A day at the (dog) beach

It is a gorgeous summer: the temperature ranging from 80-85 degrees; the slight breeze; the gorgeous blue skies with the occasional fluffy cloud floating lazily by. All these things pull me out of bed at 7am on Saturday mornings and drive my poor sleep-deprived husband crazy.

This past Saturday morning, an extraordinarily beautiful one, was worse than usual. At 7:01am I jumped out of bed and found myself in my usual Saturday-morning dilemma: what to do with myself - and Marshall - for the next 3 hours before I'm allowed to wake Matt up. I've taken to walking Marsh up to Robeks to get a smoothie for Matt, because really, you can't get mad at your wife for waking you up at 8:00am on a Saturday when she has a smoothie in her hand. Can you?

And so it was that, at 8:03am this past Saturday, all three of us were sitting on our bed sipping our smoothies, and trying to figure out what to do with our day. Matt wanted to sleep. I wanted to be outside. The perfect solution was right before our eyes: The Beach.

And we spent a glorious afternoon at the beach, swimming, running, fetching (yes, that applies to all of us, as Marsh often decides its our turn right after the stick is thrown) and getting some much-needed sunshine.

So if you find yourself like I do, waiting for the world to wake up, go for a walk. It's good for you, it's good for the dog, and I promise it will be good for your relationship with whomever you may share your bed with. Happy Summer!

How well do you know Seattle?

For all of my dear friends that have wandered away, and all of my friends who want to call Seattle home, test your knowledge here. I must say, I've been away for way too long.

Dad's Cucumber Salad

May is upon us and Los Angeles is struggling to shed it's rain coat. Those new to the city keep asking when summer's going to arrive. I feel like I am back in Seattle, making excuses for the clouds and claiming that all will be forgotten once the sun and summer heat make their grand entrance.

And so, with our new friends and budding Angelenos, we escaped this last weekend to Palm Springs for a few days of intense heat, sunshine, and laying by the pool. A reminder to our bodies that we are almost there; that our semi-translucent ghostly skin tones will soon begin to golden; that our sweaters and boots will soon retreat back into the depths of the closet and our sandals, stilettos and tanktops will unearth and become staples once more.

When it's 104 degrees outside (or really, anything over 85) I get a craving for my dad's cucumber salad. It was a summer staple in our family; from June through September, there was always a huge bowl of freshly sliced cucumbers floating in their sea of sweet and spicy vinegar on the bottom shelf of the fridge. Requiring almost no work at all, this is a perfect light lunch, snack, or side dish for those unbearably hot days that I know, I know, are just around the corner.

Dad's Cucumber Salad

1 large hothouse cucumber, peeled (ours were homegrown and are definitely preferred if possible)
1/2 C. rice wine vinegar
1/2 C. water
1 t. sugar
Salt and pepper
1/8 medium red onion, thinly sliced (optional)

Slice the cucumber into thin rounds and combine with the vinegar, water and sugar. Gently stir to combine. Add salt and pepper to taste. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. Add the red onion about 10 minutes before serving (it will turn the mixture pink if added too early).

The salad can be made up to 2 days ahead of time (without the red onion).

24

I think it's time for the clock to slow its ticking. I don't want more seconds in a day. I simply want the seconds to stop their mad hamster wheel sprints at midnight and break for a nice glass of Pinot Noir.

I have no idea how I suddenly arrived here. Two years out of college. Six years out of high school. Two and a half years into marriage. Six years of living in Los Angeles. Seriously people, where was I while all of that time was sneaking by?! Regardless, it has happened, and I am officially 24.

And if my birthday week (yes, I got a whole week this year) is any sign of the year to come, I am elated to be 24. I stumble into this year with the most darling husband, wonderful family, and the very best of friends. Time better relax a little, because I want to savor every minute.

And maybe just one more bite of that sinful cupcake from Malibu Kitchen.

Thank you all for the phone calls, cards and plethora of gifts. I am completely overwhelmed by your thoughtfulness and generosity.

Finally! A sigh of relief.

Finally, after several months of hard work, I could not be more thrilled to announce the birth of 4 Tables.

After numerous dinner discussions, the members of TND have decided to combine our blogging efforts into one culinary-exploring masterpiece. Cleverly named after the four tables that serve as center stage for our dinner club, 4tables.net will share the great successes, attempts, planning and stories that come of our favorite weekly meal.

Our hope is that this blog will give you a chance to get to know each of the members a little bit better. We will take weekly turns updating the blog, as our week arrives to prepare TND dinner. I believe you will find our different writing styles quite insightful into our different personalities.

I just finished my first post over at 4tables.net, please feel free to check it out.

Thank you for all of your support and encouragement - I will continue to sporatically update this blog, but 4 Tables is going to be my main focus now. I hope you enjoy it!

A New Year in the works

Please forgive me for my absence. With the New Year and some new goals set, a very exciting surprise is in progress! We (yes, we) are almost finished, so please bear with us.

I hope your New Year has already brought you health, happiness, and many delicious recipes!

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.