Each morning when I get to work, I read through my emails and listen to my voicemails. And then I settle in for my favorite part--reading the latest entry by Clotilde on her magnificent blog, Chocolate & Zucchini. If you have not yet had the pleasure of her acquaintance, please, please make yourself a cup of tea and then settle in with her wonderful writings and recipes.
www.chocolateandzucchini.com
It will make your day a thousand times better. That is, unless she doesn't write that day, in which I sit at my desk and try to figure out just what to do with myself...
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Thursday, December 02, 2004
My New Friend
My parents are throwing a cocktail-appetizer party for some of their friends in a few weeks and this morning my mom made the fatal mistake of asking if I could give her some ideas. As usual, the question immediately consumed me entirely and I began comparing ideas with the little chefs-hat clad angel (devil?) sitting on my shoulder. The tricky part would be to come up with a menu that could be prepared ahead of time as my parents are that sort of people who never stop moving. Perhaps tapas and a sangria bar, or asian-mediterranean and a tea station, or a funky Old World menu with homemade eggnog and wasail…
I suddenly realized my little friend jumping up and down on my shoulder, waiving his hat like a madman. He had been screaming at me for some time now and was getting quite hoarse.
“....”
“What?”
“Tuscany!”
“WHAT?”
“TUS…CAN…EEEE!”
he yelled in his loudest, most exasperated, voice.
Ooooooh, what an interesting idea! A trattoria-themed menu with Tuscan-inspired decorations. I was listening now. Mom could decorate her house--and tree!-- in those wonderfully warm mustard yellows, sage greens, and terracotta reds.
Her menu would be delectably simple:
-an assortment of nuts, olives and cheeses
-stuffed mushrooms
-grapes coated in blue cheese and walnuts
-turkey meatballs
-prosciutto chips with fried artichoke (much easier than they sound)
-and a bruschetta station consisting of little toasts and various toppings: tomato bruschetta, pesto spread, artichoke bruschetta, etc.
And everything could be prepared in advance and simply assembled the day of! But the grand finale was yet to come—the gifts for their guests. Little bottles filled with the most delicious olive oil, and decorated with a handmade label. It was simple, buy a large bottle of good olive oil at the shop in the mall, several small bottles with lids, and basic Avery sticker paper at the office supply store. Eccola: a small taste of Tuscany for each guest to take home. Che bella.
I kissed my darling little friend--now slumped on my shoulder trying to catch his breath--and thanked him for his ingenious idea. Angel or devil, he had just become my new best friend.
I suddenly realized my little friend jumping up and down on my shoulder, waiving his hat like a madman. He had been screaming at me for some time now and was getting quite hoarse.
“....”
“What?”
“Tuscany!”
“WHAT?”
“TUS…CAN…EEEE!”
he yelled in his loudest, most exasperated, voice.
Ooooooh, what an interesting idea! A trattoria-themed menu with Tuscan-inspired decorations. I was listening now. Mom could decorate her house--and tree!-- in those wonderfully warm mustard yellows, sage greens, and terracotta reds.
Her menu would be delectably simple:
-an assortment of nuts, olives and cheeses
-stuffed mushrooms
-grapes coated in blue cheese and walnuts
-turkey meatballs
-prosciutto chips with fried artichoke (much easier than they sound)
-and a bruschetta station consisting of little toasts and various toppings: tomato bruschetta, pesto spread, artichoke bruschetta, etc.
And everything could be prepared in advance and simply assembled the day of! But the grand finale was yet to come—the gifts for their guests. Little bottles filled with the most delicious olive oil, and decorated with a handmade label. It was simple, buy a large bottle of good olive oil at the shop in the mall, several small bottles with lids, and basic Avery sticker paper at the office supply store. Eccola: a small taste of Tuscany for each guest to take home. Che bella.
I kissed my darling little friend--now slumped on my shoulder trying to catch his breath--and thanked him for his ingenious idea. Angel or devil, he had just become my new best friend.
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
Tuesday Night Dinner
Last night was my night to make dinner for our Tuesday Night Dinner Club (TND). I was feeling the need for comfort foods, seeing as it was 26 degrees outside when I left for work yesterday morning, and soup sounded like it would hit the spot. At first I thought I would make my favorite creamy tomato soup, but, seeing as it was TND and I had a captive audience, I decided to try something new. French Onion Soup. My level of intimidation was immeasurable.
My only experiences with French Onion Soup were at the Frederick & Nelson's restaurant, while Christmas shopping with my mom and grandma as a child. I had never considered it something that I could make. The wonderfully soggy bread that you can tell was once toasted and crusty, the browned bubbly cheese dribbling down the side of the bowl, the delicious broth beneath and throughout it all. My mouth began to water as I considered my cooking ability. Could I really attempt this one?
The answer was, of course, yes. You see, TND is comprised of my closest friends who also love to try new things. They are not only willing to accept my adventures in cooking and try the dishes I so proudly (and often hesistantly) present to them, but they applaud my successes and laugh with me at my failed attempts. After reaffirming myself of the above claim, I came to my conclusion that I had to make French Onion Soup.
I was delighted to discover how simple this intimidating dish was to make. Time consuming, yes, but, as with most great dishes, very little skill required. The primary skill I lacked was the ability to keep from crying while julienning the 3 pounds of onions for the soup. I was glad to be home listening to Van Morrison--alone.
Following the incredibly tasty French Onion Soup, I thought it might be fun to make gingerbread houses instead of dessert. Well, instead ended up being a relative term...many more candies made their way into our stomachs than onto our houses. In the end we had a great village of dilapidated gingerbread homes, complete with tootsie-roll dogs in the yards.
Give the soup a try, you will be pleasantly surprised how simple it is...
French Onion Soup
1 T vegetable oil
3 lb yellow onions, sliced
1/2 c whiskey
2 qt beef stock
1 qt chicken stock
1/2 lemon, juiced
salt
pepper
1/2 t Worcestershire Sauce
1-2 loaves french bread, sliced
3 C gruyere cheese, grated
Heat oil in a large pot over medium-high heat. Add half of onions, cook until golden brown, stirring occasionally (about 15 minutes). Add remaining onions and cook, stirring occasionally, until carmelized (dark brown and very fragrant), about 45 minutes. Add whiskey and stir until evaporated. Reduce heat to low, add remaining 6 ingredients (not bread and cheese), and simmer until it thickens and becomes fragrant, 1-2 hours.
Preheat broiler. Pour soup into individual bowls and top with 1-2 slices bread and a generous handful of cheese. Place under broiler until cheese is bubbly and beginning to brown (about 1 minute). Serve and enjoy!
My only experiences with French Onion Soup were at the Frederick & Nelson's restaurant, while Christmas shopping with my mom and grandma as a child. I had never considered it something that I could make. The wonderfully soggy bread that you can tell was once toasted and crusty, the browned bubbly cheese dribbling down the side of the bowl, the delicious broth beneath and throughout it all. My mouth began to water as I considered my cooking ability. Could I really attempt this one?
The answer was, of course, yes. You see, TND is comprised of my closest friends who also love to try new things. They are not only willing to accept my adventures in cooking and try the dishes I so proudly (and often hesistantly) present to them, but they applaud my successes and laugh with me at my failed attempts. After reaffirming myself of the above claim, I came to my conclusion that I had to make French Onion Soup.
I was delighted to discover how simple this intimidating dish was to make. Time consuming, yes, but, as with most great dishes, very little skill required. The primary skill I lacked was the ability to keep from crying while julienning the 3 pounds of onions for the soup. I was glad to be home listening to Van Morrison--alone.
Following the incredibly tasty French Onion Soup, I thought it might be fun to make gingerbread houses instead of dessert. Well, instead ended up being a relative term...many more candies made their way into our stomachs than onto our houses. In the end we had a great village of dilapidated gingerbread homes, complete with tootsie-roll dogs in the yards.
Give the soup a try, you will be pleasantly surprised how simple it is...
French Onion Soup
1 T vegetable oil
3 lb yellow onions, sliced
1/2 c whiskey
2 qt beef stock
1 qt chicken stock
1/2 lemon, juiced
salt
pepper
1/2 t Worcestershire Sauce
1-2 loaves french bread, sliced
3 C gruyere cheese, grated
Heat oil in a large pot over medium-high heat. Add half of onions, cook until golden brown, stirring occasionally (about 15 minutes). Add remaining onions and cook, stirring occasionally, until carmelized (dark brown and very fragrant), about 45 minutes. Add whiskey and stir until evaporated. Reduce heat to low, add remaining 6 ingredients (not bread and cheese), and simmer until it thickens and becomes fragrant, 1-2 hours.
Preheat broiler. Pour soup into individual bowls and top with 1-2 slices bread and a generous handful of cheese. Place under broiler until cheese is bubbly and beginning to brown (about 1 minute). Serve and enjoy!
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