BBM3 and a dangerous discovery

As I rounded the corner to my apartment the other evening, my eyes fell on something on the ground at the end of the hallway. A box on my doorstep! The 6-year-old girl inside me urged me to drop the groceries and run to see what this box could be. As the distance between my precious package and I grew shorter, I realized that the box was addressed to Chef Kristy. Could it really be? Oh horray! It was my BBM3 box!

My tastebuds grumbled impatiently as I struggled to find the right key amidst my armfulls of grocery bags. I struggled to get the groceries through the door while gently urging the box through the doorway with my toe. Marshall apparently knew the box's contents, as he immediately pounced on the box and attempted to slyly nudge it into his crate.

After much scolding and a few relieved breaths, I retrieved the box and sat down to open it. According to the return label, the box had traveled to me all the way from Baton Rouge, Louisiana. An envelope taped to the front contained a wonderful letter and pictures from the Culinary Bookworm of Weekly Dish--including pictures of her two cats, Chester and Carmela and her asparagus-green kitchen. She even noted that she uses wine corks as hooks to hang dishtowels and her apron on. I have to admit that before I delved any further into the box, I went in search of an old wine cork and began measuring screws to try to figure out how she did that. I still have no clue. Perhaps someone can advise?

The first package I opened was wrapped in newspaper and tied with a bow. The newspaper gave way to a layer of wax paper and finally to a layer of snowflake-shaped cookies; the recipe attached called them "Spicy Sweet Potato Cookies". I couldn't resist the urge to bite off one of the spokes. They were in fact wonderfully spicy, with a hint of orange playing against the sweet potato backdrop. The crystallized sugar from the glaze gave the slightest crunch which led to a dense, almost chewy cookie. I ate my way around the cookie, spoke by spoke, savoring each bite. The irony of the warm, spicy flavor hidden beneath the icy glaze and snowflake shape contributed to the depth of this incredibly intricate cookie. Who knew what fun can be had with sweet potatoes and snowflake-shaped cookies?!

The second package was wrapped in foil with a recipe card tied to it reading "Christmas Cracker Candy". My interest was peaked. I read the ingredients: saltine crackers, butter, sugar, chocolate. I opened the package slowly, not sure quite what to expect. Inside the package of foil and wax paper lay several (ok, tons) chunks of chocolate with, sure enough, saltine crackers and homemade caramel. I took a bit of one of the pieces and just about fell over. The perfect blend of salty and sweet, I can see what the Culinary Bookworm takes this recipe to parties! Even the toughest skeptic has been blown away so far.

The box also contained such wonders as homemade salsa (which unfortunately did not survive the trip as well as everything else. But it sure smelled incredible!), a bag of River Road coffee from Baton Rouge, Beignet Mix and a recipe for her mom's Spiced Tea.

Thank you so much, Culinary Bookworm, the treats are (errr, were) absolutely divine. I have already bought the ingredients to make both the Spiced Sweet Potato Cookies and the Christmas Cracker Candy for co-workers for Christmas. They are certainly unlike anything we have in LA. They are a dangerous discovery that I know I will turn to time and again.

Our First Thanksgiving

It is a momentous occasion when a person accepts the challenge to host his or her first homemade Thanksgiving dinner. If you were to observe four friends making the attempt together, you would soon find four otherwise-competent young professionals on their cell phones with their mothers desperately seeking answers to such questions as "What does it mean to 'lace a turkey'?" and "Is a meat thermometer really necessary?" or "Can you please come over and show me how to carve a turkey??".

Matt and I did not plan on having a Thanksgiving this year, as we could not afford the $500 plane tickets to Seattle, and all of our friends had other plans. We were content making reservations at some quaint restaurant and enjoying a nice, quiet evening out. Somehow everything changed at noon on Thanksgiving day when both Matt and I realized how jealous we were of all the people who would soon be sitting down to a full turkey dinner. And even moreso, we were jealous of all of those turkey leftovers.

And in the perfect example of how desperate food cravings call for desperate measures, I found myself standing next to Matt at the Ralph's deli. My mouth was moving and apparently words were coming out as the lady behind the counter seemed to understand whatever language I was speaking. But I claim no ownership of the words that were coming out of my mouth.

"Excuse me, but do you--by any small chance--have any pre-made Thanksgiving dinners left?"

In disbelief, I stared at the large cardboard box labeled "Holiday Home Homestyle Meal" in Matt's hands.

It was the last packaged turkey dinner in the store. I couldn't help but laugh. This experience went against everything I believe in and everything I try to stand for. Thanksgiving in a box.

A whole, fully-cooked turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce and yams.

We got our box home, unpacked all of the various-shaped cartons and preheated the oven. Matt had to learn to carve a turkey and I worked to make the meal seem more homemade. I added spices, put everything in nice dishes and made absolutely nothing from scratch. Two hours later we sat down to a large and entirely home-heated Thanksgiving dinner.

Can it compare to my mom's and grandma's turkey dinners? Absolutely not. Will it work in a bind when cravings sneak up on you? Ok, I'll admit it. Yeah. It will. I have to say, it tasted good. In the college-student-anything-not-from-the-caf-tastes-incredible sort of way.

As Matt said, "Baby steps. Maybe next year we'll actually make our own dinner from scratch. At least we know how to carve a turkey now!" I guess this is what happens when you marry a boy whose favorite dinner is Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.

Not all addictions are bad...

There are certain habits and addictions in my life that I am not proud of. When I was little, I picked my nose. I still struggle to not bite my nails. In recent years, I have had a serious obsession with watching HGTV home improvement and design shows.

In the coffeeroom at work, I would try to sidestep questions regarding my plans for that evening or weekend. If unsuccessful, I would ho-hum about playing with Marsh and desperately try to change the subject.

This all changed last summer when, after an evening of non-stop HGTV programming, a brilliant idea flashed before me. I was sitting on the couch, gazing at our stark white walls and trying to figure out what we could do to make the place feel like home. I saw such potential in the room, but could not get past the binds of our rental agreement. And then...why not embrace the benefits of living in Los Angeles and apply for someone else to do the work?!

A few Google searches later and I found myself vigorously typing my answers on a Design on a Dime application. I was in full Sales-Kristy form.

Being the apparent persuader that I am, we were interviewed, taped, and finally chosen to be on the show! Dates for filming were set and now all we had to do was wait. For 4 months. I spent many evenings staring at the walls and wondering what they would do with our place. And suddenly the date arrived and we were standing outside our apartment, handing our keys over to the producer--bags in hand and Marsh on leash. As we walked away, feeling strangely of being evicted, reality began to sink in. We just handed our apartment over to complete strangers. That night I dreampt that they painted our place bright, sunshine yellow and over that had painted the city of Florence in metallic gold paint.

That next morning, as we waited in the hallway outside our apartment, my brain replayed the images from my dream over and over. I wasn't nervous, I was just quietly sitting there, half-expecting to be disappointed. The reveal of our living room was incredible. It was all more than we had ever imagined--and no gold paint, nonetheless!

I guess that not all addictions are bad...

Pumpkin carving and spiced apple cider

Sitting on a cold cement floor, old newspapers strewn everywhere, cheap plastic orange knife in hand, I found myself laughing harder than I have in a long time. I was in Adrian's garage, surrounded by old friends, and pulling cold pumpkin guts out of my tiny pumpkin.

Last Tuesday night, Adrian hosted a pumpkin-carving party. She filled her apartment with delicious fall appetizers, steaming mugs of hot spiced mulled wine and spicy apple cider, and pumpkin cheesecake bars. It was a perfect, cold October night. We ate, drank, and finally set our newly carved friends on the sidewalk. A line of glowing faces looked back at us; some scary, some funny, and some delightfully cute.

It was a night that will not soon be forgotten.

Spiced Apple Cider
My own recipe. Actually, it's more of a list of ingredients than a recipe, and even then it's flexible. Use what you have on hand.

1 qt. apple juice
4-6 cinnamon sticks
8-10 whole cloves
1/2 orange, sliced

Place everything in a large pot over medium-high heat. When mixture comes to a boil, cover and reduce heat to low. Simmer 8-10 minutes. Serve steaming hot with a cinnamon stick in each mug.

Thai Red Curry Fish

It is still raining here. In fact, I walked to work this morning in the rain. I tried to count the number of incredulous looks I received from drivers-by as I happily tromped through the puddles in my tall boots, but they were too frequent to count. Splish-splosh, splish-splosh, I received another bewildered look.

I continued through the light rain, mulling over ideas of what to make for dinner. Rainy days add two criteria to the dinner planning ritual: it must be cooked in a pot on the stove, and it must be served steaming hot. Hmmm, maybe soup? Or something served over rice? And then there lay the answer: Thai Red Curry Fish. I'd been eyeing the recipe on epicurious for some time, and had almost all of the ingredients on hand.

I was completely surprised by how well this dish turned out. I purchased inexpensive Dover Sole filets (admittedly frozen from Trader Joe's...) and dinner was ready in less than 20 minutes. The light flavor of the fish perfectly balances the spicy curry and I found myself preferring the tender texture of the fish over my usual preference of chicken. Served over a bed of Jasmine or Basmati rice, this recipe is perfect for a quick, weeknight meal, or an elegant and simple dinner for entertaining.

Thai Red Curry Fish
(adapted from epicurious.com)

1/3 cup finely chopped onion
2 T fresh cilantro stems, minced
2 T lemongrass (from bottom 6 inches of stalk), minced
1 T turmeric
1 T fresh ginger, minced
1 T ground cumin
3 large garlic cloves, halved
3/4 t dried crushed red pepper
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
3/4 pound white fish fillets, cut into 3-inch pieces
2 T fish sauce
1 cup canned unsweetened coconut milk
Fresh cilantro, minced

Blend first 8 ingredients in a food processor to dry paste, stopping often to scrape down sides of bowl.

Heat oil in medium skillet over medium-high heat. Add 2 rounded tablespoons spice paste; stir 1 minute. Add fish and cook 2 minutes, turning once with tongs. Add coconut milk and fish sauce and simmer until fish is cooked through, turning occasionally, about 4 minutes. Transfer fish to plate.

Boil liquid until it reduces to a thick sauce. Season with salt. Return fish to sauce and heat through. Serve over rice and sprinkle with cilantro.

Hot Chocolate for a Rainy Day

I have dreampt about Seattle for the past two nights. In my dreams I find myself walking up steep hills in the dark to reach my favorite coffee shop and bakery, playing soccer in the pouring rain, and just wandering the streets of Seattle--which seemed to have merged with the streets of Florence to form one perfect city--for hours on end. I have not slept well, but I don't notice.

I woke up several times last night and finally this morning to the sound of cars splashing through puddles, huge claps of thunder, and raindrops hitting our windows. No wonder I was dreaming about Seattle. As I sit looking out the window at the gray clouds, the foggy mist of rain, and the wet streets below, I desperately miss the dark, rainy, cold days of Fall back home.

Last night Matt made a fire in our fireplace for the first time and my discontented dreams were temporarily silenced. I know of few things greater than a fire in the fireplace on a dark rainy day, coupled with a large mug of my favorite hot chocolate. Thick, hot and creamy, this is the real thing. The coffee liqueur brings out the depth of the chocolate while the cinnamon and chili powder provide an intricately woven backdrop. The method of heating and whisking it repeatedly gives the hot chocolate a rich, frothy texture. Really, life does not get much better than this.

Hot Chocolate for a Rainy Day

2 C milk
1 vanilla bean
1 stick cinnamon
2 T. coffee liqueur
Pinch salt
4 ounces best-quality bittersweet chocolate, grated
Pinch of chili powder, to taste

Pour milk into a large saucepan over low heat. Split the vanilla bean, scrape its contents into the milk, and add entire bean. Add remaining ingredients, stirring until chocolate is melted. Stirring continuously, increase heat to medium/medium-high and bring to just a boil. Remove from heat, discard vanilla bean and cinnamon stick, and whisk until frothy. Return to heat and bring to just a boil again. Again, remove from heat and whisk until frothy. Repeat heating and whisking one final time.

Serves 2.

You can also add several strips of fresh orange peel (only the orange part, the white part is very bitter) during the first step and remove before whisking.

The fight for eternal summer and my favorite tomato soup

Oh Los Angeles, you fight it so hard. October arrives as the days drop below 70 degrees, and your fight for eternal summer begins as you desperately bring back days hotter than Summer knew. But I know your secret. I know Autumn is hiding under your skirt of smog, only temporarily held at bay by your best Santa Ana winds.

The crisp days will arrive soon, and wool pants, red suede skirts, and umbrellas will be fashionable once again. Soup is no longer served chilled, but rather guests are greeted by steaming pots of mulled wine and hot pumpkin soup. Trick-or-treaters appear weeks before Halloween as anxious children find excuses to don their alternate personas.

Oh Los Angeles, I know you are trying your best, but Autumn is inevitable. Try a bowl of this soup, you will feel better, and perhaps you might even see the beauty in the dancing rain drops forming streams down your windows.

My Favorite Tomato Soup

I must have Seattle rain in my blood, for nothing makes me more elated than the arrival of the dreary days of Fall. I simply adore the feeling of waking up to clouds looming overhead, the air heavy with the threat of rain. It is these days in which I bounce out of bed, sing to myself in the shower, and smile at my grumpy co-workers in the office.

I have found it quite helpful to bring an extra supply of this soup to work, as almost all of my co-workers need cheering-up, and this soup always does the trick.

4 C. tomato sauce
1/2 t. baking soda
1 T. olive oil
1 yellow onion, chopped
1 large baking potato, baked and peeled
2 C. half-and-half
2 T. freshly grated Parmesan
1/2 C. chicken stock
Creme fraiche or sour cream (optional)

In a large bowl, stir together tomato sauce and baking soda. Set aside.

Heat a skillet over medium heat. Add oil and onion and saute until onion is tender and translucent. Drain. Place onion and potato in a food processor or blender and puree until smooth.

Over medium-high heat, combine tomato mixture and half-and-half in a large saucepan and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer for 10-15 minutes. Add potato-onion mixture and cook, stirring occasionally, until thick and smooth. Add cheese and stock and simmer for 5-10 minutes more.

Top with a dollop of creme fraiche or sour cream before serving.

Serves 4.

Uncle Ralph's Special

Monday was Matt’s 25th birthday. How time is flying by.

It all started with a 17-year-old whose greatest cares were Bellevue High football games, snowboarding, homework, and curfews. Now married, with a [rather large] dog, an interesting job, a fantastic apartment in LA, and surrounded by the best of friends, I am incredulous at how fast it has gone.

We debated what to do and where to go for his birthday, and I couldn’t help but smile when Matt suggested staying home and making Uncle Ralph’s Special. I love that when Matt mentioned this dish, I thought of summery days full of croquet, crab feeds and people who would years later become family.

Uncle Ralph is Matt’s 80-something great-uncle: a man who spends those summery family-reunion days in a rocking chair on the round covered porch, knitting and talking fashion with the ladies. He is perhaps the most popular member at the annual family reunions, and definitely one of the best cooks.

During Matt’s childhood, this dinner was a special occasion. A dinner for Matt and his mom while his dad was away. Ironic, since this dinner originates out of the Depression as an inexpensive and filling meal. Matt’s rendition of Uncle Ralph’s Special contains significantly more bacon than the original—but what favorite of Matt’s ever contains less than double the recommended amount of meat?

Tanti auguri, darling.

Uncle Ralph’s Special
(with Matt's updates)

1 lb. small shell pasta
2 cans Cambell's tomato soup
1/2 pound bacon, roughly diced
1 onion (yellow or sweet), diced

Bring a large pot of water to a rolling boil. Add pasta, cook according to package directions.

While the pasta cooks, cook the bacon over medium-high heat for 2-3 minutes. Add the onions. Cook until the bacon is crispy and the onions are tender. Drain and discard the grease.

Drain the pasta -- do not rinse. In a large bowl, combine the pasta, tomato soup and bacon mixture. Stir until combined. Serve hot.

Serves 1-4, depending on if Matt is at your table or not.

On comfort food and Sloppy Joes

Whether for comfort in hard times or for reflection during the great times, sometimes we all need a reminder of times past. It is believed that the sense of smell is most closely linked to memory, which I believe is why certain foods become “comfort foods”. The smell of the food directly links the participant to a memory involving that meal.

For myself, comfort foods range anywhere from my dad’s Famous French Toast, to Stouffer’s Macaroni and Cheese dipped in applesauce, to hot spiced cider; each food evoking a series of different memories. Recently my cravings have been leaning towards those dishes that my mom would prepare on weeknights, with Sloppy Joes leading the way.

I have tried to figure out which memory(ies) are tied to Sloppy Joes, but have met little success. The only thing that comes to mind is sitting at our kitchen table, kicking my little legs that never would reach the ground, and happily smacking my lips as I devoured my plateful of messy goodness. I tend to have a photogenic memory, with only snapshots of past events. To remember the happy feeling of sitting with my family and just enjoying dinner is very comforting.

And so it came about that I found myself in the kitchen last night, preparing seven platefuls of Sloppy Joes for my dear friends of TND. They turned out delicious, sweet and tangy, and messy as ever. Paired with potato salad, a simple salad of greens, gourmet beer (honestly) and for dessert, warm brownies topped with vanilla ice cream, the dinner was more gourmet than I anticipated. And it certainly gave me new memories to associate with Sloppy Joes.

Enjoy.

Sloppy Joes
(adapted from Rachel Ray’s 30-Minute Meals)

1 T extra-virgin olive oil
1 1/4 lb ground beef sirloin
1/4 C brown sugar
1 T steak seasoning blend
1 medium onion, chopped
1 small red bell pepper, chopped
1 T red wine vinegar
1 T Worcestershire sauce
2 C tomato sauce
2 T tomato paste
4 large soft rolls, split and toasted

Heat a large skillet over medium high heat. Add oil and meat to the pan. In a separate bowl, combine brown sugar and steak seasoning. Using a wooden spoon, break up the meat and add sugar-spice mixture to the meat. When the meat has browned, add onion and red peppers to the skillet. Reduce heat to medium, add the red wine vinegar and Worcestershire sauce and cook for 5 minutes. Add tomato sauce and paste to pan, stirring to combine. Reduce heat to simmer and cook Sloppy Joe mixture 5 minutes longer.

Place each toasted bun bottom on its own plate and top with a large spoonful of Sloppy Joe mixture. Top with the toasted bun top and serve warm.

Yield: 4 servings

Brownies a la Orangette

I took a personality-career matching test the other day to try and figure out what I should do with my life. After a series of about 75 questions, the results came back: "You are a Persuader". AHA! A Persuader! Of course! Of all the things I have always known about myself, the most obvious is my ability to persuade people to see my view of things as absolute truth. A very useful skill, yes, when used on other people; however it is often quite detrimental when used on myself. I can gracefully justify any decision to any direction and this often gets me into a fair bit of trouble.

Yesterday proved no different as I found myself persuading myself to turn to the dark side. Of chocolate, that is. With several chunks of best-quality chocolate complaining of neglect in my cupboard, making brownies became the obvious best-use of my day off. Forgetting about the cleaning, decorating, or getting that tan that I so desperately need, I threw myself into research mode to find the perfect brownie recipe. After only a few minutes I found it, a recipe for more fudge- than cake-like brownies posted by Orangette.

Seeing as Matt was not given the day off and would be returning home from an extremely long day only to turn around quickly and head off to the studio to record more of Black Molly's upcoming album, I had to get the brownies done. STAT.

The results of this persuasion were outstanding. I changed Orangette's recipe only slightly, as I had only dark chocolate and semi-sweet chocolate on hand, so I used less sugar to compensate. These were incredibly rich and oozing of fudgy deliciousness.

Perhaps I will become a persuasive baker.

Adapted Ever-So-Slightly From Orangette: The Archetypal Brownie
or, as the book calls them, Best-Ever Brownies
Adapted slightly from Baking with Julia; contributing baker: Rick Katz

1 1/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tsp salt
2 sticks (8 ounces) unsalted butter
4 ounces best-quality semi-sweet chocolate, coarsely chopped
2 ounces best-quality dark chocolate, coarsely chopped
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
4 large eggs

Center a rack in the oven, and preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

In a small bowl, whisk together the flour and salt; set aside.

Melt the butter and the chocolate together in a heat-proof bowl set over a saucepan of simmering water--make sure the bowl does not actually touch the water-- stirring frequently. When the chocolate and butter are both melted and smooth, add a 1/2 cup of the sugar to the mixture, and stir it for 30 seconds; then remove the mixture from the heat, and stir in the vanilla extract. Pour the mixture into a large bowl.

Put the remaining 1 cup sugar and the eggs into a medium bowl, and whisk by hand to combine. Little by little, pour half of the sugar and eggs into the chocolate mixture, stirring gently but constantly with a rubber spatula so that the eggs don’t scramble from the heat.

Beat the remaining sugar and eggs on medium speed until they are thick, pale, and doubled in volume, about 3 minutes. Using the rubber spatula, gently fold the whipped eggs and sugar into the chocolate mixture. When the eggs are almost completely incorporated, gently fold in the dry ingredients.

Pour and scrape the batter into an unbuttered 8-inch square pan (I’ve found a heavy nonstick metal brownie pan to be ideal, although the original recipe recommends ceramic or glass). Bake the brownies for 25-28 minutes, during which time they will rise a bit and the top will turn dry and a bit crackly. After 23 minutes, stick a knife or toothpick into the center to see how they are progressing. They should be just barely set—not too raw, but still fairly gooey (mine took 30 minutes and were still a bit undercooked). Cool the brownies in the pan on a rack. When they’re completely cool, cut them into rectangular bars to serve.

These brownies will keep, at room temperature or refrigerated, for 2-3 days. I like to reheat them and serve topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream or alongside a shot glass of milk (I find this the perfect ratio of amount of milk to brownie).

Blog Day 2005!

Happy Blog Day, everyone! As the number of new blogs continues to grow exponentially, I find it increasingly more difficult to stray from my tried-and-true favorites to discover new ones. I attribute this to the wonderful fact that people are writing about what interests them. And, as we all know, what interests one person does not necessarily interest the next. Ask my husband about cooking or food--the topics which get me out of bed each morning--and he'll give you an exasperated and bored look; a food blog could keep his attention no longer than a guitar blog could keep mine.

So a clever person came up with the idea of Blog Day in an effort to encourage people to share their favorite blogs and introduce their readers to sites they may never have known. For Blog Day, people are to list and link to five other blogs, from other countries or areas of interest. As other bloggers have done, I'm going to bend the rules to my own liking and list two categories of blogs: The Tuesday Night Dinner Club (TND), and My Favorite Reads.

Tuesday Night Dinner Club

A is A. A founding member of TND, Scott is known for his disdain towards recipes and love of improvisation. His writings showcase his intelligence and quirky sense of humor.

Hammy Blog. Also a founding member of TND, Jeff shares his thoughts on life and the often-hilarious mishaps that seem to plague him each day. His writings span from sharing news of a discount on rental cars to beautiful reflections on his recently-past grandpa.

Stirred. My old college roommate, member of TND, and event-planner extraordinaire, Adrian's blog is my own personal Style magazine. From advice on serving that one signature drink at parties, to recipes for delectable and simple oh-so-now casseroles, I look forward to Adrian's musings daily.

My Favorite Reads

deliciousdays. Co-written by a couple in Munich, gorgeous photographs accompany delightful entries about food, restaurants and cooking tools.

il cavoletto di bruxelles. Cenzina lives in Rome. Her entries are in Italian, and I use them practice my quickly-failing language skills and learn all-important cooking terms in Italian.

Fresh Approach. I first met Rachel when she taught a cooking class for TND. She lives in Hollywood and I love her creative spins on ordinary recipes.

Orangette. I know, I know, these are supposed to be newly discovered blogs and Orangette needs no introduction from me. But I can't help it. She's originally from Oklahoma and now lives in Seattle. I love her outsider's view of my beloved city, as she explores and tastes things I only can dream of now.

not martha. Megan also lives in Seattle (all the best do) and dedicates her site to how to make "stuff". Love the title, great photography, and fantastic instructions on how to make anything from a wig for Halloween to your own spa treatments to fantastic homemade gift ideas.

Marsh the Wonder Dog

I was sitting on the couch last night watching our 65 pound puppy throw his fuzzy pink sock around the living room, and the world was good. "A fuzzy pink sock?" you may ask. Yes, indeed, a fuzzy pink sock. His favorite toy since the hanger in the picture above. Oh the joy of an easy-to-please dog.

An empty (an all-too-often not-so-empty) water dish becomes a frisbee and a great noise-maker when flipped. A pink sock becomes some imaginary animal to kill. An empty soda or water bottle becomes [yet another] noise-maker and the type of elusive toy that Marsh thrives on. A hangar becomes a chew toy and puzzle all in one.

From the four-pound puppy pictured above, to the 65 pound furball that he has become, I am always amazed at how much joy that dog brings to life.

The best of friends and chocolate chip cookies

It has happened. I, the chatter-mouth herself, am at a loss for words. What words can provide comfort, encouragement, and assurance to your best friend when her long-time boyfriend has upped and moved across the country?

Do I tell her how incredibly proud of her I am? Proud that she has handled the situation with such grace and poise: constantly encouraging him to seek his life dreams, even while the inevitable loneliness lurks in their midst?

Do I tell her that everything will be okay? That these next two years will fly by and soon enough she will be packing up and joining him in Washington, DC and I’ll be the one here with red puffy eyes?

Why is it that when it comes to the people you love most and know best, you cannot figure out what to say? Perhaps it is because you feel their pain the greatest. It is not simply a scene which you are observing, but a reality that you see, hear, and feel each day. Her pain is, in a small way, my pain.

I have no idea what I will say to her, but I do know that I will be armed with chocolate. Lucky for me, I have my sister-in-law's recipe for the best chocolate chip cookies in the world. I have little doubt that the cookies, accompanied by a bottle of our favorite wine, will say more than my words possibly could:

That I am so very proud of her. That everything will be alright. That I am so incredibly thankful for the friendship we have and I will always be here.

Chocolate Chip Cookies
(from Leslie Kuest)

1 C. butter, at room temperature
1 C. sugar
1 C. brown sugar
2 eggs
1 t. vanilla
2 1/2 C. oatmeal, ground fine in the blender
2 C. flour
1 t. baking soda
1 t. baking powder
1/2 t. salt
6 oz. dark chocolate chips
1 Hershey's chocolate bar, roughly chopped

Preheat oven to 375.

Cream together butter and sugars until creamy. Add egg and vanilla, mix well. In a separate bowl, whisk together the oatmeal, flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Add the flour mixture to the butter mixture a little bit at a time, mixing well after each addition. Add the chocolate and mix just until incorporated.

Drop rounded teaspoons of the dough onto a cookie sheet, 1-2 inches apart. Bake 8-10 minutes.

An impromptu engagement party and Garlic Roasted Potatoes

Some people send cards; others offer advice. Some buy champagne; some buy flowers; and a few break out their hidden collection of wedding magazines. As for me, when friends get engaged, I simply can't help but start to plan a menu. Whether it is a quiet sit-down dinner for six, or a cocktail party for 20, my mind instantly begins whirring into action upon receipt of the fantastic news. Recipes, centerpieces, invitations, signature drinks, and themes; I become immersed in party-planning paradise.

This past Wednesday proved to be the ideal opportunity to throw Scott and Kellie an impromptu engagement party. It was a small, intimate dinner for six. Three courses, champagne, and, of course, chocolate. A time to reflect on their relationship, and look forward to the months and years to come.

And what better opportunity for the inaugural use of my china? We dined on Italian bread with fine olive oil and aged balsamic, one of Adrian's famous salads, London broil with basil aioli, roast cherry tomatoes, and garlic roasted potatoes. The evening concluded with small chocolate cakes covered in dark chocolate ganache and champagne.

Garlic Roasted Potatoes
adapted from Ina Garten's Barefoot Contessa Parties

These potatoes were delicious and made the house smell warm and inviting as everyone began arriving. I was happy to be cooking them on one of our cloudier days this summer, as the kitchen did warm up; but even on a hot day they would be worth the heat.

3 lb. small red or white potatoes
1/4 C. good olive oil
1 1/2 t. kosher salt
1 t. freshly ground black pepper
2 T. minced garlic (6 cloves)
2 T. minced fresh basil

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Cut the potatoes in half or quarters and place in a bowl with the olive oil, salt, pepper, and garlic; toss until the potatoes are well coated. Transfer the potatoes to a sheet pan and spread out into one layer. Roast in the oven for 45 minutes to 1 hour or until browned and crisp. Flip twice with a spatula during cooking in order to ensure even browning.

Remove the potatoes from the oven, toss with basil, season to taste, and serve hot.

Matt's Bolognese Sauce

“I think it needs more meat,” Matt declared as he stirred the contents of the large steaming stockpot. I couldn’t help but smile. The smell of homemade Bolognese sauce wafted through our apartment and out into the hallway, inducing drops of drool to form at the corners of the mouths of any passers-by.

I was in my own little heaven. For months, I had been begging Matt to cook with me, and was thrilled when, on Friday afternoon, he suggested just that for our weekend itinerary. Upon arriving at home Friday evening, the cookbooks flew off the shelf and post-its began marking up page after page of delicious-looking recipes. I was on a mission.

Of course, leave it to Matt to make the perfect suggestion: Lasagne Bolognese, Matt’s favorite lasagna, and one that is rarely, if ever, done correctly in the United States. A time-consuming, but delightfully simple recipe.

A few hours, two trips to the grocery store, and a good cry over four onions later, there Matt was, manning his precious pot of Bolognese. What a perfect afternoon it was. From homemade pasta and first attempts at gnocchi (still to be eaten), to Matt’s insistence that we more than double the amount of meat in the sauce; it was a day of laughter, creativity, making messes, and getting to know yet another side of my best friend. And that was all before the first bite of the lasagna. Trust me, the day only got better.

Matt’s Bolognese Sauce

The original recipe only called for 1/2 pound ground beef, but I must agree with Matt that the additional beef was a nice touch. Also, we doubled the recipe so as to have leftovers and enough for gnocchi, but the recipe below is for the original portions, to serve 4-6.

1/2 - 1 lb. ground beef
2 medium onions, finely diced
1 carrot, finely diced
1 stalk celery, finely diced
1 ½ C. dried porcini mushrooms
1 C. dry red wine
1 laurel leaf
24 oz. crushed or diced tomatoes
Olive Oil
Salt and Pepper

Place mushrooms in a bowl of tepid water.

Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add carrots, celery and onions and cook until brown. Add the beef and cook for 2-3 minutes. Add the red wine, cover, and cook for 5 minutes.

Finely chop the mushrooms, discarding water. Add mushrooms and 2-3 tablespoons tomatoes, stir thoroughly. Cook, uncovered, 3 minutes. Add remaining tomatoes, laurel leaf, and salt and pepper. Lower heat to low and simmer gently for 2-3 hours. If mixture gets too dry, add hot water.

Serve over pasta of choice (spaghetti, gnocchi, etc., or use to make Lasagne Bolognese as we did).

Chicken Curry with Cashews

I don't know if it is the sunshine, warm weather, or the fact that we now have three fantastic Thai restaurants within walking distance, but I cannot seem to kick this craving for all things Thai. Perhaps it is the way that ginger and summertime mix so perfectly: ginger-infused mint lemonade, ginger-infused sangria, gingered halibut, ginger shots at the local health shop, candied ginger...it really doesn't matter what form it takes.

But one of my favorite uses of ginger is in making a good curry. I have mentioned this dish before, and have made it regularly since then. It is, in the words of my husband, "the best curry [he's] ever had". There is no doubt that this is directly correlated with the fact that the two of us can easily consume three pounds of cashews in 2 days. A dish which contains curry and cashews? Yes, please!

This meal is perfect for weeknight entertaining, as it can be made up to 2 days in advance and simply heated and assembled the day of. And it is ideal for a buffet, simply set the bowl of curry next to a large bowl of rice, and let people help themselves. I love to serve the curry over basmati or brown rice, and recently tried it over chopped spinach to carb-friendly and delicious results.

While you calendar and checkbook may not allow for an exotic vacation, this dish will make your tastebuds believe that they are laying on the beach, sipping frilly drinks in Thailand.

Chicken Curry with Cashews
(adapted from Epicurious.com)

The original recipe calls for a whole chicken, cut into pieces. While I'm positive that this makes a difference on flavor, I have found that boneless, skinless chicken breasts cut into cubes work fine for a quick and easy dinner.

1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter
2 medium onions, finely chopped (2 cups)
2 large garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 T finely chopped peeled fresh ginger
3 T curry powder
2 t salt1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 t cayenne
1-2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breast, cut into cubes
1 (14.5-oz) can diced tomatoes
1/4 C chopped fresh cilantro
3/4 C cashews (1/4 lb)
3/4 C plain whole-milk yogurt
Accompaniment: cooked basmati, brown, or jasmine rice; or chopped steamed spinach
Garnish: chopped fresh cilantro

Heat butter in a 5- to 6-quart wide heavy pot over moderately low heat until foam subsides, then cook onions, garlic, and ginger, stirring, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add curry powder, salt, cumin, and cayenne and cook, stirring, 2 minutes. Add chicken and cook, stirring to coat, 3 minutes. Add tomatoes, including juice, and cilantro and bring to a simmer, then cover and simmer gently, stirring occasionally, until chicken is cooked through, about 20 minutes. (If making ahead, see cooks' note, below.)

Just before serving:
Pulse cashews in a food processor or electric coffee/spice grinder until very finely ground, then add to curry along with yogurt and simmer gently, uncovered, stirring, until sauce is thickened, about 5 minutes.

Cooks' note:
Curry, without yogurt and cashews, can be made 5 days ahead and cooled completely, uncovered, then chilled, covered. Reheat over low heat before stirring in yogurt and ground cashews.

Makes 4 to 6 servings.

Engaged!

One of my favorite couples surprised us all and got engaged last night. A match truly so perfect that no one would have ever set them up, and we now wonder how they ever lived apart.

Congratulations, Scott and Kellie!

Picnic at the Getty

A few weeks ago, Matt and I met up with Adrian and her boyfriend, Matt, for one of my favorite summertime activities: an afternoon picnic at the Getty. Armed with picnic baskets full of fresh cheeses, bread, fruits and veggies from the Sunday Farmers' Market, we found our spot on the gorgeous lawn.

The lawn at the Getty is surrounded by meticulously-kept gardens and a pristine view of Los Angeles, Beverly Hills, Hollywood, and the Pacific Ocean. At the top of the grassy hillside sit the gleaming travertine buildings which house the museum's galleries, cafe and restaurant. A delicate balance of light, open space, and nature; regardless of whether you are gazing at the gardens, the panoramic view, or the architecture, you are beholding beauty in one of it's finest forms.

As you can imagine, it is the ideal spot for a picnic. Especially if you, like myself, have an extremely limited attention span and find yourself wandering towards the museum, or through the gardens, or attempting to convince your extremely-relaxed friends into a game of frisbee. Of course, this is only after the contents of the picnic basket have been devoured.

The Getty Center
1200 Getty Center Drive
Los Angeles, CA 90049–1679
(310) 440-7300

Tequila, Lime and Ruby Grapefruit Sorbet

One of my favorite dinner parties I've thrown was an early Tuesday Night Dinner. It was loosely mexican-inspired and served outside on our then-beautiful deck. It was my first attempt at enchiladas, and that was obvious. They were crispy, dry, and frankly, rather pathetic. Regardless, being the good, empathetic, friends that they are, the TND members devoured the enchiladas with no complaints (perhaps that was because I was consistently refilling the beer margaritas).

I had, and have, much to learn when it comes to cooking mexican food. I am intimidated by mole, overwhelmed by homemade tortillas, and scared to death of peppers. But that night I found the staple dessert for any mexican dinner: Donna Hay's Tequila, Lime and Ruby Grapefruit Sorbet. Sweet, tangy, and with the smallest hint of a kick, I turn to this recipe time and again. When the rest of the meal makes me want to crawl under the table and hide, I know that this dessert will tiptoe in at the end and save the night.

Everyone leaves happy, remembering how fantastic that sorbet was. And somehow it tends to put a rose-colored spin on the rest of the meal as well.

Tequila, Lime and Ruby Grapefruit Sorbet
(Donna Hay's Entertaining)

1 C. fresh lime juice
1 T. finely grated lime zest
1 1/4 C. sugar
3 C. bottled ruby grapefruit juice
1/3 C. tequila

Place the lime juice, lime zest and sugar in a saucepan. Stir over low heat until the sugar is dissolved. Pour the ruby grapefruit juice, sugar mixture and tequila into a bowl and stir to combine. Pour the mixture into an ice-cream maker and follow the manufacturer's instructions to make sorbet. Alternatively, pour the mixture into a bowl and freeze for 1 hour. Whisk the sorbet and freeze for another hour. Whisk the sorbet again and freeze until solid. Serve in scoops.

Serves 6.

Corona Light and Corn Salsa, or, How to Survive the Heat

It is hot in LA today. Really, really hot. The kind of hot that makes you wilt the moment you open the door to go outside. The kind that makes you seriously consider if you can, indeed, fit into that tiny narrow freezer; I think Matt might die laughing-- but not be one bit surprised-- if he came home one day to find me crammed into ours.

On days like today, all I want to do is lay on the couch in front of the fan and moan. But there is one thing that can never be beat when the temperature is flirting with 100 degrees: an ice cold Corona Light accompanied by chips with homemade corn salsa. Adrian introduced me to this fantastic snack last summer, and I now crave it the moment summer hits.

Adrian's Corn Salsa

1 can Sweet Corn
1 tomato, diced
Juice of 1 lime
2 T cilantro, chopped
Hot Sauce

In a bowl, mix corn, tomato, lime juice and cilantro. Add a few drops of hot sauce, to taste.

Take a break and catch your breath. Exert all remaining energy in opening Corona Light and squeezing lime into said beer. Pat face with clean dishtowel, take sip of Corona.

If you are impatient like me, eat salsa immediately with tortilla chips. Or cover and refrigerate for 1-2 hours, take a nap, and then enjoy.

Grandma Bah's Seattle Baked Halibut

Growing up, dinner at Grandma Bah's meant one of two things: Stouffer's Macaroni and Cheese dipped in applesauce (I know, I know), or her incredible Seattle Baked Halibut. Each had its place and time :the mac and cheese/applesauce dinner was always at my request, and usually saved for Grandma Bah-Kristy weekends. (I'm really not sure if anyone but my grandma could stomach the sight of macaroni and cheese dipped in applesauce.) The Seattle Baked Halibut dinner was for special all-family occasions.

A sale on halibut steaks at Ralph's yesterday led to a diligent search for this recipe, and ended with a delicious and familiar dinner. The tang of the wine and sour cream mingles perfectly with the earthiness of the mushrooms in butter. Each flavor is distinct and present, while the combination is smooth and perfectly balanced. I was thrilled to discover how simple this recipe was, and that it could be made low-fat and carb friendly with some very minor adaptations. Bah's original recipe is listed below.

Grandma Bah's Seattle Baked Halibut

4 lb. Halibut steaks (fresh or frozen)
4 T. unsalted butter
1 pint sour cream
1/4 lb. Baby Bella Mushrooms, sliced
1/4 C. Sherry or white wine (I used Sauvignon Blanc)
Salt and Pepper

Preheat oven to 450. Place halibut white side down into a buttered casserole dish. Sprinkle with salt. Bake for 15-20 minutes.

While the fish bakes, melt butter in a saucepan over medium low heat. Add mushrooms and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5-10 minutes, until mushrooms are soft. Add sour cream and simmer over low heat for 5 minutes.

Reduce oven temperature to 375, pour sour cream mixture over fish, add wine. Bake for 10 minutes. Season to taste.

Serves 6-8.

Caprese

I hate weeding. The thought of it makes my back hurt, my legs numb, and I am immediately a little grumpier. Crouching down and repeatedly pulling little plants out of their happy dirt homes, as the sun's rays drill into your back. Oh I hate weeding. I repeat this to myself every night as I sit in our beautiful new apartment and tell myself that I don't need a garden. Who needs fresh, home-grown tomatoes, rhubarb, apples, pears and plums? Ok, fine. I do. Well, thank god for the farmers' markets.

Lunch every Thursday is the same: I run downstairs and out to the farmers' market that is held outside our office. I am that person in the elevator sighing as it stops at each floor to pick up more people. To accuse me of being impatient on Thursdays would be polite.

Today I picked up a basket of organic heirloom tomatoes. Beautiful pumpkin-shaped tomatoes, marbled in orange and red, smelling of fresh tomato vines and summer days in the garden. These tomatoes were purchased with one purpose in mind: Caprese. That fantastic Italian salad of fresh sliced tomatoes, each topped with a chunk of even fresher mozzarella and shredded basil, drizzled with my favorite balsamic vinegar and olive oil and sprinkled with fresh sea salt. The perfect dinner for these gorgeous sunny, 80 degree days that remind me of why I live in Los Angeles.

Needless to say, I am a much happier and more pleasant girl on the elevator ride back up to the office...on Thursdays.

Caprese
(my own recipe)

3-4 Garden Fresh Tomatoes
2-3 Fresh Bocconcini (fresh balls of mozzarella)
1 bunch Basil, chiffonade
Good-quality Balsamic Vinegar and Olive Oil
Sea Salt and Pepper to taste

Slice the tomatoes into about 1/4 inch rounds. Arrange on a plate. Top each slice with some mozzarella. Sprinkle with basil. Drizzle balsamic and olive oil over everything. Sprinkle with sea salt and pepper.

Carefully arrange and eat so that each bite includes a bit of everything. Try to wait until after swallowing before closing your eyes and sighing.

Passion Fruit Sangria and an Introduction

Several years ago I found a new love. I was visiting my sister and her husband at their first apartment in Vancouver, BC when the not-so-chance introduction occurred. They took me to their favorite restaurant and it was there that I first met him. The Tapa.

tapa: \ta-pa\ n means lid; originally a piece of bread placed on a glass of wine; has evolved with variations of toppings, hence, tapas

Really, tapas are little plates of food, no larger than a small appetizer, which are ordered in rounds--several at a time-- and shared at the table. A brilliant solution for a girl who gets small anxiety attacks when forced to decide what to order. Tapas allow you to sample and taste a wide variety of plates without having to loosen the belt. They are as simple as a plate of various cheeses, and as ornate as Bin 941's East west Crab Cakes, burnt orange chipotle sauce, charred baby bok choy, cucumber salsa, and tobiko.

And really, who can say no to something that is served with a pitcher of Sangria?

Passion Fruit Sangria
(adapted from www.food.com)

2 bottles dry white wine
3/4 cup brandy
1/2 cup Triple Sec
3/4 cup simple syrup (equal amounts sugar and water heated until sugar dissolves and cooled) 3/4 cup passion fruit puree
2 cups fresh orange juice
3 oranges, sliced into thin rounds
3 green apples, cored and sliced thinly
2 lemons, sliced into thin rounds
1 cup blackberries, washed and sliced in 1/2

Combine all ingredients in a large pitcher. Cover and refrigerate for 2 hours or up to 2 days. Serve chilled in a wine glass with pieces of the fruit.

No Berry Left Behind: Balsamic Glazed Strawberries with Marscapone Whipped Cream

Strawberry Season is upon us. This realization did not come by way of the buckets upon buckets of Strawberries at the grocery store, nor the stands at the farmers' markets dedicated strictly to Strawberries. No, each year Strawberry Season is notably evident when every conversation with my dad is instigated by him holding out a strawberry and saying, "You know, you're berry berry special".

As I inherited my father's moral responsibility to see that not even one tiny berry goes to waste, it was only reasonable that the plump red berries headline last evening's dessert.

Being the first TND in a new apartment, two new bedrooms and bathrooms, a new kitchen, and dishwasher, these strawberries needed to put on their Sunday best. My sister had mentioned serving strawberries with balsamic vinegar and sea salt (or was I dreaming?) and this idea stuck with me. A little research resulted in a fantastic and delightfully simple dessert that stole the show.

Balsamic Glazed Strawberries with Marscapone Whipped Cream
(adapted from epicurious.com)

1/3 C. Balsamic vinegar
2 t. plus 4 T. sugar
1/2 t. lemon juice

1/2 C. Marscapone cheese
1/2 C. Whipping Cream
1/2 t. Vanilla extract

3 1-pint baskets strawberries, hulled and quartered

Combine vinegar, 2 teaspoons sugar, and lemon juice in a small saucepan. Stir over medium heat until sugar dissolves. Boil until syrup is reduced to scant 1/4 cup, about 3 minutes. Transfer to small bowl; cool completely. (Can be made 2 days ahead. Cover and refrigerate.)

Combine mascarpone, cream, vanilla, and 2 tablespoons sugar in medium bowl. Whisk until thick soft peaks form. Cover and refrigerate up to 4 hours.

Combine berries and remaining 2 tablespoons sugar in large bowl; drizzle with balsamic syrup and toss to blend. Let stand at least 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Divide berries and syrup among 6 goblets. Top with mascarpone mixture. Drizzle with remaining balsamic syrup.

Serves 6.

On Wine and Conversation

The finest wine is only as good as the conversation it accompanies.

This past Wednesday marked the first official “Wine Tasting Tuesday Night Dinner Club (on Wednesdays)”. I believe the name itself deserves a toast. The wines were to be from California, and something none of us had yet tried. Within these limits (and the limits of our paychecks), we were able to taste, ponder, and discover the uniqueness of several varieties of wines.

There is something to be hailed about exploring new skills with friends. Amongst true friends, one can safely announce that they taste pear in a peppery wine, or proclaim “I don’t see any legs” on the, um, leggiest wine (can you guess who made that comment?). While we began to recognize the flavors that separated a Pinot Noir from a Zinfandel, we laughed, we mocked, and we basked rosy-cheeked in the warmth of great dialogue.

Below are our notes on the wines we tasted. They are the first thoughts of beginner self-educating wine tasters, so please excuse any incorrect terms. Hopefully we will be able to chart our growth, as there will be more tastings to come.

Cold Heaven
2003 Viognier
Santa Barbara County
$16.00

Flavors of melon and pear with subtle hints of kiwi. Sits in the back of the mouth, a very wet wine but not too sweet. Slight hint of alcohol, but not overpowering. A nice sipping wine.

4.45/5

Montevina
2001 Zinfandel
Sierra Nevadas
$9.99

Cherry, hickory and plum flavors. Dry, peppery finish. Would be good with BBQ or other saucy meats. Better paired with food than sipped on its own.

3.7/5

Beaulieu Vineyard
2003 Pinot Noir
Napa Valley
$17.99

Blackberry, currant and cherry flavors. Dry to the taste. Smooth and fruity. A good sipping wine, or paired with a tender filet minion.

3.75/5

Concannon
2002 Cabernet Savignon
Central Coast, San Louis Obispo
$18.00

A “big red”. Bold and hearty, with flavors of cherry, vanilla and boysenberry. Lingers on the sides of the tongue. Good with hearty meals such as a t-bone steak, rigatoni, or even hamburgers.

4.1/5

My Mint and some Mojitos

It is that week again, that one time a month when TND is at my house. To keep with my previous posts, I have decided to BBQ. Tonight the menu is grilled coconut-lime shrimp with spicy mango salsa, coconut rice, grilled pineapple, and, of course, mojitos.

Those tiny seeds I planted and watched sprout on my windowsill back in October are now full-grown mint plants. They will be center-stage tonight, no longer happily basking in the morning sun. Instead, they will be enjoying the spotlight as they dazzle the crowd with their breathtaking emerald gowns and their one-of-a-kind perfumes.

What a perfect excuse to enjoy good conversation with great friends.

Mojitos

1 teaspoon superfine sugar
2 springs fresh mint
Squeeze fresh lime juice
2 ounces light rum
Splash club soda

Muddle sugar, crushed ice, and mint in a tall glass using the back of a spoon. Add the remaining ingredients, mix, and serve.

Re-inventing the BBQ

As summer is rapidly approaching, my barbecue seems to be calling at me louder each day. I am sure that by mid-June, I will be complaining about the L.A. heat and constant sunshine; but for now, it feels great. I want to spend every minute outside. And grilling has seemed the most obvious method for the preparation of any meal.

This summer, my goal is to reach beyond the burgers, hot dogs, and chicken. I love to invite people over for a meal that they have certain expectations about, and then surprise them. Inviting people over for a bbq can be as creative, formal, romantic, whatever, as you are willing to attempt. One of my favorite dinners for entertaining centers around the grill: chicken tikka with mango and red pepper chutney, mint raita, and toasted coconut rice. Indian food is a fantastic source of inspiration for barbecues.

The chicken tikka are spicy chicken kabobs grilled until perfection, and then removed from the skewer before serving. Arrange the chicken on a formal platter, and garnish with sprigs of fresh mint and wedges of fresh lime. Serve with the chutney, raita and toasted coconut rice. Set up a table outside, light some candles, and you have just reinvented your guests’ idea of a summer barbecue.

Don’t be intimidated by the length of the recipes, they are the kinds of dishes that you simply mix the ingredients together and then leave it for a while. There is nothing difficult about this dinner...and the chutney is to die for.

Chicken Tikka
(adapted from epicurious.com)

¾ t. cumin seeds, toasted
3/4 t. coriander seeds, toasted
2 C. whole-milk yogurt
4 garlic cloves, chopped
1 (1 1/2-inch) piece fresh ginger, peeled and chopped
3 T. vegetable oil plus additional for greasing pan
2 T. fresh lime juice
1 1/2 t. salt
3/4 t. ground turmeric
1/2 t. garam masala (Indian spice mixture)
1/2 t. black pepper
1/4 t. cayenne
5 lb skinless boneless chicken breasts, cut into 1 1/2-inch cubes

20 wooden skewers

Light charcoal, or preheat grill to high.

Purée all ingredients except chicken in a blender until spices are well ground.

Put chicken in a large bowl, and add yogurt mixture, stirring or turning to coat. Marinate chicken, covered and chilled, at least 4 hours (can be refrigerated overnight).

Soak skewers in water 30 minutes. While skewers are soaking, bring chicken to room temperature.

Divide chicken among skewers (about 5 cubes per skewer), leaving an 1/8-inch space between cubes, and arrange on the grill. Grill chicken, turning over once, until browned in spots and just cooked through, 9 to 12 minutes total.

Transfer cooked skewers to a large platter and, if desired, cover loosely with foil to keep warm. Grill remaining chicken in same manner. Remove chicken from skewers and serve warm or at room temperature.

Makes 10 servings.

Mango and Red Pepper Chutney
(from epicurious.com)

3 firm-ripe mangoes (3 lb total), peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1/3 C. distilled white vinegar
1/3 C. packed dark brown sugar
1/3 C. golden raisins
1 3/4 t. salt
1 (1-inch) piece fresh ginger, peeled and chopped
1 T. chopped fresh jalapeño including seeds (from 1 chile)
3 garlic cloves, chopped
3/4 t. ground cumin
3/4 t. ground coriander
1/2 t. turmeric
2 T. vegetable oil
1 medium onion, chopped
1 red bell pepper, cut into 1/4-inch dice
1 (3-inch) cinnamon stick


Toss together mangoes, vinegar, brown sugar, raisins, and 1 teaspoon salt.

Mince and mash ginger, jalapeño, and garlic to a paste with remaining 3/4 teaspoon salt using a large heavy knife, then stir in cumin, coriander, and turmeric.

Heat oil in a 4-quart heavy pot over moderately high heat until hot but not smoking, then sauté onion and bell pepper, stirring occasionally, until golden, 8 to 10 minutes. Add garlic paste and cinnamon stick, then reduce heat to moderate and cook, stirring, 1 minute. Stir in mango mixture and simmer, covered, stirring occasionally, until mangoes are tender, about 30 minutes. Discard cinnamon stick and cool chutney, uncovered, about 45 minutes.

Chutney keeps, chilled in an airtight container, 1 month.

Mint Raita
(from epicurious.com)

3 C. whole-milk yogurt
1 cup packed fresh mint leaves
3/4 t. salt

Drain yogurt in a paper-towel-lined sieve set over a bowl, chilled, 3 hours. Pulse all ingredients in a blender until mint is finely chopped. Transfer to a bowl and chill, covered, at least 3 hours.

Raita can be chilled in an airtight container up to 1 day.

Toasted Coconut Rice

3/4 C. well-stirred canned unsweetened coconut milk
1/4 C. water
1/2 t. salt
1/2 C. long-grain white rice
Garnish: sweetened flaked coconut, toasted

In a small saucepan bring coconut milk, water, and salt to a boil and stir in rice. Reduce heat to moderately low and simmer rice, covered, until most of liquid is absorbed, about 15 minutes. Remove pan from heat and let stand, covered, 5 minutes.

Serve rice sprinkled with coconut.

Tangelo Granitas

Tangelo. Oh the joy, the excitement, the mouth-watering that accompanies the mention of the word. The way it rolls off the tongue, taan-gell-oooohh. You can just taste it.

Or perhaps you never have. In that case, let me introduce you. One of my favorite discoveries from freshman year of college, the tangelo is a cross between a mandarin orange (any variety), and a grapefruit. The name itself evokes memories of orange jello in a cup, eaten around an elementary school table. The flavor is sweet like an overly-ripe tangerine, and tangy like a grapefruit. When juiced, the pulp is larger than a regular orange, and significantly more delicate. And the color, oh the color. The tangelo is typically a brilliant orange, with hints of red throughout.

It was the color that convinced me to purchase 5 tangelos at last week’s farmers’ market. They spent all day Saturday mingling with the Meyer lemons, which I purchased at the same stand, in a glass bowl on our patio table. At last, I decided it was time to bring the tangelos in from their lazy day basking in the sun. They needed to be shown that life was not meant to be lazy, but to utilize the skills and characteristics they were created with. To fulfill the purpose for which they were created. Amongst many, to become Tangelo Granitas.

What a delight! The juice froze perfectly and every slurpy spoonful was consumed with little sighs and emissions of “mmmm” until, alas, the glass was empty.

Tangelo Granitas

5-6 Tangelos (substitutes: tangerines, mandarin oranges, etc)
1 T. Grand Marnier
Fresh mint (for garnish)

Juice the tangelos into a glass bowl. Whisk in the Grand Marnier. Pour into a metal or glass pan and place in the freezer. After an hour, scrape the top with a fork to create the granita texture. Repeat every 30-60 minutes. The first time you scrape, the mixture will not be frozen solid. You want to start scraping while it’s still slushy so that the texture of the granita will be even throughout.

Pour into champagne flutes and top with a sprig of mint. Serves 2-4.

Lasagna col Pesto

Alas, I am not the Italian-language queen I think myself to be. Pesto lasagna is actually Lasagna col Pesto, not Lasagna al Pesto as I wrote earlier. It is said that a person retains an average of 30% of a foreign language if they do not use it on a regular basis. Sigh.

To get to my point, my darling friend Kellie requested the recipe for the Lasagna col Pesto at TND last night. (Kellie, you know you must now attempt this. You have no excuse. Perhaps we can work on it together sometime this weekend.) Unlike most American meat lasagna recipes, this recipe does not call for the use of ricotta. The lasagna col pesto is less focused on the structure of the filling, as it is too busy with the delicate balancing act the pasta, bechamel and pesto are performing.

Enjoy this simple lasagna, it is delightfully versatile. It can be frozen for an easy weeknight dinner, and leftovers are incredible. I used pre-made pesto as fresh basil is still not available in the markets. Once it is, make your own pesto, it adds such depth to the dish.

Lasagna col Pesto

1 C. pre-made pesto (I use Trader Joe’s, it is by the pizza sauce and cheeses)
Béchamel sauce
½ C. pine nuts
1 C. grated Pecorino or Parmigiano cheese
1 lb best-quality lasagna noodles
½ C. grated mozzarella cheese

Salt to taste

Preheat oven to 385.

Bring a pot of salted water to a rolling boil, add a spoonful of oil to it, so the sheets of pasta won’t stick, and add the pasta. Cook until the pasta is al dente, gently remove the sheets and set them to drain on a clean cloth. Stir two tablespoons of the pasta water into the pesto.

In a large casserole dish, spread a thin layer of bechamel sauce. Top with a layer of pasta, then another layer of bechamel, a layer of pesto (you can mix the pesto and bechamel, I found this the easiest route) and a layer of cheese. Repeat layers until you reach 1/2 inch from the top of the dish. Top with mozzarella and a generous amount of parmesan.

Bake 30-45 minutes, until warmed through and the cheese is browned and bubbly. If the cheese begins to brown too quickly, cover the dish with foil until the last 10 minutes of cooking time. Remove foil and finish baking.

We need to talk

I think it's time we had a serious talk.

Have you recently sat down and kept track of how much sugar you consume in one day? I'm not just referring to the obvious candy and soda, but really, really took a look?

I was about to eat my raspberry yogurt yesterday morning, when I thought to look at the ingredients. I've been on my "Just Say No to Processed Foods" kick lately, and was curious if the last of my yogurt supply was compliant with my little campaign. With soap box in hand, I held the round container up and braced myself for what I was about to read. Beyond the obvious preservatives, the ingredients looked good at first. No sugar in the first 4. Then I got to the raspberries, "high fructose corn syrup, raspberries, sugar, water". I had often wondered how my lowfat yogurt contained 240 calories!

And even the fruit filling is a little obvious when wondering about sugar content. What about ketchup, barbecue sauce, salad dressings, and on and on and on? Sugar, sugar, sugar.

How is it that people sit and question all of these diseases, obesity, and chronic illnesses, as they sip their diet coke? It is so simple. Your body is a machine. If you don't put good fuel into it, how do you expect it to perform at it's highest capacity? If you put garbage into your car, it won't run. At some point, if you feed it enough poor fuel, the car will just stop working. Basic, common sense.

My quest these past two weeks has been to significantly increase my consumption of whole grains and vegetables, and cut out (almost completely) my consumption of processed sugar (natural sugars are fine, including honey, in moderation). I have been shocked at the increase in my energy, my desire to be outside, and a more positive outlook on life. The last has been the most surprising outcome of my new diet; I had not realized that what I ate affected my moods.

So I challenge you: take some time today and write down everything you've eaten. Be honest. Then challenge yourself to make a few reasonable changes to your diet. Incorporate more vegetables (no, not potatoes). Your body will thank you.

I will now get off my little soap box and put it away until I find something else to get worked up about. Don't worry, it won't be long.

Bechamel, Lasagna and Maurizio

While studying in Florence, I lived in a house with 54 students, one host family, and Maurizio—our chef. Our calendar was defined by what Maurizio would be serving at dinner each night. Lasagna Thursday. Pesto Monday. And the most famous, Tiramisu Tuesday. Oh the Tiramisu. I still dream about it.

Upon my return home, I did what any normal student returning home from Italy does: I tried my hand at recreating some of Maurizio’s famous dishes. Armed with my book of “Ricette di Maurizio” (“Maurizio’s Recipes”—in fact, not his recipes, but I’m not complaining) and the cravings of a madwoman, I began my first attempt: Lasagna al Pesto. The ingredients were familiar enough, even if the converted measurements were a little confusing. The only ingredient I was unfamiliar with was béchamel sauce, which I simply added to the grocery list for my wonderful mother. It was then that I found out béchamel sauce is not sold in grocery stores here. Alfredo sauce served as the stand-in that night.

The Lasagna al Pesto was fantastic. Cheesy and warm, with the crunch of toasted pine nuts and creamy pesto oozing out of each bite. No, it was not Maurizio’s, but it was good.

This past weekend, after little more than a year of obsessively studying food and cooking, I finally got my “Aha!” moment. I discovered that the béchamel sauce is one of the simplest of all Italian sauces, and the base for most cream sauces. It is a white sauce which starts with a roux, then cream is slowly added and then simmered until the sauce is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. At the end, fresh nutmeg is added to give the flavor more depth (white sauces are almost always better off with the addition of freshly ground nutmeg). (I'm still not sure if it is in fact any different than Alfredo Sauce)

And what should a Kristy do with her new discovery? Make Lasagna al Pesto, of course! This time, much to my chagrin, I was not armed with my trusty book of recipes. I’m sure it’s on my cookbook shelf, but seeing as the shelf is 9 feet off the ground, I am a staggering 5’4”, and Matt was gone for the afternoon, I was on my own. I researched several different lasagna recipes, and decided to wing it.

The béchamel sauce was thrillingly easy, and made the whole kitchen smell buttery and warm. I poured some into the bottom of my small lasagna pan, then layered lasagna noodles, more béchamel, pesto, parmesan, and repeated this pattern until I reached the top of the pan. Another layer consisting of mozzarella, parmesan and pine nuts, and the lasagna was ready to bask in the oven for awhile.

Really, need I mention how the house smelled when Matt got home? Marsh’s nose was on a warpath to discover the origin of the delicious aroma, and I must say I was then envious of his heightened sense of smell. It was pesto-nirvana.

Bechamel Sauce
(adapted from foodnetwork.com)

1 stick unsalted butter (4 ounces)
1/2 cup and 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 quart whole milk, at room temperature
Pinch fresh nutmeg
Sea salt

In a medium saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the flour and whisk until smooth, about 2 minutes. Always stirring, very gradually add the milk and continue to whisk until the sauce is smooth and creamy. Simmer until it is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. This will take approximately 10 minutes. Stir in nutmeg. Reserve in a water bath if not using immediately.

Irish Soda Bread

When I was in second grade, my class held a “Heritage Day”, in which each student was to make and bring something from their family's background. Having recently discovered that I was part Irish, I of course wanted to make something from Ireland. I’m not exactly sure how I stumbled upon the idea to make Irish Beer Bread for my second grade class, but I did. And it was good. I can still taste it 15 years later. I wish I’d had a camcorder then to record the parents’ faces when they saw that a second-grader had brought beer bread.

And so you can imagine my disappointment on Monday to discover that the recipe had grown legs and walked—stumbled-- out of my mom’s recipe box. I was planning my TND for the week, and needed something to accompany the Irish Beef Stew with Guinness and Apples Duff I was already excited about making.

Irish Soda Bread has long been a favorite, and this time was no different. It is a dense bread with the distinct flavor of baking soda (did you know that baking soda had a flavor?). After a bit of research, I learned that the “X” cut into the top of the bread is not for design, but for practical use. When the bread was first created—sometime around the 1820s, with the invention of baking soda—cutting utensils where not always readily available to the poor Irish in the United States. The “X” was cut deep so that when the bread baked it was already perforated for easy tearing into servings.

If anyone has a great recipe for Irish Beer Bread, please pass it on!

Irish Soda Bread

3 ½ cups flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 ½ cup buttermilk

Preheat oven to 425. Line a baking sheet with greased parchment paper, or grease and lightly flour baking sheet.

Whisk together flour, baking soda and salt. Slowly stir in buttermilk until mixture forms a ball. You may need to add another tablespoon or so of buttermilk. Place mixture onto a lighly floured surface, knead for 1 minute until dough incorporates into a ball. Transfer dough to baking sheet. With a knife, cut an “X” across the top of the dough, about 1-2 inches deep.
Bake 40 minutes, until bread is golden brown and sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom. This bread is best served hot out of the oven (then again, I’m not sure what bread isn’t).

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Spaghetti a la Carbonara

Spaghetti a la Carbonara was one of the first dinners I ever made for Matt. It was his 22nd birthday and I decided to take him on a picnic to Serra Retreat in Malibu. This dish is one of his very favorites from Italy, so I figured I would give it a shot and surprise him. The result was a VERY greasy, but tasty, pasta that left you feeling like you had just eaten a bowling ball. That recipe, as well as many variations, called for you to add the fat rendered from the pancetta at the end in order to cook the eggs. And heavy cream. We wondered why we felt so gross.

This recipe is my tried-and-true latest rendition of that meal. Attempting to be of a more health-conscious mindset, I have omitted the rendered fat, and use either half and half or lowfat milk (depending on my mood and refrigerator stock—milk produces only a slightly thinner consistency which can be compensated for with more cheese). Make sure to add the egg mixture while the pasta is still hot—you want to actually cook the eggs with the heat of the pasta.

Matt requests this dish all the time now that we can eat it and not feel like breathing, walking, and talking, balls of grease. And I often have the ingredients in the fridge. Bacon will work if you don't have pancetta, I have even crisped up prosciutto to very good results. The recipe is quite flexible.

Spaghetti a la Carbonara

1 pound pancetta, diced into 1-inch cubes
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
6 eggs, at room temperature
1/2 cup half and half or milk, at room temperature
1 1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan
1 pound dried spaghetti

Heat a large saute pan, until hot. Add pancetta and saute until golden brown and crispy, about 5 minutes. Season with black pepper and remove pan from heat and drain any rendered fat.

In a large pot, bring salted water to a boil. Add pasta and cook until al dente, about 8 to 10 minutes.

While the pasta is cooking, beat the eggs and cream together in a medium bowl. Season with salt and pepper. Stir in Parmesan, reserving 2 tablespoons for garnish.

Drain the pasta. Do not rinse; you want to retain the pasta's natural starches so that the sauce will stick. While the pasta is still hot, add the browned pancetta and mix well. Add the cream mixture and coat the pasta completely. It's important to work quickly while the pasta is still warm so that the cream mixture will cook, but not curdle. Top with remaining Parmesan and serve.

Serves 4.

My Traffic Cloud

I truly believe that I have my own personal traffic cloud. A cloud of traffic that surrounds me and follows me everywhere I go. And if it's not traffic, it's something that is keeping me from where I am trying to go.

Today I was at Pepperdine (ahem) visiting Adrian. I was thrilled to receive a small blessing in the form of a visitor's token to Smother's parking lot. And let me tell you, that coin is worth it's weight in gold. Unless, like today, there are absolutely no parking spaces left. So you can imagine my elation when I found the very first space outside of the lot available--with just enough room before the red curb to fit my truck ("Rojo"). Just to make sure I was legal, I pulled up close to the Mini parked in front of me (checking first, of course, to make sure he had plenty of room ahead of him to get out) and gleefully jumped out of my car and hurried to meet my dear friend.

And my little cloud followed me even to Adrian's cubicle! Upon leaving, I was shocked to discover a large black Range Rover bumper-kissing Rojo! And parked in the red zone, no less! I walked around my truck, evaluated the situation, and came to the horrible realization that it was physically impossible for me to get out of the parking spot. Forty minutes and a call to Public Safety later, a blond girl on her cell phone came prancing over and said "Oh! Is that your truck?" Ummm, YES! She got into her car and Adrian had a few words with her when, to make matters worse, she lied and said the Mini was not there when she parked so close to Rojo! I'm sorry?!

Needless to say, my little traffic cloud is still following me, regardless of my continual threats, complaints and tears. Perhaps he is just lonely.

And how many veggies did YOU eat today? 

Mammoth, Baby!

Horray for snow and great friends who share cabins!

I'm off to Mammoth, Baby!

Paradise Around the Corner

Right when I begin to dislike the rain, something happens to bring me back to my original passion.

I found myself in paradise while driving down Topanga Canyon this morning. The sun was breaking through the clouds, and I was in a wonderland of sparkling raindrop-covered leaves and flowers. This part of the commute is always particularly beautiful, but as I rounded the sharp corners on my way down to PCH, I was overwhelmed by the view. The mountains were the deepest shade of green, and several waterfalls had formed overnight. They now flowed majestically down the green mountainside and into the river, reminiscent of views from Kauai.

Our little house truly is in paradise. If only L.A. wasn't looming so close...

Gingered Halibut in Parchment Envelopes

It's raining how hard in L.A.?

Rain has always meant clean, fresh air, gorgeous views of green hillsides, and glorious hours of running around, having nothing better to do but to see how muddy you can get. We received 5 inches of rain this weekend. This is the fun stuff, the kind of rain that makes you want to organize a football game or soccer game just to take advantage of the mud.

And then reality sinks in.

This is the kind of rain that now transforms your 60 minute commute into a dreadful 2-and-half-hour commute. One day of rain and roads are closed because the huge dips in the road cause giant puddles, and all of those motorists who insist on tailing you in 10% visibility are getting in accidents.

All of the sudden one of my favorite things in life is now anticipated with dread. "No, we couldn't be in for more rain, could we?" I glance at the TV, hoping for good news. "Oh yes, the worst is yet to come in the next two days" the meteorologist answers formidably. Panic. Short of breath. Uncontrollable shaking.

I need to relax. I pull out my yoga mat, turn on my "Power Yoga" dvd and breathe. An hour later I wander into the kitchen, inspired by the sudden peace that I now have. I need a dinner to match; something that will keep my mind off tomorrow morning's commute.

This is the result: Gingered Halibut in Parchment Envelopes. It is so simple, and there are almost no dishes to wash (a huge perk in a recipe when one's dishwasher is one's self and one's darling husband). The flavors are light and tangy, the spinach deliciously wilted and infused with ginger, and the fish perfectly flaky. Reminiscent of nothing going on around you, the dish transports you away from the traffic and to a simpler place. One where you can, again, look forward to the rain.

At least the rain still breeds creativity.

Gingered Halibut in Parchment Envelopes
(adapted from Giada di Laurentis' "Everyday Italian")

3 C. fresh baby spinach leaves
2 (5-ounce) Halibut fillets
2 t. fresh ginger, peeled and minced
1 t. minced garlic
1/4 C. dry white wine
4 t. soy sauce
1 t. sesame oil
1/2 lime, quartered
1 T. fresh basil, chiffonade

Cut 4 (12-inch-square) pieces of parchment paper. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Working with 1 parchment square at a time, place the paper squares on the work surface. Place 1 1/2 cups of spinach in the center of each parchment square. Top with a halibut fillet. Sprinkle with 1 teaspoon of ginger and 1/2 teaspoon of garlic, then drizzle 2 tablespoons of white wine, 2 teaspoons of soy sauce, and 1/2 teaspoon sesame oil over the fish and spinach. Fold each of two sides of the paper over the fish. Roll the remaining edges and pinch tightly to seal. Tie with twine if necessary.

Place the paper envelopes on a heavy large baking sheet. Bake until the spinach wilts and the fish is just cooked through, about 10 minutes. Transfer the packages to plates. Cool 5 minutes. Open package and fold down to reveal fish, being careful of hot steam. Squeeze the lime juice over the fish. Sprinkle the basil over the fish and serve with a bed of jasmine rice, if desired.

One Delectable Valentine's Day

Matt and I just experienced our first perfect Valentine's Day together. That's right! It only took 7 years for us to get through a Valentine's Day without an argument, me in tears, Matt frustrated, or any combination of the sort. The ironic part? There were no flowers when I got home from work, no dinner at some posh, expensive restaurant, and no chocolates.

We decided to stay home and make dinner together. It was perfection in simplicity. There was no stress of which restaurant to go to, how expensive it would all be, how to get reservations in time...

It was a fun challenge, as neither of us planned anything until yesterday morning--it then became a task to remember what I had in the freezer, fridge, and cupboards and try to create some sort of romantic dinner out of it all!

I owe a huge "Thank You" to Trader Joe's. Since I had read rave reviews about their frozen, frenched, herb-crusted, rack of lamb, I picked one up on our last shopping trip, "just in case". A phone call to Matt asking him to take it out of the freezer in hopes that it would thaw before dinner time, and our main course was taken care of. The beauty of the lamb is that as it thawed, it marinated in the herbs. It was so tender and full of flavor, and no work at all.

Matt had the house glowing in candlelight when I got home from work. While the lamb roasted, we sipped wine and prepared dinner together--in a record 40 minutes--laughing and tasting, adding ingredients we thought might work, and having too much fun in our tiny kitchen. We then sat down with our new Riedel O Series wine glasses, sipped a wonderful Argetine red table wine, and enjoyed the best meal I have ever eaten.

Here is the menu from our delectable Valentine's Dinner:

Green beans sauteed with butter and garlic
Roast herb-crusted rack of lamb
Couscous with mint, lime and pistachios
Argetine Red Table Wine

Chocolate Molten Cakes
served with Vanilla Bean ice cream
Wilson Creek Almond Champagne

"Seriously, Mom. Let me down. I'm a big dog now."

Marsh is turning one on Monday. I can't believe it's already been that long. This picture was taken the day we brought him home--after his first bath in our sink. Four pounds of pure Marsh.
I laugh when I imagine trying to bathe all 60 pounds of him in the sink now.
I never understood why people called dogs a man's best friend: they stink, they are dirty and they bark. Well, yes, but they also love unconditionally. One of my favorite rituals in my day is the moment I pull my truck into my parking spot and I can see Marsh at the gate, wagging his tail like crazy. In that second I would do anything for him.
Happy Birthday Marsh! I love you!
 

Raspberry Vodka

Flavored liqueurs and vodkas are a delightful treat, especially when they are homemade. They are delicious mixed with champagne (known as a Kir), shaken over ice and served straight in a martini glass, or mixed into any variety of flavored martinis.

One of the characteristics I like best about homemade flavored liqueurs is the surprise factor. After all of the prep work (the amount varies), you place everything into a jar and stick it in a dark place for at least a month. The reason the place you chose is dark? Because you rarely look there! So one month later, you realize what day it is (or what day has passed) and you open that dark cupboard, and there it is: that forgotten jar.

You open the jar, strain the contents if necessary, and dip your clean finger into the beautiful liquid. With great anticipation you lift your finger to your mouth, close your eyes, and then sigh as your tastebuds dance with delight. You surmise how natural the flavors are, and smile to yourself as you realize how simple this was.

Raspberry Vodka

1 pint fresh raspberries
1 750mL bottle good-quality vodka

Combine all. Place in a dark, cool place for at least a month, shaking occasionally. Strain.

Combine in a shaker with ice. Strain into chilled martini glasses, garnish with fresh raspberries. Or mix with fresh lemonade and raspberries for a refreshing summertime treat.

And the greatest part: it keeps (sealed tight) for up to a year. If it lasts that long...

Molten Chocolate Cakes

Whenever I eat out at nice restaurants, I cross my fingers and hope that the dessert menu will include a molten chocolate cake of some kind. It matters little whether it is topped with vanilla ice cream, strawberries, a fresh sprig of mint, or served naked to be enjoyed with its own sauce. It is chocolate cake with a smooth chocolate sauce for a center. How could you not become ecstatic?

If you have never had the pleasure of this delectable dessert's acquaintance, please allow me to be the first to introduce you two.

The molten chocolate cake has always been the most gourmet of gourmet treats in my mind. It is only to be eaten on the most sacred of occasions. Perhaps that is because, even in the trendiest restaurants, the menu requests 30 minutes to prepare this treat. After gleefully discovering its presence on the menu, I sit in my chair and ponder the mysterious steps the chef must undergo to create this magical wonder. What a process it must be!

Alas, as I am discovering with most of my favorite foods, it is surprisingly simple to make. And what a dessert to serve to company! It can be prepared the day before, refrigerated and then popped into the oven right before dinner is finished.

Molten Chocolate Cakes
(adapted from epicurious.com)

5 ounces bittersweet (not unsweetened) or semisweet chocolate, chopped
10 T (1 1/4 sticks) unsalted butter
3 large eggs
3 large egg yolks
1 1/2 C powdered sugar
1/2 C flour

Vanilla Ice Cream
fresh mint (for garnish)

Preheat oven to 450°F. Butter six 3/4-cup soufflé dishes or custard cups. Stir chocolate and butter in heavy medium saucepan over low heat until melted. Cool slightly. Whisk eggs and egg yolks in large bowl to blend. Whisk in sugar, then chocolate mixture and flour. Pour batter into dishes, dividing equally. The recipe up to this point can be made 1 day ahead: cover with saran wrap, chill.

Bake cakes until sides are set but center remains soft and runny, about 11 minutes or up to 14 minutes for batter that was refrigerated. Run small knife around cakes to loosen. Immediately turn cakes out onto plates. Top with ice cream and sprig of mint, serve immediately.

Makes 6.