November, 2006 Archive

Thursday, November 30, 2006

where the magic happens

food blogger's nablopomo day 30

In honor of the thirtieth and final day of NaBloPoMo, I dialed up something a little extra-special for you. What, don’t I deserve a break?

Yet, I’ve made it to the finish line and even enjoyed it plus or minus a day or two, but I won’t tell you which ones. Furthermore, I’m exactly the sort of person who likes to pretend that she did this, you know, because she was going to do it anyway and not, perhaps, because she saw an exhausting and difficult challenge, thus I technically started my daily posting a full two days early. God, I’m such a show-off, aren’t I? It also means that I’ve got something on tap for tomorrow and even… well, let’s only plan a day at a time, m’kay? [Did I say that? Just kidding!]

But, I won’t just leave you with just a picture of my dumplings (which were awesome) or my pad thai (which was less so); nope, I’m leaving you with some pictures of my filthy kitchen, with an attempt to class them up in black and white. I actually meant to do this earlier this month, but the level of scrub-down this kitchen will require before being publicly viewable by my obsessive standards really just made me want to take a nap. Today I’ve just given up and you’re going to see it in all of its grimy glory.

We start the tour with my OCD spice rack which, despite the fact that it causes verbalized concern over my mental stability from everyone who steps into the kitchen, I love more than I should. I adore having my spices readily accessible, and the tins protect them from both the bright sunlight and my cleaning wrath, as they all look so nice out there together. I promise, this is the end of the Martha Stewart part of the tour.

my ocd spice rack

Continued after the jump »

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

zucchini, ham and ricotta fritters

zucchini, ham and ricotta fritters

I am the last person on the internet to join the Cute Overload train; I mean, I get it, it’s cute. I love cute, you love cute, cute makes the birds sing and the sun shine and the world go round and tra-la-la. I get it. But man, oh man. Sometime in the last two weeks it hit me like a ten ton truck and people, the cute is killing me. I can’t breathe sometimes, the cute is so strong. I’m tag-surfing snorgle on Flickr, sputtering nonsensicals like “piggle snorgle tiny mouf action ohmy gah! Gah!” when Alex asks me how my day was. I want to take bites of the cute, but I know, I know I’d bite down too hard and take a piece out of the ear. When she added an “I shall leeck you” category it was about all the precious I could take and I had to let Alex in on the Overload, my new time-sucking Internet habit; Alex, who like any man with two eyes pulse, quickly found the Cats ‘n’ Racks and let’s just say, it is not just my redonk little habit anymore.

Speaking of redonk, in my predictable language-sponging manner, I’ve also picked up the slang, the cute-’bonics and it’s having a horrific effect on my ability to string sentences this week. Take our dinner tonight; it was just one of the best, most awesome, breathtakingly lovable weekday night dinners we’ve had in ages and I can just tell, these fritters are gonna be yr new BFF, too!!!1! Do you see? Do you see how that sentence just fell from grace when my enthusiasm kicked in? Let’s hope this passes real soon.

Continued after the jump »

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

salted chocolate caramels

salted chocolate caramels

I am not a candy maker. Heck, I’m barely a candy eater. Stop laughing; what I mean is, I prefer truffles, buttery cookies and crumbly, fruity things. But for some reason this season, perhaps another foppish attempt at service journalism, I seem to have gotten myself fixated on candy-making. It makes little sense considering the innumerable fantastic confectioneries in this city, but I think that at least part of the appeal is the long shelf life of cooked sugar. I like the idea of that you can give these to someone over the holidays and, if kept properly, they should last through January. Of course, not if you’ve made them well.

This month’s Gourmet magazine’s recipe for Salted Chocolate Caramels did nothing to curb this desire. Alex and I fell head-over-heels in love with salted butter caramel when we went to Paris last spring and friend had told us to go to the Berhtillon glacier (ice cream shop) on Ile Saint-Louis for the express purpose of trying their marron glacee ice cream sold only in only the winter months. Quite shortly, we were informed that they were out of the marron, but I had barely any time to mourn it when the salted butter caramel ice cream caught my eye. Alex and I shared the most miniscule scoop of the most abundantly complex flavor ever to cross our apparently deprived palates; not salty per se, but bright enough to hit all the notes.

the infamous berthillon

Continued after the jump »

Monday, November 27, 2006

potato salad with sherry mustard vinaigrette

potato salad with sherry mustard vinaigrette

1. Unrelated, off-topic and out-of-context, but when Alex and I came home (I was going to say stumbled up the stairs but it seems that joke isn’t funny — yet.) from our liver-pickling party on Saturday night, we found the most wonderful news in the mail, which is that we will be able to stay in our apartment another year. In fact, they’re barely raising our rent at all. Excuse me while I kiss the skylight. I’m sure most of you don’t know why it should be a Chrismukkah miracle that the hyper-trendification of west Chelsea over the last two years hasn’t priced us out to Ronkonkoma — yet — but considering the low-down, scummy process we were forced to wade through to get this place at all, I think I’ve lived in a fairly rightly-placed fear our time in this sunny apartment with the sunset view would be cut short. Just think: a whole ‘nother year for me to master those stairs. Eh. Also, my comedic timing.

2. More good things: Havalina on my iPod as I walked through Madison Square Park this afternoon. An attempt to return to the gym for the longest and most torturous 10 minutes on the recumbent bike, ever, only to realize that I had completely misread it and been on for 33, ohthankyoulawd. Picking up the delightful Donna Hay magazine for the very first time. A range of motion so rapidly improving I actually got my hair into a half-assed ponytail for the first time today. Consoling the sore shoulder that ensued, as well as falling prey to the Cyber Monday demons with some on-sale cashmere accessories. Finding a bundle of dried lanterns for less than $20 on the way home.

hee hee, fingerlings

Continued after the jump »

Sunday, November 26, 2006

fettucine with porcini

fettuccine with porcini

I spent a good chunk of this morning, nay, afternoon supine on the sofa moaning. Noooo, baaaad. Really, how did I not see this coming? Pink champagne. Two old-fashioneds. Baileys. Wine. Margaritas. Champagne again. Mmmmmeeeeehhhhh. Uch, remember when four or five glasses of water, some greasy eggs and potatoes and two aspirin did the trick? I’m soooooo oooooold. Alex turned on my Stories for me, that would be the hour of the Barefoot Contessa and Michael Chiarello during which I shall not be disturbed or else don’t complain about what happens when your Giants game is on. Nothing worked. Whhhyyyy meeee.

Eventually, this badly lit and shaky camera-ed new vision of the left side of Nigella Lawson’s face appeared on screen (no really, does anyone else feel utterly claustrophobic watching her new show?), the last thing I needed in my surely vertigoed state but there she was all ochre-lit with her smashing peas, golden olive oil drops from a kettle, scraped tins, lusty eggs, cooking for two although she has no intentions of sharing and insisting you eat certain dishes right there, from the pot, over the stove and I had this vision of cubes of crisped bacon and whisked eggs tangled up and knotted around steaming pasta then showered with parmesan and grindings of black pepper and I knew, I finally knew what could pry me off that sofa.

fettucine with porcini

Continued after the jump »


css.php