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.

The Wonder that was Curry

A few days ago I realized how long it had been since I'd had curry. "Mmmm, curry" I thought. Needless to say, within a few hours I had compiled numerous recipes for curry dishes. I finally decided on a simple recipe that had received overly-rave reviews on epicurious.com: Cashew Chicken Curry. I like cashews! I like curry! I like chicken! Well, that was easy.

As I set to work that evening, happily sauteeing onions, garlic and fresh ginger, I read the next step: add 3 tablespoons curry. "Oh boy! This is the good stuff now!" I thought as I gleefully read the labels on my new spice-organization-system (will write more later). Ummm. No curry. "Ok, don't panic--check in the cupboard where the not-so-common spices lived" No curry. Ooookkkkkaaay. I turned to my darling friend/TND member/newly instated french tutor Jeff with my most horror-sticken face and stated "I have no curry. What is Cashew Curry Chicken with no curry?!" My world was falling apart.

Much to my surprise, Jeff didn't panic. He simply looked up from the little french booklet he'd bought for me and said, "So make it."

I'm sorry? WHAT?

Apparently the curry seasoning you buy at the store is not just ground up curry leaves. It is a mix of eastern spices, usually containing curry, paprika, turmeric, ground cardamom, and many combinations of spices.

So there I was, full of wonder as I tossed without abandon varying amounts of garam masala (a great indian spice if you've never tried it), paprika, turmeric (for that great yellow color!), cinnamon, ground cardamom, and crushed red chili flakes into my great pot. The smell blew me away--it was better than curry! It was my curry! And oh was it good. I'm not sure I'll go back after that experience.

Try it for yourself sometime; but make sure you have garam masala on hand. It is well worth the adventure. And please understand, I'm sure there is nothing authentic about this suggestion. This is my adventure with curry, one might consider it "Kristy-Indian" fusion. He he he.