes as she watched their replayed kiss.

Cycling Through Life

2011-04-28T12:18:00.000-07:00

Life is a series of cycles. Spring blooms into summer which deepens into autumn and then sheds into winter. My own course is almost as predictable as the seasons. After being with family and friends for a while I automatically yearn for football fields of space. Inevitably a season of social fecundity dries up to a period of drought, when my cell phone's main function is to tell time. And then before long I am sick of myself and ready to hear different voices again.

After a week brimming with family, friends, and food I need to recharge with some alone time. But it was a really great Passover! We infused our seders with some personal expression and meaning. Feeling the aches, pains, and silent strength of generations of Jewish women before me, I inserted the Four Daughter's questions into the evening's program. We set a place at our table for all those who are still not free and said a prayer for the oppressed. A couple of days before the seder I gave the kiddles a Passover performance project: Samwich offered a top ten list of why the Children of Israel left Egypt (" no gefilte fish"). Girlette did a Parting of the Red Sea Dance. OK, fine it all sounds a bit hippie-dippy, and Samwich's lethal eye-roll made it clear that it was a little kooky, but let's be real- the seders can be somewhat dry and academic if you don't do something different now and then.

My seder plate menu went down pretty well, the pre-seder chicken wings were the high point. I have to work on the poached egg on spring greens dish- but it was more of a time management issue than anything else. The apple walnut haroset crumble ended the meal nicely. But for me the most successful Passover experiment was the chocolate macaron whoopie pies. Fluffy marshmallow sandwiched between two airy french macaron cookies. I also stirred up a rich chocolate ganache that I spread between the macarons for a more classically French treat.

I am pleased to report that I now have a flourless chocolate cake that I can rely on. And much like the certainty of the seasons, I gained the Passover Five, which hopefully I will shed as the darling buds of May emerge.

Chocolat Macaron Whoopie Pies:

3/4 c. ground almonds

3/4 c. powdered sugar

2 tbsp. cocoa powder

3 egg white

1/4 c. granulated sugar

Marshmallow Filling

3 tbsp. butter/marg

2 c. marshmallows

Place almonds, powdered sugar, and cocoa in a food processor and pulse for about 10-15 seconds. Sift mixture into a bowl.

Place egg whites in a large bowl and whip until soft peaks occur. Slowly beat in the granulated sugar to make a firm and glossy meringue.

With a spatula, gently fold the almond mixture into the meringue in three portions. When the dry ingredients are incorporated, continue folding the mixture until a shiny batter with a thick ribbonlike consistency results.

Pour into a pastry bag and pipe small circles onto two baking sheets lined with parchment paper. If you don't have a pastry bag, drop small, neat teaspoons onto the baking sheets. Preheat oven to 325F. Let the macarons stand at room temperature for 20 minutes.

Bake in the oven for 13-15 mins. Let cool , and then carefully peel the macarons off the paper.

Marshmallow filling: in a medium saucepan melt butter over med. heat, add marshmallows and stir until melted into butter.

PassOYver

2011-04-16T06:47:00.000-07:00

Oy! she said. An Oy that summons all the woes and pains of her foremothers. It's time for the Big P - Passover. A spring-time celebration of freedom, that requires heavy labor to prepare for. The uncanny thing is that Passover comes at just the right time this year. After a particularly shut-in winter, a radical cleaning and purging is really necessary. The winter detritus just accumulated and left everyone feeling cramped and stifled.

I was surprised by how much pleasure I got out of organizing my arts and crafts closet. I threw away several years worth of junk. And gave away jars, baskets, art supplies, and assorted knicknackery to friends/neighbors who will put it all to good use. Filling up bags and bags of clothes, toys, magazines etc. made me aware of how we have so much more than we need. Beauty is hard to resist, comfort is a habit, and non-stop amusement is expected but in the end all these trappings become a burden. Please remember next time at the mall.

The kitchen was where the Oy-ing really took place. My pantry is crammed to overflowing with jars, bottles, boxes. Some of the stuff is daily baking/cooking necessities, but a good amount are exotic flashes in the pans, that have not been used since the 4th of July 2006. I have a chili oil that is older than my little dude. A jar of meyer lemon curd that remains unopened and untouched through it's second winter. All the half-finished, or barely sipped, bottles of booze that we've accumulated over 7 years of Hanukkah parties and other adults-only gatherings, makes me think we have a half-drinking problem. Getting rid of it all was a bother and hassle, but the results are (insert image of the red sea parting)...liberating. The pain in my neck is my badge of freedom, and, it connects me to the generations of Passover preparin' maidels before me.

I'm looking to challenge myself with this year's holiday menus. Besides having to hunt around for the best Passover products and ingredients, there is pressure to offer the best food and dishes at the Seder. Additionally, I want to put forth something creative and meaningful that I can use in the book. I've come up with a sketch of a menu that is based on the Seder plate. Poached eggs on spring greens, glazed chicken wings, horseradish crusted roast beef, apple and walnut macaroon crumble. For me the preparation is over, now it's show-time for the monday night seder.

Good News

2011-04-06T08:55:00.001-07:00

So here's some good news: We finally got the contract for our book deal. Just before Thanksgiving hey told us they want to publish our book, and, now, a couple of weeks before Passover we got official proof. The interim period was wrought with a fair amount of worry and insecurity. In my more wobbly moments I became convinced that they had changed their minds, and they just didn't know how to break it to us. And in my dark moments I allowed the bitter thoughts in for a chat. But mostly I kept cooking and writing. I am so excited and nervous, and grateful. For now, I am keeping this little jewel to myself, holding it close to my heart. Of course Hub knows, and good thing because I'll be needing his expertise with contracts soon. The kiddles have some vague idea, but as long as nothing changes for them, they couldn't give a hoot. I don't know if Donz is having the same reaction. Donz, my book partner and now close friend, is a singer, so shows and performances are her thing. In my deepest heart since I was 8 years old, I wanted to be a writer. I've kept a journal since grade school, and at certain times in my life it felt like it was my religion. In my 'tween years I wrote a bunch of screenplays that were basically John Hughes rip-offs. In highschool I put together a few issues of a student magazine. In college I made tentative forays into the Lit world, but I was completely intimidated. Back then it seemed to me there were people who were considered "Writers". They wrote in a very serious and arty style that felt uncomfortable and verged on the humorless. In creative writing classes they would be vicious. I didn't have any kind of confidence in myself or my writing ability. I thought myself not serious or cool enough to be a real writer, like those other kids who listened to cooler music and did cooler drugs and had cooler friends. So I denied that I wanted to be a writer. Every once in a while something would come busting out. But I quickly covered it up.

After I got married I discovered the kitchen. The best part of the discovery was that I love creating with food. And finally my writing has a focus. That was my problem during those years of trying to figure out what to do- I never had focus. I wanted to do everything. But what I wanted to do most of all was to write a book. And it is happening! I can't believe my good fortune, and am so grateful to the Universe, God, Existence everything... And when I tell people it feels just a bit smaller. No one cares as much as you do- why should they? I want it to stay huge for just a little bit longer.

Caramel Love

2011-04-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

I have fallen in love with caramel. I find the the whole process, from making it to savoring it, really therapeutic and rewarding. Being a part-time chocsmith I've come into the lives of quite a few chococrazies, and there is nothing quite like the thrill of satisfying a true chocolover. Chocolate makes them happy down to their bones, and creating something that can make people that happy, for even a few minutes is really fun. I like chocolate, at certain times during the month I love it, but I am not a chocoholic, at heart, I am caramellow.

After spending more money on salt at Williams Sonoma than is logical, and really rocking out those creamy salt caramels, I was hooked. I had caramel on the mind. The taste of the Purim sweets lingered; at first it's a saltiness that flowers into the most luscious, heartwarming, homemade mellifluence you can imagine. The flavor then melted into a creamy sweetness and at the end had the slightest hint of burnt sugar. For someone who believes baking/candymaking = Love; messy, salty-sweet caramel is the ultimate expression of love. It begins with simple kitchen ingredients: white sugar, water, a little fresh lemon juice. A high flame melts it down to a clear syrup, and it bubbles and boils until it goes from clear to light yellow to golden and then deep amber- kind of like love. Just before it gets bitter and burnt, you remove the caramel from the high flame and cool it off and relax it by mixing in cream and give it a tight pinch of salt and then you butter it up a bit. Stir it a little, let it get softer and watch the color change again to a warm shade of...caramel. Admire it's glossy smoothness. Offer another kiss by dribbling in some vanilla extract. Dip your index finger tentatively, it's hot- but taste it anyway. Yummmmlove.

It was in this headspace that I came up with another truffle flavor for a small order. Chocolate Caramel Nocciola: hazelnut flavored caramel covered in dark chocolate ganache with a light sprinkling of chopped hazelnuts. So far feedback (Hub) has been very positive. I'll really find out what people think next week when the chocolover in Florida recieves her Easter box. I will also serve some at the Wine Tasting we're hosting for the PTA, that will get me a whole crossection of sweettooths. Hopefully there'll be a few caramellows mixed in with the crazed choco-fiends. I always strive for a diverse crowd.

Hazelnut Caramel

1/2 c. + 1 tbsp. sugar

3 tbsp. water

1/4 tsp. fresh lemon juice

3/4 c heavy cream

1 tbsp. butter

1 tsp. hazelnut extract

in a med. saucepan stir the sugar, water, and lemon juice together. Let sugar mixture melt into a clear syrup, don't stir-swirl the pan. Bring to a boil over high heat and cook, undisturbed until the sugar syrup begins to color around the edges. Swirl pan to even out color and cook until it becomes a deep amber color, about 4 minutes. Remove pan from heat. Keeping the saucepan away from your body, stir in the cream. Return pan to heat and bring back to boil (about 30 seconds). Reduce heat to low and let simmer for approx 5 minutes. Stir in butter and hazelnut extract. Let cool for a minute or two.

Sweet Notes on Purim

2011-03-16T12:34:00.000-07:00

Sunday, March 20
Today is Purim. It is a custom to give friends and family fun gifts of food and snacks on Purim. Something like a small bag of oreo's and a bottle of milk, or a bag of chips and a juice box would be completely acceptable. But because I have a bit of a sweet problem, I always go a little nuts with my Mishloach Manot (purim packages). Sometimes I get all cutesie-tootsie and come up with some kind of theme; like 3 different kinds of cookies delivered in a cookie jar with an iced coffee attached to the side. This year's theme is Simply Sweets; glorious, terrible-for-your-teeth, blow-your-healthy-eating-regime- sweets.

On wednesday night I stirred up a couple of batches of cream caramels. I added another layer of flava by using some good French salt from Williams Sonoma, and then finished them off by sprinkling some Australian pink salt (also from WS) across the top. They are kinda awesome. The making of the caramels were somewhat time consuming and labor intensive but not overly difficult. However wrapping them all in wax paper was literally a pain in the neck.

Thursday/night: I continued with my sugar mad science experimentation. I made around 8 different types of hamantaschen dough; cream cheese half a bar, cream cheese whole bar, chocolate with buttermilk, traditional with coconut milk and vegan buttery spread. The results were interesting, and at times surprising, and almost all were very sticky. In the end I conclude that the dairy-free doughs kept it 's shape the best, and that the cream cheese doughs were the tastiest.

For fillings I made a tart cherry lekvar, which is an eastern european method for making fruit jam and butters. Dark dried cherries stewed in a combination of lemon juice, water, a little sugar, and a split vanilla bean. Still feeling the sugar rush that came with the salt caramels, I made a caramel nut filling which was too runny to use. There was a batch of blueberry cream cheese hamantaschen, I utilized the cream cheese dough for it, and because it had a creamy tartness to it I sprinkled the tops with coarse sugar which makes the cookie sparkle like Queen Esther (the heroine of the Purim story). Then I went into peanut butter territory. I spooned 1 tiny teaspoon of peanut butter which was melted with a little cream and brown sugar to make a sturdy and sweet filling. Next to it a tiny teaspoon of red raspberry jelly- so that's my PB& J Hamantaschen. I also spooned peanut butter alongside chocolate ganache for a Reese's style hamantaschen.

As I was getting later and later into the dark chocolate night, my experiments started getting wackier and more sugar-crazed. Partially melted dark chocolate chips mixed into condensed milk result in a not-unpleasant tootsie roll flavor and texture when baked.

And then there were the barks in the night. An orange infused dark chocolate bark topped with dried cherries (featured ingredient of Purim '11) and pine nuts. Next I made a milk chocolate bark topped with chopped cocktail peanuts, and rice krispies. And then for the white-lovers I made a vanilla bean flecked white chocolate slab with dried blueberries and slivered almonds. At Hub's suggestion I made a combo bark: equal parts dark and semi sweet chocolate bar topped with slivered almonds and tart dried cherries.

I had a sweet raindrop of an idea as I was falling asleep on thursday night: Semi sweet bark with chopped marshmallows, dried cherries, and chopped walnuts. 'Cos life can sometimes be a Rocky Road, and the world seems to be falling apart, and sometimes it just feels good to is sit back, close your eyes, and eat sweets.

Last night I stayed up until 3 wrapping those blasted, utterly swoon-worthy, cream caramels. And packing up the variety of barks, and hamantaschen. And then whimsically assembling it all in paper bags, popcorn boxes, and chinese food cartons. Now I think I'm ready to take the cure to sweets overdose: Salt. Real food. Water.

Sour Cherry Lekvar

2 c. dried cherries

1/2 lemon juice

1/2 c. water

1/2 c. sugar

1 split vanilla bean

Put dried cherries, lemon juice, water, and stir in sugar. Add vanilla bean. Heat over medium-high heat until it begins to bubble, lower to a simmer and let simmer for 15-20 minutes or until most of liquid is reduced. Remove from heat, and transfer cherry mixture to a food processor and coarsely chop (pulse for a few seconds). Makes enough lekvar to fill 3 dozen hamantaschen

Freedom

2011-03-09T09:07:00.001-08:00

I might have gotten to the party an hour or two late, but at least I didn't miss it. I'm speaking in code, because I am so flummoxed and overwhelmed by a recent read. Over the past 4 days I greedily binged on Freedom by Jonathan Franzen. I spent my spare moments in the lives of Patty and Walter Berglund. I hung onto every one of Franzen's words, allowing his observations about marriage, love, childrearing, American society, technology, and the environment to really get in, and then accepting the itch that comes along with it. It was the kind of book that makes you examine your own life, because the book is an exploration of everything. And like all great art it makes you think. It almost felt like the book was written just for me, which makes me realize that we all are trying to figure out what it means to be a person and live a life. I think that's what makes us human. Everyone has their own stuff to deal with, their own miseries, errors, and injustices, and our response to it is what makes up our lives. Of course, amidst it is freedom and acceptance and triumph- the good stuff. Sharp and unflinching observations on humanity and it's trappings go down much easier when the words are smooth and seamless. There were sentences of description or dialogue that glittered with beauty and truth. My favorite: "Humanity coming at him from every direction. Andean musicians piping and drumming in Union Square.....A pair of fur-coated ladies ballsily appropriating a cab that Casey hailed outside Bloomingdale's. Tres hot middle-school girls wearing jeans under miniskirts and slouching on the subway with legs open. Cornrowed ghetto kids in ominous jumbo parkas, National Gaurd troops patrolling Grand Central with highly advanced weapons. And the Chinese grandmother hawking DVD's of films that hadn't even opened yet, the break dancer who ripped a muscle or a tendon and sat rocking in pain on the floor of the 6 train..................each encounter was like a poem he instantly memorized"

The author created a universe in 642 pages. How does someone do that and still live in their physical world? Maybe they do it by living so observantly in their physical world? Maybe it's just a double sided gift? Whatever it is, it is contained in Jonathan Franzen, and he shares some of it with the world.

Chocolate Cakes Past and Present

2011-03-02T13:38:00.000-08:00

I peer into the baking pans and regard my cakes. Two round chocolate cakes. Taking a kitchen knife I pry the side from one of the tins, and realize that it is rock hard. I prod the center and feel the knife sink into a swampy middle. Frustration covers my thoughts- throw it away? But then there’ll be no birthday cake. But if I bring it everyone will know I messed up the minute they take a bite. This is going to be bad, everyone is going to hate it, this whole party is going to be terrible. No one really likes me-they think I’m a weirdo and a total doofus as it is.

The stressful inner-dialogue forces my hands and very ungently the cake comes apart. Now what do I do? The cake is a total mess, I can’t bring this. My panic subsides a little when I glance at the second tin. Like it’s devastated twin it is too hard and too soft all at once, but at least it is whole. Not taking another chance I decide to leave it in the round cake tin. I shellack it with some of the runny cocoa frosting I just mixed up, trying to smooth out the unpleasant cocoa rocks in the process. Will this make them see me and like me? Will this make me fit in?

I’m at the beach lugging around 3 clunky shopping bags. My board shorts with big orange mangoes on them are loose around the middle and keep sliding down my hips. The girls are standing around in their bathing suits, and the boys are in a group looking at the girls. Marisa, the birthday girl and guest of honor, is yet to arrive with Gati, her best friend. The weather is warm but the sky is gray, the surf looks like dirty dishwater, and there is sand everywhere.

With nothing really going on Austin starts up: “Hey Giganta! Those shorts make you look like you have huge orange birth marks all over your arse!” The boys snicker and snortle on command.

What am I doing? This was such a bad idea, none of the girls are even talking to me. I’m a dork. I look like a huge idiot in these shorts. I briefly consider which would be worse- staying in the ugly dumb outfit or revealing my big boobs and fat thighs. I decide to keep my shorts and t shirt on.

And then Marisa arrives, because it’s a surprise party, Gati’s hand is clamped over her eyes. They are both perfect little girls. Their cutoffs look cute and their chests are flat in their bathing suits and their legs are thin. Surprise! Everyone yells out.

“I thought we were going to The Drugstore”. Marisa rolls her eyes and pouts a bit, there is no mistaking her displeasure. I messed up and everyone thinks I‘m a loser. What a fucking nerd, I will never be like them. I will never be in the popular group. They will never see me. What’s left to do but serve the cake? I take it out of the bag. Austin grabs it out of my hand, and tosses it over to Roddy who scoops up a handful of sand and sprinkles it almost daintily over the cake. As they play Cake Frisbee, Marisa and the girls decide to go to the Drugstore, and like wind-up toys the boys follow.

I gather my stuff and shove the shame-filled tears down. “I love the beach” a voice announces from the surf. I focus on Dotty. Why is she still here? How come she didn’t go to the Drugstore with the rest of them? But I know that Dotty isn’t really part of the in crowd, more of a casual acquaintance to the powers-that-be. I invited her because she is in my classes and has always been nice to me. I am both glad and embarrassed to see her. Everyone left to go to the Drugstore, I call out.

“I know, they’re idiots. Hanging out at the beach is so much more fun than going to the Drugstore. The owner is such a dickhead, he’s always pissed off about everything.”

Well, Marisa wanted her birthday party there, I guess, I say to Dotty as she plonks herself down on her beach towel. “I hardly ever get the chance to go to the beach on my birthday, because it’s in September” Dotty looks totally cool in her sunglasses chilling out on her beach towel. My birthday is in September too, I say, I’m going to be thirteen on September 27th. “Mine is on the 15th”.

I’ll make us a cake to have together on the 21st of September for our joint birthday, I offer her. “Yum! I love anything chocolate” she accepts.

I can’t help but admire the bundt cake before me on the counter. The chocolate aroma is rich and warm and heart melting. I lightly touch the center of the cake and approve of the way it softly springs back to it’s smooth shape. This will be perfect for the ladies tomorrow night at book club. Like a chocolate dart it will hit their sweet spot. I pour the thick ganache glaze over the top of the cake, and get a kick out of watching it drip and ooze like liquid satin. A pest of a thought buzzes through my head: What if it doesn’t taste good? But I swat it away with the conviction that what most people are responding to is the sentiment behind the dessert when presented with something homemade. Yes, the yum factor is huge- but it really is secondary to the feelings behind it. And if they don’t respond to it- well, fuck ‘em.

Chocolate Lover's Bundt Cake

2 c. all-purpose flour

1/2 c. unsweetened cocoa powder

1 box of chocolate pudding mix

1 tbsp. baking powder

3/4 c. salted butter

1 1/3 c. sugar

3 eggs

1 c. buttermilk

1 tbsp. vanilla extract

1/2 c. mini chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350F, Spray a bundt pan with cooking spray.

Whisk together flour, cocoa, pudding mix, and baking powder in a medium sized bowl.

In a separate large bowl beat butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs one at a time, making sure to beat well after each one. Beginning and ending with the flour mixture, alternately beat the flour mixture and buttermilk into the butter mixture and then mix in vanilla extract and then fold in the mini chips. Pour batter into the prepared bundt pan and bake for 45-50 minutes.

Ganache Glaze

1/2 c. heavy cream

1 c. semi sweet chocolate chips

in a small saucepan heat heavy cream until it boils. Remove from heat and add choc chips, stirring until smooth. Pour ganache over cooled cake.

My Sweet Valentine

2011-02-17T11:13:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day was a few days ago, but thankfully pleasant memories have no expiration date. To be honest, the past few weeks have been pretty unromantic, so a sweet and easy time-out from the tension was very much appreciated. Weird that I spent the better part of the month preparing for Valentines Day, crafting new flavors and constucting special Valentine's themed boxes, but it didn't occur to me to arrange anything with Hub.

Valentine's Day is really a ploy thought up by Hallmark, Interflora, and, yes, Hershey's- the cynical interpretation of Feb 14th.

Valentine's is a day to acknowledge and celebrate romantic relationships and your partner in them. It's a brief return to the courtship phase of the relationship- the sentimental approach to Valentines Day.

I started out cynical but ended up sentimental. Sometime over the weekend Hub suggested we meet in the City on Monday, Valentines Day, for dinner and some form of entertainment. My initial impulse was "No" because of outstanding chocolate orders and a Hamantaschen article. All that, and low-grade frustration and irritation was throwing shade over everything. Just as I was about to spit out " Sorry, can't do it", my brain interceded. A night out in the City, my brother can babysit, maybe I can even extend it to an afternoon of clothes shopping and bakery hopping before meeting Hub for dinner. The article is due on Wednesday in the morning, the truffle order on wednesday evening...I did some hasty calculations in time management and shuffled around some lesser responsibilities, rescheduled a playdate, and out came: "Sure, let's do it." Instantly a gladness streamed through me, and feather-light anticipation puffed up my weekend ever so slightly.

I was charging through the subway station by 3:30. Oh the possibilities! The fact that museums are closed on mondays, went a long way in alleviating any guilt I felt about spending a totally frivolous afternoon in NYC. I strode into Loehmann's and picked up a black bag with a leopard print that I knew was perfect for everyday. Also a pair of black glitter Keds, that were necessary since my high heel wedges were already killing me and I couldn't concieve of trudging around in them a second longer. To complete the triumvirate of shiny black purchases I grabbed a black and silver leopard print scarf. I thought about hitting some other places- but instead went to Pinkberry ordered a cone, and then got down to business and made my way uptown.

Momofuko Milk Bar. Being a regular Bon Appetit, Saveur, Gourmet (now defunct), Food and Wine subscriber, and a Top Chef wannabe, I am privy to the buzz that Momofuko emits in the NY food stratosphere. I heard about this Crack Pie that they make at the Milk Bar, and knew I would have to make the voyage out. The midtown location is in the Chambers Hotel, which is very slick, well lit, and modern. I collected a whole assortment of treats: blueberry and cream cookie, peanut butter cookie, marshmallow cornflake cookie, corn cookie, a slice of the famous crack pie, and for good measure, a slice of the candy bar pie. In retrospect I should've also gotten a compost cookie- what's the point of restraint and thrift when you're already lugging around a shopping bag of goodies?

I window shopped in mid-town, peering dreamily at the confection of pink froth in the Henri Bendel's window. I noted with a blip of bitterness, the lines at Godiva... "Don't be fooled"" I wanted to yell out "They use vanillin in their chocolate, isn't your Valentine worth real vanilla!?"

I met Hub in the lobby of his building, and was glad that I got him a card. We walked to our 7:45 reservation at Gabriel's on 60th Street. The best thing about dinner was that Hub and I

enjoyed being with each other, we laughed, clinked glasses, chatted easily, flirted slightly, gently teased each other. The food? Standard upscale Italian fare, nothing earthshaking, totally decent food. The dessert menu didn't motivate me even a little, but really how could I justify ordering dessert while sitting next to a brown bag full of the kind of goodies that make bakery enthusiasts into junkies.

We finished dinner and decided to catch a movie at the artsy movie house on 64th St. It was a choice between Barney's Version and the King's Speech. I chose Barney's Version because I think Paul Giamatti is a great actor, but, also, sitting through a movie about someone's stuttering problem seems excrutiating to me. The movie, like the meal was unexceptional. It was nice to share a super-sized tub of popcorn with Hub, and to laugh and enjoy being together like we were on a date. Getting a break from the irritation, impatience, and disagreement was like taking in a lungfull of fresh, clean air, after being in a small stuffy room.

The next day I wore my sparkly sneakers, wrapped my scarf glibly around my neck, and transferred my daily items to my new black bag. I took a coffee break from the hamantschen article, and laid out the Milk Bar cookies alongside my steaming mug. The Peanut Butter was the best, soft, chewy, full of big peanut butter flavor. The cornflake marshmallow was a chewy-crunchy chocolate chip cookie. The corn cookie, tasted like sweet, crunchy cornbread. That night Hub and I tried the slices of pie. The Crack pie was very delicious, but the Candy Bar Pie topped it. It is sweet and salty, it is smooth and crunchy- it is amaaazing. And all the while I thought I'd be a Crack Pie Whore, but instead discovered I was a Candy Bar Slut.

Vegan Wholewheat Nut Hamantaschen

2 c. wholewheat flour

2 c. all-purpose flour

4 3/4 tsp. baking powder

1/4 tsp. salt

1 c. smart balance buttery spread

2 c. sugar

2 tsp. vanilla

1 tsp. cinnamon

1/2-3/4 c. water

In large bowl mix all ingredients together at medium speed. Add additional water if necessary to smooth out dough. Divide dough into two portions and wrap wach in plastic and chill in fridge overnight.

Preheat oven to 375F. Line two baking sheet with parchment paper. Sprinkle counter with flour and roll out dough to 1/4" thickness. With a round cookie cutter or the rim of a large drinking glass cut out cookie dough rounds. Place a spoon full of nut mixture in center and fold over intro taditional triangular shape.

Bake for 10-12 minutes, or until the edges turn golden.

Cinnamon Nut Filling

2 tbsp. smart balance buttery spread

1/4 c. brown sugar

1/2 tsp. cinnamon

3/4- 1 c. chopped walnuts

In saucepan melt buttery spread, mix in brown sugar, cinnamon, and chopped walnuts.

Kitchen Addiction

2011-02-07T18:12:00.000-08:00

I feel like Charlie Sheen of the kitchen. I'm in the midst of a full blown bitchin' kitchen bender, and I'm kind of loving it. It was triggered by the Just Desserts night last Monday, and then kept on going with a good sized Valentine's truffle order during which I came up with another flavor that I'm heretofore referrring to as "Coconut Spice". It's a white chocolate truffle made with salted browned butter and infused with Saigon cinnamon and Tahitian vanilla, and then rolled in a layer of toasted coconut flakes. It's kind of like a cookie that melts in your mouth.

To temper the raging sweetness that I was lolling about in, I made a hearty Blue Plate Special style Friday night dinner. I revamped my standard meatloaf to favorable reviews, and served it alongside homefries with my spice du-jour smoked paprika. By adding a much needed snap, Chinese restaurant style green beans rounded out the meal. Because I just can't ditch the sweet toothed monkey who lives on my back, for dessert I tried out a recipe for a slow cooker brownie pudding cake. Chocolate euphoria, hot fudge frenzy. The smooth and gooey texture was ineluctable, the depth of the chocolate was unending. It was bleepin' rad! The only improvement would be to include the option of a tart and bright raspberry coulis.

The Superbowl which was on the flip side of the weekend ensured that my kitchen binge would stretch out even further. Because Samwich is a football zombie, the past couple of Superbowl's have doubled as his birthday party. I let loose on the menu, restraint and moderation shoved aside with my excercise routine. There was a spicy slow cooker sausage dip with garlic bread. DIY deli sandwiches with a rouille sauce. A romaine salad with hard boiled egg, avocado, tomatoes, a homemade dressing of roasted garlic, horseradish, mayo, and the ubiquitous smoked paprika. Three kinds of wings: shwarma spice, sriracha honey, and Mojo. A Chinese cole slaw. A yellow cake with fudge frosting in the shape of a football and corresponding XLV cupcakes.

There is no time for post-party languishing, this cooking jag goes on with a few more Valentine's Day orders and an article on Hamantaschen due apres VD. I'm working on a vegan whole wheat hamantaschen, and also a lemon blueberry one enfolded in a cream cheese cookie crust. There will be a quickie version of this three cornered cookie that is the culinary hallmark of the Jewish holiday of Purim. And finally a traditional recipe complete with instructions on how to make apricot lekvar, which is a kind of Eastern European fruit spread. Four in all, hope they work. This kitchen spree will eventually consume itself. I'll blow out my desire to experiment and conjure and create. Dinner will come out of a box or from a restaurant for a while. I'll focus on getting back into shape. I'm always a little nervous that one day I'll use up all my ardor. That I'll go on a tear and spend every last cooking urge, dry myself out, and then exile myself from the kitchen forever after.

PS:My sweet lord! the Vegan Whole Wheat Hamantaschen are good!

Brownie Pudding Cake

1 package brownie mix

1/2 c. butter or margarine, melted

2 eggs

1/4 c. water

1/2 c. chopped walnuts

1 tsp. vanilla extract

3/4 c. cocoa powder

3/4 c. sugar

1 tsp. cinnamon

3 c. boiling water

Lightly spray a 3 1/2 qt. slow cooker with cooking spray. In a medium bowl stir together brownie mix, melted brownie/marg, eggs, chopped nuts, vanilla, and 1/4 c. water until batter is smooth. Spread brownie batter in the bottom of slow cooker.

In another bowl, mix together sugar, cocoa powder, cinnamon. Stir in 3 c. boiling water into sugar-cocoa mixture. Pour over batter in slow cooker.

Cover and cook on high-heat for 2 hrs. Turn off slow cooker. Cool, uncovered, for 30-45 minutes.

Snow Way It's Another Snow Day!

2011-02-01T12:12:00.000-08:00

Welcome to another snow day. I would be wholly pissed and utterly embittered if it wasn't for last night's sweet interlude. We hosted a Dessert Night for the PTA. Expecting snow, people turned out to dig in.

I began this baking project with a Buttermilk Pound Cake. You can never go wrong with a sweet, simple, and sturdy pound cake. It holds a special place in the hearts (and palates) of vanilla enthusiasts. With a dollop of fresh whipped cream and a few ripe berries it is a study in simple culinary joy.

It's never a question of whether there'll be chocolate at a dessert party, rather, it's what form/s the chocolate will take? Again I turned to an old standard, my Truffle Tart. I toyed with the possibilities of a couple of interesting chocolate cake recipes, but in the end I went back to Trufullar Tart. With it's oreo crust and dense, dark, rich chocolate filling, it's a reason for chocoholics to assemble and share in the glory of chocolate.

I love making cheesecakes. I feel like I'll never have enough time to try out all the cool variations out there. I was considering trying out a 5 Spice Cheesecake, and then thought about a Pina Colada version made from cream of coconut and carmelized pineapple. In the end I decided to be practical and make my Caffe Latte Cheescake in order to work out some details and add some finishing touches. It was light and fluffy, and was topped with a foamy layer of sweetened whipped sour cream and a sprinkling of cocoa powder. It was very good. My mother would love it, I have to remember to make it for her next time she visits.

I've had a recipe for lemon cream blueberry crumb bars for a while now. Why not? I decided the morning of the dessert gathering. So glad I did. It was buttery, crumbly, juicy sweet, with the slight suggestion of lemon due to the lemon cream layer mixed in with the fresh blueberries. I was left with only 2 measly little bars this morning, which is probably a good thing. Due to all the snow days and bake days , I am getting soft.

I put out a couple experiments last night, which were pretty well recieved. An apple-pear cinnamon nut puff pastry which shows some promise. And then some chocolate toffee nut brittle that was scarfed down by a self avowed toffee fiend.

I lost track of the accumulated snow days some time last week. I was told by someone that all this snow has something to do with global warming, which, seems counter-intuitive to say the least. I wouldn't mind a few days of global warming right now, short sleeves, bare legs, hot sun, cold drinks, out doors.

Blueberry Crumb Bars with Lemon-Cream Filling

1 c. unsalted butter, softened

3 c. all-purpose flour

1 1/2 c. old-fashioned oats

1 1/3 c. brown sugar

1/2 tsp. salt

1 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp. cinnamon

1 egg, separated

1 can sweetened condensed milk

1/2 c. fresh lemon juice

1 tbsp. lemon zest

1 tsp. vanilla

2 c. fresh blueberries

Place rack in center of the oven and heat to 350F. Line a 9 x 13" baking pan with foil or parchment paper and be sure to leave an overhang on the ends. Grease bottom and sides of foil.

In a large bowl combine flour, oats, sugar, salt, cinnamon, and baking powder. With your fingers blend the butter into the flour mixture. Reserve 2 cups of crumb mixture in another bowl. Blend egg white into remaining crumbs and press mixture into the bottom of the pan to form an even crust. Bake crust until it forms a dry top 10-12 minutes.

In medium bowl whisk together the condensed milk, lemon juice, zest, vanilla, and egg yolk. Let stand for 5 minutes to thicken.

Sprinkle blueberries over the hot crust and drop spoonfuls of the lemon cream over blueberries. Spread gently with spatula. Bake until the lemon mixture becomes shiny (8-9 mins). Sprinkle reserved topping over lemon-blueberry layer, making sure to press the streusel between your fingers to make small clumps as you sprinkle. Bake until dilling is bubbling and the crumb layer is golden brown (30 minutes). Remove from oven, let cool and cut into squares.

Youth is not Wasted on the Middle Aged

2011-01-28T05:33:00.000-08:00

I savored and sucked dry another New York City night, and the crumpled rind is lying in a heap at the foot of my bed.

It snowed throughout Wednesday night, and I was feeling a large measure of bitterness and exasperation as I flung myself into bed that night. I had a hair appointment, that had been thrice postponed, scheduled for the next day- Thursday. My hair situation was getting desperate: I was alternating between the do-rag (sp?) and my chunky knit beret for the better part of a month- my roots were as wide as a skunk's stripe, and my hair was as dull and lifeless as a wilted house plant. Was I to be thwarted again by winter conditions? Would another snow day be declared? Would I have to run another session Mom's School? Did I have enough chocolate?

I woke up on Thursday morning to a landscape that was still, cold, pristine, and white. The sky was clear, and I could hear the snow ploughs hunkering along in the distance. The kids were on a two hour delay, which meant I could sleep more, but still get my hair done- there's a win-win situation for you. I got to my appointment early, and I paged through one of those hairstyle magazines as I waited for my Coiffeuse. The accumulation of snow days, concentrated domesticity, and my uninspired appearance condensed itself into an overwhemling impulse for something different, new, and a little risky. A new hairstyle. There's a French saying about how when a woman wants to change her life, she changes her hairstyle. And if it isn't a French saying, it should be. I zeroed in on a short style that looked like a mop of curls, and featured bangs. Let's do it! I blurted without really thinking- La Coiffeuse jumped at the chance.

My hair is dark red, and I got the eyebrows to match. It is short and it kind of has a retro feel to it. Between the color and the messy-looking curls and waves, it does grab some attention. My kids do not like it, and Hub is not sold on it either. But I kind of dig it. It reminds me of the hairstyle of a Klimt subject, he painted Jewish society ladies at the turn of the 20th Century in Vienna. My bro thinks it's circa 1970's. Either way it's something different.

With this new 'do and a refreshed redhead attitude to go along, I was unleashed onto NYC. We had tickets to see Cloudrunner featuring Matisyahu at the Bowery Ballroom. We got an early start and were tossing out the "bye's", "love you's", and "see you in the morning's" as soon as my father-in-law walked through the door and we hightailed out. I had a serious case of cabin fever that needed to be slaked.

All the details that make up a fabulous New York City night were there. Hub got a great spot right near the venue. The Lower East Side is a neighborhood I neglected during my time in the City. It just felt so far away, and was a neighborhood that was transitioning. I made a few trips down there for nostalgia's sake- to visit Katz's Deli, Sammy's Romanian, and Ratner's Dairy restaurant, my favorite movie while growing up in Sydney was Crossing Delancey after all. I also visited Arlene Grocery a few times, a divey New Yorky spot, to see a musician called Andrew Vladeck who I had a semi- crush on. I thought he was a cross between Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen.

We actually ended up having dinner at a place that was right across the street from Arlene Grocery. I nursed the memories as I enjoyed my Singapore Noodles. The Noodle Bar is a cool and friendly joint. It has a kind of hip Asian street vibe. The menu was pan-Asian and the prices were quite reasonable. Noodles are the perfect food for cold wet winter weather. We started off with an order of the 5 Spice Fish 'n Chips, Pad Thai, and a Salad which were all appetizer portioned. The Fish 'n Chips were great; crispy, hot and ending on a pleasantly curious note (the five spice). The Pad Thai was nice and lime-y, the peanuts added a great texture. The salad was decent. Hub and I both had steaming bowls of Shanghai noodles in a full and flavorful broth for our main. The noodles were thick and slippery, there was a sliced hard boiled egg nestled on one side of the bowl and sturdy squares of bok choy floating in the mix. The broth is what I pledged my devotion to. Rich, with a slightly creamy coconuttiness to it, lemon grass and a little sriracha or chili and then some spices they wouldn't divulge. At the end of the meal I paused over the Five Spice Cheesecake on the menu. Our very personable and upbeat waiter closed the deal by offering it to me for free. How could I say no to that offer? It came in a small ramekin, it was crustless and was garnished with a line of black sesame seeds and a coordinating line of crushed peanuts. It was thick and extremely Philly cream cheesey, almost as if they took a block of cream cheese mixed in some sugar and spices, spooned it into the ramekins, chilled it, and then garnished it. It was good because cream cheese cannot be bad, and there was a slight suggestion of spice, and the little additions on top certainly helped- but I think more can be done with this idea. To be continued, maybe.

We still had some free time before the show, so as best we could, through the mess of city snow, and the slush lagoons that flank every corner, we meandered through the narrow little streets. First we stopped at Victor Osborn on Orchard Street- I was yanked in by the leopard print fedora I saw from the window. They had the most beautifully made hats I've ever seen. All styles- for men and women. Since I've been watching Mad Men I have started to pay attention to these little pieces that go into creating a fantastic outfit.

After trying on a few different chapeaux, we continued our city stroll maybe 4 doors down- where I was stopped dead in my tracks by a purple hued Pucci dress in the window of a vintage clothing store. Hub put on his patient face as we walked in. I could spend a fair bit of coin in this place. I loved everything the sweet redheaded Jerry pulled off the racks to show me. I think he recognized a vintage soul, and was having fun showing off his finds. Besides the Pucci, I was yearning for a black A-line skirt made from lambswool with a matching little jacket. Sigh. How amazing would it be to wear that skirt with a jean jacket and my coquettish ribbon laced boots?

I finally ejected myself from that little treasure box, and on we went to the Bowery Ballroom. We waited on line and checked our coats. Then we plonked ourselves down on one of the overstuffed couches as we enjoyed our plastic clad drinks. As a kind gesture the bartendress asked to see my bracelet that showed I was old enough. I was old enough to be her aunt (the age of her mom or dad's youngest sibling). And maybe even the Mom of some of the kids that didn't qualify for a bracelet. How can that be? Was the recurring query of the night for me. I'm just like them. I'm just like them but with three kids and a husband and a house and a car who's brakes need to be replaced.

We went into the performance space and hunkered down on a spot close to the stage. Standing room only. The vibe was upbeat and anticipatory. The opening act was this guy named Taylor McFerrin, I wonder if he's any relation to Bobby McFerrin (of the early 90's tune- Don't Worry Be Happy) ? He was doing the whole human beatbox thing, which I think elder McFerrin did in a more poppy way. He was good and his "beats" got me moving and even clapping at some point. As soon as the lights were dimmed the pot smoke started wafting up. I was standing in a little enclave that included Hub, my brother, a girl with neatly trimmed dreads and her surprisingly buttoned up and bespectacled beau, and these adorable hippie children- she was 21 and had dark hair which was a little messy and reached the middle of her back. He had shoulder length sandy waves and one of those knitted wool ski caps perched on top, and a beard-of course. She smiled easily at me and I could see by the shape of her face and her coloring that my relatively new cat's eye sunglasses would suit her perfectly- more than they did me. I reached into my bag and handed them to her. "Here, these will suit you". She was thrilled by the unexpected gift, and spent the concert with them on her face.

The music was trippy and beat driven. There was a guy in the band that let loose on an electric classical bass. The instrument was almost as big as he was, and he was working that thing with all he had. After and hour or so, Hub was getting tired of standing and needed a little breathing room so he went back down to the bar area. I stayed a little longer, and then decided a little fresh air would be nice. I found myself outside on the sidewalk in the smoking section, where there was a little community of guys and the girls they were hitting on. I stood back and watched them. I even accepted a drag or two from Hipster jr.'s wacky tobacky cigarette. I think some dude was hitting on me when he said women get better with age. And then I felt the red wine rebel in my gut. I excused myself and found Hub. I knew what was going to happen next- and I sure as hell was not gonna let it happen there in front of all those cool kids.

It happened all over a dingy white snow bank about a block away. I think I caught the sarcastic smirk of a genuine hipster who was passing through. It was time to go back to the cabin. I gratefully leaned my head against Subaru upholstery and opened my eyes occasionally to see the lights whizzing by. Before long we were home, I threw off my jeans and knee high boots and climbed happily into bed. This morning I made breakfast, and pieced together the school lunches. I decided on a hearty chili con carne for dinner tonight. Then thinking about last night's Noodle Bar meal, I decided on a five spiced glazed salmon for lunch on saturday. I picked up all the ingredients, and then got my brakes replaced. As I was climbed up the driveway with them, I noticed the icicles that look like sparkling strips of diamonds that flank the perimeter of our house.

5 Spice Glazed Salmon

1/4 c. honey

3 tbsp. soy sauce

1 tsp. five spice powder

3 garlic cloves, minced

1 tsp. sesame oil

1 1/2 - 2 lb. piece salmon, skin removed

Mix first five ingredients in a small bowl until well combined. Place salmon fillet in a baking pan pour 5 spice sauce over salmon. Allow to marinate for about half an hour, flipping fish over midway. Put oven on broil and place salmon (skin side down) in top third of oven. Broil for approx 25 minutes- until sauce sizzles and the fish flakes off when cut by fork.

Chocolate Covered Snow Days

2011-01-18T08:13:00.000-08:00

I'm all for snow days- but this is freakin' ridiculous! Last night, an unexpected snow fall crept up on us. It followed a teachers conference on friday (no school) and then Martin Luther King Jr. Day yesterday. There's been so much indoor family time that I'm craving a cigarette, and I don't smoke. All the TV and junk food is making everyone around here blobular and hazy-lazy. After learning of the school cancellation this morning, I decided Mom's School was in session. I gave them pages of math problems to do, then onto spelling, composition, Hebrew, art, reading, and PE (jump rope). Music appreciation comes in the form of several of my playlists. Home Ec was all about making a decent grilled cheese sandwich. Right now the drama/theater unit is being executed with the construction of a school bus out of a large cardboard box, and then they plan on reenacting their bus ride home from school. The ban on TV started yesterday and continues through today.

In the meantime, while playing the schoolmarm, I have my own stuff that needs to get done. I have to get to the market to restock after this 5 day indoor nosh and sloth-fest. I need to work on a few dishes for the c-book. If my editor approves, I want to come up with some recipes for chocolate barks: a milk, a dark, and a white. Valentines Day is almost here, and it is the heart (pun intended) of chocolate season. I need to at least try to conjure up some business, and that means strategic free samples. The flavor-of-the-season is Black Forest Surprise. It's a cherry infused dark chocolate ganache center with a pleasing surprise in the form of a dried cherry slipped in. It's covered in a layer of white chocolate and then finished off with a dusting of dark chocolate shavings.

I'm gaining weight and losing muscle tone as I write. Like the very hungry caterpillar we've eaten through 1 cookie jar of junk chocolate, 1 pint of ice cream, 1 bag of pretzels, a six pack of chocolate pudding, ten ounces of hot choco mix, and a box of cocoa puffs. For the sake of my sanity, or at the very least, my somewhat shaky equilibrium- there better be school tomorrow. If we're home for another day we might have to host a Chocolate Intervention. Gather the truly hopeless and broken-down and snowed-under over for a chocolate devouring orgy. That's if I have anything left. I might have to break into my emergency Guittard and Ghirardelli chocolate chips; dark, milk, and white- like a chocolate themed MLK Jr. Day celebration.

This is the part of winter I dislike the most. When you get to the I-don't-know-what-number-snow-day-this-is Snow Day. The snow today is really slushy, it's raining now, and the kiddles had some fun shoveling it from our driveway. It reminded me of the white coconut ice they sell on the street corners in New York in the sweltering summer months. If only...

Snow Day

2011-01-07T08:34:00.000-08:00

Snow Day: Big, fluffy, winter-movie-scene flakes are falling down from a bright white sky. The kitchen is in a disarray of pots, pans, jars, bottles, utensils, coffee mugs and breakfast dishes. There's a chicken roasting in the oven and my greatest hits are playing on a loop. The kiddles are still in PJ's, and thankfully there are some moments of quiet activity that break up their steady shtick of bickering and tears.

My plans for a hair cut and color were chucked out with my regular schedule. It's a Snow Day.

One of the best things about living in the East and other wintery climates is the snow day. A snow day is an excuse to just lounge around the house and is permission to make a mess, it's an unexpected day off, and sometimes a bit of a reprieve. Snow days are long, and often start off with the best intentions but end up in marathon TV sessions and junk food wrappers. When Samwich and Girlette were pre-schoolers snow days were the perfect excuse for an all-day Mommy 'n Kiddie playdate with Eustacia and her boy and girl- the house would be trashed, but time went by easily, and a sweet coziness filled the space.

I wish I had a snowglobe for each of our snow day scenes, I'd keep them on the bookshelf in the den. First one would be of newborn Samwich in his hospital bassinette. There'd be another of a me with a couple of toddlers at my feet, tugging my hair in frustration. Today's would show a chaotic kitchen and a pan of roasted chicken emerging from the oven. The kiddles would be at the kitchen table absorbed in their own interests, as the white flakes swirl around. Will I see only the comfy homespun scene in a few years, or will it trigger memories that makes their way to a sink overflowing with stained dishes and pots and me wishing I used paper and stuck to microwave popcorn?

Hoisin Chicken

2 cut-up chickens

2/3 c. hoisin sauce

5 cloves garlic, minced

1 tsp. fresh grated ginger

1 tsp. sesame oil

1 tbsp. soy sauce

2 tbsp. rice vinegar

1/2 tsp. chili flakes

1 tbsp. sesame seeds (optional)

Preheat oven to 450F. Lay chicken pieces out in a single layer in a roasting pan. Combine the rest of the ingredients, except sesame seeds, in a small bowl- mix well. With a brush cover chicken pieces in hoisin mixture. Place in top third of oven for 25-30 minutes until juices run clear and sauce looks shiny and lacquered on the chicken pieces. If desired: sprinkle toasted sesame seeds across chicken before serving.

My Week Away

2010-12-30T07:20:00.001-08:00

How easily I've slipped back into my life. Less than a week ago I was traversing the narrow alleys and crowded squares of the Old City of Jerusalem. Dodging tourists and pilgrims, rabbi's and priests, merchants and yeshiva students. Time was all my own, there was nowhere I needed to be and nothing I needed to do, I was released into my own custody. I was free. I'm not going to lie and say that this freedom was anything other than fantasic. But this real life is good too, because contained within it's folds are these moments of freedom, joy and discovery.

The night I arrived Debo's family held a Henna. A Henna is a pre-wedding event that is a custom among Moroccans. It is a celebration that features all the best life has to offer: Food, music, dancing, family and friends and a bit of ritual in the form of a dab of henna on the palm for luck and good fortune. I had seconds and thirds of the couscous (however I couldn't go all the way with the lambs brains). I busted out some of my belly dancing moves, and gratefully offered my palm for a nice shmear. I got to meet many of Debo's French and Moroccan relatives, they were demure and lovely, and if they thought I was a loud and gauche American with my vocal praise and even adoration, of French culture they did not let on.

The next morning I enjoyed one of those tasty Israeli breakfasts that are an essential part of Israel for me. Hub's brother and sister and sis-in-law are really like blood family to me, and the deliciousness of this breakfast definitely was due in large part to their easy and warm company. I feel loved and appreciated by them in a way that can only come with a deep connection. And I felt satisfied and well cared for after my skillet of shakshuka (which included roasted eggplant and feta crumbles) in a way that only comfort food can. The pita served alongside was soft, fluffy and warm, the tea was strong, sweet and minty. For me, these are the flavors of Israel: warm, aromatic, and decisive.

After breakfast it was on to Jerusalem. My uncle has a house in an old neighborhood called Yemin Moshe. It is right outside the walls of the Old City, and if you go out onto the balcony you can see the walls, and the church, mosque and other ancient structures contained within. At night this sight is breathtaking! The lights reflect off the famous Jerusalem stone and it appears mythical and magical like some medieval fantasy. And the sounds.... I fell asleep on friday night, which happened to be Christmas Eve, to the steady ringing of heavy ancient bells coming from somewhere behind those walls. I woke up on shabbat to the faint sound of a twisting and winding muezzin. I visited the Kotel, the Wailing Wall, and really understood the meaning of Shabbat Shalom, it's a peacefulness and tranquility that the sabbath brings that separates it from the rest of the week. Nowhere is this more evident than in Jerusalem.

Sunday brought us to Safed, a mystical arts colony up North. We toured the cobblestone arcade which is the main drag of the arts district. Every doorway was an opening to another mini-gallery/art studio. A lot of the subject matter in Safed is biblical and kabbalistic, probably because it is an ancient center for Kabbalistic and mystical study. I was so excited by seeing local art that I bought a couple of lithographs from the first gallery I visited. I probably should have been a little more restrained. The bright colors and organic shapes in the folksy lithographs that I purchased are attractive and engaging, but I probably would have been happier with the oil painting of a pomegranate a few doors down.

While in Safed, I had one of those "Sliding Doors" moments. I stopped in one of the studios, to get a closer look at a painting. I started talking to the Gallerist/Artist, and I felt an instant connection, a sort of magnetic tug, the attraction of chemicals and ions an neutrons and all of those wordless things. It surprised me, because things like that don't usually happen to me. I rarely feel instant connections, and almost never with strange men. It had me thinking on the two hour drive to Tel Aviv about how in life you can go in a multitude of directions. I met Hub, was instantly attracted, and ten years later we got married. We lead our life together with our kids in our home and our friends. But what if I did something else? What if when I went to Israel on one of my trips I met Safed guy and we got together, had kids, lived in a little boho domecile in the hills near Safed, scraped together a living and I was never the wiser about Hub and the kiddles? Until one day while visiting New York, I stopped to get a coffee and positioned near the natural sugar was Hub, and the shape of his glasses and the way his hair flopped over his forehead ignited a chemical reaction.

On the day of my brother's wedding, I had my second skillet of great shakshuka at a cafe in Jerusalem. This version was spicy and wonderfully savory. I covered squares of onion focaccia with the Israeli equivalent of cream cheese, really a cross between sour cream and cream cheese, and piled the shakshuka on top. I was licking my fingers and scraping the skillet it was thatm good.

Scene: The reason for my trip to Israel- my brother Leo's wedding. Since my arrival the weather had been great- shortsleeves kind of weather. An outdoor wedding in December seemed obvious, and the setting could not be more gorgeous. Hors d'oeuvres were called for 7, guests arrived through a gate and all along the wooden walkway were lit torches guiding the way to the smorgasbord stations. On the grass behind the stations glowing chinese paper lanterns the size of beach balls were strewn hither and thither. As guests arrived every one marvelled at the sparkling glamor of the location. The appetizer selection was impressive, they had sushi, chinese noodles, merguez sausages, salads, carving station, and a well-stocked bar. After an hour or so of small bites and chitchat it was chuppah time. The chuppah faced rows of wooden benches, and was covered in beautiful fresh flowers. I told myself I wouldn't cry, but the minute I caught sight of Debo coming down the aisle flanked by her parents and twin brother the tears broke through my resolve. Weddings always make me cry, I feel like they are where hope, and expectations, uncertainty, and romantic celebration converge. After the ceremony we all went into the hall, which was large and open and airy due to the wall of windows. And we danced- all night long. It was fun.

The next morning got off to a late start, and the third shakshuka of my trip was not so good, it was bland and overboiled. After brunch, my Mother and I went to Mahane Yehudah; a very large and old marketplace in Jerusalem. Mom and I decided we would host a post wedding dinner for the new couple and assorted family and friends. We had most of it catered with the usual Israeli standards. Despite my adamant declaration that I would not cook for the entire week, I knew that a few homemade dishes would be just what the dinner menu needed. I decided on a big bowl of Pasta Aglio Olio, a chinese cole slaw, and a french potato salad made with dijon moutarde and tarragon.

If I was a movie locations scout and needed a spot for a middle eastern bazaar scene, Mahane Yehudah would fit perfectly. In Hebrew it is called the Shuk, and it is crammed. Crammed with people- merchants hawking their wares, and customers trying to get the best deal. Crammed with products laid out on the tables and stands of each stall; fruits, veggies, spice mixes, pita, baked goods, fish, candy, chocolate, nuts, dried fruit, prayer books.... And it also contains, in my opinion, the best and worst of Israeli types. At one stall I wanted to purchase a lemon- the merchant was a mean unsmiling type who stared me down and scoffed at my accented Hebrew. I was so infuriated I threw down the lemon and stormed off. Remembering that I needed shallots I stopped at a stall a few feet away. The vendor smiled at me and brushed away the money I offered him "I like you" he said, and gifted me with the shallots.

That's the thing about Israel, there'll always be some jerk who will trip you, but then there'll be someone to help you up to your feet, and then of course a chorus of bystanders to yell at the jerk for tripping you.

The dinner party was convivial. I chatted with my extended family and Leo's new family and we recalled highlights from the wedding the night before. My Aglio Olio was well received, the cole slaw as well, the French potato salad had good flavor but the potatoes were a bit too al dente. My dishes confirmed what I already know; homemade food conveys a message that goes beyond flavor and nutrition, it's effects can almost be magical.

And then, even before I had time to be tired or jet lagged I was back in the airport going through the seven rings of security on the way back to New York. It'd be overstatement to say I came back a different person, but it would be accurate to say I came back lighter, more balanced. It's almost as if my week in Israel took away some of the junk and clutter that was weighing me down. I got a little perspective when I sat up on my uncle's balcony and faced those ancient and durable walls. People are always going through stuff, their own disappointments and setbacks, minor betrayals and petty dramas- but if you can remove yourself every so often and realize there is a whole world out there to discover, a zillion personal stories that spread throughout time, there is something quite liberating about that.

I missed the kids and Hub and I enjoyed feeling that kind of longing. Searching for the perfect gift for each of them was a pleasurable experience. Thinking about them and deciding what object would please them the best made me feel close to them. I looked forward to calling them whenever time permitted, and delighted in hearing their voices. I felt loved and appreciated by Hub when he urged me to enjoy myself and my free time. And I now know that I love cooking for people. I get a thrill from conjuring the right dish and choosing the best ingredients and then preparing it.

Bolstered by these impressions I've slipped back into my life. I went to the supermarket to restock bare cupboards and an empty fridge. I made a big pot of spaghetti bolognese. I was getting stymied by the foot notes, I needed to stand back to get the big story.

French Potato Salad

3-4 lbs. new potatoes

3 tbsp. grainy dijon mustard

1 tbsp. honey

juice of half a lemon

2 diced shallots

1/2 c. olive oil

1/2 c. finely chopped tarragon or parsley

Cover potatoes with water and boil until they yield smoothly to a knife. While potatoes are boiling, prepare dressing in a small bowl: mix together mustard, honey, lemon juice, and diced shallots- slowly and in a steady stream whisk in olive oil.

Once potatoes are ready, drain, and cut into quarters. Pour half of the dressing over steaming potatoes so that the potatoes absorb the flavor. Sprinkle with chopped tarragon or parsley and the remaining dressing just before serving.

Going Solo

2010-12-20T14:42:00.000-08:00

I leave for Israel the day after tomorrow and the timing could not be more ideal. I am going to my brother's wedding, sans les enfants et sans le Hub! I don't have the imagination to even wonder what this will be like, the longest I've been away from them was for 2 nights. I've arranged for my FIL and their babysitter to help out when Hub is at work. I've stashed a few homecooked meals in the freezer. I've stocked up on snacks and baked a jar full of oatmeal cookies. I'll make lists and schedules and a copy of my key. I'll leave them each a note and small gifts on their beds. I think I'll miss them, but I'm not sure. It's been a tenuous few weeks, their mouths are overused and their attitudes are overdeveloped. Their bickering and the surly undercurrent that swirls through the house is tough to take. Sometimes I feel like all they want is a Rent-a-Mom: someone to cook for them, ferry them around, help them with their homework. Anyone will do as long as their only reason for existing is to take care of them and their many needs. Lately Hub has me feeling like a 1950's housewife. It's true I've recently gotten into "Mad Men", and even though Don Draper is a steaming hot dish of a man, I think I'd poison the guy after a while. So, in short, I'm about ready to sprint to the airport without even a backwards glance.

But on the other hand, a week without them seems like a very long time. A week of being ten thousand miles away feels almost impossible. A week devoid of planning meals, food shopping, cooking, and then cleaning up the mess....well, that just seems like a nice slice of chilled time.

It has been a bit of a drag lately, but maybe it's not all their fault. OK, so I have a case of the blues, there's no getting around it. I've been a little low for a few weeks now, but it's nothing that a little sun and a little sleep can't redress. This trip will be like hitting the reset button on the treadmill that I feel like I've been dragging myself on. It will be good to spend some time with my Mom and Dad and three brothers. It will be good to flee the kitchen for a few days. It will be good to miss Hub and the kids. I think that after a few days away I will begin to crave them- like someone on a diet who misses her favorite sweets.

The Light and Dark Of Hanukkah

2010-12-08T12:24:00.000-08:00

I'm far too compulsively Jewish to let Hanukkah end without some sort of commentary. For me, Hanukkah is the perfect holiday. It doesn't require religious observance any more rigorous than lighting the candles. And the glow that a lit menorah emits amidst the wintry darkness is spectacular. Bringing light to dimness and bleakness, is what the greater message of Hanukkah is about, and one that I think of during this holiday season. Sometimes it all feels so dark and murky, it's as if the world is passing through a period of shadows and obscurity. The news is never good, people are really suffering, and good manners and thoughtful behavior seem to be an outmoded way of being. It is depressing to think too much about it. All there is left to do is to provide sparks of light in the form of positivity and kind acts.

So from dark chocolate I made light joy and easy bliss in the form a nice-sized Hanukkah order. There are a few things that are as irrefutable as: " Everyone's favorite thing is free chocolate". As hokey and corn-fed as it sounds, I get a real thrill from making something that gives people such enjoyment and happiness. Nice work if you can get it.... and I get it sometimes.

Another brilliant thing about Hanukkah is the food. Most Jewish holidays and festivals have some sort of food association, but Hanukkah fare outshines all the rest in that fried food is encouraged and celebrated, and surely those calories do not count if it's practically a mitzvah (good deed) to eat all that good stuff. Hanukkah eating traditions include potato latkes and jelly donuts, but as I wrote in my December article the main point of Hanukkah cuisine is using oil which commemorates the miracle of the small vial of olive oil found in the desecrated temple that burned for 8 days. In light of this, I decided that my Hanukkah article would be a break from my usual health-conscious and balanced eating recipes and I let loose with some truly decadent fried treats. The piece featured recipes for crispy mac 'n cheese squares and crunchy fried ice cream scoops.

At home, for the family, I made potato latkes, and also Indian onion bhajees. Onion bhajees are thin sliced onions coated in batter and fried up until they're crispy and delicious- with a sweet chili sauce to dip them in, they definitely give the humble latke some serious competition. Tonight is the last night and I tried to make some Thai corn fritters, which really weren't as successful as the bhajees. On Sunday I made an Olive Oil Cake that considering the amount of olive oil I used was surprisingly dry.

This year the light/dark motif of Hanukkah took on a personal aspect. Due to the solitary nature of what I do; writing and cooking, I have been struggling with what I call a winter-state-of-mind which is internal, secluded, and at times cold and lonely. I both guard and value my personal space but also need external stimulation on a regular basis, for whatever reason, a couple of the friends I turn to when coming up for air and out for light, weren't there. Relationships are like years, both are subject to cycles. Right now I am deep into winter. Winter is bare but can also be pure. Winter is cold darkness, it is austere and difficult, but if you are lucky, it is also a warm glowing fireplace, hot chocolate, and soul-saving cuddles. Challenging the dark with the light, I need to get into a Hanukkah-state-of -mind.

Onion Bhajees

1 c. all-purpose flour

2 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. turmeric

1 tsp. salt

2 eggs, beaten

4 onions, thinly sliced

1/2 c. parsley, finely chopped

oil for frying

Combine well first five ingredients in a large bowl, until a batter forms. Mix onion slices in and then parsley until onion is coated in batter. Heat oil in frying pan over medium high heat. Drop large spoonfuls of onion batter in pan and fry for 2-3 minutes on each side- until golden brown and crispy. Let drain on paper towels, serve while still hot.

Crispy Mac 'n Cheese Squares

1 casserole pan of prepared macaroni and cheese, chilled overnight and cut into 12-15 squares

1/4 c. all-purpose flour

1 egg beaten + 1 tbsp. water

1 1/2 c. crushed cornflakes

Oil for frying

In a heavy frying pan, heat up about 2 " of oil (approx 2 cups) until it reaches 350F. Lightly coat the mac 'n cheese squares with flour, dip in egg mixture and then coat in cornflake crumbs. Carefully slip into hot oil and fry for about a minute on each side. Remove and let drain on paper towels. Enjoy immediately.

Thanksgiving 2010

2010-11-26T08:46:00.000-08:00

I am thankful for my family, good food, good people, good music, and of course, a good cocktail now and then. I embarked on Thanksgiving 2010 using all that good stuff as my guide. The menu was a few weeks in the making, flipping through my trustee yellow steno pad "documents" the evolution of the meal. I was set on a modern version of the traditional American fare, until I came across the December issue of "Saveur" magazine, in it was a feature called the "Roots of the Deli" by David Sax. In the piece the writer traces the origins of Jewish deli food, of course, back to Eastern Europe. He writes about how the original pastrami's were made from smoked and cured duck and goose. He included recipes in the piece as a way of preserving this old style of cooking that in the article he laments is disappearing. "It hits me that it's nothing short of a miracle that these foods, these traditions, have survived".

Me being me, I was really taken by this article (as was Hub). It had me thinking about culture and tradition and then trying to figure out how to meld a really historied culture, heavy with tradition and customs with a culture that is all about new and fresh and forward moving energy. It had Hub hankering for goose and duck. Using a recipe for potato knishes that Sax included in his piece, I seasonized it by making a sweet potato filling whipped up with fried onions it was a savory version of the Thanksgiving Sweet Potato. Served as a Hors d'oeuvre with horseradish sauce, it was fairly recieved. The dough was a problem for me, I think in the next version I'll roll the dough out much thinner, and bake them longer and in a less crowded oven.

Continuing with the Sweet Potato Thanksgiving standard I made a sweet potato kugel with a pecan streusel topping. Well recieved, although maybe a bit too ginger-y for the blander palates in the dining room. At Hub's urging I made a couple of ducks, and I am still trying to process the experience. Next time I make duck, I need to concentrate on just those duckies, they deserve undivided attention. They were competing with the stuff-a-palooza that was going on at the same time. I made a sausage cornbread stuffing with homemade dairy-free corn bread, I found a great recipe that does not include dairy in the ingredients- but still yields a nice, moist crumb. I also made a classic type herb stuffing, with sourdough bread- without a doubt my favorite Thanksgiving dish. For the helluva it I made an aloo gobi style stuffing with cauliflower, carrots, celery, onions and a little garam masala. Next time I'll use na'an instead of the baguette the recipe called for, or maybe a dense nut bread cut into small croutons?

I have an article on slow cooker dishes due on Friday so I made a pot full of meatballs in cranberry barbecue sauce, very popular with the kids and the men. While still on the slow cooker bend I made spareribs (on special) in a plum hoisin sauce, and then for dessert a mocha pudding cake that was so simple for such fantastic results. I dumped all the ingredients in the pot, mixed, covered, set on low and then 3 hours- Voila! Something wonderfully similar to a warm fallen chocolate souffle. I of course had to give the Thanksgiving desserts a night of prep all their own (Tuesday). I made an apple tart with a homemade crust that needs work, but the apple layer was great. I cut the apples thin and arranged them in concentric circles, made a cider-bourbon sauce that I poured over the slices and baked to a beautiful glossy caramelized appearance and taste. I made a tray of cranberry layer bars that were the surprise of the night for me. I think that the bars are the favorite new recipe from Thanksgiving 2010- sweet and tart, with a homemade cranberry filling.

I really enjoyed working with cranberries (I also made a cranberry relish and a cran-apple chutney). They're tart and they're bright and hardy- but when you put them in a saucepan with a little cider or water they just burst into jam. I saluted the cranberry with a champagne cocktail in it's honor. I got it from December Bon Appetit, just in time. 1 measure cranberry juice concentrate to 3 parts champagne, and decorated with a single floating whole cranberry.

And then there was a very pleasing chocolate pecan pie spiced with nutmeg and cinnamon. I attemped a pear-almond crumble made with almond butter which was disappointing in flavor and texture, and I did not serve.

Our guests arrived, an assortment of family, relatives, friends and some their extended families. I rented 3 round tables and chairs and made our living room the dining hall- good thing we never furnished the largest room in our house, it's perfect for parties. The food was laid our buffet style in the dining room, and people rotated their seats with every helping. It was a friendly and thankful air that filled the room. We were lucky enough to have a newly arrived Canadian who was celebrating her first American Thanksgiving- a real life pilgrim! I don't think it will be her last.

I made a totally unrehearsed quasi toast/benediction? that came out a little jumbled and confusing. But I said we all had so much to be thankful because no matter how bad it feels there at least half a billion who have it worse. A little heavy- but I blame it on my eastern european half. In the back of my mind and at the bottom of my heart, throughout the meal and the preparation for the feast was the knowledge that the baby would be due on the monday after Thanksgiving. When I found out when he was due I remember being so excited about the possibility that this kid's birthday could fall smack onto Thanksgiving over several birthdays in his life. I guess I need to be thankful or at least accepting of whatever happened and remind myself that it was just how it was supposed to be, there's no other way that makes sense for me.

So that was Thanksgiving 2010; family , friends, good food and lots of it, football, and my Thanksgiving playlist. The night ended penultimately with a soak in the hot tub- before leftovers were packed up and dishes were washed. Good thing Hanukkah starts on wednesday night- no time for post-party depression.

The Final Thanksgiving Menu:

Hors d'oeuvres

* mini sweet potato knishes

*cranberry barbecue meatballs

*spicy maple chicken wings

The Main Event

* FIL's turkey and yummy potatoes

* hoisin plum spareribs

* crispy balsamic duck

* corned beef in a mustard glaze

*sweet potato kugel with pecan streusel topping

* classic herb sourdough stuffing

*sausage cornbread stuffing

*aloo gobi stuffing

*cranberry relish

*cran-apple chutney

* Lea's green beans

*Avra's salad

Dessert

* Sandy's Apple Cake

*cranberry crumb bars

*chocolate pecan pie

*apple tart

*mocha pudding cake

*Lisa's cookies

Raclette Rocks!

2010-11-10T12:11:00.000-08:00

I feel like I've been on a tilt-a-whirl for the past few days. Donz and I got news from the publisher- they're going to do it! As the reality trickled in the whooping euphoria gave way to the usual roundabout of self defeating questions. But I am excited- in a terrified kind of way. Recipe thoughts and ideas are swirling around my head. I've been trying out some of these ideas on the Kiddles and Hub. My eezy-cheezy macaroni and cheese recipe experienced a whole new life once I added half a teaspoon of smoked paprika to it. And I think I have the beginning of something with the blueberry pancake muffins with a maple syrup glaze I baked yesterday.

My everyday life has continued, despite me being lost in a cookbook haze. I have a chocolate order due tomorrow. The 2 older Kiddles had Parent-Teacher conference last night. My parents are coming in tonight and staying for the weekend. We're going to have a large Shabbat event here the day after tomorrow at the house, and I volunteered to cook for it. I had a 1100 word article due on Monday, and I have another one on fried treats for Hanukkah due this Monday. I'm thinking about going totally over-the-top with crispy mac 'n cheese squares and fried ice cream (like at El Torito).

And then placed artfully in the middle of all this responsibility and commitment was Raclette Night at Noemi's. This dinner will definitely be shelved in my top ten. Noemi's apartment is on the Upper West Side, and it has a very single-citygirl-chic aesthetic to it. Her guests sat comfortably around a large dining table. In the center of that table was a Raclette set. Noemi is Swiss, so this was the real thing. It made my purist heart sing a song as clear as the alpine air. The cheese was melted on little trays and a whole array of accoutrements were laid out around the Raclette. There was a seasoned pepper that I took a shine to, cornichons or more accurately; gherkins, pickled pearl onions, grilled peppers and zucchini, and of course boiled new potatoes to slather the melted cheese on-mmmm.

Most of her guests are Raclette pro's, being Swiss or closely related to a Swiss person. Everyone had their own combinations. I settled on a 3 slice system, kicked up with a liberal amount of seasoned pepper- once melted, it covered my baby potatoes in a silky layer of cheesey bliss. Happy-Happy Joy-Joy!

Of course in order to be in the top-ten it must be about more than the food. It's also about the company. The crowd was definitely International in flavor as well as accent- friendly and funny too. Swiss Misster told a story about the Raclette gathering he hosted where his friend brought a friend who hated cheese. I could just imagine the look of nausea that crept across her face when she was assaulted full frontally by a very powerful fromage odor. The British Lass to my left had me sitting back in my chair and chuckling heartily as she told me about her baking misadventures. Noemi was the perfect hostess, the slices of raclette cheese were endless, and the peppermint tea she urged as a raclette companion went together as well as pizza and beer.

For dessert I brought a buttermilk pound cake that was as simple and as sweet as a fresh daisy. Raclette Night at Noemi's could not have happened at a better time for me. I had taken some disappointing news from a friend a few days earlier and it was refreshing to get out of my little world. At some point I took a Raclette break by the window that overlooked the West Side, with the mom of brand new twins. We chatted amiably about mom-stuff but in a different context that I'm used to. The night was a delicious reminder that there is so much more to discover and so many more people to meet.

Buttermilk Pound Cake

3 c. all-purpose flour

1/4 tsp. baking soad

1/4 tsp. salt

1 c. butter, softened

2 1/2 c. sugar

6 eggs

1 tbsp. vanilla extract

1 c. buttermilk

Preheat oven to 325F. Grease a bundt pan or a tube pan. In a medium bowl mix together flour, baking soda, and salt- set aside. In a big bowl, beat butter with sugar. Mix in the eggs- one at a time- beating well after each addition. Fold in the vanilla extract. Mix in the flour mixture alternately with the buttermilk. Pour batter into pan. Bake for 60-75 minutes. WHen the top of the cake is a warm golden color, and a toothpick inserted in it's center comes out clean- the cake is done.

* 1 tbsp fresh lemon juice/lemon rind?

Lunch at the Comfort Cafe

2010-10-21T16:23:00.000-07:00

Thursday 10/21 9:12

I had a few winner dinners this week. Monday Night- Vegetarian Paella: brown rice, green beans, garbanzo beans, a cookbook keeper- even the veggie averse Girlette, and rice challenged Big Bro, finished their servings. Tuesday Night- Tofu Pad Thai: rice noodles, bean sprouts, lime, thai chili roasted tofu nuggets, red pepper strips, crushed peanuts- lots of color and lots of spicy flavor. Wednesday Night- Black Bean Burger: Could've been good, however, I forgot to add bread crumbs so they were an amorphous mess. Thursday Night- Pizza Night: Margherita pizza for the kiddles, tomato sauce base, thick slices of mozzarella, torn fresh basil, and a sprinkling of romano. For Hub I sauteed fresh spinach in some olive oil and and chopped garlic and spread it over the dough and scattered with goat cheese crumbles.

Tonight I start my cooking semi-marathon. We're having a few distinguished guests over for lunch on saturday, as well as some old friends we haven't seen in a while. I decided on a comfort food theme for the meal. Starting with Maryland Krab Kakes (imitation crab, old bay seasoning, saltine crumbs, mayo). Going on to roasted chicken, blue plate special meatloaf, garlic and herb roasted potatoes and yams, green beans. For the vegetarians: sesame pan fried tofu on a bed of sesame ginger rice. And I'll finish up with a half-sheet chocolate birthday cake.

Got my red re-up'd (salon visit), and am feeling particularly fiery and revved up. Might sneak in some red chili flakes here and there.

10/22 12:15

Meatloaf -done. Roasted Chicken- done. Chocolate cake- done. Krab Kakes-done. Sesame ginger tofu and rice-done. Herb roasted potatoes and yams- almost done. Still to do: green beans. Lately, I've been hearing a lot about Pop-Ups. In this economy there are a lot of vacant stores and locations everywhere. Cafes and shops rent these vacant locations for a few days as a temporary spot to sell their wares. It's a long-held dream of mine to have a cafe, but I'm not there yet for a handful of reasons. So I view these stints in entertaining as my own pop-up. I devise a menu, a theme, and a setting. Tomorrow will be my Pop-Up Comfort Cafe.

10/23 9:55 pm

Comfort Cafe was well recieved. The greatest hit was the krab kakes. They were savory and light and had a pleasing texture. Next time I'll serve them with a creamy horseradish dipping sauce. The dissappointment was the chocolate cake- I think I overbaked it, so it was a little too dry. I think the recipe has potential so I'll have another go at it.

Krab Kakes

1 package surimi imitation crab

3 eggs, lightly beaten

1 tbsp. Old Bay

bunch of scallions, finely chopped

juice of half lemon

1 sleeve of saltines, crushed

dash of sriracha optional

Using a food processor finely chop surimi. Empty surimi into a large bowl and fold in eggs, Old Bay, chopped scallions, lemon juice. Add saltine crumbs one handful at a time, mixing after each handful. If desired: add dash of sriracha and mix in.

With a serving spoon, drop rounded heaps of surimi mixture in sizzling vegetable oil. Cook 3-4 minutes on each side, until golden brown. Allow to cool on paper towels

Fan Mail

2010-10-19T06:49:00.000-07:00

Dear Aimee Bender:

I'm not the type to write fan mail, but I just finished your very excellent book " The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake" and feel that I must register my complete appreciation. I dove eagerly into your novel as soon as I read the hardcover flap. I loved the story of this young girl, Rose, who can magically taste the emotions of the cook in the food they prepare. An idea definitely worth exploring, and something that I could really sink my teeth into (da-da-da dum!). I suppose I was half expecting some high-end and soaring food writing, and while there was some of that- you're writing is lovely and true, what really affected me was the effect this magical ability had on Rose. Being placed in a position she didn't want to be in-Rose at a very young age was privy to information she just didn't want to know. I got how this extraordinary talent became an unbearable burden for her, so that all she enjoyed eating was Doritos and Oreos because they were made in factories by machines that are devoid of pain and emotions.

Of course, I tried to imagine what it would be like to have this ability. Initially I think it would be amazing, but once the novelty wore off I think it would be pretty awful, actually. Imagine eating your Mom's chicken and tasting unhappiness and emptiness, which is of course what happened to Rose. Or biting into a chocolate chip cookie baked by your friend and tasting insecurity and envy. Feelings like sadness, anger, jealousy are probably not at all tasty or nourishing. Joy, contentment, good humor, inspiration are probably delicious, but how often would one come across these emotions? Rose doesn't encounter very much of it during the novel. It is a world of pain and disconnection that she lives in.

Rose's story is an allegorical view of the plight of a highly sensitive person, someone who internalizes other people's feelings and reactions and thoughts and moods, and the kind of misery that heightened awareness brings. It was written so well and was so rooted in reality that the fairytale aspects of the book were easy to accept. It had me thinking about so much, I couldn't fall asleep after finishing it at 1:00 am. My mind was like a glass with a bee trapped inside it.

Something that I thought a lot about was the idea of tasting feelings through food. I know when I'm angry or in a bad mood while cooking it gets dumped into the food. And when I'm feeling cheery and open my cakes and desserts have an added warmth and yumminess to it. The culinary aspect of the book added a whole other layer of identification for me.

Anyway, just a nod to your fantastic book. Thanks for writing it.

Best,

Rachel

PINKALICIOUS!

2010-10-10T22:24:00.000-07:00

10/11
It's 1:30 am and I'm in the throes of party prep mania! Tomorrow we're having a birthday party for Girlette who is turning 6 on tuesday. It'll be a manicure receiving/jewellery-making/pink lemonade sipping/ cupcake decorating tea party.

T-25 minutes. I think I have everything under control. Made the tea sandwiches (cucumber, egg-lox, and brie fuji pear). I made this dreamy caramel dip at the last minute, it will be perfect with the tart crisp green grannies I just bought. The table is set, my odds and ends are finally being put to use. The cupcakes are a little too golden for my liking- but oh well, nothing is perfect.

4:10 Party Over. I think it went well. The kitchen/dining area looks like a huge pink bubble burst and left behind a sticky, sweet, pink mess . Girlette's favorite color isn't even pink (it's gold- but of course) but nothing says tea party like 21 shades of pink. Does it mean we're Tea Party people, if we had an actual Tea Party? It's true the crowd was pretty homogenous- young girls, all with common themes: sparkles, beads, and sugar.

Now that the party is behind me, I have time to be exhausted. The TP, closely followed a very fun, very late Saturday night in the city. We met up with our friend Zelig and his friend, and our fellow chow hound, Noemi- and did it up.

10/12
Sleep is like a drug with no side effects. I got a nice fix last night- 9 hours! Everything is clear and sharp today. And I can think without it hurting. Girlette's party was a success, from the personalized manicures that I hired our supercool teenaged neighbor to give each girl, to the jewellery station- where they made friendship bracelets. After a while we gathered around the dining room table which was laid out with all my mismatching tea-time tschochkes. I baked a batch of cupcakes and made 3 different types of frostings (chocolate, raspberry, and caramel) and bought a whole bunch of decorative type candies and embellishments (pink crystal sugar, pearl dragees, gold glitter dust...). They each expressed themselves in sweet and colorful ways. After we sang a couple of rounds of Happy Birthday in a couple of different languages- the pink lemonade was flowing, and the tea sandwiches were nibbled. At Girlette's request I made her favorite chocolate truffles (creme brulee and cookies 'n cream), and chocolate covered strawberries.
The Moms were as into it as their girls- duh, why wouldn't they be? Tea and delicious snacks enjoyed with your girlfriends in the middle of a wet and gray day, a time and place to express your inner girlishness. Three curtsies for the Tea Party! I am a proud member. As a finishing touch I ordereded a bunch of precious little tea cups and saucers as a party favors. Most importantly Girlette had a grand time, she even mentioned gratefully how she's glad that we always have birthday parties at home "because you can do whatever you want in your house".

So now that we're done with the hearts, flowers, cupcakes, and tea portion of this post- onto our night in the City. The only thing it had in common with the tea party, was the color of the drinks. I served pink lemonade in tea cups at Girlette's party, and drank pink concoctions in martini glasses throughout our night in the City. We started out at Flutes where I ordered an Elderberry Kir Royale and a beer for Hub (beer at a champagne lounge?), their french fries were thick cut but good. Once the City Slickers arrived we decided to cut out and try somewhere else. Zelig always knows the hippest, most au courant spots- and he took us somewhere so full of cheeky New York charm that I feel heady just thinking about it. He took us to a speakeasy called Raines Law Room. To begin with, it was so New York cool, it didn't even have a sign. You had to go down a few steps to a heavy bolted door with a small window and pretty much beg the door man to let you in. There were a few rings of hipness we had to jump through. He told us there was an hour wait time, but he'd call us when he was ready for us (Don't call us-we'll call you). We diverted our attention to Rye and waited it out over cocktails. After an hour we returned, the door gendarme was still pretty noncommittal. But there was no way I wasn't getting into this place- I was wearing a new dress that was the requisite black, but velvet and asymetrical and just slightly avant garde. My dress needed to be inside that exclusive little joint. After a little chit chat with the man at the door, and a subtle bribe in the form of a homemade truffle (new flavor: bourbon shortbread- a keeper I'm told), we got in.
It was dark in there, and it was swanky. It was like being in someone's living room, if that someone had great taste, lots of books, and an appreciation for dark wood. We proceeded to the bar area, which was kind of like the kitchen annex to this fantastic apartment. I knew right away that the woman behind the bar was a mixologist and not a bartender. The menu was extensive and leather bound. The juices and syrups were all housemade. The drinks were well considered, balanced and different. I had a few Lion's Tails which were so easy, that I was downing them like Shirley Temples. They were more like Lindsey Lohans. We eventually had to concede that the evening was over due to our real life which was just a few hours away. The night ended ceremoniously in a hot pink mess- but enough about that. It was a night so resplendent with New York-iness that I think I'm good for a while.

Caramel Dip

1/2 stick of butter
1/2 c. packed brown sugar
1/4 c. reg sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
1 container mascarpone
2 tbsp. bourbon (optional)

In a heavy saucepan over med. high heat melt butter, mix in sugars and vanilla until thick and syrupy. Remove from heat, mix mascarpone into caramel. Add bourbon, if you desire. Serve with sliced apples, pears, vanilla biscuits.

2010-10-06T11:07:00.000-07:00

"Now what?" is what I'm thinking. We submitted our cookbook proposal on monday and are waiting for feedback. I don't know what I was expecting- maybe in my deepest heart I was hoping for an instantaneous "We love it! Of course we'll publish it!". I know very well that things are rarely that easy. It's usually a struggle, and a "journey" with important lessons learned along the way. My problem has always been that I give up when the going gets tough, or more accurately, boring. The fear that I'm a lightweight, a dilettante plays in the back of my head. I realized pretty recently that in order to do anything really worthwhile, you really have to work at. It all takes diligence; relationships, parenting, cooking, baking, writing, being an upstanding individual, fill in the blank- it all takes effort to be better than average and OK.
To be honest, I think the proposal and "conceptual" part of the process is actually the easy part. Testing the recipes until they're perfect is the hard part- the tedious part. Writing the segues to each recipe- so that it's real and not hackneyed and corny, is the hard part.
What I hope to do through the cookbook is to show a way to celebrate every part of life from the mundane to the sacred. Family, friends, good food, good music, good conversation is what makes it all worthwhile: the dissappointments, the boredom, the struggle. It's a Celebrationist Handbook. I'm not sure if I have the ability and skills to pull it off- but I need to try at least.

Birthday # 37- and almost as many cakes...

2010-09-28T19:57:00.000-07:00

You know the saying about death and taxes being the only certainty in life, you can add birthdays to that short list. My birthday was yesterday. Being a Celebrationist I decided to acknowledge it, being 37 I decided it had to be with subtlety and a bit of taste. Hub and I went into the City on sunday night to see a modern dance performance at the Joyce Theater . I enjoyed the performance, Hub not so much. It was on the avant-garde side, especially the piece that involved the dancers smearing mud all over their faces and bodies. I'll be honest, I didn't really get it, the narrative and idea behind it all kinda flew over my prosaic little head. What I really love most about dance is the beauty and grace and sheer power of the human form and all of it's spectacular configurations and contortions. The piece of the program I enjoyed best of all was the one performed to Ravel's Bolero- there may have been a story there but I was concentrating too intently on the movement and music to figure it out.

Before the performance, we had dinner at The Viceroy, which was practicaly across the street from the theater. I had a very seasonal and very delicious Pomegranate Martini, and a juicy ahi tuna burger that came with New England-esque french fries. We deferred dessert until after the performance, when we strolled over to Billy's Bakery on 21st Street. If only I was a good enough writer to adequately describe the splendiferousness that is Billy's. It's a little nook of a bakery, brightly lit, with retro wallpaper, an L shaped glass counter filled with rows of cupcakes, mini tarts, and other heavenly morsels. On top of the counters were cakestands displaying perfectly frosted layer cakes and overstuffed pies. As a Libra I was in a specific version of heaven/hell.....too many choices. I am not the least bit embarassed to reveal that I ordered 4 slices of sweet nirvana: chocolate cake with mocha frosting, red velvet, peanut butter pie, chocolate cake with vanilla frosting, and a slice of peach pie for Hub. We took our booty to go, all packaged up in a white cardboard cake box. As indulgent as it is to order that much cake, and knowing I would not be able to consume it all, I still had to try each one. Call it research. The chocolate cake with mocha frosting was my favorite. The red velvet was also great. The peanut butter pie was simply too much for me.
For my actual birthday, which was Monday, I volunteered to host Book Club. This month's selection was The Help, which I really enjoyed. For the meal I decided on a Autumn theme, with Southern accents on account of the new season and the book's setting. For hors d'oeuvres I made a pimento cheese dip which was nice and sharp. Dinner started with a thick butternut squash soup with a hint of creaminess and a suggestion of spice thanks to a little sriracha sprinkled into the mix as a last minute addition. For the main course I made a balsamic onion blue cheese tart (sweet and salty and quite good), a big pot of wild mushroom risotto, and Eustacia made a crisp salad accented with black-eyed peas. Dessert was my chance to trot out the line I've been waiting to utter all year: Today's the day I can bake my cakes and eat 'em too. Inspired by a theme in the book I made a caramel cake, and just because I felt like it- a chocolate peanut butter tart. Good and gooder. The caramel cake was pretty simple- but something to curl yourself around- sweet gooey comfort. The peanut butter tart, was everything I need in a dessert: crunchy, smooth, sweet, chocolatey, also subtle - considering all the components. Unlike Billy's Peanut Butter Pie it was a thin little number- a half inch layer of chocolate cookie crust, a 1" layer of peanut butter cream and then a thin gloss of choclate ganache to pull it all together. Happy Birthday indeed.

Peanut Butter Tart
1 1/2 c. crushed oreos (about 20)
4 tbsp. melted butter
1 1/2 c. half and half
2 tbsp. flour
1/4 tsp. salt
3 egg yolks
1/3 c. sugar
1/2 c. creamy peanut butter
1 tsp. vanilla
1 c. semisweet choc chips
1/2 c. cream
2 tbsp. butter, cut into small pieces

Preheat oven to 350F. For crust: In bowl combine cookie crumbs and melted butter. Press crumbs onto bottom of a tart pan with a detachable bottom. Bake for about 10 mins. Let cool.
For filling: In a saucepan, combine half and half, flour and salt. Cook over med. heat until simmering, frequently stirring. In a small bowl combine egg yolks, sugar. Gradually whisk hot half and half mixtue into egg mixture. Return egg yolk mix to the saucepan. Cook and mix over med heat until thick and bubbly. Remove. Whisk in peanut butter and vanilla until combined. Pour into crust, spread evenly. Cover and chill for 3 hours.
Ganache: In a saucepan combine chocolate and cream, stir until melted and glossy, add butter pieces and stir until melted in. Spread in a thin layer over peanut butter filling. Chill until ready to serve.

Pity Party Table For One

2010-09-14T11:00:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my pity party. On the menu -sour grapes and spilt milk. "Coulda-Woulda-Shoulda" is playing on an endless loop. I feel a migraine coming on, and tonight's dinner is definitely at risk. My Fall Pasta article is due tomorrow, but I'm thinking why bother? Does anyone actually read it, let alone try the recipes? Is there anyone out there at all, or am I just a figment of my own imagination? I should "market myself", take advantage of the "new media"; tweet and friend and text, I guess it's the old curmudgeon in me that just thinks that stuff is frivolous and dumb- and not to mention, hard to work out.
Blaming the world is a very easy option and somewhat enjoyable in a bittertart kinda way, but the real truth is obvious. It's me. It's my procrastination and disorganization. It's my way of avoiding the time consuming and hard work. It's my lack of focus. It's my self consciousness. It's my injured sense of"what about me?". Someone with something to really say or offer just pushes through and says it or offers it in the most effective way they know.

Brussels Sprouts and Sausage Pasta
1 lb. brussels sprouts
2 tbsp. olive oil
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 lb. sausages, cut into 1" pieces
1 c. veg stock
1 lb. pasta
salt and pepper
crushed red pepper, optional

Rinse and dry brussels sprouts, cut larger sprouts in half- steam or boil until they're bright green. In the meantime: heat olive oil in a skillet and cook garlic for a minute or until fragrant add sausages and brown (5-8 mins). Add steamed brussels sprouts to the pan and saute for 2-3 minutes, pour in vegetable stock and lower heat and cover for 5 minutes and half of the liquid is evaporated. While Sausage- Brussel Sprout combo is cooking, boil pasta 'til slightly al dente. Drain and toss with the pan's contents. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Add red pepper for a spicy touch if desired.

Back-to-New-Year

2010-09-07T18:43:00.000-07:00

Of course I had to get one in before the New Year. The past few weeks have been a whirligig of activity. When I last left off I was in the sweet and buttery throes of Cake Party prep. The Party, which feels like a million Saturdays ago, was well attended, and I took the lack of leftovers as a good sign. I made an Upside Down Caramel Peach Pecan cake, which was really great looking- but I did not taste. "Whipped Key Lime Pie In the Rye" was the Summer's greatest hit, I loved it for it's cool and tart mouth. The Chocolate Tart was rich and decadent and unapologetically darkly chocolate. How could it not be amazing when I was using Lindt chocolate? The thing could practically bake itself after all that beautiful chocolate. Since I am a little obsessed with my morning lattes I decided on a Cafe Latte Cheesecake. It was really fun to make, for the "foam"on top of the dense, rich and creamy espress layer I doubled the white frosting I used in the Coconut Layer Cake. It was made with fresh whipped cream, sour cream, vanilla, and of course, sugar- light, fluffy, and a delightful finale. This frosting took on a different character when combined with dried coconut flakes and lushly spread on and in between 3 golden layers of cake. The simple Buttermilk Pound Cake, was Hub's favorite , I gotta give the guy credit, he goes in for simple and pure beauty. It couldn't be easier to make. I used all great quality fresh ingredients; buttermilk, butter, vanilla. The taste was so comforting and sweet and simple, kind of like a Homecoming Queen hiding behind a Plain Jane exterior. Dressed up with a little whipped cream, and tarted up a bit with red strawberries and raspberries- it drew some attention, and was well appreciated. However it was at a disadvantage because it was placed next to a towering Chocolate Layer Cake- that was rescued from deformity by my Mother's spectacular garnishing skills. Of course there had to be something for Munch, it being his 3rd birthday and all. For weeks prior I had him so excited about the Monkey Cupcakes I was going to make, they came out as good as the magazine picture, and bingo! required no artificial coloring. The cupcake was buttermilk banana, but it was neither banana-ny nor fluffy enough. It was saved by the chocolate ganache frosting- but the kids didn't seem to even get beyond the nutter butters and M&M's and 'Nilla Wafers that made up the monkeyface. To round things out I made a tray of shot glass ButterScotchRum Puddings .

With the Cake Party behind me I could focus on my newspaper articles; One, a New Year's menu. The other After-School Snacks Ideas. I decided the theme of the New Year's piece would be how your year should be like a good meal. There was a recipe for a fresh, fruity, sweet, sour, ripe Grilled Fig Salad with a Honey Vinaigrette. And then sweet and sour Pomegranate Barbecue Chicken with Israeli Couscous. The meal ended on an uncompromisingly sweet note with a Greek Honey Cake; the addition of orange extract and rind added an element of brightness to it all. For the After-School Snacks I included the Honey Peanut Butter Cookie recipe, and Apple Oatmeal Muffin to acknowledge that brisk Fall will be here soon. And then a Yogurt Ranch Dip.

We went camping in The Adirondacks for Labor Day weekend, nothing much to say about the cuisinary aspect of the trip- although the pizza and pasta we had for dinner in town was pretty good, especially after a few days of hiking, outdoor adventure, and generally roughing it. We got back just in time for bed, bath, and beyond (Laundry). School began today, and tomorrow is Rosh Hashana Eve. I've been spared from heavy kitchen labor, we're going to Hub's cousin's family. I can't very well go empty handed, so I made a Caramel Cake, a Chocolate Tart (January post), and an Oreo Pudding for the kiddles.
Also due tomorrow is a Dairy-Free Flourless Chocolate Cake with a Chocolate Glaze I was commissioned to make by a neighbor. I had fun with it, and I think it's worth the $40 she's paying me for it.

After New Year I have a whole new crop of projects and commitments. First off: a piece Autumn Pasta dishes. Next Book Club, the menu will have an Autumnal in the South slant, as we read The Help and it will be held during the fall festival of Succot. I am planning to try out a new truffle flavor as well, maybe the Ladies will be my testers?

I always appreciate how Back-to-School and Rosh Hashana are close together, both symbolize fresh starts- where time stretches before you and there is hope that great things will fill it. Have a full and happy new year.

Words and Flavors

2010-08-11T19:23:00.000-07:00

I'm languishing in a sea of flavors and words. Presently I'm working on the two articles due on friday- after a fair bit of flips and flops I ended up with a Broiled Fig Salad (with tart green apple slices and toasted pine nuts , arugula-butter lettuce mix, and drizzled with a balsamic honey vinaigrette). Roasted Chicken in a pomegranate barbecue sauce on Israeli Couscous for the main. Ending off with a Greek Honey Cake which is super sweet due to the honey syrup the cake soaks in. I added orange extract to the syrup for a bright and sunny finale. This is my Jewish New Year menu.
For the After School Snacks piece I included the Honey Peanut Butter Cookie recipe, an Apple Oameal muffin recipe, and a Yogurt Ranch Dip for crudite- tasty, wholesome, homey fare that aims to soften and sweeten the sharp and pointy edges of a long day at school.
I've started my marathon baking for the Cake Party on Saturday. I'm going with the southern motif of a Cake Party on a hot summer's afternoon, by complementing the cakes and pies with homemade lemonade and sweet tea. I can cross the banana cupcakes, the buttermilk pound cake, and the Caffe Latte cheesecake off of my list. Tomorrow's baking roster includes whipped key lime pie, a dense chocolate tart, and a pecan peach upside down cake.

It's Already August?

2010-08-01T18:42:00.002-07:00

The pace is picking up as back-to-school and the Jewish High Holidays are coming up on us. Can't believe that more than half of summer is over, gone, done with. I was assigned 2 articles for the September issue- One on afterschool snacks (peanut butter cookies, lemon cornbread with honey butter, and a yogurt ranch dip for cut-up veggies)- I have already tried all these recipes, except I made lemon cornmeal cookies which were sunny and sweet and simple and summery. I'll give it an Autumnal makeover by making it into lemon cornbread and the honey butter will be seasonally relevant.
The other piece is on a Rosh Hashana - New Year meal. I've been thinking quite a bit about this menu, and honestly- I feel slightly out of my league. Moving forward: I'm thinking a vaguely middle eastern/sephardic flavored/early Autumn meal. A salad of roasted figs and pear chips and pomegranate kernels in a honey balsamic vinaigrette, to begin with. Then pomegranate glazed chicken with a moroccan toasted couscous with a honey citrus dressing (adapted from the wholefood's recipe). Dessert will be a citrus scented Baklava. Great- now get busy and start testing.
Closely following the articles' deadline comes the CakeQuake for McMunch's b'day. I decided to make it an open house and have sort of narrowed down the cake list to: Banana cupcakes with a chocolate frosting and decorated to look like Monkey's with strategically placed cookies and M&M's. Cafe Latte Cheesecake. Coconut Layer Cake (More about this in a future post). A good old fashioned Chocolate Layer Cake (3 layers). Peach Pecan Upside Down Cake- because the idea of a Saturday afternoon Cake Party just feels so southern. Whipped Key Lime Pie for the non-phonies. A Buttermilk Pound Cake- ripe raspberries and strawberries and fresh whipped cream served alongside. Butterscoth pudding in shot glasses.
Also been working on The Cookbook. Had a few winners in the past couple of weeks: Cornflake Chicken, a really refreshing watermelon feta salad, a reduced fat but full flavored Tuna Noodle Casserole, Ground Turkey Bimbimbop (The Korean take on the composed salad), an applicious fresh berry terrine. OK- back to my kitchen unorder.

Lemon Cornmeal Cookies

1 c. all-purpose flour
1/2 c. yellow cornmeal
1/2 tsp.baking soda
1/4 tsp. groung ginger
6 tbsp. softened butter
3/4 c. sugar
1 egg
2 tbsp. fresh lemon juice
1 tbsp. lemon zest
1 tsp. vanilla

Preheat oven to 350F. In medium bowl whisk together first four ingredients. In separate bowl, beat on med. speed butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add egg and mix well. Beat in lemon juice, zest, and vanilla. Add flour mixture to butter mixture and beat until just incorporated. Spoon batter with a kitchen tbsp. onto parchment lined bake sheet about 3 inched apart. Bake for 10-12 minutes or until slightly browned around the edges.

Cookie Trials

2010-07-22T15:44:00.000-07:00

Not a good day for me in the kitchen. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about cookies, trying to come up with a few novel mix-ins and combo's for the classics- also trying to make them over in a more healthful way without sacrificing taste. Cookies are not supposed to be healthful or healthy, they're supposed to be sweet and buttery and comforting and make you think of "home". These are my essential characteristics of a good homemade cookie. So unless home is a vegetarian kibbutz or a macrobiotic commune, wholewheat doesn't really cut it. The Peanut Butter Honey Cookies I made a week or so ago were good; chewy, sweet, and slightly peanutty. Next time I will make them peanuttier. This afternoon's Cinnamon Apple Oatmeal Cookies were a disappoinment. The flavor was OK. I think that the rough oats stand up admirably to wholewheat flour, and that the grated apples went well in the mix. They were a fright to look at though- bulbous and bloated and beige.
What's with the cookie preoccupation?..... I really need to get going on this cookbook I'm writing with Donz. And I'm stuck on having a small sub-chapter on afternoon tea/afterschool snack. A cozy and yummy sweet snack after getting home from school, when dinner is still a few hours away. I want to include a couple of classic cookie recipes with a healthier edge, combining wholewheat flour with regular flour, using honey and brown sugar, and reducing the butter without sacrificing flavor or cookie monster appeal. I also have a nice moroccan mint tea recipe that I would love to add, as well as a super-chocolatey hot cocoa recipe. A good and hearty scone recipe wouldn't go astray either.
I finally understand, after almost 37 years of living in this world, that if you want to accomplish something, if you want to realize a dream- you have to work for it. Work really hard. It's like the Yiddish saying: "If you have a dream- don't sleep". Only for the very fortunate few do things come easy, for everyone else it's effort, and perserverence, and the sweat off one's brow. And just the way the cookie crumbles.

Whipped Key Lime Pie in the Rye

2010-07-16T04:55:00.000-07:00

Last night was a Very Special Book Club. To begin with, we read one of my all-time favorites "The Catcher In The Rye". That goddam book really had me going when I first read it in highschool, it really did. Old Holden Caufield and his three lost days in New York City. He killed me, he really did.

When I originally read the book, in tenth grade, it kind of changed my life. While living in my teenage world I would often wonder wwHd (what would Holden do?) or wwHs (what would Holden say) or wwHt (what would Holden think). Holden Caufield the patron saint of teenage angst. And as I said at Book Club last night, I owe a tiny little corner of my personality to him. I'm not kidding, I really do.

I made a whipped key lime pie for the occasion, which was well received- even by me. It was bright and sweet, but mostly tart (kind of like Holden). It's the texture that really did it for me- fluffy and light and smooth. A great non-phony summer dessert.

Whipped Key Lime Pie

Graham Cracker Crust: In a medium sized bowl combine 1 c. graham cracker crumbs and 3 tbsp. sugar. Add 1/4 c. melted butter and toss to coat. Press graham cracker crumbs evenly onto the bottom and sides of a pie plate. Cover and chill for about an hour.

Key Lime Filling: In bowl combine 14 oz. can of condensed milk, 1 tsp. of finely grated lime or key lime peel, and 1/2 c. key lime juice. In a seperate bowl with an electric mixer beat 1 c. heavy cream and 1 tsp vanilla extract until soft peaks form. Fold whipped cream into the key lime mixture. Spoon filling into the graham cracker crust. Cover and freeze 2 -3 hours until firm. Serve with whipped cream if desired.

Full disclosure: So that I won't be accused of being a phony, the picture was taken from Real Simple Recipes, my pie kinda sorta looked like that.

Bake Therapy

2010-07-11T08:25:00.000-07:00

This morning's bake-therapy session concluded with a batch of Honey Peanut Butter Cookies. I've decided that my kitchen is better than any therapist's couch, it's cheaper and yields better results. The act of creating something is restorative. Baking cookies is good for the soul. The warm and sweet aroma that flows from the kitchen works as well as any anti-depressant. Music is the same way- put on some Bob Marley and let the healing begin. Combine baking and music and a beautiful summer's morning? And the results are wonderful in the truest sense of the word.

Honey Peanut Butter Cookies

Preheat oven to 350F. In large mixing bowl mix 1/2 c. softened butter, 1 c. creamy peanut butter, 1 c. honey. Add 2 lightly beaten eggs and 1 tsp. vanilla extract to the mixture and mix well. In a separate smaller bowl combine 1 1/2 c. wholewheat flour, 1 1/2 c. all-purpose flour, 1 c. brown sugar, 1 1/2 tsp. baking soad, 1 tsp. baking powder, and 1/4 tsp. salt. Gradually add to peanut butter batter and mix well. Scoop up cookie batter with a kitchen tablespoon and roll into balls and place on baking sheets, flatten with a fork dipped in flour. Bake for 10-15 minutes depending on your personal cookie preference (soft and chewy vs. crispy and crunchy)

Post scipt: The next incarnation of these cookies will have 1/4 c. more peanut butter and a 1/4 c. less brown sugar.

July 4th

2010-07-05T06:49:00.000-07:00

It was a wonderful Fourth of July. Hub, realizing I needed a bit of a pick-me-up, booked a weekend stay for us, kids included, at the Rittenhouse in Philly. Since almost all our family lives far away, the idea of spending the holiday alone seemed interminably depressing. And Philly was the perfect 4th of July destination.

To begin with the hotel was, as always, perfect. A stay there softens the rough edges of daily life. From the chocolate dipped strawberries and flutes of champagne graciously offered at check-in, to the toy chest filled with awesome toys that the kiddles had their pick of, and of course we won't forget the tray of milk and fresh baked cookies that arrived in our spacious room soon after we did. My entire being let out a sigh of relief and gratitude as soon as I entered our room. My tension was eased magically by this hotel, which seems to me an establishment that time forgot-in the best way possible. Old fashioned civility and customer service reign supreme at the Rittenhouse, and that it's off of Rittenhouse Square a city park/promenade right out of the pages of a Henry James novel adds to it's old world charm.

After dinner on friday night we walked over to Independence Hall to hear the Philly Pops play an assortment of American Classics by Copland, Bernstein, Gershwin, John Williams as well as the theme from "Rocky". American flags were handed out to all and at some points I really felt like I could have been a mother and wife from centuries past enjoying some contructive recreation with my family on the green in front of the great Independence Hall.

After a good night's sleep, no doubt facilitated by our trek across the city and back. We awoke and headed downstairs to La Croix, the Rittenhouse's restaurant, for breakfast. My coffee was good to the last drop, and made perfect by the serene setting as well as the beautiful clean design of the cup and saucer. For me, it's the small details that go into a great cup of coffee, and I believe a truly great establishment understands this: a great cup of coffee/tea is as much a state of mind as proportions and ratios.

The kiddles and Hub visited an old synagogue that was reportedly quite impressive as I strolled and window shopped on Walnut and Sansone Streets. After lunch everyone napped as I read my novel on a bench in Rittenhouse Square, the weather was perfect and scenes of weekend relaxation and frivolity played out all around. I felt as I was being restored by the bright and warm sun as well as the displays of friendship, love and camaraderie that surrounded me.

Girlette and I had a reservation for tea at 4:00 p.m. at The Mary Cassatt Room at the Hotel. I always have tea when I stay at The Rittenhouse, it being just the kind of anachronistic fantasy that I long for, and enjoying tea with almost 6 year old uber-girly Girlette was just perfect. Again, I marvelled at the lemon curd and the currant scones, as Girlette nibbled her chocolate covered strawberries and sipped her hot chocolate.

After the business of Afternoon Tea was done with, we all walked over to Penn's Landing to secure a spot to watch the fireworks and Philadelphia Orchestra on the riverfront. The music was stirring and patriotic, and the fireworks were spectacular!

Sunday, July 4th, began at the Liberty Bell, moved on to Market Street where we watched the colorful and festive Parade march by, and ended in front of the Art Museum were there was a fair with music and food and eventually fireworks which we missed, deciding to beat the traffic home and be satisfied with the fireworks of the previous evening. We arrived home just in time for a bed time story on the signing of the Declaration of Independence, a truly wonderful 4th of July weekend that hopefully the kiddles will always remember- I know I will.

Some Bad News

2010-06-26T17:22:00.000-07:00

I have been solemnly contemplating over the past few days how I would proceed with the following blog post. Something major and majorly personal occured very recently, something that affects my life on a daily basis, and I was wondering how to present it- or to even present it at all in this blog. After some consideration I decided that since this is "my life through food" I had to be honest and write about it.

I lost the baby. It was a freak occurence that I can't understand and probably never will. It was a four day ordeal that began on tuesday with my water breaking, leaving the baby in an amniotic sac devoid of any amniotic fluid for it to grow and flourish in. 17 weeks is much too early for the water to break, I was so confused (and still am). After consulting and being examined by many doctors, we had to come to terms with the fact that the pregnancy was no longer viable and that the baby was not going to survive. On thursday it was decided that I would be checked into Einstein Hospital in the Bronx. Of course it being New York City, I had to wait for a bed to be available. Having time to bide Hub and I decided to go into the City to wait for the doctor to call to tell us we had a bed. Hub attended his pre-scheduled business meeting and I decided to hang out in mid-town, do some window shopping to keep my mind off things. Fat chance. I immediately got a few pieces of chocolates from the Michel Cluizel chocolate boutique, which were probably delicious but I didn't have the heart to really enjoy. I dragged myself aimlessly on the streets of Fifth Avenue, until I decided that I should treat myself to a nice lunch. At first I thought I'd head up to The Plaza or Pierre, but those 6-8 city blocks uptown felt so far away, like an unendurable trek. And then I turned and saw an awning that spelled out "La Grenouille" standing out like a pristine mirage in my sweaty, gritty, unpleasant day. I opened the door and was greeted by french men in white dinner jackets bowing and welcoming me with "bonjour, madamoiselle". I was escorted to the bar where a lavish setting was laid out for me. Before settling in I excused myself for the Ladies room to "freshen up", and was politely directed by a dozen or so professional waiters. The bathroom was a miniature boudoir where I splashed some cool water on my face, applied a little lip gloss, and convinced myself to try and the enjoy the dining experience I was about to have.

When I returned to my seat, laid out for me at the bar was a small bowl of picholine olives, a larger bowl of housemade potato chips, and a small platter of almonds, as well as my perrier. Brian, the bartender, was a gentle and kind soul who was very supportive and effusive of my menu choices.

Despite the complete disorder and dismay and disarray I was feeling inside, this restaurant was like a balm. Like a soothing sedative. Everything was the way it should be, everything was beautiful, everything was pleasant, everything was in harmony. It was so transportive, I actually enjoyed my lunch. To begin with I had asparagus with poached egg on top, then I moved on to the gnocchi with fresh peas and ramps, and for dessert a cup of cafe au lait and a plate of tiny madeleines. It was all impeccable from the portion size to the vibrant colors of the veggies, to the rich and fresh flavors of the food. Brian was a soothing and calming presence in my day, and informed me that many people stop at La Grenouille before they get on a flight or go to the hospital.

As I was leaving the therapuetic confines of La Grenouille I got a call from Hub who told me that my room was ready for me at the hospital, and wham! I was back on the streets of New York and back to my bad dream. Well, it's enough to say that there was no more French food for me. The next 36 hours were as intense as I've ever experienced. I've had the weekend to gently recover with Hub serving as my loyal and loving nursemaid. The kiddles are at my in-laws, and I'm starting to process it all. I feel like I have no more tears left and that I'll never really understand why this happened. The baby (which was a boy) was healthy and thriving.

Hub, the medical and hospital staff really helped me through this ordeal. I feel enveloped by love and good wishes. The phone calls I've recieved from family and friends have also been so touching and let me know I am loved and cared about. That I have three healthy wonderful children is also a great comfort, but there is still emptiness and confusion and unredeemed maternal love . I can't forget or erase the presence of this little baby from my heart. I will be OK, regular life will continue, I will cook and bake and teach classes and make chocolate, write and do all the things I love doing- but something feels slightly altered in me.

12 Days In Israel

2010-06-13T19:12:00.001-07:00

Shalom from the Tasty Land, where some seriously good eating has happened over the past couple of weeks and which has contributed mightily to my steadily expanding waistline. The official reason for our trip to Israel was to visit family; brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces, nephews, grandparents- we have practically every kind of family here in Israel. However, a hugely motivating factor for me behind this visit was the food- specifically the produce and dairy. Since I got pregnant I have been chasing after the perfect piece of fruit, pursuing an exemplary tomato, dreaming about a cup of yogurt that strikes the creamy balance between sweet and tangy, all the while maintaining the outstanding quality of freshness. Well Haverim (friends), I'm pleased to report, on the final day of my gustatory pilgrimmage, mission accomplished.

Day 1: After a lengthy journey from New York to Tel Aviv, which included a brief pause in Dusseldorf, we arrived at my bro/sis-in-law's (Darvid and Mish) beautiful new digs in Modi'in to a full scale barbecue that was worthy of the 4th of July. I've been off meat for a while now (and even more so after the eating events of day 2- TBC...), but the sliced tomatoes that accompanied the fresh grilled burgers, were everything I want from my tomatoes; ripe, firm, deep red in color, juicy, and delicious. It had been a while since I savored a tomato that didn't taste freeze dried and weak , and I knew that we were off to a great start!

Day 2: A quick visit to Jerusalem, where we met up with one of my brothers, stopped at the Western Wall, and explored the Old City for a while. Hub's shwarma was uninspiring, and we fed a good amount of it to the skinny semi-feral cats that prey on the tender pet-loving hearts of American tourists. My freshly squeezed orange juice on the other hand was gulped down greedily, and reinforcements were ordered for the kiddles.

After trying unsuccessfully to settle the kids in bed at night, and deciding to leave the dirty work to the babysitters, we left with Darvid and Mish for Tel Aviv to a swanky hotel restaurant on the beach. The bread basket set a promising tone for the evening's meal. The artichoke soup I started with was good enough- creamy, smooth with a pleasing tang. So far everything's fine- better than fine- sababa, maxim ("great" and "awesome" in the vernacular). But then, against my better judgement- ignoring all my pregnancy cues, I order the mullard as my second course. Mullard I am told is a cross between a duck and a goose. Duck, duck, goose...and your "it". "It" being an awful nausea and a generally debilitating grossness that visited upon me the next day, and had me lying flat on my back all day long at my sis-in-law's house up in the Galillee. I should've know when I had to peel off a half an inch of fat off the top of the medallions that this dish was not for me. I should have stuck with all things green. I should have surrendered to my gut's desire from the get go. I guess I needed to learn all this the hard way, but from here forward on our trip I was a vegetarian, veering on the militant (with one minor infraction- see day 8...).

Day 3: Due to my Mull-aise I had to sit out the quintessential Israeli breakfast that Hub, the kiddles, and in laws tore into before we set out for the Galilee. An Israeli breakfast consists of fresh salads, cheeses, flavorful sweet and savory spreads, fresh baked bread, and eggs- in other words: heaven. I huddled over my tea with na'na (fresh mint) and dry toast.

For the rest of the day and night I lay on the couch in Hub's sis' beautiful airy new house in the Galilee, and watched the action unfold around me, cursing the moment I met mullard. The kiddles and their Israeli counterparts were thick as thieves, my sis-in-law was busy in the kitchen preparing friday night dinner, the aromas were incredible! I had to forgo her specialty dish: Yemenite Soup, my biggest regret of the trip.

Day 4: I woke up feeling revived and headed straight to the fridge were I raided the produce drawer. Oh the apricots, the plums, the sweetest grapes that ever passed my lips. The watermelon.... The fresh mint that grows outside her kitchen window! For lunch she made a mexican fiesta, that I happily participated in. It was a beautiful carefree day in the North of the country, where the kids ran wild and barefoot, and I was just barefoot and pregnant.

Day 5: Determined to get my Israeli breakfast on, and propelled by memories from our last visit to the North, I insisted we visit Lotem, a kibbutz that hosts a restaurant with outdoor seating and a great view, as well as a menu full of delicious choices. After much deliberation I settled on a Fattoush salad and the bread basket with a variety of spreads. The breads were fresh baked and hearty, my favorite spread was the tzatziki, second was the raasted pepper. The Fattoush salad was crisp and full of middle eastern flavor. The piece de resistance was my latte at meals end which came with a plate of tiny scrumptious oatmeal-esque cookies. I was so content as I sipped my coffee and nibbled on my cookies, nothing- not even the kiddles unruliness and Munch's dirty diaper could yank me out of my state of bliss.

Day 6: Beach Day! Off the Tel Aviv Beach we went. The bunch of us bleached out Northerners were lathered up with SPF 55, but that still didn't save me from the tenacious Middle Eastern sun. Normally I shun all beach-like scenario's, I feel that the grit and the heat and the general discomfort are not worth the effort and the burn. Tel Aviv Beach is an exception- the water was a clear aqua and so warm, it kind of reminded me of Miami Beach in that way, which is the only other beach I've ever enjoyed. But who cares about me- the kids were having a grand old time, running in and out of the surf, collecting sea shells, sucking on arctics (Israelspeak for popsicles).

We had lunch at an airy beachfront cafe called "Frishman". My grilled halloumi salad was memorable- the sauce/dressing had strong spicy asian flavor which worked well with the non-descript halloumi cheese. For dessert I ordered watermelon and feta. The kiddles cheese toasts (grilled cheese sandwiches) were enormous so I had some of theirs too.

After the beach Hub took the kiddles back to Modi'in, as I settled in at my brother's Tel Aviv flat and anticipated the pain that would come over the next few days. I got sunburnt pretty bad- but it was totally worth it. Bro #3, Leonardo, allowed me to sit on his veranda and not do a damn thing as he and his lovely French fiancee prepared the feast we were to enjoy that night in honor of bro #2, Rabdul's, birthday. Dinner was delicious and festive, Debo made a wonderful curry and a tasty artichoke side dish. Dessert was suitably french-alicious; raspberry coulis and cream. YUM!

Day 7: Back to Jerusalem to visit my grandparents. My grandmother prepared lunch which included my favorite cole slaw and her miraculously light and fluffy sponge cake, so good I've never even attempted it. A word about my grandparents: my grandfather is in his 90's and is still sharp as a tack. My grandmother? Well, no one really knows her age, but whatever it is- she looks good! Which gives me hope. She is brisk and busy and doesn't slow down for a minute.
For dinner that night Mish made a really good mac 'n cheese for the kids, and a pasta of sweet potatoes, leeks and pine nuts for the adults. Thoroughly yum.

Day 8: Back to the beach.....sun, sand, surf, plenty of sunscreen. We had dinner with Debo and Leonardo at the burger joint around the corner from their flat "Magic Burger", and despite being a born-again vegetarian, these burgers were magically delicious. Juicy, substantial, with all the fixin's- pickles, grilled onions, sliced ripe tomatoes, mustard, special sauce, a nice fluffy bun. The fries were thin sliced and really really good.
Came home after our deluxe burger meal put the kiddles to bed- which was a snap after a long hot day at the beach.

Day 9: Field trip to an Israeli supermarket in order to stock up for the weekend up North. I love doing this kind of touring whenever I'm on new terrain. The supermarket is a great way to get a feel for a culture. As you'd expect the produce section was brimming with colorful abundance, only featuring what was seasonal and locally grown- but there was plenty. The cheese counter was also impressive, with a nice variety of soft, semi-soft, and hard cheeses. We chose a nice sampling; a bleu, a sheep's milk, a swiss, a gouda, and a camembert. My favorite was the bleu-pungent but not crazy aggressive. The bakery section was strong in the bread department, but not so dazzling with the cake/pastry. Their homemade pita was excellent as well as the fresh baked borekas that we purchased hot out of the oven. Next up the dairy case, where the selection of yogurts, puddings, and cottage cheeses was good enough for me. The major difference I noticed between American supermarkets and Israeli supermarkets, is the size and variety of products. Israel is a tiny country with a population of 7 million, so 25 different brands and varieties of potato chips are just not necessary- they make do with 6 or 7. In some ways it makes life easier, having less of a choice makes for less deliberation and confusion. I have a very clear memory of going to the supermarket in Seattle with my Mother when I was around 10, and a woman with a thick slavic accent turning to us and asking which butter she should get- there were just too many for her to contemplate. Speaking of butter, I picked up some amazing French butter at the supermarket in Israel that contributed greatly to a very fine lemon layer cake that I made in Mish's excellent kitchen in honor of Hub's birthday.

That night, after a few slices of the aforementioned cake, ice cream, candles and a round of Happy Birthday sung in Hebrew and English, Hub and I got dressed up and headed out to a wedding in Bet Shemesh. We didn't stay for the whole event as Rabdul was having a housewarming/birthday party at his apartment in Jerusalem and we weren't going to miss getting a slice of his life. The party made me feel simultaneously old and young. Young because I remembered going to and having that kind of party, where everyone hangs out with their friends in clusters, music is loud, beer and booze is cheap but totally functional and plenteous, smoke is thick, and the eats are no-frills (although I polished off the entire bowl of licorice and gummy snakes). Old because I am pregnant with my fourth kid and about a decade older than most of the kids there, and because when a popular 80's song started playing, some kid blurted out: turn this old timer shit off!

Day 10& 11: Began the day with another great Israeli breakfast. I ordered Shakshuka (eggs in a tomato sauce) and fell in love with the fig jam that came nestled in my basket of fresh breads. And then our little tribe began the journey northwards where we (Us, Hub's bro and sis and families) rented cabins for the weekend. We brought coolers full of food- I was in charge of breakfast (yogurt, fruit, sweet pastry, and borekas), snacks (chips, pudding, brownies), and cheese (see above). The North o Israel is literally a breath of fresh air- it's greener than the rest of the land as well as more spacious.

We were all instantly charmed by our individual deluxe wooden cabins, and to make a long travelogue a little shorter: the weekend was wonderful. The kids spent much time in the pool, we ate well, the days meandered lazily as a holiday in the country should. On a personal note- I felt like I had captured a little slice of heaven between the comfy airy canopy bed in our room, a good read, fresh fruit and veggies, temperate weather, happy kids and hub, an awesome porch swing, fresh air, and regular strains of the meuzzin echoing through the area.

Day 12: The end is here- we woke up and packed up the cabins and all met for breakfast at a vegetarian kibbutz in Amirim. We sat down and the food came out in waves. The fresh bread was wonderful, so was the eggplant in tahini. I also really enjoyed the herb omelette. Tea and cake served on the verandah was a final sweet touch. I wonder which part of the meal made Hub so sick? After we got back to Darvid and Mish's, Hub excused himself and then emerged drenched in sweat and sickly green in coloring. He lay still on the couch, trying not to distrurb his bilious stomach, as various relatives came to bid us farewell and enjoy an impromptu pizza party (as far as as I'm concerned, whenever there's pizza it's a party!).

Day 13: Hub's a bit better, but now Girlette is puking and lolling about- she vomits on the shuttle bus to the airport, a rather dramatic ending to our Israeli tour. I drag her through the airport like a rag doll, as we go through the 7 rings of security. We finally settle into our seats on the plane, but not before I take note of the uptight kid-hater in the row in front of us. Twelve Hours Later Girlette weakly sips ginger ale and sleeps most of the time. Kid 1 is enthralled with his personal TV screen and the fact that I'm not regulating how much TV he watches- I don't hear a word from him until we land. Munch is pretty good for an almost 3 year old and only cries and whines 25% of the time- which prompts the wicked witch in front of us to progress from dirty looks to declaring our kid to be "completely obnoxious".

Home sweet home! Travelling is wonderful and educational, but after a long trip away from home there's no sight I love better than my sweet and soft bed.

June 21: It's taken a week but I think we've all shrugged off the jet lag and re-entered our regular lives. Our trip to Israel has left me with an almost unsatiable need for fresh fruit and lots of it. I also have plans to recreate those breakfasts. But what I miss most about Israel is the people; family and friends- whose company made those meals truly fantastic.

Summer Fruits

2010-06-01T04:54:00.000-07:00

Early signs of summer: memorial day weekend; the merchandising/marketing assault of "the" summer blockbuster; a lighthearted sense that prevails; SUMMER FRUIT- peaches, apricots, cherries, berries.... juicy, sweet, luscious fresh fruit is what I'm craving, and lucky for me the time is right. Well, fruit and gummy bears and ice cream, but let's focus on the fruit for now. The other day I had an apricot that was an experience in unmitigated joy. Perfect in a way that only nature can be. At a barbecue last night I enjoyed chunks of watermelon so sweet and juicy that I gave a blessing of thanks. Maybe it's the hormones, but I am overwhelmed by the beauty, providence, and gorgeous efficiency of nature.

Summer Fruit Salad in a Citrus Mint Dressing

In a small bowl squeeze half a grapefruit, half an orange, and half a lime. Mix in 1 tbsp. sugar and 2 tbsp. finely chopped fresh mint. Set aside. Stem and chop 1 pint of strawberries place in med. bowl. Peel and chop up 4 kiwi's, add to bowl. Peel 1 large mango and chop-throw in bowl. Mix chopped fruit and then toss in the citrus mint dressing. Tastes great with vanilla ice cream, frozen yogurt, or sorbet.

Hello World....Remember Me?

2010-05-26T05:11:00.000-07:00

Hello world! I have emerged from my somnambulant state refreshed and renewed. My exile from active life-over. I am ready to face the brand new day with vim and vigor! Greeting the impending summer with zealous anticipation! Grateful that my first trimester is behind me, and looking forward to the renewed sense of energy and purpose that generally marks the second trimester. Say what, crazy lady?! For those not fluent in pregspeak- I am with child, preggers, knocked up ..... It was a bit of a surprise when I found out thanks to 3 slim little pee sticks the weekend before Passover, when I was due to have a house full of people and still had not begun to cook. I was in a suspended state of disbelief until the queasiness and exhaustion kicked in.
I have done it 3 times before, but I forgot that feeling of perpetual motion sickness, and the fatigue. Oh that tiredness! An exhaustion that enters your bones and just settles there, making any motion or activity feel like a herculean effort, like running an underwater marathon. Cooking felt like a punishment. Just making sure that the kids were respectably shod, decently fed, and relatively clean was a small accomplishment. I am thankful to whoever is looking out for me that my kiddie cooking was cancelled, thankyou, thankyou, thankyou! The salad article I wrote for the newspaper was definitely uninspiring. The chocolate orders were perfectly decent and completely standard. My community service responsibilities were accomplished thanks to the very generous and kind assistance of others. Basically, I was a zombie who had just one goal and desire-SLEEP and as much of if as I could get. I was greedy for it. Hub would come home to find his dinner drying up in the oven and me snoring gratefully in bed.
But now that is behind me. I have a little bump and a couple of sonogram pictures of this cute little jellybean inside me- the summer is ahead and the smell of food no longer flips my stomach over. I'm back in business- of my everyday life

Kitchen Holiday

2010-04-20T12:07:00.001-07:00

Yes it's taken me a while to emerge from the matzah rubble that was Passover, as well as the assortment of minor crises and dramas that the past few weeks have been sprinkled with. But I'm baaaack.
One of the slight setbacks experienced was the cancellation of my Kiddie Cooking Classes spring edition. Turns out it's a blessing in disguise, as most of these reversals tend to be. I think my very astute friend Donz made the correct analysis when she said that now the weather has a taken a turn for the temperate, after-school activities are going to center around the outdoors. This vacancy in my schedule allows me more time for my own outdoor activity, and that has contributed to a sense of much needed balance.
I think I'll prolong my self-proclaimed Kitchen Holiday a few days more. Allow myself the luxury of take-out, veggie burgers, and breakfast-for-dinner fare, and then it's back to business.... A family cookbook with the aforementioned Donz. The ideas are bouncing around my head like an overjuiced pinball machine. Ideas are easy, making them real is hard. I'm up for it- next week.

Matzah Munching Blues/Seder Review

2010-04-02T09:01:00.000-07:00

I'm at the matzah overload point that I usually find myself at mid-point Passover. I call it the matzah munching blues. The seders went well and for the most part were quite tasty. I devised a charoset sampler to begin with. I made a Lime-in-the-coconut charoset which was comprised of finely diced pineapple, shredded coconut, chopped macadamia nuts, and lime juice. Then there was the Nor'easter charoset: diced apples, dried cranberries, chopped pecans, maple syrup, cinnamon. Girlette's fave was the Chococherry which had chopped cherries, mini chocolate chips, and slivered almonds.

For the first seder we started with a traditional matzah ball soup made by my FIL (father-in-law). Then we went on to chicken wings in a herb and spice rub to commemorate the zeroa on the seder plate- which symbolizes the salvation of the Israelites by God's outstretched arm. For the main course we had my FIL's roast and a big platter of my roasted chicken which is a year-round standard. The sides were lemon garlic brussell sprouts with matzah crumbs and herbaceous cauliflower. For dessert I made a pear almond crumble with a macaroon crust- which has potential but needs a few improvements. Maybe next time I'll quarter macaroons and mix them in with the sliced pears and slivered almonds for more substance.

Another highlight was the roasted veggie - meat lasagne. I made a batch of tomato sauce which I mixed ground beef into. I then roasted a baking sheet of red peppers, shallots, mushrooms. And alternated layers of meat sauce, matzah, and roasted veggies. Definitely a keeper. Also noteworthy was a casserole of crepes filled with mediterannean salsa (diced tomatoes, sun dried tomatoes, black olives, red peppers, onions) and crumbled feta. The chocolate cheesecake took care of any sweet tooth yearnings. Next time I'll try a walnut crust as it's base. My dairy matzah lasagne is a constantly evolving work-in-progress. I'll probably make it again before this holiday reaches it's end.

Last night I made a batch of maple walnut matzah "granola" for this morning's breakfast. Pretty decent, nice crunch. But right now, I am sick of matzah, tired of trying to come up with ingenious ways of cooking/baking the stuff- it's the Matzah Munching Blues. Happens without fail every Passover.

Maple Walnut Matzah "Granola"

Line baking sheet with parchment paper, preheat oven to 375F- set aside. In saucepan over medium heat melt 1/4c. butter and mix in 1/2 c. maple syrup. Place 6 c. matzah farfel, 1/2 c. chopped pecans, 1/2 c. dried cranberries, and 1 tsp. cinnamon in large bowl. Pour butter-maple syrup mixture over matzah farfel and mix well- so that all is coated. Spread out over a baking sheet. Bake for 20-25 mins, mixing every 8-10 mins. Serve with milk, yogurt, or cottage cheese.

2010-03-22T10:37:00.000-07:00

I can see Passover coming around the corner. It's proximity has a presence in my life that's like an important guest coming to stay for a few days and whose requirements are substantial. I've been preparing by meal planning and menu constructing. Yes, I have moved from Denial to Procrastination. You, invisible silent reader, are adding the dilly to my dally.

SEDER 1
*Matzah Ball Soup

* Green Salad with Balasmic Vinaigrette and Poached Egg

*Roast Chicken
Meat Lasagne with roasted veggies
sauteed mushroom

* Pears baked with macaroon crumble
Flourless Brownies

Seder 2
* Spicy rubbed chicken wings with boiled potato fans and Root Beer BBQ Sauce

* Roast with Charoset Chutney
Chicken cutlets baked in horseradish, chopped walnuts, matzah meal crust.
Roasted cauliflower
Brussell sprouts tossed in garlic and matzah meal

* Chocolate Chip Macaron Sandwiches (chocolate spread filling)
Passover Blondies

Passover Prologue

2010-03-19T12:42:00.000-07:00

I am in Passover denial, I am so deep in denial that I've only just begun to admit that I am in denial, which doesn't leave me much time to loiter and dawdle around before needing to spring into action. The irony of Passover which is so striking to me, especially in the days of preparation, is that it is a holiday that celebrates freedom. I'm not going to bother to whine and whinge or let loose a feminist diatribe, been there done that, and have a few nicknames to prove it. I think I've arrived at a realization that acceptance of certain duties and responsibilities is best done gracefully- with a good measure of individuality. Then it can actually be fun- kind of like an extreme cooking challlenge a la Top Chef: No flour, No warming starches such as pasta, rice, beans. Eight Days. Go!
My Mom and Dad, and one of my brothers will be staying with us for the first few days of the holiday and that will be great. Hub's Mom and Dad will also be Seder-ing with us, so it will be a full house- which is nice for a few days. I really need to consider what I'll be making and coming up with menu's. I'm going to allow some experimentation when it comes to dessert, I developed a few Passover dessert recipes for that March article and I can build upon them. Yesterday I had a peach that was part of a quartet that is a few days away from being perfect- I'll use the other three for a pie or crumble type of thing topped with the honey matzah farfel almond granola and baked until it's alternately soft and crunchy.
Chicken cutlets baked in a savory walnut coating? A rich and saucy meat lasagne, the matzah layers absorbing the juices from the sauces and meat , becoming soft and toothesome and almost pasta-like in texture. A casserole of crepes filled with a meditteranean type of salsa (black olives, sun dried tomato, fresh tomatoes, red onion and roasted garlic) and a thin crust of melted cheddar on top.
When life gives you Matzah, make a drool-worthy Matzah pizza.

Book Group

2010-03-11T15:46:00.000-08:00

Amid a week which was contained in a month that is part of a life that is pretty kid-centric, there was Book Group. Book Group is like a spa-day packed into 3-4 hrs. minus the facials, mani's and pedi's but heavy on the girl talk and emoting (femoting?). There is always plenty of wine, delicious food, and chocolate in one way or another. It was my turn to host, and for several days I ruminated over what to make. I wanted the menu to be decadent and delicious but at the same time light. Spring is starting to poke through all the snow, and that alone is cause for some celebration.

The evening began with my German dip which is a lot like Hungarian liptauer cheese, but not as pink (it's the paprika), and a white bean and sundried tomato dip/spread that has no cream or butter but is thick and creamy and tasty. I served the dips alongside wholegrain crackers, pita chips, soft pretzels, boiled fingerling potatoes and other fresh veggies. We sat in the den sipping wine and nibbling and waited for everyone to arrive. This month's book selection was "Olive Kitteridge" by Elizabeth Strout. What a great book! It's about this difficult woman-Olive Kitteridge- who lives her life in Crosby, Maine and the book is written from her perspective as well as the perspective of many number of people who live in the town and and how she, and they fit into each other's lives. Incredible writing, I really loved reading the author's words.

After everyone had arrived we moved into the sunroom/breakfast nook where I had set the table with my girliest pink tablecloth with matching napkins, festooned with eiffel towers and elegant dames. They all settled in, inhaled deeply and looked forward to Girl Time. I made 4 savory tarts; a balsamic shallot with sundried tomatoes and feta, a sweet onion and cheddar, a goat cheese mushroom, and a tomato gruyere. I made the dough for two of them, and it was well worth the moderate effort. For the other two I used puff pastry which was fine- but definitely not as good. I served Caesar salad alongside the tarts- which was a great complement, light, crunchy, green, savory.

A great thing about Book Group is that it is made up of wonderful women who are not part of my everyday life. So when we get together it's a special treat. I especially love it because the energy of our gatherings is so different from my everyday life of kids, and kiddie cooking classes, commitments, and homework and dinner and bath and bed. That's not to say that my life is devoid of fun social inetrludes. Of course there are the quick coffee breaks, and comfy dinners for two, also hot tub soaks- but also friendly miscommunications and the Differences between men and women. Book Group is like a support group on vacation. We have three or four hours uninterrupted hours to be with girl friends and drink wine, eat, and talk freely.

For dessert I made a chocolate layer cake. I used a cup of strong coffee and four 4oz. bars of semi sweet chocolate as well as cream and butter. It was good, and I got all the endorsement I needed when Shan took a break from Lent and enjoyed a small wedge of it. Remembering those soft and chewy peanut butter cookies from the Reading Street Terminal Market, I made a batch of PB cookies- not as soft and chewy, but still good. I sent Les Femmes de la Livre home with plates of cake and cookies. Today's root canal went down easier thanks to last night's group healing.

Ridiculously Chocolatey Chocolate Cake

Preheat oven 325F. Grease two round cake pans. In a large bowl combine 1 1/2c. sugar, 1 1/2c. all-purpose flour, 3/4 tsp. baking soda. In a saucepan simmer 1 c. strong coffee- remove from heat and whisk in 1 1/2 c. chopped semi sweet chocolate- stir until melted and smooth. Then in a second bowl whisk together 1/2 c. melted butter, 1/2 c. sour cream, 2 eggs, and 2 tsp. vanilla extract. Add the melted chocolate to the wet mixture, mix well. Add a third of choc-sour cream mixture to the dry bowl, mix well. In two more additions add remaining choc-sour cream mixture, mix well after each addition. Divide batter between two cake pans. Bake for about 35 mins or until it passes the toothpick test. Let cool.

For the Frosting: In a saucepan bring 2/3 c. heavy cream, 5 tbsp. butter, 3 tbsp. sugar, and 3 tbsp. water to a boil, stirring often. Remove from heat, add 2 c. chopped semi-sweet chocolate mix until melted and smooth. Add 1 tsp. vanilla. Refrigerate until cool and thick enough to frost cake with.

OTTO

2010-03-07T04:37:00.000-08:00

Uggghhh. Why is the light so bright? And how can these kids have so much to say, so enthusiastically, so early in the morning? Put in a late night in NYC, but with little hesitation I say it was totally worth this morning's slo-mo feebleness.
We were a few minutes late for our 9 pm reservation at Otto Pizzeria and Enoteca. Noemi, our sometime foodie accomplice, was waiting for us at the door with a huge smile on her face, excited about the eating adventure we were about to take.
Otto is loud and crowded, but friendly and hospitable as well. Despite being late, there was none of that NYC 'tude, we did have to wait a little- but were seated before our drinks arrived from the bar (blood orange bellini for me).
Otto is Mario Batali's take on pizza, and pizza is just about my favorite thing to eat in this wide and varied world. My tastebuds were greedily anticipating a full frontal assault. We started with an assortment of Verdure, the trio of olives were meaty and nicely brined Other delicious culprits were the broccoli with pecorino. However, the brussel sprouts in a vinegary glaze stole the verdure show.
Next up, pizza and pasta. We chose 2 pizzas: Funghi and Taleggio, Pane Frattau. OK, here we go- thin crispy crust, the size of a dinner plate, totally delectable. The Funghi Taleggio was a white pizza that featured perfectly sauteed mushrooms and tangy Taleggio cheese. It was nice and savory, and would have been fantastic were it not served alongside the Pane Fratta. I guess I'm a pizza traditionalist because I loved the tomato sauce base, it was full of herbs and spices and just wonderful, the layer of melted pecorino was sharp and almost cheddar-like in flavor. But the sunnyside up egg shining happily in the center made it really special. Let's pause for a moment here and zoom in on the scene. Me alternately sipping my bellini and savoring pizza heaven. Noemi with her Negroni on the rocks, in a gorgeous silky blouse-might I add, enjoying her pizza. Hub, and his red wine, tentatively approaching his slice of Pane Fratta due to a bad experience he endured involving a fried egg pizza in Dahab, Egypt many years ago. Thankfully, he now has a delicious experience to replace the gut churning memory.
OK back to the meal. The Penne Puttanesca was flavorful- but not overly anchovied, a good thing for me. Blah, blah, blah...Dessert. The menu featured a large and exotic selection of gelato. I foisted my sweet tooth on the table and ordered the salted peanut, burnt caramel, and taking a chance- the olive oil. Salted peanut- good. Burnt caramel- good. Olive oil-phenomenal! In that dollop of gelato there contained several wondeful flavors; sweet, fruity, olive oil, creamy, unexpectedly amazing! Hub declared it was the best part of the meal, and he's not known for his sweet tooth.

The morning after may be as rough as the oatmeal I made the kiddles for brekkie. The sun is much more blinding than that sunny side up egg that graced the center of last night's pizza. And the pickings from my pantry are much less interesting than Mario's options. Yet, last night's lofty meal was well worth this morning's tumble.

Ode To Macaroni & Cheese

2010-03-03T14:54:00.000-08:00

Macaroni & Cheese
Macaroni & Cheese
All kids love macaroni & cheese.

Ooey, gooey Macaroni & Cheese
yummy crummy Macaroni & Cheese.
Made with cheddar-what can be better?
Topped off with crushed chips-
had 'em licking their lips.

Macaroni & Cheese
Macaroni & Cheese
Just remember to always say please.

A perfect thing to make
when teacher isn't in the mood to bake.
Easy as can be
Macaroni & Cheese is a glorious recipe.

Macaroni & Cheese
Macaroni & Cheese
The best I ever had was at the "Bee's Knee's" (in Vermont)

The theme of the arts'n craft project
required just a little bit of logic
macaroni jewellery
minimized the unruly

Macaroni & Cheese
Macaroni & Cheese
The mom's at pick-up asked for the recipes.

Macaroni & Cheese
Preheat oven to 400F. Boil up a box of elbow macaroni. While pasta is cooking make cheese sauce. Pour 2 c. 2% milk in a large saucepan, heat until it begins to boil. Add 1 8oz. package of reduced fat cream cheese cut into cubes, stir until melted and thick. Add 3-4 c. shredded cheddar by the handfulls, stirring after each addition until smooth and thick and cheesey. Drain pasta and return to large pot, pour cheese sauce over and mix until noodles are covered in cheese sauce. Spoon macaroni into individual oven-proof ramekins or spread over a casserole dish. Crush 2 c. of potato chips (or 1 c. crushed potato chips and 1 c. french fried onions) and sprinkle over individual ramekins or casserole dish. Place in oven for 10 minutes or until potato chips turn golden

Purim

2010-02-25T18:32:00.000-08:00

A three-cornered cookie just kicked me in the ass. Huh? My grandiose idea to turn the good ol'hamantaschen into a delectable and unusual dessert fell as flat as a cookie, a rather homely cookie. I whisked up some meyer lemon curd this afternoon- this was my introduction to Meyer Lemon, and I have to say I'm very pleased to make it's acquaintance; citrusy in a mellow and sweeter way. The curd was the word- unfortunately the dough was a no show. I decided on a vanilla refrigerator cookie dough- too brittle and light to hold the rigid triangular shape and the creamy curd that filled it's center. They puffed out and reminded me of the branches outside our window that are covered in a thick fluffy layer of snow. They're 2-Dimensional, flat, awful to look at. This is when I wish I went to culinary school. I should have stuck with the cream cheese dough that I used for a piece in the newspaper. It was a sturdy, creamy tasting dough that held the jam well.

The dough I used for the kiddie cooking craziness was a dough helmed by oil and it was tough enough to withstand the pinches and pulls as well as the gooey dulce de leche and the choc-hazelnut center that was poked into it. For the second class at the JCC I used melted butter which did well too. To be honest, I think I'm struggling through a Purim overdose right now. Two classes and then a third today- a private one, for my little kiddles as it was a snowday. I feel like the past two weeks have been one long snow day. We made dulce de leche hamantaschen today, as the snowshaker emptied over us. Then we decorated masks with the feathers, sequins, buttons, and rhinestones I had left over from my classes. The Bernstein Bears and Too Much Purim. They all had fun so it's worth it.

Meyer Lemon Curd
Finely grate zest from 3 meyer lemons, and then squeeze the lemon juice into a medium glass bowl. Whisk 1/2c. sugar, 2 eggs to the juice and zest. Add 1 stick of butter cut into quarters. Set bowl over a saucepan of simmering water and then cook, stirring often for 10-15 minutes as it begins to thicken stir in 1/2 tsp. vanilla. Stir 1 minute longer. Remove and let cool.

Cracking Up

2010-02-18T11:01:00.000-08:00

Patience, patience, please God, more patience. Patience in the morning when they're edging each other off the prized "bowl spot" seat at the breakfast table. Equanimity when they refuse the 2 cheese egg omelette I just whipped up for them, begging for cocoa puffs instead. Forebearance when they yell and push angrily at each other over the multitude of injustices each has perpetrated against the other. Good humor when they knock over a container of Ovaltine onto the freshly swept floor. Not doing as well as I would like. I am often barely holding back a flood of frustration, madness, and irritation. Every so often I spring a spontaneous burst, and immediately feel awful. They are great kids- but even great kids can be pains in the ass.

I did finish my article, tentatively titled: A Sweettooth's Guide To Passover. Passover is a difficult interlude for anyone with a sweet tooth, since flour, vanilla, and lots of other goodies are verboten (no one does suffering quite like us Jews). I basically broke the sweettooth into 4 sub-categories and devised a dessert for each. For the chocolover I made Heavenly Hash brownies. For the caramel fan-Passover Blondies. The Healthnut got Matzah Farfel Granola, and for the Candyfreak; my neighbor Annie's insane Matzah Crack. This last one is really a crossover having enormous appeal with the chocolover, caramel fan, even the Healthnut if you add nuts and dried fruit.

Today I took the kiddles to the Library, and we brought home a tote full of kid's books. Hopefully a little educational reading will counterbalance the vast amounts of TV I have permitted. As well as the complete disarray the house has descended into. Patience, please God- a little patience.

Annie's Matzah Crack
Preheat oven to 375F. Line a cookie sheet first with foil and then parchment paper. Cover the cookie sheet with 5-6 salted matzah boards. Melt 1 c. butter and 1 c. brown sugar in a saucepan, bring to a boil and stir for 3 minutes. Pour butter mixture over Matzah. Place in the oven and bake for 5-10 minutes until it starts to bubble. Remove from oven and sprinkle with 1 c. chocolate chips, allow chocolate to melt for a couple of minutes before spreading. Place in fridge until it sets- then break up into bite sized pieces.

My Days Of Wine, Chocolate, and Art in Philadelphia

2010-02-15T10:19:00.000-08:00

I will forever recollect our Valentine's stay in Philly through sparkly champagne glasses. We arrived in a city covered thick in snow- but to me it was more like the light and frothy whipped cream that tops my favorite desserts. Upon check-in at our luxe accomodations, I was graciously handed a flute of champagne along with sweet and juicy chocolate covered strawberries to nibble on. Later that evening, after admiring our bathroom and enjoying another glass or two of champagne, I zipped up my new beribboned knee-high boots (so coquettish!) and slipped on the black woollen sheath with the bejewelled collar and sleeves that I bought in a Maine thrift store during the summer (what foresight I had). We traversed the fair city of Philadelphia in order to meet Noemi and her friend David for dinner at Buddakan. We strode past stately City Hall, the famed Liberty Bell, and about half a dozen statues of Ben Franklin before arriving at the restaurant.
Buddakan was dimly lit and spacious and filled with fun nighttime energy. A waterfall to the right of us as we checked in, and a huge Buddha statue taking up an entire wall- this place was cool. I got a head start as we waited for David and Noemi to arrive by ordering a champagne concoction they referred to as Guilt, and was completely fabulous.
How lucky were we when at the last minute Noemi (our much appreciated house guest of a few weekends ago) decided to visit David? Time spent with her is always amusing and real and totally enjoyable, much like sipping a really great cocktail. By their arrival I was feeling as light and sparkly as the champagne I was drinking. We ordered well, but to be honest I don't recall each dish as sharply as I'd like- I was quite Guilty by the second course. The standouts for me was the Asian Caesar Salad with 5 spiced cashews and wonton skins fried to a crispy crunch. The Sesame Crusted Tuna was also great; seared perfectly and with a lemongrass sauce to zing things up just a bit. And dessert- I remember dessert, with the clarity I reserve for a really juicy story. It was a story, this dessert- Milk Chocolate Caramel Tart- an engrossing tale of culinary pleasure; The first chapter began with creamy caramel ganache, followed by a few notes of smooth milk chocolate mousse, and the happy ending included an dollop of classic vanilla ice cream- the unexpected twist came in the form of caramelized bananas. The evening ended happliy ever after at that point.
Sleeping in our king size bed with a million thread count sheets and fluffy marshmallow pillows was voluptuous, but it didn't ensure me waking up past my usual
7:00 AM internal alarm clock time. I took advantage of the quiet to let Hub sleep and to luxuriate in the roomy marble tub and read the novel I was saving especially for my Philly weekend a deux: Paris For Lunch- a love story wih recipes. After Hub roused we set out for the Reading Station Terminal, vowing to be measured in our brunch choices this time around and not fill up on the first thing that strikes our fancy. After an efficient walk through I settled on a cup of Matzah Ball Soup from Hershels on the East Side, which was just what I wanted and needed. The matzah ball was dense and soaked up some of the vestigial champagne still bubbling through me. I then hit the sweet spots. I started at the Metropolitan Bakery stand and was rather dissappointed by the banana walnut bundt cake- too dry. The Chocolate Layer Cake was moist, and really, anything that chocolately cannot be bad, however, it was not great. Undeterred I went to a stall filled to the brim with downhomemade cookies and yummy state fair type chocolates. I tried three different cookie varieties: peanut butter, caramel pecan, and chocolate chip. The Peanut Butter cookie should be the role model that all peanut butter cookies aspire to. Soft and perfectly peanutty- sweet and salty and moist and perfect. The other two were pretty damn good too. Hub was curled around his fresh squeezed grapefruit juice (he also enjoyed Buddakan's cocktail menu), and even ordered a second round. Our last stop was at Big City Cheese were we ordered an assortment to be enjoyed later.

We emerged to a bright and thawing Philadelphia and detoured through Old Town on the way back to the hotel. I love the old Colonial architecture of the city, and whenever in Philly I fantasize about relocating to Old Town Philly and taking up residence in one of these charming buildings.
We were seated promptly at 4 for afternoon tea downstairs at the Mary Cassatt Tea Room. Champagne was sipped as we waited for Noemi and read the menu describing afternoon tea fare such as tea sandwiches and petit pastries, scones with accompaniments. The choices for tea was varied but not overwhelmingly vast. Pretty soon, Noemi was sitting across from us enjoying a bloody mary. My favorite was the egg salad tea sandwich which is odd because I hardly ever eat egg salad. The miniature scones were totally rad-ified by the lemon curd made in-house. My choice of vanilla bean tea might've been a bit nouveau, but screw it! It was comfort in a china cup with a little milk and sugar.
Cut to Noemi's friend David's cool lofty apartment. After a little refreshment, David struck up the Beatles Wii and I indulged in one of my most secret yet utterly cliched fantasies: being a rock star. I was John Lennon in jeans leggings, Frye boots, and a 60's style tunic dress! I love the Beatles, the Beatles got me through a lot of highschool boredom and unpleasantness, so I know the music well- word by word really, and it was really hard! But really fun. We closed with Love Me Do, and then dropped Noemi off at the train station before catching our 9 o'clock reservation at Zahav.
Zahav is a hot new restaurant that the food world has embraced. It features the cuisine of Israel with an emphasis on the sephardic. It was a large attractive space. The front-end chicks weren't especially friendly, but not unfriendly either. Our waiter was sweet and smiled knowingly when I shooed away the cocktail menu. My father's side of the family is Iraqi-Israeli, this is the food I grew up with on Passover and Friday Nights, so I guess it's not fair for me to judge this restaurant's food. My grandmother's food was homey and spicy and slightly rough. Zahav is a fine restaurant so it strove for the highest end of this rustic food. I didn't love it, the best things I ordered was the spicy fried cauliflower with the tangy yogurt sauce. Dessert tasted like the chocolate spread you get in Israel, made into ice cream- which was perfectly pleasant. The salads were either too salty or too vinegary.

I let Hub sleep in a little the next morning, not as much as he would have liked. We had to be at Barnes Collection by 10:30 and I had no idea if they were strict about their appoinment policy or not. We found parking a few blocks away and dug our way through the snow tunnels in the beautiful old suburb of Merrion. I have been very excited about our outing to the Barnes Collection. It was incredible. Dr. Barnes collection of impressionist and post-impressionist art is highly impressive. He had very many Renoirs and Cezannes. I like Cezanne, Renoir's paintings are beautiful but too frothy, fluffy, and blurred for my taste. He also had quite a few paintings by Matisse, I love every stage of Matisse's style evolution, so it was so exciting to see different pieces from different times in his career. He had a few Van Gogh's which I was drawn to like a magnet- I got up as close as they would let me to study his brushstrokes and dabs. And it thrilled me to know I was witnessing a creative burst up close. I always get a little sad when I think about Van Gogh and how he was so sick and so talented and so unappreciated and so dead. Being up close to his canvases had a mixed reaction in me. In the Barnes I discovered Jacques Lifshitz's sculptures. I also loved the Modigliani's, something about his palette and his angular slightly Asian looking European women really interests me. Hub seemed to enjoy it as much as I did.
Our Jours de la Bon Vivantes was nearing an end, but not before we drove through Philadelphia's oldest and most refined suburbs. And then we got lost in a part of Philly that was old but not refined and not rich. After finding our bearings we broke out the cheese from the Reading Terminal Market, and enjoyed a moveable feast. My favorite was the Taleggio, Hub liked he Pardou from France best. The Raclette was good but probably better when melted.
And then before you knew it we were back home to our own snow covered street. It was good to see the kids, and my mother was amazing in her energy and creativity with them. As soon as I got back they were telling me all about Backwards Day, how they had dinner for breakfast and slept in their clothes. Genius that she is, she got my little moppets to happily take a bath as soon as they woke up in the morning.
I have the rest of the week with them as it is mid-winter recess, a placement in the calendar I'll never understand. I have a Passover sweets article to write by wednesday and the one recipe I've tested failed miserably. Also need to figure out cooking class plans for the two kiddie coooking collectives I have the week before the most festive and kid geared of Jewish holidays- Purim. I'll have to get my Bon Vivant fix in snatches- a smear of taleggio on a water cracker here, a cup of sweet milky tea in a china cup there, a chapter or two of Paris for Lunch before I fall asleep. Lemon curd on a muffin for breakfast. Frame the Matisse print we got at the Barnes gift shop. Gotta get it however you can.

Sunday Funday

2010-02-08T13:55:00.000-08:00

I'm still trying to figure out the significance of "who dat", but I don't need any help in figuring out why Superbowl Sunday is fun day in America. It's another one of those unifying days on the calendar, like Thanksgiving but without the spiritual overtones, and if it was sponsored by big business. Superbowl celebrates so much that feels quintessentially American: competition, sportsmanship, capitalism, and good down home food. Again, it's the food aspect that I can get behind, that, and some truly funny and irreverent ads.
We had a whole bunch of boys over and our BFF's Scotch and Reever. I made 2 different kinds of wings, and since I'm on a semi-healthy kick- I opted not to go the traditional deep-fried route. Hub was skeptical about my spicy dry rubbed wings until he tasted one hot off the grill. The other option was a wing broiled in a sort of sweet-salty polynesian marinade- also well recieved. We did DIY hoagies, pigs 'n blankets, and a platter of crispy french fries. Dessert was a football shaped chocolate rice krispy treat-full disclosure: it looked better than it tasted. I was snoring by the fourth quarter of the game, but was happy to learn that the Saints won. I can only imagine that insanity that will be Mardi Gras this year!

Superbowl Spiced Grilled Wings
In a one gallon ziploc bag, place 2 tbsp. chili powder, 1 tsp. dried parsley, 1 tsp garlic salt, 1 tsp. cumin, 1 tsp. ground pepper, 1 tsp. paprika, 1 tbsp. cajun seasoning. Zip up bag and shake up seasonings, add 3 lbs. chicken wings. Seal bag and shake up until chicken is evenly coated with spice mixture. Refrigerate a couple of hours. Place wings on a heated grill, and cook until ready.

Week In Food & Kookery Review

2010-02-04T13:38:00.000-08:00

Friday: We had a houseguest this past weekend. It was wonderful seeing and catching up with N, Hub and I hung out with her before, during, and after we started dating back in our NYC days. After setting out and settling down to a semi-rustic life our visits together became much more sporadic. While I can't say it was just like old times, we were plus 3 this time (3 kiddies), it was just as good. One of N's great qualities is that she has a real appreciation for good food. Whatever this girl is doing it's working for her- she looks fit and thin but healthy. It was really refreshing to be with someone who simply eats and doesn't have an assortment of hang-ups. For friday night dinner I made a potato leek soup that started out a little bland and watery, but thanks to Hub's input, was enflavored (is that a word?) by lemon, garlic, chili sauce, and lots of ground peppercorns. Second course was my trusty winter standby: Pot Roast with potatoes and carrots. Dessert was fudgy brownies (Betty Crocker taken out 5 minutes early).
First course for saturday's lunch was purchased country pate on a bed of lightly dressed greens with a port reduction drizzled on top. Second course was my roasted Chicken Fantastico, roasted Italian cauliflower, rice pilaf. Dessert featured an upside down apple caramel cake washed sown by lemon ginger tea (ginger aids digestion). For Sunday morning brunch before N went back to her life in Manhattan, we all enjoyed plates of sweet warm and gooey Dulce de Leche French Toast.
From Monday on I was in work/production mode. I made Valentines Day truffles to fill a couple of Hearts Day orders (not enough sadly); Chocolate Cheesecake, Triple Chocolate, and Black Forest. On Tuesday I started the after-school cooking program at my kids's school. In honor of the superbowl we made nacho triangles and a spicy bean dip. Nacho triangles went down well, dip-not so much. For the art project they're putting together and illustrating their own cookbooks. Wednesday was my kiddie cooking class, carrying on with the Superbowl theme we made chex party mix and fruitball punch (way too sweet for adult human consumption). The art project was painting and decorationg white T. shirts with puffy paint- Yikes! The kitchen looked as though a murder in technicolor had occured, the paint was everywhere. But as I say: If ain't messy, it ain't fun.
Today is thursday, I made a voyage out to Whole Foods this morning and spent a good amount of time ogling the dessert display and the cheese counter. Their V-Day desserts were outrageously lavish and complately splendid. Coming back to earth, I returned home and put together a Valentines Day truffle platter for my friend Suzanne. Plan on making pretzel rods for the jewellery store that regularly places orders, half will be chocolate toffee and the rest will be choc-pb covered in mini semi-sweet chips.
I still need to plan the Superbowl menu for sunday, we're making it into a small party for Kid 1, since I weaseled out of a making the usual b'day shindig for him this year. I'm thinking sliders, pig 'n blankets, 2 types of wings (asian flavored, and one with a dry spice rub), a leafy salad, and of course guacamole. For dessert I think I will make a huge choclate rice krispie treat in the shape of a football.
Stay tuned next week for the recipes that come out of an article on hearty and healthful pasta dishes kids will love (due on 2/11- I'm cutting it close), and the kiddie cuisine from the cooking classes- this week is a sweet week. Going to Philly with Hub for a romantic Valentine's getaway weekend. CAN'T WAIT no cooking-just eating!

Kiddie Cooking Classes Continued....

2010-01-28T13:43:00.000-08:00

I've been going in 20 different directions lately, and haven't really had the time, interest, or presence of mind to think about or reflect on Kiddie Cooking Class Part Deux. This version of the class features about half a dozen 4-5 year old girls who are all BFF's, a super-helpful 10 year old boy, a 2 1/2 year old and her mom, and a 4 year old boy who isn't happy about being severely outnumbered by girls. Add to the mix is Jessie a darling of a volunteer assistant, a freshman in highschool. And now a young man who opted for community service rather than a speeding ticket, and got stuck with us. I wonder if he ever wishes he went for the ticket?
I love the randomness of it all, and the slightly chaotic atmosphere that randomness creates.
First class: After I found my bearings and adjusted to the new configuration we made carrot cake cookies with cream cheese frosting. The art project was cookie sculptures. The moms at pick-up fearfully nibbled on the carot cake cookies their kiddles foisted on them and after tasting the cookies I noted their pleased surprise: "These are good!" they said incredulously. I think when parents think of kid's cooking classes they think of mudpies and mushcakes.
Class 2: Soft pretzels with honey mustard. A soundtrack of gleeful "eeeew" and "ohhh" played throughout the messy work of making the dough and rolling it out and shaping it. The art project was naturally Bendaroos- that had them working studiously for almost a half hour as the pretzels baked in the oven.
Class 3: It started off on shaky footing as I didn't have someone to watch my kiddles, and had to add them to the mix. I spent most of the class with Munch on my hip dripping like a snotty faucet (did I mention that he has a cold?). We made blueberry yogurt muffins, which didn't go down so well (not sweet enough) but I was saved by the hot chocolate I stirred up. The art project was engrossing for about 15minutes- and then there was 10 minutes of shrieking, squealing, and other forms of light mischief from my merry band of cooksters.
Next week I'm planning for superbowl themed recipe and art project. I also start a new Kids 'n Cooking program at my kids school.

Hot Chocolate
Pour 6 c. 2% milk into a saucepan and gently heat until it starts to bubble at the sides. Empty 1 bag of semi sweet chocolate chips into saucepan stir until chocolate has melted into milk, stir in 1 tsp. vanilla extract. Serve

My Healthy Eating Plan... and other signs of an impending middle age

2010-01-21T10:21:00.000-08:00

Is it just me or is the entire nation on a diet? The media has tapped into the results of a collective holiday binge and are now advertising fat-free/low-cal/high-fiber up the big fat wazoo. Mags from the tabs to Martha and the big O are offering slim-down plans. Everyone I know is enduring some specific spartan regime, which renders their holiday indulgences a beloved memory. I myself am not immune to this national craze, nor the disgust that floods me when I catch a look at my jiggly wigglies. I finally got to the point one needs to get to before throwing down the brownie and french fries and declaring "Enough!". When overeating fatty sugary food has become a habit and isn't even about pleasure anymore. When your digestive system feels wrecked. And a sluggish malaise has settled upon you.
I'm not one for diets, any sort of regiment or rules in general makes me feel trapped- not too mention deprived, and ultimately I just flick it away. Instead I have embarked on a "healthy eating plan". It's not a revelation: Fresh fruit and lots of veggies, low-fat natural yogurt and milk, whole grains, and light proteins like fish, soy, and an occasional piece of chicken, a small amount of fat in the form of olive oil and avocados, a fistful of cashews here and there. It's been going pretty well so far. I've tried kale and love it! Greek yogurt is a treat, and I live for my daily cup of coffee. I'm flooding my body with 6-8 glasses of water a day. I'm also trying to excercise. What I miss most is cheese, butter, and white bread.
I've churned out a few good dishes that pack flavor and a fair amount of heft. I found a great recipe in Everyday Food that I healthfully elaborated upon. I think I'd eat this brown rice salad even during my periods of overindulgence, I'd pile it alongside the panini and the iceberg bleu cheese wedge, before digging into a slice of chocolate cake, after nibbling on the cheese platter.

Brown Rice Salad a la Greque
Toss about 3 c. cooked brown rice, 1 sliced cucumber, a few handfuls of baby spinach, 1 c. cherry tomatoes, halved, 1 tbsp chopped fresh dill, juice of half a lemon, 2-3 tbsp. red onion, small dice, a healthy sprinkling of fat-free feta alltogether in a large bowl. Add a couple of tbsp. of your favorite low-fat dressing (I used Italian, but Balsamic Vinaigrette is good too) and some salt and pepper. Mix well.

And Then There's Chocolate

2010-01-08T12:44:00.000-08:00

.....And then there's chocolate. Nothing is so bad that a well placed chocolate can't solve. I'll take mine truffullar. This truffle tart is just what the Doctor ordered. The Witch Doctor. I'll be working on different versions all week as I have book group, and a friend's birthday brunch. This version has an oreo crust and is a mix of dark and milk chocolate. I think the next iteration will have a tea biscuit crust, and may have a touch of Grand Marnier mixed in for a citrusy pop- or maybe kahlua? Decisions, decisions...

TRUFULLAR TART
Crush 1 c. oreo cookies and mix in pie plate with 1/4 c. melted butter. Press down on bottom and sides of plate to form crust. Set aside. In a double boiler over simmering water, heat 2. cups of chocolate chips (I used 1 1/2 c dark 1/2 c. milk) stirring until smooth and melted. Slowly add 1 c. heavy cream, stirring well until all combined. Mix in 1 tsp. vanilla and 2 egg yolks and stir until well blended. Cook over heat until thickened annd hot- about 5 minutes, stirring regularly. Pour into crust. Refrigerate until firm- serve with whipped cream, ice cream, or stress.
Picture coming soon.

Miss Ann Thrope

2010-01-07T11:32:00.000-08:00

If you are in a post-holiday lull/winter-state-of-mind funk, and want some company I'm Miss Ann Thrope at your service. If you're feeling bright, shiny,and are still bursting with new year cheer- it's best if you keep moving-nothing good can come of this posting. Spoiler alert: I will not be uplifted at the end of this posting by a realization of some homespun wisdom, nor will I be making a deliciously nourishing meal to offset the bland unhealthiness of this draggy mood that I'm in. Dinner for the past couple of nights has been uninspiring at best (grilled cheese sandwiches), to downright flavorless at worst (broccoli tofu stir fry). I know life is all about triumphs and dissappointments, and that part of being a well adjusted adult is taking both ends of the fortune spectrum in your stride, and with a healthy sprinkling of salt, but why oh why does disappointment linger longer, smell funkier, and vibrate louder than almost anything else? Why does a friend's slight come back with greater frequency, than all their displays of amity? I have no answers for these questions, nor the more mundane queries that fill my days like; Where are all the spoons? What is that smell in my car? And how can so much horseshit top the bestseller list?

Winter Break: Day II & III

2009-12-26T17:21:00.000-08:00

Winter Break Day II (Christmas Day):
Hub told me he had to work, and I almost exclaimed "but it's Christmas!" and then realized that we don't celebrate Christmas. It's just so infectious that Christmas spirit! So it was me and les kides plus one (playdate)- baking project was definitely in order. We made 'smores bars with marshmallows, golden grahams, semisweet choc chips. And continued to trash the house. For dinner I made a hearty mid-winter roast.-fa lala la chaim.

'Smores Bars
Melt 1/2 c. butter in a saucepan, add 1 bag of marshmallows to butter and stir vigotously until marshmallows pretty much melt. Pour marshmallows into large pyrex bowl and mix in 5 c. golden grahams cereal and then 1/2 c. of semi-sweet chocolate. Mix well, chocolate will melt and be incorporated in with the marshmallow and golden grahams.

Day III: Not so good, my patience is starting to wear thin, although we did play at least 20 games of Connect Four. Had a minor eruption today- not at the kids, but still... Must work on being more centered "ommmmmmygod"

Winter Break: Day I

2009-12-24T08:23:00.000-08:00

Day one of Winter Break and so far so good. With the assistance of TV, caffeine, an absorbing craft here and there, a daily baking project, and a well-placed play date this should be a snap, of my sanity. Being with kids indoors all day long requires lots of patience and a little creativity, and only a moderate amount of meds. All hilarity aside, I'm going to have to try and pull out my A game for the next week, until mother dear arrives and saves me just in the nick of time (New Year Eve).
Todays cooking/baking project will be tonight's dinner- Pizza. I got premade dough, and they can roll that out. Maybe I'll mix up some sauce, they can help me stir and measure. We can make pizza art with the leftover craft supplies from my kiddie cooking class- I have cardboard circles, red, orange, yellow tissue paper cut into squares, sequins, buttons, glitter glue. A mmm mmm good mixed media pizza.

Pizza Sauce
Sautee 2 -3 chopped garlic cloves in 2 tbsp. olive oil, when garlic become fragrant and slightly golden in tone, dump a can of fire roasred diced tomatoes and a can of tomato sauce, 2 tbsp. of tomato paste. Stir for a while until it gets saucy. Add 1 tsp. oregano, a couple grinds of black pepper. Cover and let simmer for 20 minutes or more.

Happy Holidays!

2009-12-20T19:15:00.000-08:00

This holiday season is turning out to be quite picturesque. A robust and engulfing snow storm that began late saturday afternoon and continued to bluster through the night, made this sunday morning bright and white. And now that I am pretty much done with all my holiday commitments, I'm feeling as light and giddy as a snowflake. I just took the last of the brownie batches from the oven. I'm giving my neighbors, and the many people who make our life easier, a cookie tin piled full with brownies and a gift card to Starbucks to go along (coffee + brownies = a snatch of heaven).
Last week I leaped from the Hanukkah cooking and craftfest to the last of my chocolate orders to my last kiddie cooking class- which deserves a brief mention: Ice cream cone cupcakes. It was my chance to release my inner Willy Wonkette and let the sugar reign. Throughout the 10 week program I emphasized sensible eating and moderation, but in honor of my favorite chef quote: Moderation in everything, even moderation (Jacques Pepin), I let them have it!
Rachel, why are we baking cupcakes in ice cream cones? All the easier to lick the frosting and sprinkles off my dearies. I set up a milk bar for them and gave them a choice of chocolate, caramel, and strawberry syrup. I threw in a marshmallow dreidel project for good measure. And with a bag o' gelt and a kiddie baking set (whisk, rolling pin, and cookie cutters)I set them on their way.
And as a bright ending to our eight days of Hanukkah, we had company on friday night. It was a crispy finale- beginning with fried cod cakes and a bed of greens doused in a simple vinaigrette. Continuing on with a batch of extra golden crispy latkes among other olive oil inspired delicities.
And now I am done. Free to sit back and enjoy the holiday season, specatacle, and let's not forget-sales. I am planning an evening of holiday lights drive by shooting, me and my camera and the best and brightest my neighborhood has to offer. I really love this time of year! Kiddles are off as of thursday and there are a whole lot of things I want to do with them. Excited about the absence of schedules, just shoving the I-gotta-do-this/need-to-do-that's, and hanging out in our PJ's for a day or two. Yay!

Hanukkah!

2009-12-10T10:59:00.001-08:00

I love the first snow of the season. I love the cold stillness of the morning after a snowfall. And I was lucky this year that I got to take a few breaths and enjoy this first snow, while it is still pristine, fluffy and perfect. Over the past couple of weeks I've had my nose down, back hunched, and hands atwitter working on a few holiday chocolate orders,and other assorted commitments. Last night was book group which is always a fun time. We read Astrid and Veronika which was worthwhile, the writing was so descriptive and detailed. The story is really touching and thought-provoking. Thumbs up from me. I made an eggnog cheesecake with a gingerbread crust which was OK, but not as good as last year's. I think I got a little too merry with the rum, and I don't care what anyone says- you could taste freezer in it.
Tomorrow night is the first night of Hanukkah...fa la la la la. Friday night dinner will have the fried food quotient of the holiday that makes fried potatoes into a quasi-religious icon- now that's something I believe in: the glory and wonder of a perfectly fried potato. It'll be pot roast and latkes, followed by jelly-filled donuts- and the first light of Hanukkah. The first night of Hanukkah is a lot like the first snow, exciting, new, fun. By the fifth night you're over it.
On sunday, when Hanukkah is still in it's early days I'm doing a family holiday cooking and craft project at the JCC. I figure I'll use this month's article as a template. We'll make jelly donut muffins, which seem to be very popular this season. Marshamallow dreidels dipped in chocolate would also be fun. To break up all the cooking activity they can make Hanukkah decorations with popsicle sticks and sparkles. I'll play Mama Doni's groovey Hanukkah disco CD (Hanukkah Fever). A fun time will be had by all.

LOTSA LATKES
Peel and grate 5 medium sized potatoes- squeezed of liquid, mix in 2 beaten eggs or 1/4 c. egg braters, 1 envelope onion soup mix. Drop by the small scoops in a skillet of sizzling hot vegetable oil. Fry on both sides until a warm and toasty shade of amber. Enjoy while hot.

Thanksgiving Thanks

2009-11-26T04:51:00.000-08:00

I love Thanksgiving. I love that there is a day set aside for everyone in this great land to celebrate, regardless of personal politics, religion, orientation. A day to come together and enjoy a good meal, a meal that is often a group effort. It is a day that promotes gratitude and thankfulness, an attitude that I try to keep going throughout the year, but often fall short on. There is so much to be grateful for, even when the day is gray and prospects feel bleak. When I was a teen, and living in Australia, I started a running list of things to be thankful for, it was after a particular trying day in salt mines of highschool. The idea was to focus on the good stuff. Back then I think Johnny Depp, the Beatles, and cornetto ice cream cones were on the top of that list.
On my revised and updated list of things to be thankful for I'd place the kiddles, Hub, my parents and brothers. Our good health and our good fortune is huge. My friends also deserve a shout out. And then of course there are things like good music and good food that really enhances the quality of life. I've been really enjoying Feist and Bach lately. I am totally grateful (and relieved) that I got a few nice-sized chocolate orders for this holiday season. The Kiddie Cooking Class is also something that I'm happy about- it allows the kooky cook in me some play time, and a few bucks to boot! And I'm grateful that I found a paper that will publish me, a dream I've had for a long time ever since those highschool days.
But beyond the personal and specific, I am thankful for the beautiful world we live in, and for the majority of people that inhabit it who are good. I am grateful for the seasons. I give thanks for living in this country and enjoying all the comforts, riches, freedom, and beauty that it offers. I am grateful that I am allowed to be me; in a different place and at a different time it would not be so easy.
OK so there's my Thanksgiving benediction. Now enough talking and lets start eating.

Pecan Fudge Pie
Preheat oven to 375F. In a saucepan over med. high heat combine 1/2 c. butter/marg and 1 c. packed brown sugar, stir until a thick amber syrup occurs. Add 1 c. chocolate chips and stir until melted and smooth. Remove from heat, whisk in 2 beaten eggs, 1 tsp. vanilla extract. Once a thick chocolatey batter happens, add 1 1/2 c. chopped pecans. Spoon into prepared pie crust, smooth until even. Place in oven and bake for 35-40 mins.

Strike

2009-11-18T15:40:00.000-08:00

I am burnt to a cinder. Sizzled to a crisp. Ready for an extended vacay in a land with no kitchens. If I never see the innards of another supermarket it'll be too soon. If I have to wash another pot, I will flip my lid. If this week was a book it'd be the Berenstain Bears and Too Much Cooking! Kiddie Cooking Class was the final spatula. I am coming off quite a bender of Kitchenicity. I spent the majority of the past week testing a jelly donut muffin recipe for an article I wrote. I finally figured it out after the fourth batch. I should have known all along that the testing is the easy part, the writing is where it gets rough. How many ways can you say yummy? How to describe messy projects as tidily as possible? Sometimes I feel like I am sifting through a pile of junk searching for a gem.

Kiddie Cooking Class project was tomato soup with crispy parmesan croutons. I improvised by using tomato sauce instead of whole canned tomatoes the recipe called for, knowing full well that lots of kids have issues with chunky textures when it comes to soup. I should've substituted it with tomato puree instead. The kiddies swallowed up the soup, due in no small part to the fact that I threw handfulls of parmesan cheese into it in addition to the DELICIOUS parmesan croutons. But the soup was unnecessarily salty, next time-tomato puree.
This morning I did a chocolate project with Girlette's class which was cute and fun and really easy. Cleaning up after a chocolate project with kids is like dealing with the aftermath of a chocolate tornado. No matter how much fun it is to witness the unfettered glee of kids wrist deep in chocolate, the scraping and scrubbing still sucks.
I was thinking that I would get a head start on the eggnog cheesecakes I'm giving our neighbors for Xmas (they freeze beautifully)- but there's no #$%*& way that's happening tonight. Tonight I am watching Top Chef and eating cereal.

Brown Butter Apple Pie

2009-11-10T09:13:00.000-08:00

Just returned from paying a shiva call. Shiva is the 7 days of mourning immediately following the funeral. The mourner sits on a low stool, in their stocking feet, and accepts visitors who pay their respect to the passed and the family in mourning. I never know what to say. Today's visit was particularly difficult as the woman who lost her mother is a year younger than I am, with kids that are similar in age to mine, her mother was the same age as my mother. She still had a lot of living to do.
I baked a pie, because that's what I do. I felt almost embarassed as I placed it on the table alongside the other bakery stuff. What good is a pie when you're facing the rest of your life without your mother? Inevitably I started thinking about my mother and I how I just assume she'll always be here. If I'm a little abrupt on the phone- no matter I'll call her tomorrow. Sometimes when she's dispensing motherly advice I tune out, because I can always get more.
One day I will be on that low stool, in my stocking feet and I will have to face the concept of my life without my mother. My mother is always on my side, even when I'm wrong. She is like a soft and comfy chair in a world that can sometimes be harsh and unyielding. The world without my mother will be darker with more hard edges. All the brown butter apple pies in the world won't be able to sweeten that.

Brown Butter Apple Pie
Preheat oven to 400F. In saucepan melt 1/4 c. butter over med. high heat, stirring often until lightly browned. Set aside and cool for about 10-15 minutes. In the meantime, peel and core 3 large apples, cut into 1/2" slices. In a small bowl and with wire whisk beat 1/2 c. white sugar and 1 egg until yellow and custardy. Stir in 2 tbsp. all purpose flour and 1 tsp. vanilla. Beat in browned butter with whisk. Pour into pie crust, and smooth over bottom. Arrange apple slices on top. In a medium bowl mix 1/2 c. all purpose flour, 1/4 c. white sugar, 1/4 c. brown sugar, 1/2 tsp. apple pie spice together, then with a pastry blender or fork cut in 1/4 c. butter until coarse pea sized crumbs occur, add 1/2 c. chopped pecans. Sprinkle streusel over top of apples. Bake for 50-60 minutes until apples are tender. If necessary, cover edge of crust with strips of foil to prevent burning.

Kiddie Cooking Class Chronicles

2009-11-05T09:56:00.000-08:00

Kiddie Cooking Class Chronicles: Chapter 5

Maple Syrup Pudding & Fall Leaf Cinnamon Sugar Cookies

Autumn is almost gone: the leaves are lying everywhere in dry heaps, daylight savings is darkening the days early, and jackets are required when leaving the house. I decided we might as well get one last look. I found a bottle of Grade B maple syrup from the new foodie emporium. After making a maple syrup cheesecake a few years ago I came to realize how rare it is to find Grade B syrup. Grade A maple syrup is good, but grade B is great- richer, deeper, smokier. I found a quick and simple recipe for Maple Pudding, and knew that I needed a baking project as well to go along. I decided to use refrigerated sugar cookie dough from the supermarket for this one, busted out my fall leaf cookie cutters, melted 2 tbsp. of butter and mixed up a cinnamon sugar for sprinkling. They painted the butter on top of their leaves and covered them with a dry dusting. On the cookie tray they looked like the dead leaves scattered on our patio. Which led us right onto our mini art project, using fallen leaves and acorns, glitter and googly eyes they made end-of-autumn collages. Before long the pudding had set, albeit with lumps, and the cookies were golden and smelling like a warm bakery. The pudding was slurped up instantly, and I'm dissappointed in myself for underestimating these little gourmands by adding a redundant dollop of whipped cream to the treat- the syrup stands alone. The cookies were snarfed down at a respectable rate.
Came home and it was almost night, made a filling dinner of shakshuka, greek salad, and garlic naan. Let hub bathe the kiddles and watch the Yankees with Kid1. Slipped out and went to Eustacia's Grilled Vegetables and their many uses demonstration. A warm and yummy day.

Maple Pudding
Beat 2 c. milk, 2 c. real maple syrup, 2 beaten eggs, 5 tbsp. flour, 4 tbsp. butter, 1 tsp. vanilla in a large saucepan until well blended. Place saucepan on top of pot of boiling water stirring regularly until thick.

Pizza Monkey Ring

2009-10-29T09:19:00.000-07:00

So I'm teaching a cooking class at the local JCC. It's called "What's Cookin' Good Lookin'" and is geared towards PreK aged kids and their grown-ups. Initially I was daunted by the extreme youth of the kids, as well as the grown up element of the parents. But now I really like it, even if the grown ups think I'm sorta loopy. I play good music and we begin the class by washing our hands with soap (instilling good kitchen habits) and being a little silly. Then we gather around the kiddie tables and prepare a semi-healthy snack.
Week One: Hoppin' Popcorn 2 Ways- Apples & Honey, and Spicy Cheese
Week Two: Dino Chips and Grrrrreat Dips (tortilla's cut with dino shaped cutters and baked 'til crispy)- Guacamole and Ranch
Week Three: Bananachocolata Muffins with a side of Hot Cocoa
Week Four (yesterday): Pizza Monkey Ring (Recipe below)

The actual cooking takes maybe 20 minutes because let's be realistic they're 4- so while the stuff is in the oven, I give them an arts 'n craft project to do. Yesterday I brought in molding clay and rollers and cookie cutters and they made pretend pizzas as the aroma of melting cheese and garlic tumbled and rolled through the kitchen. By the time we're finished art-ing and craft-ing, the food is ready for enjoying. A nice way to spend an hour. The parents enjoy the snack as much as the littlelies do.
Yesterday's pizza ring recipe was adapted from a Susie Fishbein Kids Cookbook, and there was not so much as a crumb letfover.

Pizza Monkey Ring (like a pizza flavored monkeybread):
Preheat oven to 350F. With a pizza cutter cut 2 lbs. pizza dough into little 2" pieces. Set aside. Cut a ball of mozzarella cheese into 1" cubes and set aside. In a small bowl combine 3/4 c.-1 c. of olive oil with 2 tbsp. of pizza herb and spice mix or 1 tsp. oregano, 1 1/2 tbsp. garlic powder, 1/2 tsp. chili flakes mix well. Take dough pieces and with your fingers flatten them , then place cube of cheese in center. Roll cheese into dough ball and then dip in olive oil concoction and place in a ring or bundt pan. Repeat process until all dough is rolled up, and tossed evenly in the pan. Sprinkle top with parmesan cheese. Place in oven until golden and bubbling. Serve with pizza sauce on side and dip pizza monkey into sauce for pizzalicious results. YUM!

Happy To Know You And Here's The Cake To Prove It

2009-10-20T10:07:00.000-07:00

This past sunday evening my good friend, Kenzo, got married. It was a lovely and traditional affair, the kind of celebration that makes you feel warm, sentimental, and hopeful. I've been friends with Kenzo since college, all the way through our post-collegiate City days. Often times she was a co-conspirator, sometimes a foil, always a true pal. We wiled away many a dingy City day in her apartment on the Upper East Side, watching cheesey TV, drinking Diet Coke, and chain smoking (it was a long time ago). And huge blocks of time were occupied speaking on the phone hatching plans or unravelling our stories for one another.
I was very much looking forward to her wedding as I knew it would be a reunion of sorts. I was excited about seeing people from ye olde college days, as well as my newly sprung NYC days. After the beautiful ceremony in the elegant synagogue, we enjoyed cocktail hour which doubled for me as "This Is Your Life" Early Adulthood Edition. And the greatest thing about it? Everyone was exactly as I remembered them. I was so happy to meet their partners, view pictures of their offspring, hear about their lives. Goodwill deluged me all evening long, and the fruity cocktails didn't hurt one bit either. While chatting with them I was returned to the former moments when they were all a part of my life, whether peripherally or centrally, and I hold onto the bittersweetness of those moments. I was so young and so dumb and so insecure-but also completely free to live as selfishly and irresponsibly as I wished. I felt so grateful for knowing each of these interesting and fantastic people during this time.
Tomorrow night is book group. Book group is also a gathering of old friends- new old friends who I've spent my early Mommy days with. Eventually this too will pass, and I will reflect longingly on these moments. I will remember it with sweet sadness, how quickly it flew away. Growing older and moving on is inevitable. All I ask for is the foresight and wisdom to appreciate it while immersed in it.
I baked a warm and homey coffee cake for the occasion. Coffee cake goes perfectly with friendship and conversation. While I was preparing it I thought of the book club ladies and
how wonderful each one is, and how grateful I am to know them during these special moments in my life.

Friendship Coffee Cake
Mix together 1 1/2 c. sugar, 1 1/2 sticks of softened butter, and 1 tsp. vanilla extract until fluffy. Add 2 eggs one at a time until a batter forms. In a separate bowl mix 2 c flour, 1 tsp. baking powder, and 1/2 tsp. baking soda. Add flour mixture in parts to batter, alternating with 1 c. thick greek yogurt (I used 2%) beating after each addition until smooth and thick. Scrape the beans of half a vanilla pod into the batter, mix well.
In a small bowl mix 1/2 c. chopped pecans, 1/3 c. brown sugar, and scant tsp. of nutmeg. Pour half of the batter into a greased bundt pan, sprinkle pecan mix on top. Spoon and smooth out the rest of the batter on top of pecan layer, and then sprinkle rest of pecans on top. Bake at 350F for about an hour, or until toothpick comes out clean. Let cool.

Post Script: The cake was served last night to general approval. However, Daz, my most honest and constructive critic- is decidedly not a nutmeg fan. I suggested that if she was to make the cake she simply substitute the nutmeg for cinnamon.

A Birthday For Girlette!

2009-10-13T11:13:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was girlette's birthday. Wary of another kiddie party where I would have to come up with a theme and amusements, all the while spending needless amounts of money, I offered her the option of going into the City for a manicure and lunch and playtime with her brothers in Central Park and FAO Schwartz. Done and done, I didn't have to ask her twice. The manicure would have been enough, as I'm a real girlie-girl grinch and save nail polish for just for special times like birthdays.
We began the day by being dropped off on my beloved UWS, and to our great good luck right in front of Loehmanns! I could definitely not miss the opportunity to share a Loehmanns moment with my daughter, as I had with my mother many times before. It being her birthday no less! We dragged les boys into the store, Boy 1, grumbling the whole time, and almost ruining it. I got her a sparkly long sleeved tee. And for me a woollen winter cap and cat's eye sunglasses. Fun! Despite the boys.
Then off to her first real-life/big-lady manicure. She went straight for the gold colored polish and sat at the table like she'd been doing this for years. I wanted to get one too, as my nails look like some lazy goth girl's . But les Boys insited on acting like the boys that they are- and alas my chipped-off nails remain. Then we met my brother, also a boy, at Crumbs cupcake eporium on Amsterdam and 75th. Wowee! I had a golden cupcake with chocolate frosting and sprinkles YUM! My brother had one named the Artie Lang which was appropriately overladen with junk (but delicious I hear). Here's were the day gets New Yorky but not in a good way. I wanted to take Girlette for the perfect ladies lunch (despite the Boys tagging along). Initially I called to make a reservation at Sweetiepie for the Eloise experience, but like Museums they are closed on Mondays-boo! Then I tried Alice's Tea Cup, despite the fact that I swore never to darken their tea cup again. Well, they showed me- no reservations, not even for a party of six in the middle of a recession. Apparently, Manhattan really is a magical island that is not affected by a recession that gnaws at the rest of the country. Or maybe just parts of NYC?
Next defense was Sarabeth's- and if Alice's Tea Cup doesn't take reservations, her all-grown up sister Sarabeth's sure as hell won't. I'd have to chance it. Suffice to say we ended up lunching with Hub at Le Pain Quotidien which was perfectly fine and the fudge fallen souffle delighted Girlette regardless. However, next time I take Girlette to the City it will be any day but monday.
We then spent time at Central Park, for the children to observe how city kids live and play in their habitats, and to enjoy the differences. We ended the day at FAO Schwartz and by this time Munch had fallen asleep, mouth ajar in the stroller, and Girlette and I had a... disagreement. The perfect time for Hub to pull up and whisk us back home to the country.
Because I'm a guilty Jewish mother, or maybe because you can't take the Celebration out of Celebrationist, tomorrow I'm serving lunch to both Kindergarten classes at her school. Mac 'n cheese (Girlette's fave) and cupcakes are on the menu. Easy, fun, festive, convenient, and inexpensive for everyone. Happy Birthday, Girlette! Life with you is a wonderfully female experience!