The Higher Common Sense

John McGrew Background Art

2012-01-03T20:52:00.000-05:00

Top 3: from Chuck Jones' "The Aristo-Cat". Bottom 3: From Chuck Jones' "Waikiki Wabbit." Via Michael Sporn Animation.

Folk Art Trees

2012-01-02T00:16:00.001-05:00

Meg Wilson, mybookcovers.blogspot.com

Johann Adam Eyer, American Folk Art Museum

Jonathan Pool family record, American Folk Art Museum

Meg Wilson, mybookcovers.blogspot.com

Polly Collins, American Folk Art Museum

Visions of the Heavenly Sphere: A Study in Shaker

Religious Art by Edward Deming Andrews

Visions of the Heavenly Sphere

Clafoutis is Totally a Breakfast Food

2010-07-11T16:04:00.008-04:00

This dessert is right in my wheelhouse: deceptively easy yet impressive, elegant but a little rustic. It is also incredibly photogenic, if I may say.

It helps that we have started having people over for brunch, which means I can take pictures in daylight. But it also opens up the challenges of a seemingly simple meal; one thinks of eggs, but I'd say Rule #1 of hosting brunch is don't pick something made-to-order, like omelets. Baked eggs lend themselves to all kinds of neat combinations. The last two times I've experimented with this, I've been too hungry and concerned with the eggs getting cold to photograph, but definitely try this one.

I know turning the oven on in the middle of the day in July is not ideal, but it's probably worth it to have food that can hit everyone's plate simultaneously.

Anyway, clafoutis: despite the stuffy-sounding name, it's the easiest thing in the world, and probably totally adaptable to lots of different fruits. It came from my Eggs book that I got in Portland, Maine (also a lot of yummy baked eggs recipes, not to mention souffles and all kinds of stuff). It's pretty much the same as the recipe below I think I used a glug of Pimm's instead of Kirsch.

Cherry Clafoutis (from Saveur)

1 tbsp. butter
1 tbsp. vanilla extract
6 eggs
6 tbsp. sugar
1 1⁄4 cups milk
2 tbsp. kirsch
Pinch salt
3⁄4 cup flour
3 cups black cherries, pitted or unpitted
Confectioners' sugar (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 425°. Generously butter a 9" cast-iron skillet or baking dish. Combine vanilla extract, eggs, sugar, milk, kirsch, and salt in a blender. Blend for a few seconds to mix ingredients, then add flour and blend until smooth, about 1 minute.

2. Pour batter into buttered skillet, then distribute cherries evenly over top. Bake until a skewer inserted into batter comes out clean and a golden brown crust has formed on top and bottom of clafoutis, about 30 minutes. Dust with confectioners' sugar if you like.

In-Betweeny Baking

2010-06-16T23:31:00.008-04:00

It used to ruffle me when people allowed their moods to change completely depending on the weather. Now it seems, however, that I am one of those people. When mere wisps of clouds momentarily obscure the summer sun, I feel all productive feelings drain out me; I am ready to resign the day and lock myself indoors for a day of baking and all things Austen.

So what to do in balmy June when the grey skies throb with the threat of rain and one doesn't particularly feel like making anything crispy and cold and featuring cilantro?

Today was such a day, and it also happened to be a use-up-what's-in-the-pantry day, as we are shamefully suspended at the co-op (not that shamefully, actually). I came across a little sack of Bob's Red Mill 10-Grain Hot Cereal, left months ago by a visiting friend. As I am still developing my thing for grains and learning how to use them best, I decided -- and here comes the not-very-exciting part -- to make the muffin recipe right from the back of the bag. I also got to use our leftover buttermilk which, apparently, never goes bad. The addition of summer fruit takes the winter-comfort-food edge off.

I realized halfway through the process, however, that I do not actually own muffin pans. Then I spotted the silicon cannele molds, remnants of J.'s short-lived obsession with recreating the little heaven-cakes we had in Paris. The shape is like a miniature bundt cake, skinny and fluted. I loved the idea of a slim, elegant muffin with no mushroom top. The state of muffins in this country is getting out of control, and I'd like to think I'm doing my part. Nobody needs the crumby monstrosities you see nowadays. There, I said it.

The only dilemma is, do you serve it rounded side up like a little cake, or pretty bottom-up as you would a cannele?

And don't forget that the fruit and moisture will sink to the bottom, so don't just go by the top when you are checking for doneness. I like mine a little soft on the bottom, though.

10-Grain Muffins

1 large egg
1/2 c. sugar
1/3 c. butter
1 c. unbleached white flour
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1 c Bob's Red Mill 10 Grain Hot Cereal*
1 1/4 c. buttermilk
[1 1/4 c. berries or diced fruit, optional]
*A medley of pretty much every grain you can think of. I assume substitutes would work here.

Mix 10 cereal and milk. Allow to stand for 10 minutes while preheating oven and assembling other ingredients: cream sugar, butter and egg together. Add dry ingredients and milk mixture. Stir only until mixed. [Fold in fruit.] Spoon into greased muffin pan. Bake at 400*F for 15 minutes. Makes 12 muffins.

Fast French

2010-06-01T16:19:00.003-04:00

It is 10am on the day you have a lunch date with your fabulous hostess (and fellow francophile) friend. You are in charge of bringing a delicious picnic. What ingredient will ensure ease in both cooking and transportation while being delicious and sophisticated? If you said frozen puff pastry, you are correct.

I may be entering a tart phase. I landed home from the store an hour before my date and ended up with this beauty. My only mistake was letting the pastry roll into whatever shape it felt like, which ended up being too long for any container and for my bike basket. The diagonally-laid asparagus, however, was my stroke of genius.

Pack some mixed greens, a jam jar of vinaigrette with homemade mayonnaise, and a couple pain au chocolat, and you have a picnic. Recipe from Everyday Food.

BYO Dinner

2010-05-16T00:16:00.005-04:00

Turns out, when New Yorkers move to a new apartment that does not have a grill like their old place, they will actually offer to come to your house and cook for you just for the chance to get near the old propane again.

I'm totally fine with this arrangement. We get stuck with the dishes, yes, but I get all afternoon to make a pretty new dessert that gets plenty of glory.

And I am also very intrigued by this idea of infusing whipped cream. Pretty simple really, just like making a syrup. In this case it was chopped-up basil. I wonder if you could do the same with mint, lavender.... citrus zest? Would the acid do something funky to the cream? Anyway, the basil gave a lovely, mild taste to the cream, and the fried basil leaves were a sophisticated and surprisingly tasty touch to a pretty rustic dessert.

The weird 50s-style photography is because of crappy overhead lighting, but part of me is kind of digging that look.

Scrabble Night

2010-05-13T23:00:00.000-04:00

I had an evening at home with J for the first time all week, and what I really wanted was a straightforward, healthful meal that, despite the simplicity of the flavors and presentation, required a boatload of chopping.

I went for a variation on my favorite template, the barley salad, and a new favorite way to do fish, one of those so-simple-I-can't-believe-there's-an-actual-recipe recipes. The easy part is that the vegetable and the starch are streamlined into one side dish. The other part is the chopping of all the different veggies (I went with asparagus, mushrooms, chard, and caramelized onions), which might be frustrating on a night when I didn't have a couple hours to spare listening to the soothing tones of NPR with the back doors open, zenning out and chopping away.

I lost the Scrabble game by the way. I don't want to talk about it.

Back in the Saddle

2010-03-02T11:35:00.005-05:00

Oh, hello. Yes, I've been a tad distracted, what with turning 25, producing this and, oh yes, getting this to this guy.

The whole working-two-jobs thing really changed my relationship with cooking for a little while, where remembering to put a yogurt and Lara bar in my bag before work was a serious culinary achievement and our social eating as a couple became centered on event-ish dinners out (mmmmMMomofuku in all its incarnations - not that there's anything wrong with that). The first visit back to Hostessland called for baby steps.

After inviting the lucky and adorable couple, my lovely friend Marlene and her boyfriend David, I immediately forgot the date and agreed to work during the day on that Saturday. I now had 2 hours of prep time -- this is where clever menu planning comes in.

Criteria: something warm and wintry without being heavy or requiring hours of attention. Something elegant and pretty without being fussy. Impressive but can be assembled in two hours.

Solution: Two small roasted chickens with herbs, basted with lots of stock and white wine; pretty rainbow carrots roasted whole in the pan, and my new favorite secret weapon: celery root puree.
I put a little cream in the puree because I had it, but honestly it is so sweet and creamy to begin with you don't need it, or perhaps a little milk to soften it in the blender. J cubed the celeriac, I boiled it & covered to keep warm, and blended right before serving.

The best part? Marlene, who is German, informed us with a blush that at home, they have a special name for celeriac: "Stehpimmelsalat" -- steh=stand, pimmel=penis, salat=salad". Translation: "Boner Salad" for its enhancing properties! What more can you ask from such an ugly vegetable?

Also, an elegant salad to start from Heidi. I only had red beets on hand so it ended up being predominantly red and a little tart, but it's kind of pretty that way. I bet this would be good with a little strong cheese crumbled on.

And: Chocolate Bourbon bundt cake from Orangette. Turns out the part about releasing it from the pan before comletely cool is no joke. I left it overnight. The ensuing tug-of-war resulted in a mangled top surface. Not to be daunted, I remembered that necessity is the mother of chocolate ganache (cream + chocolate? really?), and sure enough, the hot mess of cake was seriously improved by a shiny layer of satiny chocolate sauce and a dusting of powdered sugar (but what isn't?). The sugar gets me every time: rustic but so pretty. This cake is boozy and delicious.

Oh right, I love cooking for people! Moral: it's all about picking the right menu and half the work is done.

Yin Foods

2010-01-16T09:58:00.007-05:00

I'm a little late getting started this year, so I will excuse myself from talk of resolutions. However, a particularly festive and overbooked January had me thinking about balance. Then I came across this article at Yoga Journal. It suggests that post-holiday burnout comes from the clashing of winter yin and summer yang energies; people start eating iceberg for lunch and running around town for dinner out when they might be better off embracing the season's inherent qualities.

What I take from this theory is that the trick to staying healthy and happy in the yucky months is to find healthful choices in tune with, not fighting against, the winter yin. That is, don't think "I should have salad but I crave mac-and-cheese," but rather find a way to work with the blahs and incorporate winter elements -- spice, warmth, flavor, comfort, slowness -- into a healthy routine.

I tried this by adapting a recipe from She Simmers, with mixed success. I tried to embrace Leela's playful approach by applying her Beet-Vodka Sauce with Sriracha to lean fish rather than chicken thighs. Combining two of my favorite ingredients (beets and the beloved "hot cock"), her recipe sounded so weird and perfect yet easy to make that I had to try.

Verdict: I got a little overzealous with the sriracha, and I think the sauce definitely needs the fatty chicken skin to cling to (and so it crust over like it does so enticingly in Leela's photo). If I insisted on fish again, I might try salmon or something with a higher fat content that could stand up to the strong flavors. But I definitely accomplished my goal of whipping up a fast, lean dinner with loads of flavor.

The breakout performance of this dish, however: a yummy cabbage salad (from Ellen Bursteyn, of all people). J loves making big batches of red cabbage slaw to keep in the fridge as something to nosh on before dinner is ready, but I haven't been able to get on board until now. The sunflower seeds and raisins (plump them in a bowl of water for 20 minutes to an hour if you have time) are a really nice texture and flavor contrast to the cabbage. The cilantro keeps it fresh, but the garam masala puts it firmly in the yin category.

The chard photo up top is from another night, when I made another big batch of my absolute favorite all-weather staple: barley salad with beets, chard and feta. Let's not forget that winter produce can be just as pretty and colorful as its summer cousins.

More Paris - the Brocante

2009-12-04T16:09:00.019-05:00

I've been saving these pictures because this was both J's and my favorite part of the trip. The Clignancourt Brocante (which I think just means "bric-a-brac") is like if all of, say, the Garment District consisted entirely of semi-permanent stalls, each of which having a very specific focus. Such as my favorite category, old kitchen stuff.

I think J took this one. He knows much more about photographizing.

And, the bestest thing that I was so delighted to find out even exists: glass French rolling pins.

Yeah. They are glass because it's pretty, and also because you can fill the rollers with hot water and cork the ends, so they become hot and make the dough easier to roll out. I want the white one in the top row with the little flower details.

Makes me wish I were focused enough to be a collector of some really specific, too-beautiful to be truly useful item. I can see it happening with the rolling pins, or maybe with the copper gelatin molds that were everywhere. They'd look so pretty all on one wall.

We also became a little obsessed by vintage French postcards like this one:

from merci-facteur

We loved that they just wrote one little line on the back. It seems that just getting a picture in the mail was the special thing. The cancelled stamps on the picture side make them even prettier.

One thing they really get right at these flea markets is the food. At the end of the lane at Clignancourt, we found the perfect, bustling, amber light-filled bistro we had been searching for the whole week.

Everything was perfect: brusque waitress who dropped everything, a bottle of perfectly adequate wine, and chicken and vegetables in a Staub pot. I still can't get over the simple, hot wonderfulness of this lunch.

I want to feel all the time like I felt walking out of this place: tipsy, warm, and so happy.

At the other market we stumbled into (snuck might be a better verb... we were supposed to pay 8 euros to get in), there was a corner with hot chocolate brewing in some Charlie and the Chocolate Factory contraption, and an oyster stand directly across from that.

I'm so glad J insisted on getting a half dozen. We sat on a bridge over the canal and sipped Muscadet out of plastic cups.

Stocking Up

2009-12-04T13:54:00.008-05:00

I swear I wasn't trying to make a pun when I though of this title. But I'm keeping it, because it really is the mood I'm in this week. After several days of post-vacation, no-food-in-the-house existence, I was humbled when J expressed nostalgia for the childhood days of a fridge full of fresh produce and leftovers.

I realized I had fallen into my collegiate habit of a few small trips to the market every week for the odd baguette, wedge of cheese and a couple apples. I think I thought there was something French about this.

But things are different now. Living with someone means thinking about the future. Like, next week. So it was time to make good on my promise to use up all the baggies of chicken parts (a collection augmented by our recent passion for butterflying chickens correctly! We've been doing it backwards this whole time) and carrot stubs waiting in the freezer.

I used the pasta pot with built-in strainer, which works great in theory as you don't have to put everything in a bag or cheesecloth. Ours is a little stupid, though, since the straining holes go all the way up to the top and you have to leave several inches of room in the pot so the liquid doesn't seep out the sides.

15 minutes of assembling the raw material + 4 hours of simmering while roasting a big batch of beets and cutting up a whole buncha kale and mushrooms = a mise en place for the whole rest of the week and a sense of plenty upon opening the fridge.

Chicken Stock (adapted from kitchn)

Place chicken parts (I had necks and backbones. Some recipes want you to put whole chicken parts in, but to me the point of this project is to use up scraps), vegetable bits (root ends of carrots are ok, as are wilted greens like celery tops; just no onion skins and I think cabbage is a no as well), a chopped up onion or two and a couple cloves of garlic plus whatever fresh herbs you have around (my oregano, rosemary and parsley have survived!) and a pinch or 2 or 3 of salt in a pasta pot or in a cloth bag. Add enough water to cover.

Bring to a boil and then turn down a little so the stock is just bubbling. If someone walks in and says "It smells amazing in here!", make sure the pot is covered and turn the heat down a tad. The yummy smell is flavor compounds being released.

Read a book, listen to a podcast. 4 hours of simmering should be good. Strain, let cool, and refridgerate stock overnight. Skim the congealed fat if you want, discard it or save it for cooking. Put in bags or tupperware (I also filled an ice cube tray) and freeze.

Oh, How I Miss...

2009-11-23T14:28:00.006-05:00

The requisite afternoon cafe and pastry.

At my favorite patisserie that we saw, where Jonathan discovered canneles,

And where this lovely lady greeted us in front.

Don't know why I like this so much: instructions in a bakery window.

Paris Street Art

2009-11-22T23:44:00.006-05:00

Everyone is better turned-out in Paris, even the little porkpie'd stencil men.

Illustration from a reworked Little Red Riding Hood.

Jonathan blending in with locals.

Another children's book illustration in an art book shop on Quai de Valmy.

Le Love.

Paris Markets

2009-11-20T14:41:00.008-05:00

We're back! I have so much to show you. First...

My absolute favorite part of Paris was the markets. Our apartment in le Marais was just a few blocks away from a major greenmarket. Sunday morning there reminded me that the world hasn't changed all that much: A fruitseller shooing away a little boy who was running his hand over all the oranges and ruddy-faced fishmongers chatting with basket-weilding old ladies.

Unlike our city farmer's markets, which feel quaint but inaccessible for a regular shopping trip, these rows and rows of stalls definitely seemed like the place to get fixings for Sunday supper as well as a bit of old-fashioned people-watching.

Maybe it's all an act, and the French folk all return home and pop open foil-lined TV dinners, but it just seemed inevitable that they would all be as inspired as we were to construct our own little Belgian still life (we couldn't get enough of those strange paintings at the Louvres).

Indeed, we spent a good part of our last day wandering the stalls, and we even put together a little charcuterie picnic for the plane. When they came around with airplane pasta, we just shook our heads and gestured to our parcels wrapped in butcher paper.

Barbizon Girls

2009-11-06T14:19:00.006-05:00

Students at Westover, in what I'm pretty sure became my Latin classroom. The uniforms were way cuter then.

Does it make me less of a modern woman that a felt a pang of nostalgia reading the Times article on the Barbizon? Nostalgia both for my actual days at all-girls boarding school, and for an imagined past that is a pastiche of The Bell Jar, Thoroughly Modern Millie, A League of Their Own, and the story Carol Burnett tells about her poor early days as an actress in New York City when she and her four roommates shared a single audition dress that they would each reserve for important days and return cleaned.

Sylvia Plath, with an exerpt from her diary. From the Smith Libraries.

The Daisy Chain Ceremony at Miss Porter's, from the Vanity Fair article on the hazing scandal. This was Westover's rival school. I almost went to Porter's instead.

Maybe the cold weather puts me in an academic mood with style to match (practical footwear and tweedy jackets are much more condusive to Big Ideas than summer dresses are). Maybe balancing work, love and friends makes me miss the no-boys-allowed policy, with its implicit warning that you have things to do, girl, that don't require putting on lipstick (never mind that it's just a fashion thing, the chicness and ease of girls who are absolutely feminine, but with a boyishness that comes when you are not on display.

Carrie Mulligan in An Education

Members of the Women's Land Army, via Lark About

Mom's Welsh Cakes

2009-10-09T12:45:00.003-04:00

"If every day were playing holidays, to play would be as tedious as to work."

One indisputable benefit of resolving to work more: the ability to enjoy a full day of cozy activities without guilt. I even managed to combine two winners: Baking and talking with a fellow indoor-kid girlfriend. No need to meet in a cute cafe; it was so comfortable to sip tea and talk while I recreated this treat from my childhood.

My mom, who lived in England and used to travel to Wales often for horse business (she raised Welsh cobs), used to make these little cakes, and I have never encountered them since. They aren't as flashy as trendier baked goods, but they are perfect for dipping in tea, and they stick to your ribs surprisingly well (there's a lot of butter). I feel vaguely 19th century eating them, I think because they are so rustic and somewhere between a sweet cake and savory biscuit.

I had to experiment with the amount of milk. the dough should hold together well enough to turn out, but not get too sticky.

Welsh Cakes

4 c flour

1 teas baking powder

1 1/4 c butter

3/4 c sugar

pinch salt

1 1/2 c currants

1/2 teas nutmeg

1 egg

a little milk

Mix flour, baking powder, salt. rub in butter. Add sugar, nutmeg and currants. Mix beaten egg with about 1/4 c milk and mix add like making short crust pastry. Turn out onto floured table and roll out and cut into rounds about 3 in across and 1/2 in thick. Cook on griddle or frying pan 3-5 mins each side. Should cook through to a brittle, sandy texture.

Transition Food

2009-09-09T01:01:00.006-04:00

Fantasizing on the first cool morning about days spent baking pies or learning how to make donuts is the culinary equivalent of reaching for my boots and jackets on the Tuesday after Labor Day.

A good way to ease into cozy fall cooking while still taking advantage of the produce still available, I figure, is to explore that one aisle of the beloved food co-op that always daunts: the wall of bulk food dispensers. Take grains: I read great things about farro; I love a nice wheat berry salad from Whole Foods. Grain salads seem like a great transition dish: hearty and comforting, and easy to modify. Also, my days lately are spent either temping (where you don't know if they'll have a microwave or what) or running around to auditions and rehearsals. One-dishers like this salad are great to carry since they can be good hot or cold.

Take a look at the cost breakdown:
.69 lb organic pearl barley $0.75
.39 lb block feta $2.60
Juice of 3 lemons $0.93
1 bunch organic lacinato kale $1.67
1/4 large bulb fennel $0.37
1.3 bunch scallions $0.19
1 red onion (leftover, negligible)
Total: $6.51

Note: these are prices at the Park Slope Food Co-op. I love the co-op. I know there are haters, but it seriously pains me now to buy groceries anywhere else. It hurts the brain to think about how much we pay for packaging.

This would be a pretty good number for a single lunch. However, I have been eating this salad literally ALL week. I figure I got about six servings out of this batch, so:

Cost-per-meal: $1.09

It's so yummy, and has been, to continue the clothing analogy, the beige sweater-dress of my week's meals. Accessorized with leftover chicken and roasted veggies, beans, a poached egg or diced avocado, I have not grown tired of eating it yet.

I basically stole kitchn's version with minor tweaks, so check out their recipe for cook times.

Next week: Quinoa!

A New Toy

2009-08-28T14:59:00.004-04:00

J's mother gave us a mandoline! This largesse has coincided perfectly with the publishing of Mark Bittman's instantly classic 101 Salads. At an outing to FCI recently (and, I believe, my first ever luncheon), Sarah asked me if I would ever go to culinary school. The answer is no, but if I did it would probably be just so that I could take less than 45 minutes to chop an onion. I do not relish knifework.

First up was this yummy salad from Kitchn. Mine seems to fall into a totally different color scheme, but we used a tomato and a pepper from the garden! I prepped the onion and cukes (which -- J's idea -- we always score with a zester before slicing; it cuts down on toughness and looks really pretty!) in seconds and assembled the rest while the fish cooked on the grill. Lemon squeezey.

Then last night, I was a little pleased to end up with the night to myself because Emily's take on Bittman Salad #2 is a perfect lunch or dinner for one, but not really take-to-work-for-lunch material.

Next time I might make this on a hot day and pair it with a version of the cold avocado-melon soup we had once as a special at the Main Street Bistro in New Paltz. Light and fresh but still rather decadent, no?

The verdict: mandolines are wonderful, even if the only thing you ever use it for is onions. I don't care for big chunks of red onion in things, and I care still less for cutting them the old-fashioned way. But I will now put thin, lovely onion slivers in every salad I ever make. One thing though: use the finger guard.

Things in California that are not Chez Panisse

2009-08-12T14:13:00.010-04:00

{Looking back at the bridge from the ferry on the way to Tiburon}

{The amazing farmer's market at the old Ferry building, now a really nice marketplace. The oyster po' boy is becoming a tradition.}

{A creepy-pretty mural}

{Language of the Birds: Words on the ground that fell out of books hanging from the streetlights directly above. Just up the hill from City Lights Bookshop.}

{Pretty signs on Polk Street, after brunch at an adorable little cafe that turned out to be a huge chain. Why don't we have one of those on every corner?}

photo by K Hellyer via yatzer
{Another public piece by Brian Goggin called Defenestration. Good title. My favorite is the grandfather clock.)

photo by R. R. Jones
{A Midsummer Night's Dream at Shakespeare Santa Cruz: the most delightful Shakespeare production I've seen in ages, and the first play I ever did at school (I played Demetrius).}

{At a sunny little spot in Santa Cruz}

I know everyone jokes when they go on vacation about never coming back and living the life of a permanent tourist. I believe no one really wants this, but it is liberating to remember that not every worthwhile experience is just beyond your front stoop. Yes, even New Yorkers.

Chez Alice

2009-08-12T13:03:00.010-04:00

Last week my boyfriend and I went to California to visit his family. I gave considerable thought to not coming back.

We called upon many of Jonathan's old friends, and visiting tends to involve eating together. So we ate. A lot. The highlight: Chez Panisse, of course! Well, the cafe, anyway. But I would never have known that we were sitting in the little sister.

{Me: Zucchini salad with squash blossoms and pecorino}

{Jonathan: Avocado and beet salad with purslane and chili flakes}

{Me: Sea bass with Indian spices, mint & cucumber raita, and tomato & eggplant}

{Jonathan: Goat's leg (!) and potato gratin with roasted heirloom tomatoes & salsa verde}

{My cookbook-cover shot with desserts (1) Rhubarb tart with strawberry ice cream & (2) Creme Panisse with raspberry coulis....}

{...and (3) Chocolate pavé with espresso cream & chocolate sauce & (4) Mulberry ice cream with peaches and creme chantilly!}

{Mm, pretty Barbera and Rosé. The colors just looked so pretty with all that natural light.}

Thank you, Alice, who started it all.

Patience, or How to Make Caramel

2009-07-28T10:15:00.005-04:00

When one hosts a large-ish party with an impressive main dish, one earns the right to erase silently an entire item from the intended menu. I was giddy at the prospect of trying something that goes with the transcendent bread pudding at my restaurant: bourbon-spiked caramel sauce.

Wilting over the heat, I watched as a promising tint of gold formed a lacy edge to cup after cup of bubbling sugar. But just as I would begin to feel hopeful, the entire mess would flare up like seafoam and shrink into a spiteful white clump.

Guests began to arrive, and I pretended to myself that I had never planned on serving dessert and ignored the drawerful of ripe peaches huddling in the fridge.

Monday was a new day, so I prepared myself to waste another box of sugar and possibly the better part of a hot afternoon over a hotter stove because these guests would have caramel and peaches, damnit.

Five cups of sugar and several episodes of Planet Money later, I decided to listen to the advice given by only a few of the recipes I came across (the others provided suspiciously few steps and an "it's-so-easy!" attitude I deemed untrustworthy): You must let the sugar dissolve completely before the mixture comes to a boil. I had been a little loose with terms like "must" and "completely". I mean, can syrup ever be completely clear?

As a child, I never understood why Patience had such a good reputation. Anyone can wait for something, I thought. But to watch a pot of sugar and water is to confront again and again feelings of discomfort (at not being in control) and fear (of things not turning out right) and to quiet those feelings.

At its heart, home cooking is about inviting friends into your home so you can validate a slightly obsessive need to turn something simple that everybody likes into something complicated and stressful. And so it was terribly gratifying to spoon up the thick stuff over soft grilled peaches and hear the most beautiful phrase in the world: "You made that?"

Do-Over Dinner

2009-07-22T10:00:00.008-04:00

We set for ourselves a challenge this week: two dinner parties, a day apart, with almost no prep time with both of us in the room. Dinner #1: A Saturday night BBQ with lots of folks. Dinner #2: a quiet evening with another couple. Turns out the same menu works for both: pizza on the grill!

Dinner #1 was a bit chaotic and really festive. We bought dough from the pizza place around the corner and prepped as many toppings as possible, but there was still a lot of assembly while guests looked on. One friend remarked that it was like Grimaldi's, where half the fun is watching the guys flip the dough while you wait.

Dinner #2: Monday was a whole new mood. I did exactly what we had planned for the party dinner, but the chaos of the first run-through gave way to a peaceful afternoon stirring a little circle around the kitchen: caramelize onions, simmer sauce, knead dough -- stir, stir, knead.

The result of a questionably planned couple of nights spent entertaining was the rare opportunity to do it all over, recollecting recipes in tranquility.

If you can remember not to go nuts with toppings (three per pie should suffice) and keep the rest simple, you won't have to make a fantastic but debilitating, leftover-using, morning-after breakfast like this one following Dinner #1:

I used 101 Cookbooks's tomato sauce (lemon zest!), and made three varieties of smallish, semi-personal pizzas. Make sure everything is chopped and pre-cooked and organized in little bowls, and have a post-it with each pizza topping combo handy.

Ours:
Mozzerella - tomato - basil
Asiago - grilled peppers
Gorgonzola - caremelized onions - sausage

Next time I would like to make the dough, but I find no shame in buying a ball of dough from around the corner. Guests seemed equally impressed by the fact that they sell it to just anyone ("You just ask? Do they look at you funny?") as by homemade dough. The pizza is fabulous, cheap and impressive. We don't ever order pizza at home, but now I know we never need to.

4th of July Weekend Part II: Portland

2009-07-11T19:37:00.005-04:00

I have a new favorite bookstore: Rabelais! Not just cookbooks, but food books. And how have I never heard of the eponymous Rabelais (novel-inventer, Swift-influencer, tosser-off of deathbed witticism)? The owners are husband-and-wife Brooklyners who seem to have set up shop partly so they could defy those who admire photos of elaborate dishes but exclaim "No one cooks like that at home!"

Portland has become a destination foodie city in the past few years and even reminds me a little of Brooklyn with its passion for sustainable but fancy ingredients and a casual vibe. Duckfat fits this description.

The main attraction is french fries fried in... duck fat. We forwent the Poutine, which is like a parfait with layers of fries, cheese curd and duck gravy, and tried a few of the sauces: truffle ketchup (Heinz + truffle oil!), Thai chili mayo and my favorite, horseradish mayo.

However, I was equally ecstatic to see a yummy version of my favorite kind of salad: greens + cheese (ricotta) + fruit (strawberries) + texture (fennel). Fresh, bright and the perfect antidote to bad-for-you, ducky wonderfulness.

I couldn't resist the sweet potato curry soup, which I thought might be too wintry but was the perfect spicy counterpoint.

Now that I'm back I'll have to start cooking from some of the books J bought. Maybe I'll finally try a souffle....

4th of July Weekend Part I: Waterford

2009-07-10T13:52:00.003-04:00

The 4th of July in my hometown:

7:30 am. Town breakfast at the Wilkins House followed by rummage sale in the basement and book sale at the library. J found a funny little card game called Filch that no one knows how to play.

11 am. Parade through the Village Green (followed by bonus parade when everyone has to turn around and come back because there is only one road).

2 pm. Wait for the rain to stop so we can grill burgers. Eat with potato salad, beer, and homemade ice cream. Play lots of cards. Nap.

Sunday: Remember how to drive. Stop for as many lobster rolls as possible. Debate worthiness of lobster premixed with mayonnaise vs. anadulterated lobster meat.

I no longer get to ride in the fire truck, family members are farther flung, and it is difficult for me to reconcile the relaxed mood of family downtime with the get-up-and-go that is J's and my usual vacation mode. But the air and the trees and the cards (even the rain, which I vocally oppose but secretly love) are still restorative.

Country Fantasies

2009-06-27T18:32:00.000-04:00

There has been talk at our house of late regarding the acquisition of a country house. A recent crush on a tiny, septic-less house on an adorable little property led to bucolic fantasies of collecting berries to sell at the market.

For now, I am content to forage in my backyard.

In the meantime, I turn to my Allison "Magnolia Bakery" Torrey cookbook to restock my mental lookbook of country living. The audaciously simple recipes have yielded not a few weeknight favorites. Check out the horseradish-crusted halibut: absurdly easy.

This time I turned to one of the many dishes that are so simple and obvious as to inspire indignation this woman was paid to type it into a "recipe" and yet, once you have tasted it, can't believe you didn't put it together yourself. Whole grilled chicken, a pretty little caprese with backyard basil, some tea lights on the back porch, and who needs the country?

And, just to assuage any lingering wishes for a life as professional berry farmers:

Backyard-grown blueberries with fresh cherries brushed with homegrown lavender syrup, topped with vanilla ice cream and shaved chocolate!

Lavender Syrup
(taken from Summer Fruit Tart with Lavender Syrup Recipe from Martha Stewart Baking Handbook)

1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup lossely packed fresh lavender leaves (0r dried organic lavender)
1 tsp. freshly squeezed lemon juice

In a small saucepan, combine sugar witha 1/4 cup water, lavender, and lemon juice. Bring mixture to a boil, then turn off heat. Set aside to steep, covered, for 20 minutes. Strain syrup into a bowl and set aside to cool.

Red Potato, Haricot Vert, and Cherry Tomato Salad
(from At Home with Magnolia)

1 lb. small red-skinned potatoes, uneeled, cut into 1-inch pieces
1/3 lb. haricot verts, trimmed
1 cup halved cherry tomatoes
1/2 cup finely chopped red onion
5 tbsp. mayonnaise
1 tbsp. tarragon vinegar
1 tbsp. white wine
2 tsp. white wine
2tsp. Dijon
1tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. freshly ground black pepper

Put the potatoes in a large saucepan and cover with cold water by about 1 inch. Bring to a boil, cover the pot partially, and lower the heat to maintain a steady simmer. Cook until the potatoes are tender when pierced with a fork, about 10 minutes. Drain the potatoes in a colander, and allow to come to lukewarm temperature.

Bring a large saucepan of cold water to a boil. Add the beans and cook until crisp-tender, about 1 minute. Remove from the heat, drain, and rinse under cold water,

In a large bowl, comine the potatoes, beans, tomatoes, and red onion. In a separate small bowl, whisk together the remaining ingredients and toss with the potato mixture until well blended. This salad is best served at room temperature.

Renegade Craft Fair

2009-06-10T13:46:00.000-04:00

Sycamore Street Press

Flora pointed out how these graceful petticoats and night-gowns depended upon their pure line and delicate embroidery for their beauty; how all gross romanticism was purged away, or expressed only in a fold or a flute of material. She then showed how the same delicacy might be found in the style of Jane Austen, or a painting by Marie Laurencin.

'It is that kind of beauty,' said Flora, 'that you must learn to look for an admire in everyday life.'
-Cold Comfort Farm

That pretty much sums it up for me: my philosophy of aesthetics in general and of crafting in particular.

Last weekend we made our second annual trip to the Renegade Craft Fair in Williamsburg.

Something's Hiding in Here

As my generation has continued to embrace the handmade arts, I have noticed a trend toward taking perfectly simple articles such as t-shirts and tote bags and stamping on them pictures of birds and bicycles and the like. While this is a great way to recycle old or salvaged stuff, it seems to me beside the point of crafting to buy a bunch of Am App tees and embellish them.

Like Flora, I admire a flourish achieved with an economy of means, not with a tacking-on of frippery.

Up in the Air Somewhere

Something's Hiding in Here

Heart Pump Arts

I made out with the above print for $5 (discounted as part of a very slightly distorted batch) by Justin Durand and visited jezebel, where I bought wonderful thank-you cards last year (below) and whose magical blog I just discovered.

jezebel

We followed the fair with 2-for-1 beers, which we were able for some reason to drink on the sidewalk (it's like the Old West up there; those people are lawless),

then terrible cocktails at an adorable bistro with a roof, then cheap Mexican food on Bedford. Most agreeable.

Color Story: yellow, grey & black

2009-05-18T17:11:00.000-04:00

Prima Verde

2009-05-12T19:23:00.000-04:00

Just weeks ago, the above little babies were all I had to show for all my prophesying of the return to the Victory Garden (more on that later). The peet pots for herbs were cute and uniform and rustic-looking, but also seeped moisture out on every side. So I returned from out of town for a few days to find that while the other party’s tomato seedlings were doing just dandy, my herbs looked pretty sad.

This formerly teeny arugula and mesclun mix, however, had blossomed. Yesterday I finally dared to pick, along with the abundant and flowering chives and even a couple varieties of mint.

First Spring Garden Salad

1 Bulging Handful Arugula, Mesclun, Chives, Mint and Chocolate Mint from garden

1/2 Red Bartlett Pear, sliced

1 tbsp. Creamy Goat Cheese

1 Smattering Pumpkin Seeds

3 Squares Green & Blacks Mayan Gold Dark Chocolate, coarsely chopped

Simple Balsamic vinaigrette

Looks like I’m not the only one making these funny combinations.

P.S. I have since applied the same plant-straight-in-the-pot-outside technique that worked for the greens to my other little herbies. It is now warm enough, and a certain tough-plant-love advocate I know thinks maybe this treatment will engender stronger, braver, and more resiliently delicious herbs & veg. Or perhaps he is just invoking a Darwinian approach to cover for not watering my herbs while I was gone for the weekend. We’ll see how this goes.

One thing I know: we’re gonna need lots more pots for lettuce.

plus ça change

2009-05-10T16:26:00.000-04:00

This is, perhaps, supposed to be a blog about finding order, beauty and purpose in the quotidian. It may, therefore, seem strange to begin with a trip that took me away from my everyday state. However, I gratified to find as I look back on my images of this trip that I have made some happy sense of a loaded visit.

This was the first time visiting my family in Maine when I have split my time between two houses. I worried I would find that the physical world of my childhood had begun to unravel. As it turns out, the shifting around of familiar objects did not reveal as illusory the comfort I took in them.

Things change. This fact is disturbing. But more and more (and more disturbing), they keep staying the same.