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.