Monday, October 16, 2006
High on my list of things I’ve always wanted to do but finances, scheduling or partner interest always got in the way was going to some small town for a rustic fall weekend, even though it risked cementing my unconditionally yuppie status. I mentioned this to my delightful husband a month ago, in a “maybe we could pull it off this year” kind of way and a day later, he had the whole thing booked. Cue: swoon.
And a leaf-peeping — in a borrowed Jetta, no less — we went! Alex and I headed up to Hadley, New York on Friday evening, to stay at an adorable 1885 mansion converted into a yellow, orange and aqua-exterior and rose-filled interior B&B in the early 80s. It’s now owned by a gay couple, formerly of the Upper West Side, one who cooks and paints awesome Hopper-like light-shaped oils and the other who keeps the place up. Needless to say, I immediately decided I wanted a B&B, if only so I could get up early and bake everyone scones and just-picked apple compotes.
Continued after the jump »
Wednesday, October 4, 2006
A firm believer in balance, or some fumbling approximation of it, if I tell you about the bewildered, exhausted and terrifying, it is only fair that I tell you that today — a day I was certain was Monday the whole day long (as in, “hey, why is the Times updating their food section a day early?”) — was a knock-it-out-of-the-park great day. Sparing you all the driveling details, suffice it to say there has been a raise, bragging rights and even the ability to make someone else’s day. I took this string of greatness to the store (not jeans, or course, I know better than to rub my luck in the face of the narrow-hipped crowd) where I found a sweater I suspect I love enough to wear it until it’s threadbare and a pair of heels that (crosses fingers that they will continue to) almost feel comfortable.
Although I initially eschewed our first taste of it in August, I am unbelievably excited that fall is here, especially now that September and October have been so very kind to let us hang onto an open-toed cardigan-ed existence for all of these bonus weeks. Guilty as charged, I’ve been busy cooking and eating things I haven’t photographed, and I’m here now to confess my food blogging sin so we can all move on to the things I wasn’t so remiss about.
Last Thursday night, in celebration of the arrival of two of the most fiercely sharp and stunning knives from two of the most fiercely sharp and stunning friends, I made Molly’s version of one of my favorite dishes, the mighty onion tart. The last time I made an onion tart, that time a la Julia Child, I diced in some bacon and gruyere, but this time there was none of that and I loved it more. Some people enjoy finding extra flavors to tuck into dishes; I get excited when I find out they taste just as good with less. The only thing I altered was that I added a pinch of cayenne, not enough to make you grimace but enough to occasionally prod you awake from your sweet, buttery coma. Being awake is important when your dinner tastes this good and there are crumbs, delicate crumbs!, that need attending to.
Continued after the jump »