tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35392653472052889692024-03-13T23:49:59.335-04:00The HeatBring something hot to your tableThe Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.comBlogger75125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-10085352971549928652011-04-20T23:11:00.001-04:002011-04-21T00:48:02.057-04:00A Year Older and a Touch Crabby<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhziaFZoX6631CJdVGOR2dI0Uol6Zi7y1yKF5I0KtTnX33w-bfgpTUZjCuJuOCKsZhYwvGi58YRBqgUHUE2aM4R5byqrKlM0B83bIEOYJ44hm11DKqYL2gtU21vEEONkpuoExVytg0j-OxT/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhziaFZoX6631CJdVGOR2dI0Uol6Zi7y1yKF5I0KtTnX33w-bfgpTUZjCuJuOCKsZhYwvGi58YRBqgUHUE2aM4R5byqrKlM0B83bIEOYJ44hm11DKqYL2gtU21vEEONkpuoExVytg0j-OxT/s320/photo+3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Today I entered into the last year of my twenties and I'm a little crabby about it. My twenties were great - don't get me wrong. I feel satisfied in my celebration of youth. I played hard and well - and it's not like the fun is over. I just think it's time my spirit caught up with my body, which is apparently aging in dog years. I throw my neck out with a sneeze, I already have arthritis, 'comfortable' has become a prerequisite for shoes, and my hangovers like to hang on for days. Most of these I can actually blame on 25 years of soccer. However, rather than sulk, I have decided to embrace my pending thirties and all the exciting things it will offer - like one piece bathing suits and great bottles of wine. I can also throw a proper dinner party and my guests will show up sober enough to eat - a very exciting prospect indeed. I threw my first official dinner party in San Fran this Friday and I'm happy to say it was quite a successful night -despite lacking one chair, one plate and one bowl (because apparently I only buy things in fours). But hey, I'm only 29.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3Wo4gdOFKoljpFq4-BJZvX7VEPRAqHEcB5-EjLodRjnp0ubQfbejQfWf3h0BskZAg7b3DZbbSPxPaHkDUUBXY9es2PgqBdkxzQGg1pUbp3rXENDUrXSG_FliVHMQPbQoQbnD3FvQKcOy/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3Wo4gdOFKoljpFq4-BJZvX7VEPRAqHEcB5-EjLodRjnp0ubQfbejQfWf3h0BskZAg7b3DZbbSPxPaHkDUUBXY9es2PgqBdkxzQGg1pUbp3rXENDUrXSG_FliVHMQPbQoQbnD3FvQKcOy/s320/photo+1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I recently attended a spectacular dinner party, thrown by a friends' Mother, who was an obvious veteran in the kitchen. I never truly appreciated how much planning and thought goes into a dinner party. All those years of my Mother whipping together seemingly effortless parties - table set, hair done, food edible. It wasn't until I threw my own that I realized what a true talent it is. Needless to say, the spread my friend's Mother presented us was impressive and has fast become one of my favorite discoveries in San Francisco: dungeness crab. Dinner was simple and splendid: a steaming pile of lightly seasoned dungeness crab, a tray of gigantic Californian artichokes, and a curry spiked aioli for your dunking pleasures. While quite the labor intensive meal, I have always enjoyed picking crabs. First introduced to the ritual by the Maryland blue crab, I became enamored not only with the succulent meat, but with the methodic cracking, snapping and rummaging involved. Plus the slow pace allows for greater overall beer consumption, which is an obvious plus. I found dungeness crab similar in taste and presentation to blue, just on steroids. Blue crabs are typically covered in Old Bay and dunked in vinegar, while a traditional preparation of Dungeness crab in San Francisco is lighter in seasoning and therefore dunked in something serious like spiked mayo (or it's more delicately named cousin, aioli). Blue, dungeness, snow, or stone - all I ask is that you save me a seat.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfJt0naT77zeMjxlkZHtTIQAW8svpmwC0I8bwkjya0Nfbg2eszB3WdaRgmdw0t-k5o_LkDvkQeaC3bjNTCX0oPT_PeogWtte0FRGQbYZdbZXWCw8LZ4xY2FRewsCX3O4TTTUSJWDgRtcrh/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfJt0naT77zeMjxlkZHtTIQAW8svpmwC0I8bwkjya0Nfbg2eszB3WdaRgmdw0t-k5o_LkDvkQeaC3bjNTCX0oPT_PeogWtte0FRGQbYZdbZXWCw8LZ4xY2FRewsCX3O4TTTUSJWDgRtcrh/s320/photo+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div>I tried my hand at steamed crab and much to my delight, I found it fairly easy. I like <a href="http://www.oldbay.com/Recipes/Crab/Main-Course/Steamed-Dungeness-Crabs.aspx">this recipe</a> from the original experts of steaming crabs. <a href="http://www.artichokes.org/basic_prep.html">Here's</a> an easy guide to steaming artichokes.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Now for the fun stuff:</div><u><br />
</u><br />
<u>Wild Curry Sauce:</u><br />
<br />
<ul><li>1 cup mayo (if you'd like to make your own mayo <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/mayonnaise-recipe/index.html">its easy</a>.)</li>
<li>2t. curry powder</li>
<li>1T. Worchestshire sauce</li>
<li>1T. Lemon juice</li>
</ul><div><div><div><div>If curry isn't your thang, I suggest whipping up a similar meyer lemon aioli:</div></div></div></div><div><u><br />
</u></div><div><u>Meyer Lemon Aioli:</u></div><div><ul><li>1 cup mayo </li>
<li>1 garlic clove</li>
<li>1T. fresh squeezed Meyer lemon juice</li>
<li>1/2t. Dijion mustard</li>
<li>Salt and freshly ground pepper</li>
</ul><div>For both recipes:</div><div><ol><li>Stir together all ingredients in a large bowl.</li>
<li>Refrigerate for at least an hour before serving.</li>
</ol><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCmxNiP22oh_XRCyaBoc2gDI45Htss6RJaIGJcP4ubdve1DHlAj1qpEZWeR49Ye18442q0m0Q39aKWssQvPUZtHuDne2AOAJKWxchTTInKfo5frAkDATwatCsG1JziO5ae0aE41ELsKsgx/s1600/Crab+Costume.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCmxNiP22oh_XRCyaBoc2gDI45Htss6RJaIGJcP4ubdve1DHlAj1qpEZWeR49Ye18442q0m0Q39aKWssQvPUZtHuDne2AOAJKWxchTTInKfo5frAkDATwatCsG1JziO5ae0aE41ELsKsgx/s320/Crab+Costume.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Don't you just want to eat him up?! </div></div></div><div><br />
</div><div>Not literally,</div><div>- The Heat</div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-74775628359337409472011-02-26T22:07:00.006-05:002011-02-26T22:20:05.951-05:00The Weekend Warrior<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKbGYRKk2PuF0uTZy5BV5Jya-YQSFg4fFeAeKdAc_9EAYixaAJwpS131Q2z377iv1I4gYeTwyQ41Q-Gr0FIwEVUe8osoOEsnu7KNio2FWnSagZDn3xTooyz1TxJ2NPI3-c1TTd-IBJ-tcK/s1600/Squaw+Valley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKbGYRKk2PuF0uTZy5BV5Jya-YQSFg4fFeAeKdAc_9EAYixaAJwpS131Q2z377iv1I4gYeTwyQ41Q-Gr0FIwEVUe8osoOEsnu7KNio2FWnSagZDn3xTooyz1TxJ2NPI3-c1TTd-IBJ-tcK/s400/Squaw+Valley.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
It has been a busy two months. The weeks have been dominated by sitting in a chair and on the weekends, never sitting down. This season I was introduced to the joys of west coast skiing and the related thigh burn. Tahoe has gotten somewhere around 40 feet of snow this season, so my skinny jeans are about one ski day away from bursting at the seams. And it's happened before, thanks to Coach Steel, my college weigh training coach, and his repetitious hang cleans. Skiing on the West Coast has been a bit of an adjustment for me, as an East Coast girl who learned to use her edges at age 3. My first powder day (an entirely new term for me) I found myself repeatedly head-over-heels with a mouth full of snow until I learned to sit back a little and enjoy the ride. Even my skis needed an overhaul - my razor sharp toothpicks sunk like a ship, binding my legs hopelessly in waist deep powder until my ever-patient boyfriend could dig me out. When I finally strapped on some powder skis - which looked like giant canoes to me - it was a whole new ballgame. I also picked up some tire chains while I was at it, an essential item I learned after sitting on the same square of pavement for two hours while everyone put snow boots on their car. And then we sat again due to an avalanche warning - no big deal. But the 12hr trip quickly slipped from our minds when we were waist deep in powder the following morning. Now that the transition's over and I'm a tried and true pow-pow vet, I fear the day I have to make the transition back. Back to ice. Back to cold. Back to the biting wind of the great North East.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04CLylG-eFGxHIp5H3C7Kur1OjUlHTIw1PYMtGGjy6fnXdmgXSly6s4Ksiz5Rxs3C2Ye1vYJQ_pdHncAlT4aCOCZjkPF45mGO2sFySZfAtX25NE7TqUaMk2gjbuUanB_PTzFXE-4Dbjse/s1600/Sunnyside+Street.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04CLylG-eFGxHIp5H3C7Kur1OjUlHTIw1PYMtGGjy6fnXdmgXSly6s4Ksiz5Rxs3C2Ye1vYJQ_pdHncAlT4aCOCZjkPF45mGO2sFySZfAtX25NE7TqUaMk2gjbuUanB_PTzFXE-4Dbjse/s400/Sunnyside+Street.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
It is a scientific fact that your skin gets thinner when you're not exposed to drastic temperatures for a period of time. No? Okay, maybe not. Maybe I have just become a West Coast wuss. I traveled back to New York for work last week, and while it was record highs for NYC (fantastic timing on my part), I was dressed for the Alaskan tundra. And no matter what I did, I just couldn't get warm. I also couldn't sleep due to noise. I've lived in California for seven months and I'm soft already! My first year in Manhattan I lived on the second floor of a building on First Avenue. I slept with my head on a pillow on a pothole that was continuously bottomed out by a mac truck. I slept like a baby and I was damn proud of it! Now I'm <i>that</i> girl who wears ear muffs and a parka on a 40º day and travels with earplugs. What has become of me?! My brother warned me that the second I use the word 'hella' in any sort of context I will be boarded on the next flight home. I fear I might be close.<br />
<br />
Besides gnarly new lingo, California has also introduced me to a new health food to power me through the days - whether sitting in a chair at work or 'sitting-in-a-chair' riding the pow. Quinoa is a new addition to my plate. The word is also new to my palate. Pronounced 'Keen-wah' and apparently <i>not</i> 'key-no-ah', as the über-hip server at my local salad bar pointed out to me in an absurdly loud manner. I swear I heard nearby patrons gasp in horror at my uncouth pronunciation. But for those that didn't grow up on a commune, quinoa can now be found amongst the lentils and rice at your local grocery store. I recommend giving it a whirl for multiple reasons:<br />
<ol><li>It appears to be the healthiest food on Earth. Okay, maybe that's a stretch, but there's not much this little seed lacks in terms of nutritional content. It has high levels of magnesium, potassium, manganese, iron, riboflavin, phosphorus, copper, triptophan, B6, thiamin, and niacin. It's a 'complete protein' meaning it contains all 9 essential amino acids. Plus it has 5 grams of fiber and 8 grams of protein. And it;s only 220 calories per cup. Convinced yet? No? Keep reading...</li>
<li>It costs less than $1 per serving. </li>
<li>The taste is mild, yet nutty and takes on the flavor of whatever you mix in it.</li>
<li>It cooks start to finish in about 15 minutes.</li>
<li>The texture is glorious. Like biting into tiny eyeballs. What, that doesn't do it for you? Okay well how about this: it is actually a type of goosefoot (chenopodium). Drop <i>that</i> at your next dinner party.</li>
<li>It was called 'the gold of the Incas' and served to warriors before battle. And everyone knows that Incas were badass.</li>
</ol><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieCpPkTuuFPZPVm1CPE81gTfqqljlutXr-9JKJZ4hlBUhImrNT7aEiNOMhETnzjmqm4ogAs7AESlzC0Lk86pszx2E5N12hPNDEhhyphenhyphenrMRuiSZruzhMbLo4-8gtLnlq_m2ynCxz_Ukto9zfx/s1600/Inca+Warrior.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieCpPkTuuFPZPVm1CPE81gTfqqljlutXr-9JKJZ4hlBUhImrNT7aEiNOMhETnzjmqm4ogAs7AESlzC0Lk86pszx2E5N12hPNDEhhyphenhyphenrMRuiSZruzhMbLo4-8gtLnlq_m2ynCxz_Ukto9zfx/s320/Inca+Warrior.JPG" width="276" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Maybe that Inca needs to eat a little more quinoa.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">My love of the goosefoot started with a dish I routinely ordered for lunch from a place called Fleur de Sel in downtown San Francisco. Their salad was an amazing mix of quinoa, roasted beets, mandarin oranges, arugula, crumbled goat cheese, slivered almonds, and a handful of dried cranberries, served with a simple vinaigrette. I had a sick obsession with it until they ripped the rug from under me and began serving a different concoction of feta cheese, cucumbers, beets, and red onions. The nerve! (Although it is admittedly almost as delicious - almost). Now I create my obsession at home and share it with thee in hopes that even just one of you becomes a believer:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRD-iVwB3SWFphFJctaO2jSRegLgzzYQ01Cg5V9raVkqzjoE8t9Nm3AwAkBplEWD1Ds0IUAklhj-1b6GIHYmGP9aMz5MIvJTTt1YiIh_dAONKjhVdwP4-pOy5nGF7f3BnYrdWlnpcOOqt/s1600/Quinoa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRD-iVwB3SWFphFJctaO2jSRegLgzzYQ01Cg5V9raVkqzjoE8t9Nm3AwAkBplEWD1Ds0IUAklhj-1b6GIHYmGP9aMz5MIvJTTt1YiIh_dAONKjhVdwP4-pOy5nGF7f3BnYrdWlnpcOOqt/s320/Quinoa.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><u><br />
</u></div><u>Quinoa Salad with Roasted Beets, Oranges, Almonds and Cranberries:</u><br />
<ul><li>3 cups cooked quinoa. (1 part quinoa, 2 parts water, cooked for 15min. Tips <a href="http://www.quinoatips.com/quinoa-article-4-ways-to-cook-quinoa/">here</a>).</li>
<li>2 medium sized beets</li>
<li>1/2 cup of olive oil: 1/4 to drizzle on the beets, 1/4 for the dressing.</li>
<li>Couple pinches of salt and pepper: pinch for the beets, pinch for the dressing.</li>
<li>3 naval oranges: Section one, juice the others for the dressing.</li>
<li>1t red wine vinegar</li>
<li>2t soy sauce</li>
<li>1T agave nectar</li>
<li>2 handfuls of arugula</li>
<li>1/4 cup dried cranberries</li>
<li>1/4 cup slivered almonds</li>
<li>1/2 cup crumbled goat cheese</li>
</ul><div><ol><li>Preheat the oven to 375º</li>
<li>While the quinoa is cooking, roast the beets. Place trimmed, cleaned beets in a square of tinfoil, drizzle with olive oil, a crack of pepper and pinch of salt. Fold up tinfoil and place in center of heated oven for 30-45minutes or until fork tender.</li>
<li>Meanwhile make the salad dressing. Whisk the olive oil, vinegar, orange juice, soy sauce, agave nectar, salt and pepper in small bowl. Set aside.</li>
<li>Set aside to cool, rub off skin when cool enough to handle (I do this under a running faucet to avoid staining my hands and everything else around me). Coarsely chop.</li>
<li>Combine warm quinoa, arugula, orange sections, with the dressing in a large bowl and mix liberally. Top with roasted beets, almonds, and cranberries.</li>
</ol></div><div>Eat like a warrior,</div><div>The Heat<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0QxcN-lxioScqXyLyLC_TaEw_7kt0s9JZzR-DsJ2gnTTuXOW7fnBzNSo0vwHoH8PRZhLhI1-ILjxJC3eHHDTmjWmv3wiH-ISpADXEim1Tb_vSQWvNvjy3IIwUEnvZ2DmraLtbBXlItvno/s1600/Weekend+Warrior.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0QxcN-lxioScqXyLyLC_TaEw_7kt0s9JZzR-DsJ2gnTTuXOW7fnBzNSo0vwHoH8PRZhLhI1-ILjxJC3eHHDTmjWmv3wiH-ISpADXEim1Tb_vSQWvNvjy3IIwUEnvZ2DmraLtbBXlItvno/s320/Weekend+Warrior.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-46570299424520333542011-01-09T22:30:00.000-05:002011-01-09T22:30:09.141-05:00Turning into a Chrismoose: A Week in NYC<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRDpeO4APcN_xAQ-_JfWisOMy9Ekn8xizE4ED_hKRKl30s6NZy3Rlw3KK6qDwCiZ9QZxB8k8hx2SFjy6AisSwZ-6XCvwXcQIgG8cyrh1DMyA3N0MXadM2XNRe5YWeA1btZl55d12pnWD4L/s1600/rockefeller+center+christmas+tree+ny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRDpeO4APcN_xAQ-_JfWisOMy9Ekn8xizE4ED_hKRKl30s6NZy3Rlw3KK6qDwCiZ9QZxB8k8hx2SFjy6AisSwZ-6XCvwXcQIgG8cyrh1DMyA3N0MXadM2XNRe5YWeA1btZl55d12pnWD4L/s400/rockefeller+center+christmas+tree+ny.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br />
</div>For the first twenty two years of my life, my only real knowledge about the island of Manhattan consisted of the city at Christmas time. Every year my parents would pack up the whole family for a trip into the city to see the holiday splendor: skating underneath the tree at Rockefeller Center, carriage rides through Central Park, window shopping down 5th Avenue. To me, New York City was ten square blocks of Christmas cheer that smelled of hot pretzels and horses. It was love at first sight.<div><br />
</div><div>Manhattan at Christmas time is one of the most magical times to be in the city, which is part of the reason I chose to bare the cold and snow to spend a full week back home. I hadn't been back to New York since we moved to San Francisco last July, so it was long overdue. To say I was excited is a tremendous understatement. Such excitement can only be monitored and controlled with a list. Is that weird? I write lists to calm down, clear my head and focus at the task on hand. Which this December was hitting up all my favorite spots in NYC in exactly seven days. I am a wild child.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Here is my very own personal pocket guide to dining in NYC - a quick hit list of favorite institutions of all shapes, sizes, wallets and scenes. Perhaps not as 'on trend' now that I live 3,000 miles away, however this list was made with my heart for the pleasure of my tummy:</div><div><br />
</div><div><u>The Heat's Hottest NYC Restaurants</u></div><div><br />
</div><div><u></u><b>Soho:</b></div><ul><li>Balthazar: French bistro. Great for brunch.</li>
<li>Jane: Terrific brunch.</li>
<li>Boqueria: Spanish tapas, fun atmosphere. </li>
<li>Shorty’s .32: small, casual restaurant in Soho. Great vibe and food.</li>
<li>Il Mulino: Expensive Italian. </li>
<li>Raouls: French Bistro with the best steak frites. </li>
<li>Torrisi Italian Specialties: Casual Italian in Soho. Great sandwiches too.</li>
<li>DBGB Kitchen and Bar: Casual Daniel Boulud, burgers, sausages, great atmosphere. </li>
</ul><div><b>West Village:</b></div><ul><li>Mary's Fish Camp: My favorite lobster roll.</li>
<li>Mercadito: Bite sized tacos and spicy margaritas. </li>
<li>The Spotted Pig: Fun, crowded gastropub.</li>
<li>The Waverly Diner: For a 4am Waverly melt: a burger patti <i>inside </i>a grilled cheese.</li>
<li>Taim: Best falafel. </li>
<li>Bleeker Street Pizza: my favorite NY slice. </li>
<li>Yerba Buena: Fancy Latin fare, terrific drinks. </li>
<li>Little Owl: American fare in the <i>Friends</i> apartment building.</li>
<li>Commerce: Great bar for cocktails and roasted chicken, on a quintessential block.</li>
</ul><div><b>Greenwich Village</b></div><ul><li>Babbo: Best pasta sampler menu. Worth the dough (pun intended).</li>
<li>Minetta Tavern: Great steaks, tough reservations. </li>
<li>Hundred Acres: Lovely brunch spot. Great Bloody Mary selection.</li>
<li>Blue Hill: Farm fresh American fare near newly renovated Washington Sq Park</li>
</ul><div><b>East Village</b></div><ul><li>Motorino: Amazing Neopolitan pizza. Casual, fun atmosphere. Small space. </li>
<li>Frank: Homestyle Italian, no reservations. Get the ragu. </li>
<li>Ippudo: Noodles, noodles and noddles. </li>
<li>Gemma: Beautiful Italian restaurant, fun atmosphere in the Bowery Hotel.</li>
<li>Il Buco: Quirky Mediterranean fare on Bond Street.</li>
<li>Mermaid Inn: Casual seafood. </li>
<li>Heche en Dumbo: Trendy Mexican. </li>
<li>The Smith: French bistro, fun atmosphere. </li>
<li>Momofuku Ssam Bar: Haute Asian, great experience, reservations. </li>
</ul><div><b>Midtown East</b></div><ul><li>Sushi Yasuda: The freshest sushi, clean atmosphere. </li>
<li>Convivio: Fancy southern Italian in Tudor City.</li>
<li>Bukhara Grill: Terrific, albeit pricey Indian. </li>
</ul><div><b>Midtown West/Meatpacking/Chelsea:</b></div><ul><li>The Breslin: Gastropub at Ace Hotel. Also a great sandwich spot in there (Sub No.7)</li>
<li>Marea: Fancy seafood on Central Park South</li>
<li>Scarpetta: Haute Italian, however their simplest dish is their best: tomato and basil pasta.</li>
</ul><div><b>Lower East Side:</b></div><ul><li>Kuma Inn: Best overall Asian. Casual atmosphere, BYOB. </li>
<li>Frankie's Spuntino: Homestyle, inexpensive Italian. </li>
<li>Little Giant: Small, hip, great for brunch. </li>
<li>Beauty and Essex: Trendy American, small plates, beautiful restaurant.</li>
</ul><div><b>Gramcery/Flat Iron/Union Square:</b></div><ul><li>Aldea: Portuguese/American fare.</li>
<li>Casa Mono: small plate fare from Mario Batali (Bar Jamon for drinks before/after). </li>
<li>Tamarind: My favorite Indian spot. </li>
<li>Gotham Bar and Grill: Manhattan staple, American fare. </li>
<li>Gramercy Tavern: Fancy American fare. Expensive, but worth it. </li>
<li>Union Square Cafe: NY staple. American fare (order the duck). </li>
<li>Veritas: Known for their winelist, but terrific food too. Very expensive. </li>
<li>Shack Shack: Best burger. All over the city now, but I love the one in Madison Sq Park.</li>
<li>Dave’s Bagels: best bagel in town. </li>
</ul><div><b>Tribeca:</b></div><ul><li>Locanda Verde: Small plate Italian, haute atmosphere. </li>
<li>Smith and Mills: nymag used the term hipstaurant, and accurately so. A real gem.</li>
<li>Max: Meatballs, meatloaf and truffled ravioli.</li>
<li>Bubby's: Comfort food at it's best.</li>
<li>Landmarc: Half bottles of wine and affordable French bistro fare.</li>
<li>Perry Street: Beautiful restaurant on the West Side Highway. Great views.</li>
</ul><div><b>Upper West Side:</b></div><ul><li>Dovetail: Expensive French UWS.</li>
<li>Sushi of Gari: Avant garde sushi. Very expensive. </li>
<li>Celeste: Pizza/Italian. </li>
<li>Nonna: Homestyle Italian. </li>
</ul><div><b>Upper East Side:</b></div><ul><li>Cafe D'Alsace: Belgian beers and Alsatian food</li>
<li>Poke: Affordable sushi, BYOB, casual. </li>
</ul><div><b>Brooklyn:</b></div><ul><li>Peter Lugers: My favorite steak house, under the Brooklyn Bridge.</li>
<li>Tanoreen: Turkish fare far off in Brooklyn.</li>
<li>Hibino: Pressed sushi in Brooklyn Heights.</li>
<li>Henry's End: Wild game in Brooklyn.</li>
<li>Vinegar Hill House: Cozy American fare, Vinegar Hill.</li>
</ul><div>While I didn't check off every food item on my list, I did squeeze in my fair share of fare in between visiting all my loved ones. And while the trip was an overall success, I didn't realize just how much of a whirlwind my vacation was until I landed in laid back, quiet, San Francisco. As hectic as the holidays always are, this year proved to have more obstacles than normal. In just seven days we had a case of the stomach flu, a shopping bag of gifts stolen, lost our friends' car in Brooklyn, broke and almost lost my Christmas gift over a penthouse balcony, a blizzard, a delayed flight home with a screaming baby and a partridge in a pear tree. But despite all the mishaps, when I walked into work Monday morning at 6am with just under three hours of sleep, and my coworkers asked me 'how my vacation was' all I could do was smile. Because even after all that, I still ♥ NYC.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS9M-8EkSSTKZspOoQxrRmxn4U0euJxumL6TXmyFcmy0z10XZCfcxoj-DBinNch74EahCJbP3TxSYh2kW97pxDJ2XH5qcVdXjQEj99gItDii0WANRuvAzOXaBdW0hzkJFIc3xXg6uNCvOI/s1600/Central+Park+Snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS9M-8EkSSTKZspOoQxrRmxn4U0euJxumL6TXmyFcmy0z10XZCfcxoj-DBinNch74EahCJbP3TxSYh2kW97pxDJ2XH5qcVdXjQEj99gItDii0WANRuvAzOXaBdW0hzkJFIc3xXg6uNCvOI/s320/Central+Park+Snow.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div><a href="http://content.pncmc.com/live/pnc/microsite/CPI/2010/index.html">We all know</a> how prohibitively expensive it'd be to actually purchase the items from the beloved carol, The Twelve Days of Christmas, so I wrote my own version, as an ode to the dear city that never sleeps and how fat it made me in just one week:</div><div><br />
</div><div>♫On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me,</div><div>♪Twelve <a href="http://www.menupages.com/restaurants/davids-bagels/">David's bagels</a>, </div>♪Eleven <a href="http://nymag.com/listings/stores/faiccos_pork_store01/">risotto balls</a>,<br />
♪Ten <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/30/dining/reviews/30rest.html">bowls of pasta</a>,<br />
♪Nine <a href="http://piginahat.com/">chicken parms</a>,<br />
♪Eight <a href="http://www.serendipity3.com/">frozen hot chocolates</a>,<br />
♪Seven <a href="http://www.ippudony.com/">ramen</a> a-swimming,<br />
♪Six <a href="http://mamouns.com/">lamb shwarmas</a>,<br />
<div>♪Five <a href="http://crifdogs.com/">dirty dogs</a>,<br />
♪Four <a href="http://www.marysfishcamp.com/">lobster rolls</a>,<br />
♪Three <a href="http://www.thecitybakery.com/">pretzel croissants</a>,<br />
♪Two <a href="http://www.shakeshack.com/">Shack stacks</a>,<br />
♪And a <a href="http://bleeckerstreetpizza.com/">Bleeker pizza</a> just for me! <div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGlDFY7ibq5_ycBWImbfSoV7P1gFeubsU9ibjYGeOYnMg4ll_nGvQECftOVvcqAlR2hnS1jkK-4wU0khiSxw4ICKfLga5io0bTjwFCheVX-nWKUGuG6PTu41-pGzRC-qevp4qIV47n-tqR/s1600/Saddest+Christmas+Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGlDFY7ibq5_ycBWImbfSoV7P1gFeubsU9ibjYGeOYnMg4ll_nGvQECftOVvcqAlR2hnS1jkK-4wU0khiSxw4ICKfLga5io0bTjwFCheVX-nWKUGuG6PTu41-pGzRC-qevp4qIV47n-tqR/s320/Saddest+Christmas+Tree.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing like shrink wrap to mark the end of the season.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div>Happy New Year!</div><div>- The Heat</div></div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-457516018604967602010-12-01T18:32:00.005-05:002010-12-03T15:09:47.252-05:00Men At Work: Turkey Day LA Style<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://frontpagemag.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/hollywood-sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="http://frontpagemag.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/hollywood-sign.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>This year was the first in 28yrs that I wasn't home for Thanksgiving. (Hold off on the tissues, Mom, I kept it light). While I missed my family dearly, I finally had an excuse to partake in my friend's family's epic Thanksgiving cook-off. The tradition started 19yrs ago by her father and a few wise men, referred to as 'the Founding Fathers'. Their job is to coordinate and judge a spectacular men-only culinary competition. Starting in the wee hours of the morning with bloody mary's in hand, the men take over the kitchen (garage, backyard, and living room) and create an obscenely large feast for 40+ attendees. The competition is taken very seriously, with tons of thought and preparation beforehand, including step-by-step directions, video walk-throughs, and even the occasional diagram drawn by a well-meaning girlfriend. It should be noted however, that while the day appears to be run by a male oligarchy, there is an overriding female presence - known to some as Jan, others as Mom, but as God to me, for any woman who allows twenty men to take over her kitchen must possess some sort of divine powers. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">One of the Founding Fathers:</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3v3hr9Lm4ITdyN3A6hBE_lPQqGAa-QDkCDAf7_Ojb65HFoS0r6MGIlyLOrpJUXD9sjUWRU66_yGpvVOYHijbFxfXNBYYwN_oS2W8lNByQcb_pBGNyuFXIiH9kFjrhepwPYNrmBc7frxw/s1600/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+founding+father.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit3v3hr9Lm4ITdyN3A6hBE_lPQqGAa-QDkCDAf7_Ojb65HFoS0r6MGIlyLOrpJUXD9sjUWRU66_yGpvVOYHijbFxfXNBYYwN_oS2W8lNByQcb_pBGNyuFXIiH9kFjrhepwPYNrmBc7frxw/s320/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+founding+father.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
For the past 10yrs I have heard stories about their family's unique Thanksgivings. There are tales of live turkeys butchered on premise, wild turkeys hunted pre-Thanksgiving, and most famously, baby turkeys accidentally slaughtered by their curious canine. They've had all types of turkey preparations: deep fried, turduckened, brined, roasted. Countless types of stuffings. Endless varietals of spuds. You name it, they've done it. They might be the most practiced Thanksgiving family to date. When my boyfriend and I were invited to join in the festivities and I was told that I could <i>not</i> dress in drag to compete, I knew it was time to get serious about his dish. I may or may not have put my boyfriend through the paces of his dish a few times the week before (I have never eaten so many brussels sprouts). It's not that I didn't trust his culinary prowess, it's just that I don't lose well. I mean we. To say he was a good sport is an enormous understatement. We're already practicing for next year (poor guy). The rules, as I now understand them, after breaking many:<br />
<br />
<ol><li>Each year the Founding Fathers deliberate and choose a Master Chef.</li>
<li>The Master Chef is responsible for the main act: Turkey and Stuffing.</li>
<li>To be considered for Master Chef, one must have a college degree OR be at least 26yrs of age.</li>
<li>All male attendees must cook* a dish. No cook, no eat.</li>
<li>All cooking must be on premises. This includes prep work.</li>
<li>All chefs must leave behind a copy of their recipe, to be included in their Ultimate Thanksgiving Cookbook, which I hope to eventually earn a copy of.</li>
<li><i>No help whatsoever from the women, regardless of how pushy they are.</i></li>
</ol><div>*<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><span class="hw" style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: bold;">cook</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"> (kook) </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><i>v.</i> <b>cooked</b>, <b>cook·ing</b>, <b>cooks</b></span></div><div class="pseg" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 5px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 5px; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"><div class="ds-list" style="margin-left: 1cm;"><b>1. </b>To prepare (food) for eating by applying heat.</div><div class="ds-list" style="margin-left: 1cm;"><b>2. </b>To prepare or treat by heating.</div><div class="ds-list" style="margin-left: 1cm;"><b>3. </b>Doing more than arranging the food on a platter.</div></div><br />
I wouldn't call myself a trouble maker, per se. I just have difficulty following directions. I doubt I've ever completed a recipe start to finish exactly as instructed. Some call it 'making it their own'. I call it rebelling. I am <i>so</i> badass. When it came to the rules of the day, I struggled with Rule #7. Although it's not entirely my fault. When it comes to holidays, rest just isn't in the cards for my family - it's not in our blood. At holidays past, we've caught my 80yr old Grandmother on a ladder cleaning her gutters before company arrived. In my house you should expect to work harder on holidays than any other day of the year. You can also expect to eat, drink and sleep harder than any other day of the year (and no later than 9pm and <i>always</i> on the couch). It's just how we do it and I would have it no other way. We even coined a term for this particular holiday:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cranksgiving”<o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> - noun</span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .75in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">1.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The American holiday held on the fourth Thursday of November traditionally signified by the giving of thanks, eating of Turkey and being cranky due to staying out too late the night before and being awoken too early to do chores, while feeling less than optimal.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Origin: Huntington, NY <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">circa</i> 1998. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></b></div>So you see, it was physically impossible for me <i>not</i> to help this Thanksgiving, even though I got scolded more this holiday than holidays in the past. Luckily I was able to use my rookie status as an excuse for my neurosis this year, as I was constantly shooed out of the kitchen, ordered to 'drop the spoon or else', and banned from the prep area for hovering. Eventually I was quarantined to the side of the house where I was handed bloody marys while I paced in small circles. It's genetic - just ask my brother.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div><div style="text-align: center;">The beautifully lit patio:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj-GelxYdtDF1IwJIQd4GeE5Y4YZts0rEvJXcirPAGEOo-Y-3Kkfl0VMQjaug7uiQkulz3U_VPzFy2VgXn9bb4hyoiCtB2UecKKhS1Jueq8LxCrebglzu8q8_Noq7vFB3fgjA66A2F9hrY/s1600/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+Dining+Room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj-GelxYdtDF1IwJIQd4GeE5Y4YZts0rEvJXcirPAGEOo-Y-3Kkfl0VMQjaug7uiQkulz3U_VPzFy2VgXn9bb4hyoiCtB2UecKKhS1Jueq8LxCrebglzu8q8_Noq7vFB3fgjA66A2F9hrY/s320/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+Dining+Room.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The Prep Kitchen:</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2MhbCg9XHAEvl6vH0IAkmCj5yg5dwgjLAeQwyLa3dkFZrgk9mTnTWKoCnATGa8qHq8OI-8LXANGMxVv1v0A1-e-h2UVdFOrkBKoFo37dXwGpgbaTCyqXb_w7m0OFeqTJ85-hrIWvCAI1_/s1600/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+Founding+Fathers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2MhbCg9XHAEvl6vH0IAkmCj5yg5dwgjLAeQwyLa3dkFZrgk9mTnTWKoCnATGa8qHq8OI-8LXANGMxVv1v0A1-e-h2UVdFOrkBKoFo37dXwGpgbaTCyqXb_w7m0OFeqTJ85-hrIWvCAI1_/s320/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+Founding+Fathers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">One of three ovens in use:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7AgwIgs3DgnjZWH0xRu4kfLf2PWFbhzA4Oca9psX9Q-JMIh86_PmKOb8OUfAD7ItztyPXRVJEm4l9Hs-w3kW8CDEm8wPgyC0phlNDddlauT_N54h3HvxcOsRwWl4rAujRtXmVvpoTVVp3/s1600/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+Chef+Harnsy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7AgwIgs3DgnjZWH0xRu4kfLf2PWFbhzA4Oca9psX9Q-JMIh86_PmKOb8OUfAD7ItztyPXRVJEm4l9Hs-w3kW8CDEm8wPgyC0phlNDddlauT_N54h3HvxcOsRwWl4rAujRtXmVvpoTVVp3/s320/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+Chef+Harnsy.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Serious concentration:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmkkUtsBy9VQcDAVCKa0Zr2a0nJLzYQq823UOps3gwh35yzFul21zs7zgCj3RGitm1UW5ofa3vl-DbmDyNssKztZZ95eFXAGiDjk8mmWwTH5v0V1G4WBXGfgJMHHT0vZ0IgVXDZ0DLOC7h/s1600/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+Bret%2527s+concentration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmkkUtsBy9VQcDAVCKa0Zr2a0nJLzYQq823UOps3gwh35yzFul21zs7zgCj3RGitm1UW5ofa3vl-DbmDyNssKztZZ95eFXAGiDjk8mmWwTH5v0V1G4WBXGfgJMHHT0vZ0IgVXDZ0DLOC7h/s320/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+Bret%2527s+concentration.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The dish I didn't help with <i>at all</i>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVsfC0XvFPI3Uu-1pMD3HVjOXMR_5pWD6X6r-Bhbh7FfhjOJZV0SVtNOmvdY4kH9P_LQYQtj0cWBJ4oJioczbSvmvvWa9WLfGHXrf54DDC5OL4ohJLBCB50clZ4nM1RU-QkvKg8KCElNsH/s1600/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+Mikey+the+Chef+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVsfC0XvFPI3Uu-1pMD3HVjOXMR_5pWD6X6r-Bhbh7FfhjOJZV0SVtNOmvdY4kH9P_LQYQtj0cWBJ4oJioczbSvmvvWa9WLfGHXrf54DDC5OL4ohJLBCB50clZ4nM1RU-QkvKg8KCElNsH/s320/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+Mikey+the+Chef+2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The Master Chef in his serious coat:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJkX8ynTlqkawx19AzrgOB80nC2eqsa_f4rGgJeRVNO9rxxZjNf1Sp7ZvcgshLfIFDXJ4M0UFbTBe9MaA7dcVlmfhTxWrAF8v_BBM30LodquE8VYWCFCEn_q3b5_UdYIhmdVZpRJrDB3N/s1600/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+Master+Chef.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkJkX8ynTlqkawx19AzrgOB80nC2eqsa_f4rGgJeRVNO9rxxZjNf1Sp7ZvcgshLfIFDXJ4M0UFbTBe9MaA7dcVlmfhTxWrAF8v_BBM30LodquE8VYWCFCEn_q3b5_UdYIhmdVZpRJrDB3N/s320/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+Master+Chef.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Caught red handed. (Though this is clearly breakfast, as I'm in my pj's, so it shouldn't really count).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8DPh9MU9uczlzqVNUFnGEUUHKMbcxJIUpxrgNX1GMTMAp8k1PCK2MwDgXwsMchlOllPyYMRYZ3m2mI5aQNQDrpNOpTjNKoK617CYm96IOGsjw5-FhB0tPtxWSHabeFPPOKECr_FlpGA-s/s1600/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+cheating+at+bfast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8DPh9MU9uczlzqVNUFnGEUUHKMbcxJIUpxrgNX1GMTMAp8k1PCK2MwDgXwsMchlOllPyYMRYZ3m2mI5aQNQDrpNOpTjNKoK617CYm96IOGsjw5-FhB0tPtxWSHabeFPPOKECr_FlpGA-s/s320/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+cheating+at+bfast.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Beautifully presented infused vodkas to keep the ladies at bay.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg03GsSoSRaAyNyYfxDVh83tkF7fcvk-oihisjMcQRxvaRMO-LI1ZlyFU8EgyfGay6vQDUjWtuIl3CbFaVHScKx0wtfryqwuTNi7vradZMA9d-1YtYf4qm4o6mXbFZ0BW3jZeCGwNOtxwyz/s1600/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+Vodka.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg03GsSoSRaAyNyYfxDVh83tkF7fcvk-oihisjMcQRxvaRMO-LI1ZlyFU8EgyfGay6vQDUjWtuIl3CbFaVHScKx0wtfryqwuTNi7vradZMA9d-1YtYf4qm4o6mXbFZ0BW3jZeCGwNOtxwyz/s320/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+Vodka.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The final result:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIw3tJzB90D2b5l8sg_iVHgbpX94GVfQbCGDdPagsYBQ0DZqWUUmV_shedAAOS83iFLSxn3gJilxi271nfUoByOyHTXuGWI4xMa7W8Xc6iUOCPu1ufF33Nv25P3Czx1Rjej6piwS9yk1NA/s1600/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+table.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIw3tJzB90D2b5l8sg_iVHgbpX94GVfQbCGDdPagsYBQ0DZqWUUmV_shedAAOS83iFLSxn3gJilxi271nfUoByOyHTXuGWI4xMa7W8Xc6iUOCPu1ufF33Nv25P3Czx1Rjej6piwS9yk1NA/s320/Thanksgiving+in+LA+-+table.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>While I haven't gotten my hands on their Ultimate Thanksgiving Cookbook just yet, I can share what we, I mean, my boyfriend cooked for the feast:</div><div><br />
</div><div><u>Brussels Sprouts with Bacon and Figs</u> adapted and changed (obviously) from NYT's recipe</div><div>(serves 4)</div><div><ul><li>2T olive oil</li>
<li>8 ounces thick cut bacon or pancetta, chopped</li>
<li>1lb Brussels sprouts, stems trimmed and cut in half lengthwise</li>
<li>1 cup fresh figs, stemmed and quartered (dried can be used if out of season)</li>
<li>Salt and freshly ground black pepper</li>
<li>2T balsamic vinegar, more to taste</li>
</ul><div><ol><li>Preheat oven to 375</li>
<li>In a large baking pan, sprinkle bacon in an even layer and cook in a high heat oven until crisp, approximately 10 minutes.</li>
<li>Remove bacon from pan and set aside on a paper towel.</li>
<li>Add sprouts to the pan with the olive oil. Shake to coat. Salt and pepper to taste. Roast for 30 minutes until golden, but not charred.</li>
<li>Add figs and continue cooking until slightly browned on the edges, about 10-15 minutes. </li>
<li>Crumble bacon on top.</li>
</ol></div></div><div>I don't know how, but <a href="http://orangette.blogspot.com/2006/11/combine-and-boil.html">this cranberry chutney</a> was made ahead of time and showed up to the Thanksgiving table. I had nothing to do with it.</div><div><br />
</div><div>And I made it past 9pm!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Happy Cranksgiving,</div><div>- The Heat<br />
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</div></div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-45767724582260198532010-11-19T17:30:00.002-05:002010-11-19T17:37:20.415-05:00A Weekend of Aphrodisiacs: Champagne, Oysters and Glee.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJy9Yaqf3UayRSxboS89_zmdIxe7TD9d3kr6TVeRLmbDoHnVUBR4Ly6Y5NHJ5aZgWU-sbQ50HL7DczXxFnWN_AME3IY3fjc9-_YAYUK0ItJeYXy7KqrWcpyV3WUJ7k1es4QbuOioAZcAgC/s1600/Fall+in+Sonoma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJy9Yaqf3UayRSxboS89_zmdIxe7TD9d3kr6TVeRLmbDoHnVUBR4Ly6Y5NHJ5aZgWU-sbQ50HL7DczXxFnWN_AME3IY3fjc9-_YAYUK0ItJeYXy7KqrWcpyV3WUJ7k1es4QbuOioAZcAgC/s320/Fall+in+Sonoma.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It has been too beautiful out to stay inside and write, though I have been meaning to sit down and reflect on last weekend all week. So now that we're back to true San Franciscan fog and chill, I'll just come right out and say it: I spent one day in wine country, one day in oyster country and a night in an 80's bar. Top that!<br />
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<center><iframe class="youtube-player" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/5WKa83iK7R4?rel=0" title="YouTube video player" type="text/html" width="480"></iframe></center><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">By 10am on Saturday morning I was sunning myself on the balcony of the chateau <a href="http://www.domainecarneros.com/index.cfm">Domaine Carneros</a> with a flight of bubbly and a landscape of auburn colored grape vines. I know what my friends back East are thinking - something along the lines of 'shut-up-I-hate-you', but please allow me to brag about where I live for just a moment, as I have spent the past few posts lost somewhere between homesickness and adjustment. <i>Let me have this</i>. </span><br />
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> Our next stop was <a href="http://www.cuvaison.com/">Cuvaison Estate Wines</a>, where we were served crisp chardonnay and smooth pinot noirs in a tiny, yet chic modern greenhouse with a wrap around deck. Our group's favorites, besides the 20yr old sommelier who could have passed as Javier Bardem's son, was the <b>2008 Block Chardonnay</b> and the <b>2008 F5 Block Pinot Noir</b>. Both of which I purchased, but left at my (lucky) friend's house - ah, the perils of vineyard hopping.</span><br />
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Lunch was at <a href="http://www.thegirlandthefig.com/">Girl and the Fig</a> in Sonoma Square, where we gorged ourselves on the Fromage Tower (a girl's dream come true), their famed fig and arugula salad (worth the hype), and their top sirloin burger with melted brie and grilled onions as my main course. The only thing I have to say about that is <i>excessive</i>. The traffic on the drive home was mitigated by a case of DCL's (known as <b>D</b>elicious <b>C</b>oors <b>L</b>ights in my house) and a sing along playlist that may or may not have included a number of Glee hits. The singing continued into the night with too much Whitesnake and not enough Guns n' Roses at Butter, rated San Francisco's #1 Trailer Park bar, for their Saturday Rock City Night ("a night of party rock anthemology and smash up madness!") Let me express how relieved I am that there were no video cameras around. It was not pretty.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE4jJdNuPew6q56z1paZ82yLpEte918tL1PvjIo8tGwlJE9nGCvzKb52MIDYaVXsi3Z7mmnaYnPyuhbjpo5yGETIHKlSs8mg4IM_tiGlR8BbYmzX4tWFxi3L9D0Na5pi43sl2D64-kl2tn/s1600/PCH.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE4jJdNuPew6q56z1paZ82yLpEte918tL1PvjIo8tGwlJE9nGCvzKb52MIDYaVXsi3Z7mmnaYnPyuhbjpo5yGETIHKlSs8mg4IM_tiGlR8BbYmzX4tWFxi3L9D0Na5pi43sl2D64-kl2tn/s320/PCH.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitquIwZBdLfc5wbuMYee5mnD8D8ZaEknxm-ypmueL5kw8nfBZd8fBVVFJtWaH-ScNklhVXurPkzPUqLLvmNloj950CqQC_3NzDz5vr7P3cbQzuSevbD0NrrpSkYH39nP9wTWI0m3mwQTX4/s1600/PCH2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitquIwZBdLfc5wbuMYee5mnD8D8ZaEknxm-ypmueL5kw8nfBZd8fBVVFJtWaH-ScNklhVXurPkzPUqLLvmNloj950CqQC_3NzDz5vr7P3cbQzuSevbD0NrrpSkYH39nP9wTWI0m3mwQTX4/s320/PCH2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sunday was a touch tamer, starting with a breathtaking, albeit windy drive up Rt 1 (a therefore challenging trip for those with a <a href="http://cocktails.about.com/od/healthsafety/a/stg_hngovr.htm">stage 3 hangover</a>). We made a few stops, sometimes for the scenery, more often for yours truly to find her stomach. Our final destination was 1.5hrs north of San Francisco in Marshall, California - otherwise known as Oyster Country. When it comes to my adoration of molluska, I am an equal opportunist. I find West Coast oysters creamier and nuttier than their East Coast cousins, who are saltier, brinier and tougher <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">(a startlingly accurate representation of the coastal inhabitants, bivalve and homosapiens alike). It really depends what you're in the mood for. In my delicate state on Sunday, the less briny, the better. I needed those babies to go down smooth and gentle. And that they did. We washed down two dozen of the freshly shucked beasts on <a href="http://www.themarshallstore.com/">The Marshall Store's</a> patio overlooking sunny and serene Tomales Bay: raw kumamoto, raw Pt Reyes, barbecued oysters, and smoked oysters served with a creamy chipotle sauce over toast points. My hangover virtually vanished - can you blame me?</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTRa9C2Gl7TKH47DBWkLbCTXHZ0m6KqYt7J4rRagRzCRvQUVRyQjCKb9zEO7oLh-ZXwUokb6MjHaOYP7TCumc_7m1PyNS0HHqHTXSpzw3VnbzPczaL7vRTIQON-iUjGzrkPpxXWqmlXow/s1600/IMG_2442.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTRa9C2Gl7TKH47DBWkLbCTXHZ0m6KqYt7J4rRagRzCRvQUVRyQjCKb9zEO7oLh-ZXwUokb6MjHaOYP7TCumc_7m1PyNS0HHqHTXSpzw3VnbzPczaL7vRTIQON-iUjGzrkPpxXWqmlXow/s320/IMG_2442.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> NBD, just kicked back a wheelbarrow's worth of bivalves:</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN7cenlGeCP9SI7e_b-xyzHk86kIhplLfvfPL5q5yzc0WcTDa99bKDPlvZtYo5CILIBWb3h-z7GydfH4JvgVsoj2OUHmlEwpWOx-H5pvK_rUycw0qyurBulVe45paajvPT6EAW7rETc-eC/s1600/Oyster+Barrel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN7cenlGeCP9SI7e_b-xyzHk86kIhplLfvfPL5q5yzc0WcTDa99bKDPlvZtYo5CILIBWb3h-z7GydfH4JvgVsoj2OUHmlEwpWOx-H5pvK_rUycw0qyurBulVe45paajvPT6EAW7rETc-eC/s320/Oyster+Barrel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>In an effort to combine both experiences from my weekend in culinary glee, I recalled a dish from my Brother's engagement party: barbecued oysters with champagne butter. However, if this seems like too much work, stick to a glass of bubbly with a platter of raw oysters - a match made in Northern California heaven.<br />
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<u>Barbecued Oysters with Champagne Butter:</u><br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b>For the Champagne Butter Sauce:</b></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><ul><li>2T. minced shallots</li>
<li>2T. unsalted butter</li>
<li>1C Champagne</li>
</ul><ul><li>1 dozen large, fresh, live oysters in their shell (they should feel heavy and be clamped shut) </li>
</ul><ol><li>Preheat barbecue grill.</li>
<li>Scrub oysters with brush under cold water and set aside.</li>
<li>In a small saucepan, melt the butter and soften the shallots over med/low heat, until fragrant.</li>
<li>Add the champagne to the saucepan and reduce by half over medium heat. </li>
<li>When reduced, cover and keep warm over low heat.</li>
<li>Place oysters cup side down on grill, which should be about 4" from the hot coals. Close lid, open any vents and cook for 8-10 minutes until shells begin to open.</li>
<li>Remove all oysters when first one is completely open. I use an oven mitt to remove the oysters, so as to not spill their juices.</li>
<li>Pry open all oysters with a paring or oyster knife. Sever the muscle, leaving the oyster in it's half shell. Transfer onto a serving platter and drizzle with champagne butter sauce.</li>
<li>Be blissfully happy.</li>
</ol><div>My next recipe may have to be one for roast duck, as my urban, Manhattan raised, previously non-water dog practiced her duck hunting skills on an unsuspecting stick this weekend. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2L7VRWn4OFmPYjUh4S8qppIRQkLD4MN__I6Q_saJz1dPBQBbwdcx46Gcn69HVO1FmfzDSEFWge-xzKSINxFDnepFHhzL65aqQORqv1gP-XjuhhtlDD729fuHKZ7T9O-APNGaBinTKntZS/s1600/Hunting+Nike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2L7VRWn4OFmPYjUh4S8qppIRQkLD4MN__I6Q_saJz1dPBQBbwdcx46Gcn69HVO1FmfzDSEFWge-xzKSINxFDnepFHhzL65aqQORqv1gP-XjuhhtlDD729fuHKZ7T9O-APNGaBinTKntZS/s320/Hunting+Nike.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOPXCM0apfOH3v5mwS_gp_ePsabi8Bw5e_TNbKxOyiE2DNdpSHBrF116gljC-z_OAar49hJVoaTtZujjqWZtCZZtHWJO89MGQU1afQgulS37-KOcmHlhOJiomxOWcjnByJI7_gpylsl2M/s1600/Scared+Nike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwOPXCM0apfOH3v5mwS_gp_ePsabi8Bw5e_TNbKxOyiE2DNdpSHBrF116gljC-z_OAar49hJVoaTtZujjqWZtCZZtHWJO89MGQU1afQgulS37-KOcmHlhOJiomxOWcjnByJI7_gpylsl2M/s320/Scared+Nike.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHSK1i1q_uz6SbPXYLiZ8d-qfi7ezN_BYdh62ZzC1vxcdDOP7YKhl_u0K6siOZnNIu7XD50cm1YpifUeMQ-QwHB6g5XBZRA1fxUuuPr2arg4QvLxcDvKfyr7fzWJsZv5CJZUS_yUWnSFIq/s1600/Retreating+NIke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHSK1i1q_uz6SbPXYLiZ8d-qfi7ezN_BYdh62ZzC1vxcdDOP7YKhl_u0K6siOZnNIu7XD50cm1YpifUeMQ-QwHB6g5XBZRA1fxUuuPr2arg4QvLxcDvKfyr7fzWJsZv5CJZUS_yUWnSFIq/s320/Retreating+NIke.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div>The stick won.</div><div>- The Heat</div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-53365202612057715082010-11-03T15:39:00.003-04:002010-11-12T15:12:01.785-05:00Faking Fall<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jgyLZ3tHDu8-XyGoZvJTqChZFgfsVDdMGfLRqQdTrSoaPjtE_V0XJyyyHl2TAH_6E0q-Rj20fmV7VLA_SYA9M2i4PcRQK03SGCBvsYtfToqDp7_5kSEPywAKkYQn4zStxh055cBetwL0/s1600/Pumpkin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jgyLZ3tHDu8-XyGoZvJTqChZFgfsVDdMGfLRqQdTrSoaPjtE_V0XJyyyHl2TAH_6E0q-Rj20fmV7VLA_SYA9M2i4PcRQK03SGCBvsYtfToqDp7_5kSEPywAKkYQn4zStxh055cBetwL0/s320/Pumpkin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I like Halloween. Notice I didn't say love. For one, I'm not a sweets person - candy just ain't my thang. Secondly, I get anxiety over buying something that I will only wear once and I <i>hate</i> clutter. The mere thought of an attic filled with old costumes makes me twitch. I'm odd (read: OCD), what can I say? However, this year I felt differently about the holiday. I don't know what it was - new city, new attitude? But, I found myself stocking up on candy and making my own costume!<br />
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It takes a lot to shock the masses in San Francisco. On any given day I can walk into town and see the same two naked old men sitting in the square (cross-legged, mind you), casually reading their newspapers like it's just another day. And for everyone who walks by, I guess it <i>is</i> just another day because I seem to be the only one who stares (and rubbernecks). It's unbelievable. I could walk out my door in nothing but a babushka and barely get a second glance. So this Halloween I decided to blend in and dress up. I thought I'd wear a costume that gave a nod to my new state, and since every third person was already dressing up as '<a href="http://www.fearthebeard.org/">The Beard</a>', I decided to take a more feminine direction. I dressed up as our generations "California Girl":<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSaFE0Sb02oUOIN8FI3PHZwIfNTiryOu8VleendiwjFupxD9hyphenhyphenWMhgshYG7pNBF49blJ7lIlInetnFR6iYcWokxP_eEsLZqmFRAq9VV719oWnTASvB3P8n7Jge-yZZe8HYk3Sfm-e4X9Sb/s1600/Katy+Perry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSaFE0Sb02oUOIN8FI3PHZwIfNTiryOu8VleendiwjFupxD9hyphenhyphenWMhgshYG7pNBF49blJ7lIlInetnFR6iYcWokxP_eEsLZqmFRAq9VV719oWnTASvB3P8n7Jge-yZZe8HYk3Sfm-e4X9Sb/s320/Katy+Perry.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>No, no, no, not THAT one. Alas, my 'cupcakes' aren't big enough. I chose her more tasteful(?) outfit from <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CTVJTt-Gfx8">that ridiculous video</a>, which is a dress made up of one of the worst candies to date:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGaQVZs8H7AJDMAa2zsYl6pg4npmml1qEKhWLPbxX7chEexReTMl2PsYJPRnKI4Oq9rlPK4Lu9M0zbIhG1M0pMvPZwUw24DEHFwMxJ1rKvZMJgV7APEQx9-QpbyRAkDf6miCSYKaKjma-z/s1600/Halloween+-+Rockin'+out.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGaQVZs8H7AJDMAa2zsYl6pg4npmml1qEKhWLPbxX7chEexReTMl2PsYJPRnKI4Oq9rlPK4Lu9M0zbIhG1M0pMvPZwUw24DEHFwMxJ1rKvZMJgV7APEQx9-QpbyRAkDf6miCSYKaKjma-z/s320/Halloween+-+Rockin'+out.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>And my furry friend was a dinosaur for the fifth year running. My poor future children.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WQJ2N3yGS6vIrp_Dtdu2oFwoNXf0PWKhB04_23O9i5BaYJL2gO0BXGjW2mU11mqWiJF2clQUVI-sxBmfFqxZzOdIZyXWN339dLhf2ec7VsP-HQTz1qNphue6LWeNJgBRYPzUpkvEyjCt/s1600/Dinosaur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WQJ2N3yGS6vIrp_Dtdu2oFwoNXf0PWKhB04_23O9i5BaYJL2gO0BXGjW2mU11mqWiJF2clQUVI-sxBmfFqxZzOdIZyXWN339dLhf2ec7VsP-HQTz1qNphue6LWeNJgBRYPzUpkvEyjCt/s320/Dinosaur.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I realize that not everyone shares my enthusiasm for Fall (eh, hem - above). But I just can't get enough. No, really - there's not enough Fall here in San Francisco. I say this as I sit in Dolores Park in a tank top and loads of sunscreen. Yes, it's a beautiful day out - I should really count my blessings, but I am ready to move on. I'm told Fall is on it's way and that it comes disguised as 'Winter' in San Francisco, but I simply can not wait. Fall has always been my favorite season of the year. The smell of the first day of school (I'm a huge nerd), the feel of a new soccer season (a huge jock), the taste of Fall's harvest (and a fatty at heart). Some of my favorite comfort foods coincide with my favorite season: roasted butternut squash, sugar pumpkins, earthy Brussles sprouts, warm bowls of chili, fiery buffalo wings and of course, every form and derivative of apples - cider, sauce, pie, and martini. Now that I have a big girl kitchen to play in, I have been doing a ton of cooking. <a href="http://theheatnyc.blogspot.com/2010/01/lidia-bastianichs-sunday-bolognese.html">Recall</a> my former "kitchen" in the West Village and you'll understand my enthusiasm.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDNxE5h4JbRddlGQZeH3PzrvwLVKQhGybGBf3rCMxM-xkWAB0wOhUnPNM744w2uxvAQzLgrBempiu0NyI7mg4-7TEawFLV9zUOkWb3FYEZDkQpxetkwibKP72e4vulFtybOWLYz2jBZZS/s1600/Kitchen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDNxE5h4JbRddlGQZeH3PzrvwLVKQhGybGBf3rCMxM-xkWAB0wOhUnPNM744w2uxvAQzLgrBempiu0NyI7mg4-7TEawFLV9zUOkWb3FYEZDkQpxetkwibKP72e4vulFtybOWLYz2jBZZS/s320/Kitchen.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Despite the heat in San Francisco, I have had my oven on high, roasting and braising my Fall favorites as if Autumn were actually here. I am officially obsessed with any and all types of squash and I interchange them all fairly liberally. I used to stick loyally to butternut squash merely out of familiarity. But lately I have developed a sick obsession with sugar pumpkins, which I find have a more delicate flavor and are far less pumpkiny than I feared. Plus they look cuter on my countertops. Here are a few wonderful recipes I've stumbled upon this season. Go crazy:</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><ul><li>Apple-sage-gruyere muffins from <a href="http://cannelle-vanille.blogspot.com/2010/09/apple-gruyere-and-sage-muffins-and.html">Cannelle et Vanille</a>.</li>
<li>Butternut Squash Risotto from <a href="http://wednesdaychef.typepad.com/the_wednesday_chef/2007/10/chez-panisses-b.html">The Wednesday Chef</a></li>
<li>Everything on <a href="http://nymag.com/restaurants/features/69251/">NyMag's</a> top 11 recipes from famous NY Chefs - particularly the cauliflower.</li>
<li>Leeks Vinaigrette a la <a href="http://orangette.blogspot.com/">Orangette</a></li>
<li>Spicy Squash Salad with Goat Cheese and Lentils from the<a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2010/10/spicy-squash-salad-with-lentils-and-goat-cheese/"> Smitten Kitchen</a>.</li>
<li><a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/barbecued-pork-and-apple-kebabs?backto=true&backtourl=/photogallery/fall-apple-recipes#slide_8">Barbecued Pork and Apple Kebabs</a></li>
<li>Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Caramelized Onions and Bacon from <a href="http://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2010/02/roasted-brussel-brussels-sprouts-with-caramelized-onions-bacon-recipe.html">Serious Eats</a></li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ietMkkjZbm3E5hPxXPPF6Hq0T4Y3kdbU_tlCuHs6dCfXqrvCbihvgiWVelrg0Ab0Z-omvAp0k8c_Z8JH0eeUp_Wc4M7GMz1GMOUSI5YUNlpG-22eftkOEKSXnU1xCoV9w3gZMVYx9N0O/s1600/Leaves.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ietMkkjZbm3E5hPxXPPF6Hq0T4Y3kdbU_tlCuHs6dCfXqrvCbihvgiWVelrg0Ab0Z-omvAp0k8c_Z8JH0eeUp_Wc4M7GMz1GMOUSI5YUNlpG-22eftkOEKSXnU1xCoV9w3gZMVYx9N0O/s320/Leaves.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>However the absolute essence of Fall for me is the smell of my <b>Mother's Apple Crisp</b> in the oven. Cinnamony, buttery, apply goodness - served piping hot over a spoonful of real vanilla ice cream - Breyer's to be exact. So while I can't see or feel home anytime soon - I can certainly taste it:</div><div><u><br />
</u></div><div><u><b>Mamma Iss' Apple Crisp:</b></u></div><div><ul><li>3/4 cup all-purpose flour</li>
<li>1/4 cup light brown sugar</li>
<li>1/2t salt</li>
<li>1/2 cup granulated sugar</li>
<li>1 cup oats </li>
<li>1 stick unsalted butter, cut into cubes</li>
<li>3lbs of Granny Smith apples, cored, peeled and sliced.</li>
<li>2T lemon juice</li>
<li>1/2t. ground cinnamon</li>
<li>Real Vanilla Ice Cream</li>
</ul></div><div><ol><li>Preheat the oven to 350°</li>
<li>In a mixing bowl, combine flour, brown sugar, white sugar, oats and salt. </li>
<li>Melt butter in a small saucepan over medium/low heat.</li>
<li>When melted, add oat mixture, stirring enough to combine, but maintaining a lumpy consistency.</li>
<li>In another large mixing bowl, combine the apples with the lemon juice and cinnamon.</li>
<li>Transfer apples to a shallow baking dish and sprinkle with oat mixture.</li>
<li>Bake until fragrant, golden and bubbly, about 40 minutes.</li>
<li>Allow to cool for ~10minutes. Spoon over a dollop of ice cream.</li>
</ol></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">And while baseball has always signified Spring and the Yankees in my world, I must give the appropriate praise to the San Francisco Giants and their adoring fans. Though I don't quite understand how blissful celebration aligns itself with lighting mattresses on fire, you all made the walk home the other night more than interesting. My neighborhood:</div><br />
<br />
<center><iframe class="youtube-player" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Gb02n55uZU0?rel=0" title="YouTube video player" type="text/html" width="480"></iframe></center><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">"West coast represent, now put your hands up!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">- The Heat</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-47990414502075171712010-10-14T20:07:00.005-04:002010-12-02T00:53:20.680-05:00Up and At 'em.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCIsRzhI3lQeuhkeStB75J_Fztc4CXb7qWLbLX6o87y0dVyocFrHOrB7ElXFKJa6OtbkOeQy340jcyhkSRuHgqXMWhznVhvPbc0oT5poin5zNbjTv0vvWX2VM_e22QtxmLvMjG64CzDSiW/s1600/IMG_2148-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCIsRzhI3lQeuhkeStB75J_Fztc4CXb7qWLbLX6o87y0dVyocFrHOrB7ElXFKJa6OtbkOeQy340jcyhkSRuHgqXMWhznVhvPbc0oT5poin5zNbjTv0vvWX2VM_e22QtxmLvMjG64CzDSiW/s320/IMG_2148-1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
As you've gathered from my past two posts, there are a number of things I've had to adjust to since moving to the left coast. Most notably, casual drivers, slower sidewalks, and an entirely new climate. And they are probably net positives on my overall health and well being. Another stupendously healthy, albeit forced change of habit is getting my sleepy keister out of bed on the weekends. This city is all about jam packing their days of rest with fresh air and activities. <br />
<br />
Our first night in San Francisco was a Saturday night. Exhausted from the drive through the wonderful state of Nevada, my boyfriend and I didn't make it out to dinner until around 10pm - a somewhat normal dinner hour back home. It took us over an hour to find a restaurant that hadn't rolled up their sidewalk - so we settled for takeout, a bottle of bubbly, and a season of Lost. Which can be terrific...don't get me wrong...on a Tuesday night. Admittedly we were in the wrong neighborhood for late night festivities, but over the coming weeks, we found the options for a late night party, paltry at best. Then again, we come from the city that never sleeps, so we tried to keep things in perspective.<br />
<br />
And then we discovered why: everyone literally exhausts themselves during the day! Hiking, biking, surfing, sports, wine tasting, music festivals, street fairs, city events, faux holidays - oh, and an abundance of day drinking in the park, on the beach, on a roof, at a game, in a bar...it's no wonder this city is wiped out come nightfall! In efforts to assimilate with the 'friscans (they would crucify me for calling them that. Also for using 'San Fran' I learned the hard way), I have embraced this early bird culture wholeheartedly. And by embrace, I mean found an excuse to eat a gut-busting breakfast.<br />
<br />
I have come to appreciate the versatility of the pancake. I awoke last Saturday with an uncharacteristic craving for pancakes, however I had a full day of roof partying ahead of me and I knew I needed a better base than the traditional flour, maple syrup routine. Head still on the pillow, I perused the internet and discovered that one can put pretty much anything into a pancake. The pancake is truly a blank slate. Sweet, savory, hearty, light, gluten free, vegetarian or spiked with meat (do yourself a favor and make sausage pancakes sometime) - just pick your poison. My thought process for the following recipe went a little something like this: "I want pancakes. But not too sweet. I hate when they're too sweet. Maybe I'll use yogurt instead of milk? But I need protein - can't. get. hungry. I have walnuts. What if I pureed some walnuts into the batter? I have apples too! But I love banana pancakes. Well apples and bananas go well together, right?" And voila! A highly sophisticated, scientifically formulated recipe for Apple-Walnut-Banana-Yogurt pancakes, that I like to call:<br />
<br />
<u><b>Lord-Give-Me-Strength (For-This-Hike) Pancakes:</b></u><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Serves 8</span><br />
<br />
<ul><li>2 cups All-purpose flour (substitute whole wheat flour if you have it)</li>
<li>1.5 cups Greek yogurt </li>
<li>2 eggs well beaten</li>
<li>1/4 cup sugar (brown sugar is a nice alternative)</li>
<li>1t. baking powder (not soda, which caused a second trip to the supermarket. Oops.)</li>
<li>1/2t. salt</li>
<li>3 apples peeled, cored and coarsely grated (I used Granny Smith - they're quite tart.)</li>
<li>1t. Cinnamon</li>
<li>Canola oil or other cooking oil for frying</li>
<li>Confectioners sugar for dusting, maple syrup for dunking, butter for patting...to each their own.</li>
</ul><ol><li>Mix the wet ingredients in a bowl (yogurt and eggs)</li>
<li>Mix the dry ingredients in a separate bowl (flour, salt, sugar, cinnamon, baking powder)</li>
<li>Combine your wet and dry ingredients - lumps are good, don't over stir.</li>
<li>Heat your skillet over medium/low heat, using a thin layer of Canola oil.</li>
<li>Drop a spoonful of batter, smoothing out to a fairly flat, round shape to provide even cooking. Top with fruit.</li>
<li>Using a spatula, peek underneath the cake for a golden brown crust. When achieved, flip and cook other side for about 3 more minutes, until same color.</li>
<li>Dollop butter, dust sugar, pour syrup and enjoy!</li>
<li>Go work them off.</li>
</ol><br />
<b>Tourist Club Hike:</b> Talk about motivation - a spectacular hike through the Muir Woods that ends at a German Beer Garden?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEm-MUssQl6SVbNIsD5lgg-JjFPKgWXnDJ8_Mqo4g98XAPkjjJzwPPllbJYSluYs6ZOJ9MtQnSSeavY_4W356ThGxFca4SewLy6OQa2Zxll8Yorz4BOQw3T870ys0bV0ckUTnyc632LZE/s1600/IMG_1911.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiEm-MUssQl6SVbNIsD5lgg-JjFPKgWXnDJ8_Mqo4g98XAPkjjJzwPPllbJYSluYs6ZOJ9MtQnSSeavY_4W356ThGxFca4SewLy6OQa2Zxll8Yorz4BOQw3T870ys0bV0ckUTnyc632LZE/s320/IMG_1911.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTNEjECbg7Hjv_2y1ppcoyfcB2PULUhJnonNI3Tgs8edrb1wWngh5zz73VRSMWD4IUciA-grl733gsgZXQlR6VvzBO4N2zlvzOv1oRuoNtLBjJ0dbUg7dYuqtq7nEN0eMNhucgFgqDy0t/s1600/IMG_1899.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTNEjECbg7Hjv_2y1ppcoyfcB2PULUhJnonNI3Tgs8edrb1wWngh5zz73VRSMWD4IUciA-grl733gsgZXQlR6VvzBO4N2zlvzOv1oRuoNtLBjJ0dbUg7dYuqtq7nEN0eMNhucgFgqDy0t/s320/IMG_1899.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Hiking (and getting lost) at Mt Tam:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfcRWOqN-Vd5CE0wUYogfIn3En78pn9PuAT-ZfP4-psSvSmqw8Bbo0hEpDtxZ5aupVd1p3JvGTa_EahsbtcGnQ62SqXbW5FkaqB7kAogxBeFqlKvwgRI16Lbz0KMkE93R52oQ-SneM9bG/s1600/IMG_1966.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfcRWOqN-Vd5CE0wUYogfIn3En78pn9PuAT-ZfP4-psSvSmqw8Bbo0hEpDtxZ5aupVd1p3JvGTa_EahsbtcGnQ62SqXbW5FkaqB7kAogxBeFqlKvwgRI16Lbz0KMkE93R52oQ-SneM9bG/s320/IMG_1966.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Pheonix at Outside Lands (where they served deep fried mac 'n cheese - glorious!)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxuR1Us_CH3-5s4oOPVJkk2LqxShyphenhypheni-snNWefs8y9wwBmmZCvHV8mnXxuEYXhn7OKqA1qJmBrTX5DMkHEvnPIcDeKJjIjQzpqcHK6v3d82jmSWLdTkbZp-1xke-boDFHwXdNe0HmO5EOUg/s1600/photo-3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxuR1Us_CH3-5s4oOPVJkk2LqxShyphenhypheni-snNWefs8y9wwBmmZCvHV8mnXxuEYXhn7OKqA1qJmBrTX5DMkHEvnPIcDeKJjIjQzpqcHK6v3d82jmSWLdTkbZp-1xke-boDFHwXdNe0HmO5EOUg/s320/photo-3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The only reason to be up at 7am on a Saturday is to start the day at Mumm Napa!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50tnz1zbOPoGvjnxLECPbw3xFG1k-XIF5vNScptQbt_eHDWJu2soW6ayVr2SEY0eRBXMoOzYFEYL1NJxuTYwsfaIqtFqsiGjrmhAZFYvjM5dmgQE2CJGPWmoRb9233tayES9vQ247c_m5/s1600/IMG_2050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50tnz1zbOPoGvjnxLECPbw3xFG1k-XIF5vNScptQbt_eHDWJu2soW6ayVr2SEY0eRBXMoOzYFEYL1NJxuTYwsfaIqtFqsiGjrmhAZFYvjM5dmgQE2CJGPWmoRb9233tayES9vQ247c_m5/s320/IMG_2050.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>The Sunday crowd for Patti Smith at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg66_D9v05zwffgqnSEW_4GpvwNyijBrnjbVATVStJnNo-sEU5q9GkbdDdbMfRNfEWZjrRK15pvpKXaJhN9ndmKLujQa0NWDw9YKnfeE14-Gtcxjhu9JQl_ZTqP1tY-LHC4zl_S6I0IViXA/s1600/IMG_2122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg66_D9v05zwffgqnSEW_4GpvwNyijBrnjbVATVStJnNo-sEU5q9GkbdDdbMfRNfEWZjrRK15pvpKXaJhN9ndmKLujQa0NWDw9YKnfeE14-Gtcxjhu9JQl_ZTqP1tY-LHC4zl_S6I0IViXA/s320/IMG_2122.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Me and my girl hiking Bernal Heights:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQqx7eHFXM_GHF6lGcDC6EVzKpVUZLtHBAbGSTPuWSB9Rp6C0B1sxr-EOyf_Rpu3Pvfln2H9vztoQ-h6r6UK7jRxwfXJ8-DUZuZIdZvqptvsJQt1MZ3eFaLAnHuxY364BEnyxNQU0mcGod/s1600/IMG_2160.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQqx7eHFXM_GHF6lGcDC6EVzKpVUZLtHBAbGSTPuWSB9Rp6C0B1sxr-EOyf_Rpu3Pvfln2H9vztoQ-h6r6UK7jRxwfXJ8-DUZuZIdZvqptvsJQt1MZ3eFaLAnHuxY364BEnyxNQU0mcGod/s320/IMG_2160.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Roof parties for Fleet Week:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDqAVrcifXtfknORwPFL24HVsUM-fQ10OtmTCDE6hjCD5gvaeB_culy3y7HFgkuIkLIu0wImCnjSMrDMN_hiY2-E7NU9whLev2c_JY_x_rANjwr6cwATNfC-OdpMIAbL7LIC6VhKv7G3u/s1600/IMG_2174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigDqAVrcifXtfknORwPFL24HVsUM-fQ10OtmTCDE6hjCD5gvaeB_culy3y7HFgkuIkLIu0wImCnjSMrDMN_hiY2-E7NU9whLev2c_JY_x_rANjwr6cwATNfC-OdpMIAbL7LIC6VhKv7G3u/s320/IMG_2174.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Blue Angels flying overhead:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZqa9f7DZT5VEKRl6zLfMdznehABaw1A-1Vh7N46S5fDCOl4o0JkO0k0LPsE1-yFqirNyyKisafg_2UcK8fHM7FdwxmR038C5dHKqalDkQCmY42sN-b6E6U4T4RkAPyB0pJxkU13qrF6in/s1600/IMG_2184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZqa9f7DZT5VEKRl6zLfMdznehABaw1A-1Vh7N46S5fDCOl4o0JkO0k0LPsE1-yFqirNyyKisafg_2UcK8fHM7FdwxmR038C5dHKqalDkQCmY42sN-b6E6U4T4RkAPyB0pJxkU13qrF6in/s320/IMG_2184.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>But remember, not everyone's a morning person:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYi4Yn_mpZ2b7SwoFoY6XkXTr6qHv0KTXOvi-YDpRCIL-6g3utBMCRvbev4JphVCgk9CoSNYfDwRa1FA7LTUbwLHH8vmavp5i48o4TGO6fjVfuJfwSSijkjkTKMYvm1c6wTJsjIxtueiPo/s1600/IMG_2150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYi4Yn_mpZ2b7SwoFoY6XkXTr6qHv0KTXOvi-YDpRCIL-6g3utBMCRvbev4JphVCgk9CoSNYfDwRa1FA7LTUbwLHH8vmavp5i48o4TGO6fjVfuJfwSSijkjkTKMYvm1c6wTJsjIxtueiPo/s320/IMG_2150.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
When I was a kid, I used to think the saying was "Up and Adam" and I would curse whoever that guy Adam was.<br />
<br />
Let me sleep.<br />
- The HeatThe Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-52390588795965115692010-09-27T19:58:00.007-04:002010-09-27T20:27:13.937-04:00East Coast Love on the West Coast<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Another month goes by and San Francisco is finally warming up - in both temperature and in my heart. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEl8COBLQ5rCtV9G1fYKx7yCAZ3Ychi9_DxGQbARIYsKNDAmj04RCWoGQpb0zODFh2e4kR7drrGi2bNdsJVot7ODuI__06UjMYr_ApdjxElEK5_MxR2SstRKdKbSBZFDRpd1jnU5vS2aX/s1600/Me+and+My+Girl+at+Stinson+Beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEl8COBLQ5rCtV9G1fYKx7yCAZ3Ychi9_DxGQbARIYsKNDAmj04RCWoGQpb0zODFh2e4kR7drrGi2bNdsJVot7ODuI__06UjMYr_ApdjxElEK5_MxR2SstRKdKbSBZFDRpd1jnU5vS2aX/s320/Me+and+My+Girl+at+Stinson+Beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I find the acclimation process extremely interesting. Everyone has their own way of coping with change. Some are abnormally adverse to it, avoiding it at all costs. Some thrive off it, fearing anything routine or consistent. But I'm willing to bet that the majority of us are somewhere in the middle. I suspect the most common path of acclimation is to be uncomfortable and resistant at first, but gradually grow into it. I am the exact opposite. After 28yrs of observation, I have finally found a behavioral pattern. I embrace change rather blindly, grasping at silver linings in an effort to convince myself I am one of those bold, adventurous people, until I eventually crack and explode into a torrent of tears and frustration. WHY DON'T I LOVE IT YET?! Then I toy with the idea of giving up and going home. And then when I've finally exhausted myself into a piling heap of ambivalence, guess what? I finally start to appreciate it.<br />
<br />
It happened on a trip to Spain once. I spent the entire trip ooh and ahhing my way around museums, doing my best to soak up and revel in their joie de vivre - well, the Spanish version. With only three days left on our trip I had a meltdown. I had <i>had</i> it with the heat, the ham and holiness. I needed a break from change. A small taste of home and familiarity. And it came in the form of a gigantic plate of spaghetti and meatballs. Horrible spaghetti and meatballs at that, as I had no patience to look for a good Italian restaurant. I'm actually embarrassed to say that I spent the entire dinner in silence, proudly slurping my Progresso y pasta, but repairing my courage bite by bite. And as pouty, childish and uncouth it sounds, it worked. The rest of the trip was a blur of discovery and enjoyment. And guess who had tears in her eyes come boarding time? I'm not proud of it, but I have come to learn I am the ultimate boil-over-er - a highly technical term. It happened in London too. <br />
<br />
Well, the pot hast boil-eth over here in San Francisco, but fortunately it was well timed with a bit of home coming to visit. I spent the past month searching for the perfect apartment, the perfect job, a sliver of sunshine. I was cold, lost, unemployed and homeless - well, not in the literal sense - lets keep things in perspective. But I was frustrated and exhausted, and ready to throw in the towel. But just in the nick of time, my weekend presented a melting pot of East coast family and friends in town. And they brought with them a little taste of home, in the form of <i>Frankie Spuntino's Kitchen Companion and Cooking Manual</i>. After a long day of hiking and biking, my brother and sister-in-law turned our kitchen into one of my favorite NYC restaurants. They recreated my favorite dish, <b>Cavatelli with Sausage and Browned Sage Butter</b> (though it's a real tossup between that and their famous meatballs). On the side we had <b>Sweet and Sour Eggplant with Ricotta Salata and Mint</b> - a distinctly different take on traditional eggplant parm - and a 'NYC meets Cali' salad of <b>Avocado, Red Onion and Tomato</b>. We topped it all off with many a bottle of wine from our trip up to Napa. And so I ate, drank and laughed my way back to being myself again, surrounded by the people and food I hold dear to my heart.<br />
<br />
And that's when happened. While I was playing tour guide extraordinaire (and finally enjoying some beautiful weather), I started to discover the true beauty of San Francisco. My findings so far:<br />
<br />
<b>1. It's stunning.</b><br />
<br />
Our new backyard - Dolores Park:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkUVhmFXf9KtpoWOZgfka6wAHe6C8mwvPrcZ7ERstze-4OL22a882WxsRMOQr00RSE5lL8BqGzQ1FLvy7TVxTEOcpkR7bIkIibF9x49A8FvT08lwPMuaOh6h_OB44H2Z8bP7uxRl6HsEt2/s1600/Dolores+Park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkUVhmFXf9KtpoWOZgfka6wAHe6C8mwvPrcZ7ERstze-4OL22a882WxsRMOQr00RSE5lL8BqGzQ1FLvy7TVxTEOcpkR7bIkIibF9x49A8FvT08lwPMuaOh6h_OB44H2Z8bP7uxRl6HsEt2/s320/Dolores+Park.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Sunset at Stinson Beach:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyu_99subQ8YrbLG0-IVNONEaLIi71CW-q78Xr2yCdLQOSKeTBL3p1lmvs-71uEJ036vhyRQ2Z1NDDXdbCBAepghOnD3FAYozkj0m0yJcHRQw0A2jjQEADTjLq1-6Z9TmccItK3wZcndDo/s1600/Looking+back+on+Stinson+Beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyu_99subQ8YrbLG0-IVNONEaLIi71CW-q78Xr2yCdLQOSKeTBL3p1lmvs-71uEJ036vhyRQ2Z1NDDXdbCBAepghOnD3FAYozkj0m0yJcHRQw0A2jjQEADTjLq1-6Z9TmccItK3wZcndDo/s320/Looking+back+on+Stinson+Beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The Cataract Waterfalls:</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYA_wiA7QqvHHUo-5ntCPPflbGjGFxM8lGJ5FSqXrmm06jGnP18K89jJ35ww37CUbOcHztk3d3WTuFI22v6GPK_puNyQj-uhuyhD20oK1J38leL9oruMoeLEa6zpPx2F97H1N5o-2OYhkT/s1600/Waterfalls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYA_wiA7QqvHHUo-5ntCPPflbGjGFxM8lGJ5FSqXrmm06jGnP18K89jJ35ww37CUbOcHztk3d3WTuFI22v6GPK_puNyQj-uhuyhD20oK1J38leL9oruMoeLEa6zpPx2F97H1N5o-2OYhkT/s320/Waterfalls.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><b>2. It's verdant.</b><br />
<br />
Hiking Dipsea Trail:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxzD27NwxevyYn1hEXAWcuI4nU5ES5ZBoQRBrpgsNsj16kfJ1Qz5bI7DV6i8_TM4r82kxwOnVrbmYnES6i7LBPdCu3vr0XkCPn48zWp3iDhsfdN8Ah6OjG27V9BpV3tGgd1zbKrKxrtllR/s1600/Creepy+Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxzD27NwxevyYn1hEXAWcuI4nU5ES5ZBoQRBrpgsNsj16kfJ1Qz5bI7DV6i8_TM4r82kxwOnVrbmYnES6i7LBPdCu3vr0XkCPn48zWp3iDhsfdN8Ah6OjG27V9BpV3tGgd1zbKrKxrtllR/s320/Creepy+Tree.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Alpine Dam Trail:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0KopTlpK1XRS1HjrtUr8jULcqe7K2Ii0S-KQwirvU1qqXRy0CSU2E5EFQ-ENk3PfUG3LXtmZ_IRcju6aO_7P0hII94PQRqAmUxNp5oszij8NNLz8vZugihYBJEey3dsY4KLy1zoRTmZ1H/s1600/Hiking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0KopTlpK1XRS1HjrtUr8jULcqe7K2Ii0S-KQwirvU1qqXRy0CSU2E5EFQ-ENk3PfUG3LXtmZ_IRcju6aO_7P0hII94PQRqAmUxNp5oszij8NNLz8vZugihYBJEey3dsY4KLy1zoRTmZ1H/s320/Hiking.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Honig Winery, Napa Valley:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrFQJZIwBTzjmc_bzCNDlHxofKhE28oyZvo3Cy2gQy7jG9kC5rieXeZCdqhi4XAtsie1hrnsO4Zo3hC2l7eexDOodhDEz-V1yvBS7ASoo33ck2IA7R5F87Mn_RrP7N5Hwm7enbw_F7KFko/s1600/Napa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrFQJZIwBTzjmc_bzCNDlHxofKhE28oyZvo3Cy2gQy7jG9kC5rieXeZCdqhi4XAtsie1hrnsO4Zo3hC2l7eexDOodhDEz-V1yvBS7ASoo33ck2IA7R5F87Mn_RrP7N5Hwm7enbw_F7KFko/s320/Napa.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<b>3. It's quirky. </b><br />
<br />
The infamous fog, rolling on in:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSzEADAV_u2viQscbh5b4sQE6zNstRdVEYOGbnzCD16ILAOlkSxTog1afDTjlDejxOWBI8lVJwddCsN0vBM7O_lHcL15I9q5TfwnaSmsLYU5GEWYgpe9XaoKGxDS_k2TC8YLPqQzMPauQC/s1600/Fog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSzEADAV_u2viQscbh5b4sQE6zNstRdVEYOGbnzCD16ILAOlkSxTog1afDTjlDejxOWBI8lVJwddCsN0vBM7O_lHcL15I9q5TfwnaSmsLYU5GEWYgpe9XaoKGxDS_k2TC8YLPqQzMPauQC/s320/Fog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The wonder that is a split bathroom (who would put the toilet separate from the sink?! Ew.) Or pink tile for that matter.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvkGgUDmrlF-_pI8yPHuIgYcZQuCAHep-fFg-VwxLgiLmr6Z61sQ1W98qiBZI2kZRmuE4m3-3zTFro9Bue2loAg9WZz1bPs72JwTd398Dp1eX6PBLvu1Y9njpqLK5znY09m9o35oGT3Zr5/s1600/Bathroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvkGgUDmrlF-_pI8yPHuIgYcZQuCAHep-fFg-VwxLgiLmr6Z61sQ1W98qiBZI2kZRmuE4m3-3zTFro9Bue2loAg9WZz1bPs72JwTd398Dp1eX6PBLvu1Y9njpqLK5znY09m9o35oGT3Zr5/s320/Bathroom.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>This weekend held one of the largest SBDM and leather subculture events, which made for some of THE BEST people watching ever. Don't ask, just Google it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVwwbWGNGCKilxZcskUVAf6jcQiL7dS8lexl0b3NpseO4rg9nGx9Bi2X0pSlSns-VcxgpGGiTkiKb2vqn8Gxx5XyHYz1VI0fyuAVWw1cfD77yWVyOqBOk14yv2IdlBUzknltu3qhjvLfZt/s1600/Folsom+Street+Fair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVwwbWGNGCKilxZcskUVAf6jcQiL7dS8lexl0b3NpseO4rg9nGx9Bi2X0pSlSns-VcxgpGGiTkiKb2vqn8Gxx5XyHYz1VI0fyuAVWw1cfD77yWVyOqBOk14yv2IdlBUzknltu3qhjvLfZt/s320/Folsom+Street+Fair.jpg" width="207" /></a> </div><b>4) It has a GREAT sense of humor.</b><br />
<br />
My local manicurist:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZky5hASGOV8RZ_ankOVmiSgLq0AkarEGn3IOoqOSRD-wSCUKdwoaRSYae-wRaCDEQ3fJCRA4a5Zux7-fUhYu_leaap5wO2d7Sra_w6vHIsPvpTtVtlVqfLpd4UoqukCSdw9XpjqI1VVr/s1600/Manicurist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZky5hASGOV8RZ_ankOVmiSgLq0AkarEGn3IOoqOSRD-wSCUKdwoaRSYae-wRaCDEQ3fJCRA4a5Zux7-fUhYu_leaap5wO2d7Sra_w6vHIsPvpTtVtlVqfLpd4UoqukCSdw9XpjqI1VVr/s320/Manicurist.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Neighborhood Italian restaurant:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijg-Bzj3-WRMzMdZCN6nG6MsAJDGXMMyikrhJUGzJ1Dk_T2GFt2-7xUX6jKOd3nJM-wcolY8d_mfXvheJ4P8LvMggpwAiVL2kekGMqGK3sR_E9SFF04tAns23iZqPKPr2wfUHm6fR63Lwr/s1600/Local+Italian+Eatery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijg-Bzj3-WRMzMdZCN6nG6MsAJDGXMMyikrhJUGzJ1Dk_T2GFt2-7xUX6jKOd3nJM-wcolY8d_mfXvheJ4P8LvMggpwAiVL2kekGMqGK3sR_E9SFF04tAns23iZqPKPr2wfUHm6fR63Lwr/s320/Local+Italian+Eatery.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>And our local pub:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4zPIypYmZUS80I7nhKoShNidWRARXffYEBd9fH4FmG9Utxd-o-dqQJ1XB1GJuaulbwwsh9_NuUY5EVlBe8Xpi8N5DTnQKBwp9YSwsLZRa6qc4d1AU0cjY4hbqj-K6py_HPLhfep3hz9lM/s1600/Neighborhood+Bar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4zPIypYmZUS80I7nhKoShNidWRARXffYEBd9fH4FmG9Utxd-o-dqQJ1XB1GJuaulbwwsh9_NuUY5EVlBe8Xpi8N5DTnQKBwp9YSwsLZRa6qc4d1AU0cjY4hbqj-K6py_HPLhfep3hz9lM/s320/Neighborhood+Bar.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><b>My 'East Coast Meets West Coast' Salad:</b> (serves 4)</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">(<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">otherwise known as Frankie Spuntino's Tomato, Avocado and Red Onion Salad</span></i>) </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><ul><li>2 large ripe tomatoes</li>
<li>1 small red onion, thinly sliced</li>
<li>Fine sea salt</li>
<li>1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil, plus more for drizzling</li>
<li>2T. red wine vinegar</li>
<li>2 Hass avocados</li>
<li>Freshly ground black pepper</li>
</ul><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"></div><ol><li>Core the tomatoes and slice into wedges. Combine in a large bowl with the sliced onion, large pinch of sea salt, oil and vinegar. </li>
<li>Gently toss and divide among four bowls.</li>
<li>Halve, pit, peel and slice the avocados and divide among the four bowls.</li>
<li>Sprinkle the avocado with a small pinch of salt and drizzle each bowl with a little olive oil.</li>
<li>Finish with a few grinds of black pepper just before the salad goes to the table.</li>
</ol></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgICKYCheaDHxXls3KMTqikpmSnAj1x4IDq9L9BuCnJK4XaWi91urItK4j66Ruj0biRHJgatsnUlH8SLCQLYBYv1U3VLg4Svu1DMrWeFILCWTHQh9LTVJnzZ9jnTxCfXxC7icZJ7uCyk06K/s1600/Avocado+salad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgICKYCheaDHxXls3KMTqikpmSnAj1x4IDq9L9BuCnJK4XaWi91urItK4j66Ruj0biRHJgatsnUlH8SLCQLYBYv1U3VLg4Svu1DMrWeFILCWTHQh9LTVJnzZ9jnTxCfXxC7icZJ7uCyk06K/s320/Avocado+salad.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Miss you already!<br />
- The Heat</div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-727828260352615882010-08-19T12:09:00.000-04:002010-08-19T12:09:41.398-04:00First Impressions: A Month in San Francisco<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-JE4mcCQk-mAyw-eyarb6uHwpq7oAwEC_HURF1hvOTdNyV4MjgDFpbS5S8D8TWHzFVqtn48QyoCvr8L8EacWrEijkuOL2xnRlUtllTouAlJcd9pxUvqwMg2C_lMra08FG0ApD1hImrAK_/s1600/Foggy+SF.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-JE4mcCQk-mAyw-eyarb6uHwpq7oAwEC_HURF1hvOTdNyV4MjgDFpbS5S8D8TWHzFVqtn48QyoCvr8L8EacWrEijkuOL2xnRlUtllTouAlJcd9pxUvqwMg2C_lMra08FG0ApD1hImrAK_/s400/Foggy+SF.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />
First impressions are just that - instant generalizations that will change, grow or vanish with time. My first blanket statement comes from firsthand experience. Californians are bad drivers - but in the nicest way possible. They'll let you go ahead of them, give you time to parallel park, and never ride your bumper. But they will also wait to excel at a stoplight until after they light their cigarette. Stop in the middle of the road if they spot a free parking spot. And rear-end your car to give an ambulance sufficient space to pass by. But afterward, they'll be really very sweet about it. And so I sit here with a sore lower back, a whip-lashed neck and a banged up car. And I'm not even mad about it! California must be rubbing off on me.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQoXk85CCvCbABMmYnethkjsDWn3eqZXjm1UsYFE9rHG4O_KqyFwlM2VinQTU3YthCCaDYqy7_S-gtAaFCSeeVufYxTXOQuiRrasVEopISYsCTzVHiB5Rf-ojWoyIm2f8RCPqaE1p7w0GV/s1600/Rear+Drivers+SIde.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQoXk85CCvCbABMmYnethkjsDWn3eqZXjm1UsYFE9rHG4O_KqyFwlM2VinQTU3YthCCaDYqy7_S-gtAaFCSeeVufYxTXOQuiRrasVEopISYsCTzVHiB5Rf-ojWoyIm2f8RCPqaE1p7w0GV/s320/Rear+Drivers+SIde.jpg" /></a></div><br />
This next point should come as no surprise: San Franciscans are very accepting people. Whatever your cause, religion, culture, sexual preference, language or choice of attire, San Francisco is home to all and accepting of everyone. Do you like to dress up in full armor and throw knives at invisible combatants? Feel free to do so in Golden Gate Park. Is your calling in life to sing silent karaoke on the corner of Market Street? While you may not have an audience, you are welcome to stay...all day, every night. What if you have a point to make, but it's in a language known to only you? Scream away, buddy. Scream it out. After a month of thinking I must 'just be on the wrong block', I've concluded that San Francisco is indeed the Capital of Crazy. We have the burnouts from our parents generation to thank for that. So really, Just Say No. For I have seen what happens when you always say yes.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCyEBvcJDO2Wv2qxPldFkgGORBS_bojD14o1RJpUzmD-zTBvcPr9UhHjWlkS4XNVzav9BujUGszYJlRDUJshMnxF9LAL8KsLGhN8VkC2g1DwyZNdoLnYxogNhW_j54xG0J9l_KUUDhs-Zp/s1600/old_hippie_very_old_hippies_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCyEBvcJDO2Wv2qxPldFkgGORBS_bojD14o1RJpUzmD-zTBvcPr9UhHjWlkS4XNVzav9BujUGszYJlRDUJshMnxF9LAL8KsLGhN8VkC2g1DwyZNdoLnYxogNhW_j54xG0J9l_KUUDhs-Zp/s320/old_hippie_very_old_hippies_1.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>"The coldest winter I've ever spent was a summer in San Francisco." Mark Twain wasn't kidding. While all of my comrades back East have been enduring one of the hottest summers to date, I have been battling one of San Francisco's coldest. Under the impression that I was moving to sunny <i>California</i>, naturally I packed all my warm clothing in storage. Never really needing an excuse to shop, I was forced (<i>forced I tell you!</i>) to to buy some new duds to bare the windy, foggy, 40° weather - everyday. Now that I am properly clothed, I have also had to master the art of layering. Every morning involves some combination of a t-shirt, long-sleeve, sweatshirt, windbreaker, and of course, comfortable shoes - these hills are no joke. I've had to put my heels away permanently, which I unfortunately learned rather quickly.<br />
<br />
Once I realized I wouldn't be in a bikini any time soon, I dove face first into San Francisco's famed culinary scene. My first breakfast consisted of an enormous sourdough baguette and a huge cup of coffee from<b> Four Barrel Coffee</b>. I was a pig in poop. I knew there was more to offer than their famed fermented carbohydrates, so I moved on to a genre that's a bit lacking on the East Coast - Mexican food. Taqueria's can be found on almost every street corner in many neighborhoods, and everyone seems to have a favorite, which they follow with cult-like fervor. I am willing and able to pound the pavement and find mine. So far <b>Taqueria CanCun </b>in the Mission District holds first place for their Burrito Mojado - a beautifully crafted belly bomber that's covered in three types of condiments - the key to my heart. An $11 dinner for two, which also doubled as a late night snack, is reason enough to return - though I may opt to wear a bulletproof vest next time - sketch.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEOMeS8VlNThTCOY6Hjj1kxH7Tgu3CgInwYlHt43rj9nZhf66tvK9S22a5IY1WPz3T4gi55dTXZCVpMbtKBDgQzeakFaBR4U4mN9jzbh_cM5AygrrMZNaOwXDz7lLTtnFuw829WQrDHiL/s1600/Taqueria+CanCun.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEOMeS8VlNThTCOY6Hjj1kxH7Tgu3CgInwYlHt43rj9nZhf66tvK9S22a5IY1WPz3T4gi55dTXZCVpMbtKBDgQzeakFaBR4U4mN9jzbh_cM5AygrrMZNaOwXDz7lLTtnFuw829WQrDHiL/s320/Taqueria+CanCun.png" width="240" /></a></div><br />
My next Mexican meal was in a much nicer setting - the lovely seaside town of Sausalito. After a 10mi bike ride around the city and across the beautiful Golden Gate Bridge, our group was in need of nourishment. We stopped in at <b>Sausalito Taco Shop</b> for some fish tacos and margaritas. Situated on their front deck on our first beautifully sunny day since arrival (hallelujah), we were quite content. So content in fact, that we missed the last ferry back to city and had to bike <i>back</i> over the bridge...another 10miles...uphill(both ways)...in the oncoming fog and wind. Did I mention we had just eaten Mexican? It was not pretty. The first hill had me keeled over on my side on the shoulder of the road, heaving and laughing uncontrollable (it was the margaritas). Maybe I'm not a Cali girl just yet.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
Besides increased exercise and a decrease road rage, San Francisco has had another positive impact on my health - I now <i>love</i> fruit. I have never had much of a sweet tooth, and unfortunately that means that fruit often falls to the wayside. As a child, the only way my Mom could get me to eat fruit would be to arrange it on a plate as a face, which in retrospect seems a little <i>Silence of the Lambs</i> for a four year old, but hey, it did the trick. Now that I consider myself a mature adult, the only time I eat a full serving of fruit is in a frosted glass with a shot of Patron. I blame my aversion more so on the availability of fresh, seasonal fruit in New York. Only three months of fresh fruit and then I'm back hulling tasteless Driscoll strawberries to add to the blender. Out here, the fruit <i>tastes better</i>. And restaurants use it in <i>everything</i>! I'm learning to grill it, use it as a substitution in recipes, add it to savory dishes, and, get this, eat-it-whole! Quite the transformation.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgDyfl4HHZ0l019zrqqhySzCryuDyOvssBWJINwzeHBaLTF9D4avpIjGZeAmiixKRgnv-uJ7nG4hiZ3MqN874M7jm6Xu0Gcs7XRGnO8GvhITXUgVakBslXGKY8VdkMAz3Tb4G0EVHpw0HA/s1600/fruit+face.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgDyfl4HHZ0l019zrqqhySzCryuDyOvssBWJINwzeHBaLTF9D4avpIjGZeAmiixKRgnv-uJ7nG4hiZ3MqN874M7jm6Xu0Gcs7XRGnO8GvhITXUgVakBslXGKY8VdkMAz3Tb4G0EVHpw0HA/s1600/fruit+face.png" /></a></div>My best discovery yet came from a wonderful dinner at a restaurant in SoMa called <a href="http://marlowesf.com/">Marlowe</a>. Recommended to me by a friend back East, Marlowe hinted at my old neighborhood Tribeca, with it's industrial feel and exposed wrought-iron beams. With cozy, minimal seating we were served a plethora of amazing dishes. Brussels sprout 'chips' (you know those lovely little burnt leaves you pick at when you roast them?) came drizzled with sweet Meyer lemons and a dusting of sea salt - like healthier, heartier potato chips. The dish that has forever changed the role of fruit in my life was a new take on caprese salad. Substituting ripe peach wedges for tomatoes, creamy burrata cheese for regular mozzarella, flaked smokey sea salt and chili peppers for basil and a lavender infused olive oil, this salad was perfection. That Saturday at the <a href="http://www.ferrybuildingmarketplace.com/farmers_market.php">Ferry Building Farmers Market</a> - my heaven on Earth - I gathered all the necessary ingredients to recreate the salad. I am on a burrata cheese waiting list if you can believe it - so I used mozzarella until my number gets called - sigh. I recommend splurging on flaked sea salt. It has a really unique texture - sort of like a salty snowflake - that will give your food a little something extra. I love the smoked varietals if you can find it. As for the olive oil, I personally don't care for lavender, so I opted for a high quality extra virgin. If you can find it, either a basil infused or citrus infused oil would be awesome.<br />
<u><br />
</u><br />
<u>Peach and Burrata Salad:</u><br />
(serves two)<br />
2 ripe peaches of any variety, sliced <br />
1 ball of burrata cheese, cut into similar sized chunks as the peaches <br />
1t. flaked sea salt <br />
1/4t. chili flakes, roughly chopped<br />
1/4 cup or less of good quality olive oil <br />
<br />
Arrange fruit and cheese artfully on a platter, drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with sea salt and chili flakes. Serve immediately.<br />
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Real Cali girls bike in the nude apparently - I'm not quite there yet (thank god).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKpkH9ba_2grKY-AwloGcjsl2VNYeA4f9FF_Hu5JpET9b9NM8x5kzbycQYSRKylG5kjDDg13jPz6jRk1yW-MoCdfzD56yYXbNoy3UHm6-4tCZwXOEfB-oyOUeNSm6vIsUVFyzQ1TBt4ggN/s1600/BikeRidi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKpkH9ba_2grKY-AwloGcjsl2VNYeA4f9FF_Hu5JpET9b9NM8x5kzbycQYSRKylG5kjDDg13jPz6jRk1yW-MoCdfzD56yYXbNoy3UHm6-4tCZwXOEfB-oyOUeNSm6vIsUVFyzQ1TBt4ggN/s320/BikeRidi.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>The Capital of Crazy.<br />
- The HeatThe Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-47170910812956975722010-08-02T17:39:00.000-04:002010-08-02T17:39:44.061-04:003200 Miles of Food: Eating My Way Across the USA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQVRu51xYb195g1imn3pWq4HknOZW_klaAAwoe1WtRRFSW2SwAE49MwMfqOeGoJ5nE1OZa9_bwlusC0XrOl-LBArpuWoIWIvj4PBVEfkYRqCwP8_7CyqWbG7srMmHgNU76AQ55zKrkEnV/s1600/nysf-travel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQVRu51xYb195g1imn3pWq4HknOZW_klaAAwoe1WtRRFSW2SwAE49MwMfqOeGoJ5nE1OZa9_bwlusC0XrOl-LBArpuWoIWIvj4PBVEfkYRqCwP8_7CyqWbG7srMmHgNU76AQ55zKrkEnV/s400/nysf-travel.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The trip started off shaky - a brutal hangover, terrible tunnel traffic and two bathroom breaks pre-New Jersey thanks to a gigantic iced coffee (I'm nicknamed Tiny Tank for good reason). It took us over two hours just to get off the island of Manhattan and I wondered aloud if we should turn back and try again another day. Maybe I was just melancholy about leaving NYC - or apprehensive about moving to a city I have never even been to. Perhaps I was just sad to be leaving my friends and family. Whatever it was, once we hit New Jersey I handed over the wheel, crawled into the backseat with my trusty canine, and was lulled to sleep by the sounds of tropical storm-like gusts and torrential downpours. I repeat - it was a shaky start. At that point there was nowhere to go, but up. Here's what was tops from East to West:<br />
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My goal was to eat my way cross country, focusing on local, authentic fare rather than fast food or chains (with the occasional slip-up expected - I heart snack-wraps). What I didn't fully realize was that I had voluntarily started down a dangerous path of nothing, but barbecue, wild game, and Tex-Mex for the next two weeks. In retrospect, suffice it to say I am not shocked we have obesity epidemic in this country. Warning: if you are on a diet, this post will not help matters.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSXS_G2Zz7VC-9UnNrc7xvcNsIXWUtn09h997cGRpSBXNNz53B69DpyI6T6K5tzFwsp41JR1NxW6Yf8XYgsC_tLZ4eq3LdFxAkZPPGnr8Qh-tNuDOuWCI-NJvC22sFl0mqxY7h6mpG6QrA/s1600/Driving.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSXS_G2Zz7VC-9UnNrc7xvcNsIXWUtn09h997cGRpSBXNNz53B69DpyI6T6K5tzFwsp41JR1NxW6Yf8XYgsC_tLZ4eq3LdFxAkZPPGnr8Qh-tNuDOuWCI-NJvC22sFl0mqxY7h6mpG6QrA/s320/Driving.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Our first culinary destination was Columbus, Ohio where a tribe of my family resides. While their hometown of Powell, Ohio houses Oprah's favorite ice cream, <a href="http://www.graeters.com/">Graeter's</a>, my savory taste buds have always ruled my roost. I headed downtown for lunch at <a href="http://www.northmarket.com/">The North Market</a>, Columbus' only public market, which holds roughly 35 vendors of all shapes and sizes. After approximately four laps and excessive taste testing, I settled on a light lunch of ribs, brisket baked beans and coleslaw from <b>Holy Smoke BBQ</b>. I washed it down with freshly made lemonade from <b>Bubbles: The Tea and Juice Company</b> and promptly needed a nap by the pool.<br />
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For those that have not driven it border to border, Kansas is an enormously large, tirelessly flat state. There was little reason to stop other than my baby sized bladder, until we stumbled upon the <b>Blues and BBQ Festival in Hays, Kansas</b>. I was a tad nervous about crashing a small town festival. I knew we wouldn't blend in, New York plates notwithstanding. When a man approached us as we picked our way tentatively through the grills, smokers, coolers and tents, I thought for sure we were going to be asked to leave. "Uh, we're looking for some barbecue, sir..." I started meekly, feeling rightfully so, like a lame, out of place tourist. "Well, why didn't you say so"?! I was guided by hand towards a mound of aluminum foil trays piled high with pulled pork, beef brisket, bbq chicken, beans, coleslaw, buns, and a cooler of ice-cold beers. "Everyone is inside watching the awards ceremony, but help yourself to anything." And off he went. Stupefied and stupidly grinning ear to ear, we built ourselves a plate and ventured inside to watch the remainder of the awards. Our new friend and his team - "Rubbin' Tail n' Chuggin' Ale" - won 5th overall in the Kansas State BBQ Championship and 2nd in barbecue chicken. I thought their beef brisket was tops, with it's sweet and spicy rub and wonderfully moist meat. But I wasn't a barbecue expert - yet.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidVqQFSrOMisFVUt76ZoJvJQkMDo3rQrorT4gbB8tZm1OIt4tSSPj5ik1dyb3ZaA18Sk93Nn8uB-77bD3rLooSxb8kCTV-vWJneWQIRa6f2tWYcJXyyllKFhzxKMBbQRldGA2zp05cJRxR/s1600/Beef+Brisket" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidVqQFSrOMisFVUt76ZoJvJQkMDo3rQrorT4gbB8tZm1OIt4tSSPj5ik1dyb3ZaA18Sk93Nn8uB-77bD3rLooSxb8kCTV-vWJneWQIRa6f2tWYcJXyyllKFhzxKMBbQRldGA2zp05cJRxR/s320/Beef+Brisket" /></a></div><br />
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After not much great in the Great Plains, we <i>finally</i> caught sight of the Rocky Mountains - I've never been so relieved and excited for a change in terrain. We rolled in to Denver late and ravenous; so we headed straight to <a href="http://www.citygrille.com/">City Grille</a> for a mountainous burger (pun intended) and some ice cold Coors (when in Rome). Though it wasn't the <i>best</i> burger I've ever had, it was generous in size, piled high with grilled onions and served with a pile of their 'famous' coleslaw. The atmosphere alone was worth the visit - a no fuss dive-bar with a rock-n-roll sound track, salty bartenders and hoards of hungry hipsters, some in denim tuxedos - an unexpected, yet kind of expected surprise.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeptFut2-IMPy-JfX4qkMTSgBqy4MmXqbbya13GiOrjQa3AuScFrUKKQ4Bgg3Ljyxq_Y2EJ-bZHBR72TZ8yY1p93Z6EHWRE4LTnVke0DWQeQHsRFktMi9QABaqF-cll6sZShdL23ZO_mmO/s1600/City+Grill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeptFut2-IMPy-JfX4qkMTSgBqy4MmXqbbya13GiOrjQa3AuScFrUKKQ4Bgg3Ljyxq_Y2EJ-bZHBR72TZ8yY1p93Z6EHWRE4LTnVke0DWQeQHsRFktMi9QABaqF-cll6sZShdL23ZO_mmO/s320/City+Grill.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzo3TX2hbYCjO9pg1PJ4DKSava_mTWkekfySCw3Q_LAOL63LeI_8UgPNjzmPO9qC3hPIV3dGeprIQz3Kvnccsuvb6NSFL_rxwHeyZiw-N7aackQp4F_5DXuCskk4sOKDuhlbmElPdEk5JL/s1600/City+Grille" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzo3TX2hbYCjO9pg1PJ4DKSava_mTWkekfySCw3Q_LAOL63LeI_8UgPNjzmPO9qC3hPIV3dGeprIQz3Kvnccsuvb6NSFL_rxwHeyZiw-N7aackQp4F_5DXuCskk4sOKDuhlbmElPdEk5JL/s320/City+Grille" /></a></div><br />
After a hike around Red Rock Amphitheater and an art show in Boulder, we started our next leg of the trip through the plateau of Wyoming. Our lone stop, besides the biggest Walmart I have ever witnessed (it had it's own hair salon, optometry center <i>and</i> food court!), was <b>Bernie's Burrito's</b> in Laramie, Wyoming. We discovered Bernie's thanks to a pile of his piping hot burritos stacked at the check out register of a local gas station. Hungry and curious, we took our chances and splurged on a black bean and beef burrito, which the cashier claimed he sold hundreds of each month. With our appetite whet for more, we found our way to the storefront and filled out our order with a chicken burrito and order of tacos. Fast food this was not - fresh, vibrant Tex-Mex it was. We were happy campers:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1RIFs1Op53ZCjdfr9L-o0y3qfksG4NEqqtDUxj2FdKCNuE_DR-1GtDCEXaKXCNlTbcVTQ4oRgn61hNyY7yGR5XYPZcquVQZ71CJ4RV-kcSOfaik20Zo4s_7JnWdleGGNiNw4dApIouA-a/s1600/Bernie's+Burrito%27s" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1RIFs1Op53ZCjdfr9L-o0y3qfksG4NEqqtDUxj2FdKCNuE_DR-1GtDCEXaKXCNlTbcVTQ4oRgn61hNyY7yGR5XYPZcquVQZ71CJ4RV-kcSOfaik20Zo4s_7JnWdleGGNiNw4dApIouA-a/s320/Bernie's+Burrito%27s" /></a></div><br />
Nike Taco:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBsP5eeuKKx2Vu_jv_wmCk2JplZQxpabBSC0BKQ1oMGZSSlxc7KlZUEF1hcvsXBxp9EZ7ZRt30Gpcq6nAMN54oQ2Ru3krhCynuRWYL5vyNWXBBCsQ-4mf6aYtyRAreLFu2R0LlgthDacTU/s1600/Nike+Taco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBsP5eeuKKx2Vu_jv_wmCk2JplZQxpabBSC0BKQ1oMGZSSlxc7KlZUEF1hcvsXBxp9EZ7ZRt30Gpcq6nAMN54oQ2Ru3krhCynuRWYL5vyNWXBBCsQ-4mf6aYtyRAreLFu2R0LlgthDacTU/s320/Nike+Taco.jpg" /></a></div><br />
We started eating BBQ in Powell, Ohio and didn't stop until we got to California. Don't for one second think I'm complaining. By the time I got to Wyoming, I had become quite astute in my barbecue knowledge. And the BEST we came across was at <b>Bubba's Bar-B-Que</b> in Jackson, Wyoming. A friend and local had recommended Bubba's, thankfully, as I would have driven right past this diner look-a-like without a second glance. What the ambiance was missing, the food more than made up for. In my professional opinion, it was their barbecue sauce that was the secret to their amazing meats: ribs, chicken, brisket. It was also the secret ingredient to their unbelievable baked beans - which I lapped up with a slice of their two-inch thick Texas toast - heavenly. It was real deal, lip smackin', rib stickin', thigh slappin' barbecue and I imagine it'll taste even better after a day on the slopes this winter.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSJusXturmgDroFgusR7AsS635EFSQ4Rmb2epJ0tV9gSEO-JUVNc6c4OiNehDMt0N9Sut5i8HBZq6mdLeml2LYZjczLimjKFshpT7p2s0oxA2TTeWtStC1NPNjS9mpIQiPDpyNZ6TrMCy/s1600/Bubba's+BBQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRSJusXturmgDroFgusR7AsS635EFSQ4Rmb2epJ0tV9gSEO-JUVNc6c4OiNehDMt0N9Sut5i8HBZq6mdLeml2LYZjczLimjKFshpT7p2s0oxA2TTeWtStC1NPNjS9mpIQiPDpyNZ6TrMCy/s320/Bubba's+BBQ.jpg" /></a></div><br />
After gorging myself on piles of red meat, I felt it would be appropriate to continue the Western theme, so we headed to the well-known <b>Million Dollar Cowboy Bar</b> for some live country music and swing dancing cowboys. Dressed in my most Western attire (a laughable combination of turquoise jewelry, jeans and Frye boots), I found myself the largest saddle stool there was and drank it all in (literally). I became increasingly aware that I was the only patron with both feet in the stirrups, one hand on the pommel, one hand in the air with my beer, maybe every once in a while letting out 'whoop' of joy. Eventually I relinquished my seat for one closer to the dance floor. And further from embarrassing my boyfriend. Let me tell you - if there were room in the old CRV, I would have bought myself a saddle and brought back to San Fran. How much fun would your morning cereal be with one hand in the air? Yee haw!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJrws2LQZBfiLLAzw0mW54qI2RZY0RT-TeN5eVy7s_be_ePI3s_W78mN96RvDphyphenhyphenvDzuLm16VGIQ0SZR1DsOLDpEg6n0XBkOxwlGeLzwIT2SGJQjlwpV3ppAi75EVZ_zIDsIpAQQ6wsI_8/s1600/Saddle+Stools" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJrws2LQZBfiLLAzw0mW54qI2RZY0RT-TeN5eVy7s_be_ePI3s_W78mN96RvDphyphenhyphenvDzuLm16VGIQ0SZR1DsOLDpEg6n0XBkOxwlGeLzwIT2SGJQjlwpV3ppAi75EVZ_zIDsIpAQQ6wsI_8/s320/Saddle+Stools" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>To ease myself off the food coma from Bubba's, I treated myself to a sticky bun and eggs benedict from <a href="http://www.bunnery.com/">The Bunnery</a>, a breakfast institution in Jackson. The line to be seated was down the block, so we took ours to go and ate overlooking the <b>National Elk Refuge</b> just outside town. Though we saw no actual live elk, we saw plenty of elk chops on the menus in Wyoming (ironic for a species that has a national refuge, no?). Equally as ironic is the arch of elk antlers that are presented in the town square. My dog thought she had died and gone to doggie bone heaven:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1RwtpOk1nLM-ErMvn95nc-2bqVWPcmKmd9cQr9JKuhYM46Uo9qha-LQCoCbn8xlo8RasDnAgUZs8PlSV9wv3Vo5EhzomLQSDmWbG5BRvb_vMxIiwYC6hiy2N7fNxqvNeb9vrteFLyX1si/s1600/Elk+Antler+Arch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1RwtpOk1nLM-ErMvn95nc-2bqVWPcmKmd9cQr9JKuhYM46Uo9qha-LQCoCbn8xlo8RasDnAgUZs8PlSV9wv3Vo5EhzomLQSDmWbG5BRvb_vMxIiwYC6hiy2N7fNxqvNeb9vrteFLyX1si/s320/Elk+Antler+Arch.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMfsMxKtHIAWh58MeHnDJYKPYYct-RFLIaR15lfjsnviCT0EX0r9bgYqLCqD3HUqwxuk5QjKkU0zkigstFf2Q8mrKYV2HgswgI4E2YRFXY4Mmb9Zb2Kh3Sqn7t9Gnmr6xBoKxlPzymQI_/s1600/Nirvana.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMfsMxKtHIAWh58MeHnDJYKPYYct-RFLIaR15lfjsnviCT0EX0r9bgYqLCqD3HUqwxuk5QjKkU0zkigstFf2Q8mrKYV2HgswgI4E2YRFXY4Mmb9Zb2Kh3Sqn7t9Gnmr6xBoKxlPzymQI_/s320/Nirvana.jpg" /></a></div>The Bunnery's famous Very Berry Pie: a combination of straw, blue and rasp - berries.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4y_O5xwx1v622BaYNltfqdOP43qoZxvgnSXU3_kPvLU3hB_PAGPdTjluDfcIAABA3kLh3TBKQh0CR2H3pat-gm8KPzB0hTL_1FkgSBviax9y59Ju3u1B7Jc0dawEvTcGhMiW-eHwexKej/s1600/Berry+Pie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4y_O5xwx1v622BaYNltfqdOP43qoZxvgnSXU3_kPvLU3hB_PAGPdTjluDfcIAABA3kLh3TBKQh0CR2H3pat-gm8KPzB0hTL_1FkgSBviax9y59Ju3u1B7Jc0dawEvTcGhMiW-eHwexKej/s320/Berry+Pie.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Our next destination was Yellowstone National Park to see some wild game. Unfortunately we ended up seeing very little wildlife, so we decided to go eat it instead (sorry, PETA). We spent the night in Big Sky, Montana after we struck out finding a hotel in or near the park. Exhausted and starving (a recurring theme) our expectations were low, settling for any kind of hot meal our Best Western provided and a decent night's sleep. We hit the unintentional jackpot. The restaurant attached to our hotel, <a href="http://www.buckst4.com/">Buck's T-4</a>, is a high end, first rate Montana establishment and our meal there was tops. <b>Chef Todd Christensen</b> is famous for his adventurous take on local wild game. We dove right in and started with the Buck's Sampler: house cured duck bacon, smoked trout and Montana elk carpaccio, turmeric aioli, flathead cherry compote, huckleberry grain mustard and to be spread, dipped, and covered on a crisp baguette. I tend to get shy when faced with really gamey meat, but the flavors were smooth and fresh, never overpowering. Next we cleansed our palates with a crisp heirloom tomato salad, which was served in a golden balsamic with shaved fennel, crispy basil and flakes of sea salt. After perusing their list of entrees, which sounded like a guide to the petting zoo (camp fire elk, new Zealand red deer, pheasant, bison tenderloin, walleye), we settled on their famous red deer tenderloin and the king river salmon. Much to Bambi's detriment, the red deer stole the show. Pan seared and served in a port wine butter sauce (a lovely combination of two of my most favorite things), it came over a pile of reggiano and truffle risotto and a few spears of asparagus, just to make you breath easier. Needless to say I slept soundly that evening and Buck's T-4 will see me again. <i>That</i>, I promise.<br />
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I thought this was so artistic, but in retrospect, fairly lame: Old Faithful Ale with Old Faithful steaming in the background:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC258Dnc1A7Hj5kECkuTCSffd1RGIAiipUtARWxP8DfxdBlXhXgb8dCTRm0qvXZQOpDSYTgIBTJnhQ_1HrXvfUWzEZlLF2WKrM_p0-CGcBJssb7QEkswMz-DDxe6JE3_zC37KaUoNDVeVz/s1600/Old+Faithful" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC258Dnc1A7Hj5kECkuTCSffd1RGIAiipUtARWxP8DfxdBlXhXgb8dCTRm0qvXZQOpDSYTgIBTJnhQ_1HrXvfUWzEZlLF2WKrM_p0-CGcBJssb7QEkswMz-DDxe6JE3_zC37KaUoNDVeVz/s320/Old+Faithful" /></a></div>Mr Bison, you sure are ugly, but I sure do like your meat.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_KL-6U45puYFumlc4cuIC5YJhhiLnv_nw7Z3fJmycfc18Gjxd4SDSGRVORbIqGXl8XpHtIP_39iJTPmQcgdw1sZ6G9srtOuqkICf9rhO2eHo5moxBfSHtRvK6zUqHo0ty2HBGZyLUzOD/s1600/Bison" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK_KL-6U45puYFumlc4cuIC5YJhhiLnv_nw7Z3fJmycfc18Gjxd4SDSGRVORbIqGXl8XpHtIP_39iJTPmQcgdw1sZ6G9srtOuqkICf9rhO2eHo5moxBfSHtRvK6zUqHo0ty2HBGZyLUzOD/s320/Bison" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiACqmee3khH7a0b83ncL1ixLxRRjHuJLCSl_fzFDZJ1ilpb5VZOQI15AYpkoH2E-56CUCwM3Yfzks3m6mptialywkobo3dmk2x4AKbh5KPTWbSGyaZ4J35HXI5tTkplwNnFlBpI2I9_Oc2/s1600/Montana" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiACqmee3khH7a0b83ncL1ixLxRRjHuJLCSl_fzFDZJ1ilpb5VZOQI15AYpkoH2E-56CUCwM3Yfzks3m6mptialywkobo3dmk2x4AKbh5KPTWbSGyaZ4J35HXI5tTkplwNnFlBpI2I9_Oc2/s320/Montana" /></a></div><br />
Our next destination was to visit a friend and her boyfriend in Park City, Utah where unfortunately we only spent one night. Park City in the summer is perfection. Sunny days with a constant, yet gentle cool mountain breeze. Evenings mild enough and virtually insect-free to leave open screen-less windows and doors. I haven't slept so well in months. That could also be in part due to the whiskey tasting our friends gave us at their kitchen table the night before. Maybe. <br />
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The next day we set off after a leisurely breakfast in town and headed into the heat of the Nevada desert. There is not much to report about Nevada, save Reno and Vegas. I did have my first taste of Taco Time, a Taco Bell competitor out West. My official review of both the chain and the state is 'eh'. I couldn't wait to get out of Nevada.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHrY542NkixYx4ZYKuPvb-TFfMwQTSsfOl6kPQlkY89aoXtkAq9-io6pbiBE6zU9ptqnMG4dN8DLPgG2zee-J229V9Lt5QU_3MNdtc11tx54k2hs4K7WVErbbQ5kIZLsRwC8sJP8f1czP/s1600/Great+Salt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHrY542NkixYx4ZYKuPvb-TFfMwQTSsfOl6kPQlkY89aoXtkAq9-io6pbiBE6zU9ptqnMG4dN8DLPgG2zee-J229V9Lt5QU_3MNdtc11tx54k2hs4K7WVErbbQ5kIZLsRwC8sJP8f1czP/s320/Great+Salt.jpg" /></a></div><br />
So finally, after 3200 miles of road (we made a few detours), we entered our new home state of California. Though we were antsy to get to San Francisco, we had been on the road for 12hrs, so we decided to spend a night in Lake Tahoe. Our evening consisted of takeout Italian served out of Styrofoam containers and eaten with our hands as they forgot to include cutlery - and red wine from our hotel mugs. But with our feet firmly planted in the California sand and beautiful views of palatial Lake Tahoe, we felt deep gratitude and a sleepy sense of excitement that we had finally made it. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyp_v3e6ibOHXRiUt3g89sHLR31-bOCnbC-skbkuKaWMrXTckeDIVDgekLFBomd19Ja2xKcCm24rvCu9Q0feRAv2_CAqG1s5D03QmAHw8jWSN2VlewPENa-mCJj2_FbLgdoSteYPWelBhyphenhyphen/s1600/Lake+Tahoe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyp_v3e6ibOHXRiUt3g89sHLR31-bOCnbC-skbkuKaWMrXTckeDIVDgekLFBomd19Ja2xKcCm24rvCu9Q0feRAv2_CAqG1s5D03QmAHw8jWSN2VlewPENa-mCJj2_FbLgdoSteYPWelBhyphenhyphen/s320/Lake+Tahoe.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEeV8cJYfKPN3Fv5MXcTHjsTWSqkIwlPpVyJV_ycyf-Au6jmQ8a5HyfeZR6EBDg6fhyphenhyphen8GuyVUMXrdeMwPx1nCReOK5l5U9gPkC_BnSievIlII2YZEn77pewmHsJZfJVAwEN8dcFmMb9RIq/s1600/Lake+Tahoe" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEeV8cJYfKPN3Fv5MXcTHjsTWSqkIwlPpVyJV_ycyf-Au6jmQ8a5HyfeZR6EBDg6fhyphenhyphen8GuyVUMXrdeMwPx1nCReOK5l5U9gPkC_BnSievIlII2YZEn77pewmHsJZfJVAwEN8dcFmMb9RIq/s320/Lake+Tahoe" /></a></div><br />
A special thanks to our Driver, Nike. Surprisingly well-behaved and constantly on high alert for wildlife, she made sure her driving companions were as awake as she, with her consistent canine flatulence. A most effective method.<br />
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Sincerely,<br />
The Heat SF<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj45uwIbdtBwCsYB7bb76UYL9ZjPiv7-Ahpl0BGF9eFGU4iWvEiC_131ousoKDb-wKwlekb70nDbQVaK3CvBix0NCtmsiFQt2lZCs_N_idJ0waH9KDAucWlScXuX4U2fyJVy3mVm_rLHJp/s1600/Our+Driver.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj45uwIbdtBwCsYB7bb76UYL9ZjPiv7-Ahpl0BGF9eFGU4iWvEiC_131ousoKDb-wKwlekb70nDbQVaK3CvBix0NCtmsiFQt2lZCs_N_idJ0waH9KDAucWlScXuX4U2fyJVy3mVm_rLHJp/s320/Our+Driver.jpg" /></a></div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-66059142236139525352010-07-13T13:10:00.001-04:002010-07-13T13:11:25.182-04:00Saying Farewell to NYC with Flowers in My Hair<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://tragicgenius.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/brooklyn-bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" rw="true" src="http://tragicgenius.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/brooklyn-bridge.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Well this is it - my final post from New York City - the concrete jungle where dreams are made, oh, there's nothing you can't do, when you're in New York. (Be forewarned, I have loaded this post with lyrics. I can't help myself). I have procrastinated about writing this post for weeks. Writing a post about what I'll miss most about NYC is one of the more daunting tasks I have faced. How do I start? Where do I end? Do I include peoples, places, AND things? What about sounds, smells, or overall feelings? Do I list my tried and true favorites or new and recent discoveries? Should I include New York institutions that appear in most travel guides? And who, besides the paid editors of NYmag, has the time?! This post has been haunting me to the point of numbness and nonaction. I have started it, stopped it, deleted and saved, brainstormed and baffled. So I decided that it would be more accurate and sane to postpone my 'what I'll miss most about New York' post until I actually leave it. Until I actually miss it (sniff, sniff). So when I'm so homesick I can't sleep, I'll find comfort in writing about the city that never sleeps either.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>My bags are packed, I'm a-ready to go - except unfortunately I am <em>not</em> leaving on a jetplane - I'm leaving in a gently used Honda CRV - queue laughter - and I actually <em>do</em> know when I'll be back - October - for a wedding. So I won't make this more dramatic than it has to be, but start spreading the neeews, I'm leaving todaaaaay. (I can't stop). The hotrod is packed with all the necessary accouterments: maps, hiking boots, guide books, gossip magazines, box of wine, book on tape, ipod and one highstrung pitbull - now you understand the boxed wine.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMe51ITJOX07YdbpfZ2ZULP2bh5IVAJ9e0pUPac_H-3G_j7hgS5Ifg-4kFeg22HsQZbYy3I371eIFgkfu9Ml5DTTOUzK4SHkRDx7dGNKYuLXh0QohgQNM1Bv14Jhce86Age9blFEOMUUV_/s1600/Road+Trip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" rw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMe51ITJOX07YdbpfZ2ZULP2bh5IVAJ9e0pUPac_H-3G_j7hgS5Ifg-4kFeg22HsQZbYy3I371eIFgkfu9Ml5DTTOUzK4SHkRDx7dGNKYuLXh0QohgQNM1Bv14Jhce86Age9blFEOMUUV_/s400/Road+Trip.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Our first stop is <strong>Powell, Ohio</strong> to visit family, which is 10hrs from NYC, through the glorious state of Pennsylvania. After Ohio, our itinerary is (loosely) the following: <strong>Kansas City</strong>, <strong>Denver</strong>, <strong>Yellowstone</strong>, <strong>Jackson Hole</strong>, <strong>Sun Valley Idaho</strong>, <strong>Crator Lake Oregon</strong>, and finally, my new home: <strong>San Francisco</strong>! I have never been to any of these places - <em>including</em> San Francisco, though <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OdvCqUguIh8">Scott McKenzie says</a> I'll meet some gentle people there. He also suggested I wear flowers in my hair, which will be an improvement as I accidentally packed my hairbrush AND hairdryer in the moving van. It actually feels liberating having most of your possessions stored elsewhere - living out of a car and a suitcase. Just me and the road. Yea, we'll see how poetic that sounds about two weeks from now.<br />
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The hardest part about this move is unarguably leaving my friends and family behind. My parents remedied that by throwing a fabulous going away party this past Saturday. Nothing like good grub and a lobster pot of mango margaritas to dry up your tears! (Too many margaritas has the opposite effect, which we discovered thanks to a particular attendee - xoxo). The theme was backyard bbq and the menu was fresh and fantastic: <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/tylers-ultimate/pulled-pork-sandwich-recipe/index.html">pulled bbq pork sandwiches with grainy mustard coleslaw</a>, brined, rubbed then barbecued chicken, black bean and corn salad, <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/danny-boome/garden-orzo-salad-with-herb-dressing-recipe/index.html">mock 'Rice-a-Roni' salad</a> (orzo instead of that abominable stuff), <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/arugula-watermelon-and-feta-salad-recipe/index.html">arugula-watermelon and feta salad</a> with fresh mint and a shallot vinaigrette and a multitude of delicious desserts: fresh fruit salad, banana chocolate chip bread, cherry cheesecake and even more margaritas. The mango margaritas were homemade and stored in our lobster pot for easy pouring. Fresca soda added a touch of carbonation and mango nectar eliminated the need for any additional sugar.<br />
<br />
<u>Corey's Mango Madness: </u>(technically serves four, but not in my house)<br />
<ul><li>4 ounces silver tequila (we used Milagro Tequila)</li>
<li>2 ounces triple sec (we used Pride & Clarke)</li>
<li>1 can Fresca or grapefruit soda (orange soda or seltzer can also work)</li>
<li>1.5 cups Mango Nectar or 1 1/4lb fresh mango pureed (fresh mango works better for frozen ritas)</li>
<li>Lime wedges</li>
<li>Ice</li>
</ul><ol><li>Combine tequila, triple sec, and mango nectar in a large pitcher and stir to mix. Refrigerate if not using immediately.</li>
<li>Add soda to the mix right before the party starts.</li>
<li>Serve over ice and garnish with lime wedges.</li>
<li>Have a designated driver - these puppies are potent!</li>
</ol>'If I can make it here I'll make it anywhere!' - thanks for the vote of confidence, Frank.<br />
- The Heat<br />
<br />
P.S. I already have my <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFlsXgw_SFE">welcome back song</a> keyed up. And don't worry, my family is leaving nothing to chance:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ7CsjQUqyI484blp4SuCwlMBEjJKXeBDFTEbhPNw4H2Bgfc6CQzwsI6KNTMpm9ny9ryLTf1C4L2-BRfTUOQ8So_RrYvb2ze-Q6HRyDG2v5IbbcP9DzS49tPFpX-015Do9zvUk2Z5bBsi7/s1600/If+Found.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" rw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ7CsjQUqyI484blp4SuCwlMBEjJKXeBDFTEbhPNw4H2Bgfc6CQzwsI6KNTMpm9ny9ryLTf1C4L2-BRfTUOQ8So_RrYvb2ze-Q6HRyDG2v5IbbcP9DzS49tPFpX-015Do9zvUk2Z5bBsi7/s400/If+Found.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-34233182174276054542010-07-02T10:12:00.005-04:002010-07-02T13:41:09.682-04:00Love and Lobster<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGV9u0-1FEn7ORUNNB74JoIPIx0LpJUGEvu0sxHIVBbaWroH4VHb54Ev6uR4lObOQkNWrU6NlADRhyphenhyphenbHHducs4bK_Rh1dieAbO6iJNXAsm0yxPnLa4b2Mz7VGamM-20oejAzZ_MkexaJxy/s1600/Church.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGV9u0-1FEn7ORUNNB74JoIPIx0LpJUGEvu0sxHIVBbaWroH4VHb54Ev6uR4lObOQkNWrU6NlADRhyphenhyphenbHHducs4bK_Rh1dieAbO6iJNXAsm0yxPnLa4b2Mz7VGamM-20oejAzZ_MkexaJxy/s400/Church.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
This past weekend I attended a wedding in the Bush-friendly, resort town of Kennebunkport, Maine. From the start it had all the signs of a great wedding: beautiful weather, picturesque seaside setting, great friends, and boatloads of crustaceans. Based on my current state - complete exhaustion, a sore scalp from bobby pin torture, and freshly scraped knee - the weekend was a great success. Before you all start making assumptions of debauchery, I'll have you know that I scraped my knee <i>pre-cocktails</i>, thanks to a graceful digger off the top step of our trolley. Luckily our photographer came prepared for such occasions with an ample supply of tissues and a flask of Jim Beam. Can't take me anywhere.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The highlight of the weekend, besides the beautiful display of true love and vows of holy matrimony, was, of course, the food. Lobster to be exact. Lobster salad, lobster rolls, lobster bisque, lobster quiche, lobster pot pies and of course, steamed whole lobster. I was one bite away from having to use the Jaws of Life to get out of my bridesmaid's dress - and it was totally worth it. I'm a little embarrassed to admit my favorite dish of the weekend. I'd feel better about myself had it been the steamed lobster in all it's delicious simplicity. Instead I choose arguably the most complex, diluted and undoubtedly gluttonous version: the Lobster Pot Pie. Imagine taking something as rich as lobster meat, adding butter and cream and then topping it off with a freshly baked biscuit. A bit much? Maybe. But not for me. It was the first thing I'd eaten all day and I still had blood pouring down my shin. Perhaps context is everything, but suffice it to say I was a <i>very</i> happy girl. Never one to be shy, I shoved the biscuit rather crudely down into my soup - and voila! - a giant, lobster soaked crouton. My knee stopped hurting immediately.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu7t0S1iHuHgcPum1iCMVfo3CJk01zKvB1jtgHUpo1qSmK1WVvANFhn21mJ5kgb4XmAymOqN_7YqeYjkLYJl5jxy5GKDJwDZGE9k7jHpsPK3W_AksRmJCTxCHWyUlJqud0XHHwcGYMs-HS/s1600/Lobster+Pot+Pie" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu7t0S1iHuHgcPum1iCMVfo3CJk01zKvB1jtgHUpo1qSmK1WVvANFhn21mJ5kgb4XmAymOqN_7YqeYjkLYJl5jxy5GKDJwDZGE9k7jHpsPK3W_AksRmJCTxCHWyUlJqud0XHHwcGYMs-HS/s320/Lobster+Pot+Pie" width="320" /></a></div>That's not to say there were any real losers this weekend. I generally enjoyed every single bite of lobster I had, whatever the form. But I wasn't the only critic in town. The Travel Channel was in Kennebunkport filming their hit show: <a href="http://www.travelchannel.com/TV_Shows/Food_Wars">Food Wars</a>. The contenders were the dueling lobster rolls from <a href="http://www.theclamshack.net/">The Clam Shack</a> and <a href="http://www.alissons.com/%20">Alison's</a>. The show's official winner won't be announced until later in the season, but for those sitting at the edge of their seat, our wedding party did it's own extensive research and crowned The Clam Shack as favorite, finding Alison's too mayo-y for our liking. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Back home in NY, we have a similar food war going on. Where can one buy <i>the best</i> lobster roll? <a href="http://www.pearloysterbar.com/">Pearl Oyster Bar</a>? <a href="http://www.marysfishcamp.com/">Mary's Fish Camp</a>? <a href="http://www.lukeslobster.com/">Luke's</a>? <a href="http://www.lobsterbarnyc.com/">Ed's</a>? Montauk is battling it out too: should I go to <a href="http://duryealobsters.com/">Duryea's</a> or <a href="http://www.lobsterroll.com/">Lunch</a>? And though I too have my favorites (Mary's and Duryeas's - no contest), lobster is meant to be loved, not judged and I will have a big, fat smile on my face wherever I am.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhsObV0XtVcrt0mYn4GveGwBX6nhj14FGuvTIldH-hpb0wPm42xC0qiVMtHi01wyWyRVKMPLUQ_ZNT9LzMPnNbvgrIRX88IzKjs2tHqdgXioUQ0FCnAjG4fssJdIwpUI9h-fU9NUuetmU/s1600/Lobster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhsObV0XtVcrt0mYn4GveGwBX6nhj14FGuvTIldH-hpb0wPm42xC0qiVMtHi01wyWyRVKMPLUQ_ZNT9LzMPnNbvgrIRX88IzKjs2tHqdgXioUQ0FCnAjG4fssJdIwpUI9h-fU9NUuetmU/s320/Lobster.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div>Speaking of love and lobster, my fellow bridesmaid and long time friend has a tradition of preparing this <b>Lobster Cobb Salad</b> with her boyfriend every Valentines Day (salad for dinner, how L.A. of you two). He kills the crustaceans, she chops the veggies. Ain't that cute. Since I am moving to Cali in a mere 15 days, I figure it's time to lay off the pot pie's and embrace my new culture. When in Rome:<br />
<br />
<u>Lobster Cobb Salad:</u> <i>(Serves 4-6)</i><u> </u><br />
<i>For the Vinaigrette:</i><u> </u><br />
<ul><li>1.5T Dijon mustard</li>
<li>1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (apprx 2 lemons)</li>
<li>5T good olive oil</li>
<li>3/4t kosher salt</li>
<li>1/2t freshly ground black pepper</li>
</ul><i>For the Salad</i><br />
<ul><li>2 ripe Hass avocados</li>
<li>Juice of 1 lemon</li>
<li>1.5lbs cooked lobster meat, cut in 3/4" dice</li>
<li>1.5t kosher salt</li>
<li>1/2t freshly ground black pepper</li>
<li>1/2lb lean bacon, fried and crumbled</li>
<li>3/4 cup crumbled English Stilton, or other crumbly blue cheese</li>
<li>1 bunch arugula, washed and spun dry</li>
</ul><ol><li>For the vinaigrette, whisk together the mustard, lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper in a small bowl.</li>
<li> For the salad, cut avocados in half, remove the seed, and peel. Dice into 3/4 inch pieces and toss with lemon juice. </li>
<li>If the arugula leaves are large, tear into smaller pieces.</li>
<li>Put the lobster and tomatoes in a bowl. Sprinkle with a little salt and pepper and toss with enough vinaigrette to moisten. </li>
<li>Add the diced avocado, crumbled bacon, blue cheese and arugula and toss again. Serve at room temperature.</li>
</ol><i> </i> <br />
Post bobby pins and startin' to feel the knee again...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Nh_Z7dJGD3JkcI-BJJrza7-Tbw8UMZbeEMRu8OnK-QiPc1R9m44yxAM25-tGBGr0yHHmQgusrY52gfXxKrCmvYmFGugMvE_Re_ZgUx8pgYxM0zoWeLJZBjytBj5PzrIzneRgqah7h4ab/s1600/My+Head+Hurts" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Nh_Z7dJGD3JkcI-BJJrza7-Tbw8UMZbeEMRu8OnK-QiPc1R9m44yxAM25-tGBGr0yHHmQgusrY52gfXxKrCmvYmFGugMvE_Re_ZgUx8pgYxM0zoWeLJZBjytBj5PzrIzneRgqah7h4ab/s320/My+Head+Hurts" /></a></div>I think I'm going to need more lobster,<br />
- The HeatThe Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-18772094027961651552010-06-12T16:16:00.008-04:002010-06-28T14:03:42.217-04:00Time to Chill Out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw_qN_eD5m8hfDxPsAc2hy-bimdvyIsy6QnqtPOqmxErTDYuPO1n1lGVAN6RZy5MTfml_CFff7vZRSdl0Sc2w6qjSgoj0gE5bQLyTdmfQwUTasERHEdpbJy3ohM2OMiti_KsICP3qBM7Gf/s1600/San+Francisco" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw_qN_eD5m8hfDxPsAc2hy-bimdvyIsy6QnqtPOqmxErTDYuPO1n1lGVAN6RZy5MTfml_CFff7vZRSdl0Sc2w6qjSgoj0gE5bQLyTdmfQwUTasERHEdpbJy3ohM2OMiti_KsICP3qBM7Gf/s400/San+Francisco" width="400" /></a></div>The past 30 days has been a month of change. I have a new job, no apartment and have decided to move to a new coast. Let me explain... <br />
<br />
I am going to try my luck in San Francisco (ding ding!) - I leave in 30 days. I can hardly believe it. No really - I can't even <i>imagine</i> it seeing how I have never even been to San Francisco. I have pulled my ripcord and will be cascading into the unknown this summer. To be honest, I am one big ball of emotions - excited, anxious, sad - but I am ready to embrace them all. And I will have plenty of time to mull over my feelings on my drive cross country. I say drive, but what I really mean is EAT. <b>The plan is to eat my way cross country.</b> I want to experience what this country has to offer...my stomach. I will report my findings for you all right here - and on Twitter. Please stay tuned.<br />
<div></div><br />
Unfortunately this change in destination has required me to relinquish my beloved West Village cubby hole. Charmingly cute, perfectly located and more importantly, MINE - I will miss my apartment more than I care to admit. As the site of my first experience living alone, I fear I will have a lingering nostalgia for all 300sq feet. Yes, there are things I may not miss - the hoards of mice and their lovely droppings, my cold-as-ice British neighbor who's inability to say 'hello' never ceased to amaze me, and the dog-sized rats I stepped over whilst disposing garbage. And while I look forward to a time and place when I can keep a plant alive (henceforth my move to the Golden City), I am saddened to leave that dark, mouse infested closet. However, in an effort to keep this less than four pages, I will save the 'what i'll miss list' for another post. <br />
<br />
So here I am, homeless, living out of a suitcase, worked to the bone by day, planning a move cross country by night. And now (hopefully) you understand the title of this post. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Through the madness, eating, and unfortunately <i>not</i> exercise, has been my stress relief (thank goodness this all coincides with bikini season!) Lunch is not just a time to refuel the tank - it's ten minutes of silence and bliss. So you see, I must make a good choice, and it's one I ponder over for much of my morning. Thank goodness NYMAG came out with <a href="http://newyork.grubstreet.com/2010/05/the_101_best_sandwiches_in_new.html">it's list</a> of the top 101 sandwiches in NYC - making my lunchtime decision that much easier. If I actually DO succeed in eating all of these sandwiches in the next 30 days, it might be time to break out my dear, old friend Mr. Tankini. God help us. <br />
<br />
<div></div><u>The Heat's Must Munch List:</u><br />
<br />
<b></b><br />
<ul><li><b>Red Hook Lobster Pound:</b> <i>Connecticut Lobster Roll</i> - say goodbye to mayo and hello to double popped collars.</li>
<li><b>Fatty Crab's</b> <i>Tea Sandwiches</i> - I'll admit, it IS pretty nice when someone cuts your crusts off. Though Mom never served pork belly.</li>
<li><b>Prune: </b><i>Bacon and Marmalade on Pumpernickle</i> - wins my to-be-replicated-at-home award, where I can avoid judgemental stares.</li>
<li><b>Russ & </b><b>Daughters: </b>Super Heebster - to relive my days at UPenn</li>
<li><b>Sullivan Street Bakery: </b><i>PMB</i><b> -</b> pancetta, mango, basil. One question: WHAT TOOK US SO LONG?!</li>
<li><b>Blue Ribbon Bakery Market: </b><i>Egg Toast</i> - sounds all innocent and cute - and then in walks the pickled peppers.</li>
<li><b>Le Bernadin: </b><i>Smoked Salmon and Caviar Croque Monsiuer</i> - what? This is a <i>dream</i> list.</li>
<li><b>Resto:</b> <i>Tete de Cochon Sandwich</i> - a condiment competition - pickles, curry braise, aioli - the way I eat when no one's looking.</li>
<li><b>Terroir Tribeca: </b><i>Meatball Sandwich</i> - because they didn't mess with a good thing.</li>
<li><b>Vanessa's Dumplings:</b> <i>Sesame Pancake with Beef -</i> wrapping meat in pancakes has been around long before Vanessa's (I made a mean sausage sammy at Ihop) but Vanessa's does me proud.</li>
<li><b>Sunny and Annie Deli:</b> <i>the 'PHO Real'</i> - do you really need another reason to order it?</li>
<li><b>Barros Luco:</b> <i>Chacarero Competo</i> - thinly sliced beef, mild melted cheese, avocado, tomato, mayo, chiles, and stringbeans? I love the replacement of drab lettuce with veggies that crunch.</li>
<li><b>Patacon Pisao #2:</b> <i>Llanero Patacon</i> - have fun with your food and convince a carb-a-phob that fried plantains are better than bread. </li>
<li><b>Sukhadia's:</b> <i>Bombay Pav Vada</i> - 'deep-fried-potato-and-chickpea croquette, painted with chutneys and smushed inside your choice of a burger bun or what looks like a KFC dinner roll'. The closest I'll ever come to the chain. </li>
<li><b>The Smile:</b> <i>Harissa Honey Smoked Chicken -</i> 'with a ensemble cast of sweet roasted peppers, melted manchego, and preserved-lemon mayo'. I'm in for anything with preserved Meyer lemons.</li>
<li><b>No.7 Sub:</b> <i>Eggplant Parm</i> - 'deep-fried, true, but the sauce is puréed squash and the cheese is Fontina. And, of course, tucked-inside, potato chips'. Who doesn't love a good potato chip sammy?</li>
<li><b>Caselulla Wine and Cheese Bar: </b><i>Pig's Ass Sandwich</i> - just because I'll giggle when I order it.</li>
<li><b>Tulcingo del Valle:</b> <i>Cemita Al Pastor</i> - 'commingling of seasoned pork, pineapple, chipotles, avocado, Oaxaca cheese, and refried beans that makes this one so delicious'. A step up from my beans-on-toast routine.</li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAa-wFFsoSPvpNTiTL5mKzrOHbNUQ9wcU1aE2rJan-YZNPcpzQ6RbMjQyZyGOPYN7t-6cJlRD3VxDciyPwPazdE15wx0HlJ-V0TsBniuqqhBHlrX1we5FTf9oYlSWiG7Uk8i7SD8BnpEwd/s1600/Chacarero+Competo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAa-wFFsoSPvpNTiTL5mKzrOHbNUQ9wcU1aE2rJan-YZNPcpzQ6RbMjQyZyGOPYN7t-6cJlRD3VxDciyPwPazdE15wx0HlJ-V0TsBniuqqhBHlrX1we5FTf9oYlSWiG7Uk8i7SD8BnpEwd/s400/Chacarero+Competo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
And when I need to ease myself off all the bread, I'll puree it and add it to this soup:<br />
<br />
<u><b>Gazpacho Soup: </b></u><br />
(from a class I assisted at called Portuguese Food and Wine at <u>The Astor Center</u>)<br />
<ul><li>1/2 pound rustic bread, stale or lightly toasted</li>
<li>6 tablespoons (divided) extra-virgin olive oil</li>
<li>3 garlic cloves, passed through a garlic press</li>
<li>1 1/2 pound (divided) ripe tomatoes, peeled and seeded</li>
<li>1 cup vegetable broth</li>
<li>1 small green pepper, diced small </li>
<li>1 teaspoon chopped fresh oregano</li>
<li>salt</li>
<li>red wine vinegar</li>
</ul><ol><li>Cut off the crust from the bread and break up into large crumbs (a little like poultry stuffing). Divide in half. Toss half the crumbs with about 2 tablespoons olive oil and toast in a 350°F oven until lightly toasted. Set aside.</li>
<li>Combine half the tomatoes, the garlic and vegetable broth in a blender. </li>
<li>Gradually add the bread that has not been toasted until the soup is moderately thick. </li>
<li>With the blender running add the remaining olive oil, oregano and salt and vinegar to taste. Depending on the tomatoes you may need to add more or less of the vinegar. Start with a tablespoon. If the tomatoes aren’t very good a pinch of sugar may be needed as well. </li>
<li>Dice the remaining tomatoes and stir into the soup along with the peppers. The soup may be made ahead to this point.</li>
<li>Just before serving, stir in the toasted crumbs. Serve at room temperature</li>
</ol><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsz8edXKOxszqeIqJsudq0A8hbetmF3sD2vbVEEEyExgF164Eq0Ma6Ir57xIY7JSHzrPFd4hro7Rs9KjocrxNKtC5cNTVRa-VBcG-AMAN8IyqgLXOoHR56qrIbCNTZHHmYGsQI0t9S3DCM/s1600/Gazpacho+y+fishies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsz8edXKOxszqeIqJsudq0A8hbetmF3sD2vbVEEEyExgF164Eq0Ma6Ir57xIY7JSHzrPFd4hro7Rs9KjocrxNKtC5cNTVRa-VBcG-AMAN8IyqgLXOoHR56qrIbCNTZHHmYGsQI0t9S3DCM/s320/Gazpacho+y+fishies.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div>"The coldest summer I ever spent, was a summer in San Francisco." </div><div><i>Mark Twain a la, The Heat</i></div><div></div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-78834767703222695242010-05-17T23:52:00.047-04:002010-12-03T15:14:15.450-05:00I, Robot<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of activity - so crazy I got whiplash from it - literally. Between weddings, showers, birthdays, graduations and holidays, my body finally called it quits and forced me into the horizontal. I threw out my neck, an old soccer injury that likes to revisit me, and was forced to the floor for days. Ice, heat, three massages, two rounds of acupuncture, a decompression brace and a medicine cabinet's worth of (prescribed) pills later and I was boarding a train to Philadelphia for a friends' wedding - super cool neck brace and all. Luckily I was able to remove the brace for the actual wedding - mauve foam is <i>so </i>2009 - and made it through the weekend thanks to a handful of meds and an even bigger handful of friends.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5MBSNcahVILT0P1Xhoa88veZWmd1kliBNWRLo_Tz_KyWzuVvWUUSu6_rMxhMLHbgTITmRMDcPu-NghkJFiKUfdowhjNrY8nno7rM4iQcMDCtq564WxdqTWXf4rGZx_7uCSaGGSMOgIpX/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5MBSNcahVILT0P1Xhoa88veZWmd1kliBNWRLo_Tz_KyWzuVvWUUSu6_rMxhMLHbgTITmRMDcPu-NghkJFiKUfdowhjNrY8nno7rM4iQcMDCtq564WxdqTWXf4rGZx_7uCSaGGSMOgIpX/s320/photo.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Now that it's Monday and the neck brace is back on, it's time to hide behind my computer and reflect. I'll work backwards: The wedding was held at <a href="http://www.thetrustvenue.com/">The Trust Venue</a> in Old City, Philadelphia. Originally a bank and now an art gallery, most of you will recognize the building as the Real World Philadelphia house from 2004. For the real fans out there, I thought you'd like to know that they actually kept that unisex bathroom in tact - and it's still pretty awesome. As was the food, which was catered by <a href="http://www.starr-restaurant.com/">Steven Starr</a>, owner of some of Philly's best and most famous restaurants. We had our choice of food from Buddakan, a trail blazer in Asian Fusion, or Barclay Prime, home of the $100 cheese steak. Naturally I took a picture of the menu, all of which I consumed.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqSBOhVgRBe8ZKZFGp5DK37sL94V14sbfIRJhdy4vkfoVJoYRFJiguHLl1h8QzqvBYp8Dj2Lo7Bdy07kBszED-qIy6DDghEWlXsoi7b7dRTODxsdu97UUHOgH3H7ELS6HLnTMbcNO7NDb/s1600/Menu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqSBOhVgRBe8ZKZFGp5DK37sL94V14sbfIRJhdy4vkfoVJoYRFJiguHLl1h8QzqvBYp8Dj2Lo7Bdy07kBszED-qIy6DDghEWlXsoi7b7dRTODxsdu97UUHOgH3H7ELS6HLnTMbcNO7NDb/s320/Menu.jpg" /></a></div><br />
After three hours on the dance floor doing my own awkward version of 'the robot', appetites were satiated thanks to arguably the BEST goody-bag-stand-in to date: soft Philadelphian pretzels and bottles of water to go! I left the candy for the kids.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5OFc9-ev0yEYtRm19dgblzU_R_-SawQu4DJ5lhGoUFem13W9UoDiO3bZhyphenhyphenLJjfGBHKvtWS9U3hEfpMkwTSo3q37zEGs6wArwQ6XOnc6Sqe_JF-YtVV9Ku1UyzxXDl-kRRcT_KCOj-VhF0/s1600/Pretzels.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5OFc9-ev0yEYtRm19dgblzU_R_-SawQu4DJ5lhGoUFem13W9UoDiO3bZhyphenhyphenLJjfGBHKvtWS9U3hEfpMkwTSo3q37zEGs6wArwQ6XOnc6Sqe_JF-YtVV9Ku1UyzxXDl-kRRcT_KCOj-VhF0/s320/Pretzels.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJHu2sCbkIRP_Lr0II2n_r6NiJk0U5iYL7lobPoALtJF-19SEtXNdM5XG379EAFUaHot1MGuS2zmuqhB0BogWqjITGgpe9FAKOtEso9X7NGNuiaqnnR9JhqVVK7Xb0QVkdp0Eyqyb9mbvK/s1600/Soft+Pretzel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJHu2sCbkIRP_Lr0II2n_r6NiJk0U5iYL7lobPoALtJF-19SEtXNdM5XG379EAFUaHot1MGuS2zmuqhB0BogWqjITGgpe9FAKOtEso9X7NGNuiaqnnR9JhqVVK7Xb0QVkdp0Eyqyb9mbvK/s320/Soft+Pretzel.jpg" /></a></div>And a night in Philadelphia isn't complete without a late night trip to Pat's and Gino's (I am a Pat's girl, but Gino's is more fun to take pictures with):<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLM4LspMVZd9xL3wFssplmdUr3HwzMhFeSx767kJsF94djKN05jm3E0L4VFMWOJZFTtz2S1Iu7jmxc6wbiG_o9o6laj6Z1qgl4fG6uRwbhemWdXzC1XY0oFaaLKMmMXEFQbTRZ_1XbJ7Vy/s1600/Pat's+and+Gino%27s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLM4LspMVZd9xL3wFssplmdUr3HwzMhFeSx767kJsF94djKN05jm3E0L4VFMWOJZFTtz2S1Iu7jmxc6wbiG_o9o6laj6Z1qgl4fG6uRwbhemWdXzC1XY0oFaaLKMmMXEFQbTRZ_1XbJ7Vy/s320/Pat's+and+Gino%27s.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ah, the wonders of Cheese Whiz:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_kMBaoWAqno-xPC98_IQy0I-TR0hvszM5S8BwSCPHWbuhGvTU2ShvhAye7LOb1lmZ_gSfNh3z21Mt2AgZfNLniVYfhAq44KT2F8AoVjpRuGivQtdS5ZvP4igC7ylqtimgbho9jXEzS2L/s1600/Pat's+Cheese+Fries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_kMBaoWAqno-xPC98_IQy0I-TR0hvszM5S8BwSCPHWbuhGvTU2ShvhAye7LOb1lmZ_gSfNh3z21Mt2AgZfNLniVYfhAq44KT2F8AoVjpRuGivQtdS5ZvP4igC7ylqtimgbho9jXEzS2L/s320/Pat's+Cheese+Fries.jpg" /></a></div><br />
In juxtaposition to this weekend of debauchery, Mother's Day Weekend was beautiful and calm. I spent it walking, talking and eating with the Woman of Honor and her suitor (Dad). Our menu was simple and fresh: marinated flank steak, grilled then thinly sliced, sauteed mushrooms kissed with marsala wine, a mixed green salad with a homemade Dijon dressing, and baked sweet potatoes which were given a quick char on the grill - simply delicious. Gifts included a Spring bouquet of light pink peonies and an even bigger picture of myself to grace her walls (what?!) The picture was in jest - I was given a poster-sized photograph of myself from a photographer I worked with - and the only person on Earth who could possibly want that is a Mother. Even so, I expect it'll be stored away with all the other non-wall-worthy pictures (Aka, every picture taken between the ages of 11-14. Damn you bangs!)<br />
<br />
One gift that did make the cut was actually given to <i>me </i>by my Mother: a recipe box filled with old recipes from my Great Aunt Doris. While I never met my Great Aunt, I feel some kinship having read something as intimate as her recipe box. Hand written notes, magazine clippings, doodles, name's and sketches gave me a small glimpse into her life - and my history. I've always been interested in the historical context that certain ingredients, methods and recipes suggest. For me, the history of a dish goes far beyond the taste and texture.<br />
<br />
For most families, food is a source of tradition and familiarity - you can find the same dishes gracing dinner tables from decades past. And many of my childhood memories are linked to my taste buds. Pats of liverwurst from my Grandmother's meat drawer. Tea with milk and honey on sick days with my Mom. My Aunt's famous banana nut bread, which I stash in my freezer for a slice of family anytime. Even family members I never knew have a taste bud dedicated to them: my Great Grandmother's 'quick and easy' appetizer - Ritz crackers topped with chili sauce and bacon. Vanilla ice cream topped with fresh raspberries - my Great Grandfather's summertime specialty.<br />
<br />
After combing through dozens of recipes (ten cheese ball variations, two dozen casseroles, chex mix, spaghetti pie and countless recipes that included cream of mushroom soup - God love her), I've pulled out a few recipes from my Great Aunt's collection to add to my own repertoire - and my history:<br />
<u><br />
</u><br />
<u>Great Aunt Doris' Shrimp de Jonghe</u><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Shrimp de Jonghe is a casserole of shrimp covered in garlicky, sherry-flavored bread crumbs - give it a try!)</span><br />
<ul><li><span style="font-size: small;">3/4 cup firm butter</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">1 clove garlic, minced</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">1t. salt</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">1 cup lukewarm dry sherry</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">1/2 cup finely chopped parsley</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;">1 3/2 cups bread crumbs</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: small;"> </span>2lbs cooked, cleaned shrimp</li>
<li>Parmesan cheese, grated</li>
</ul><ol><li><span style="font-size: small;"> </span>Beat butter with an electric mixer until very light, about 5 minutes.</li>
<li>Add garlic, salt and sherry, a little at a time.</li>
<li>Add chopped parsley and 1 cup of the breadcrumbs, reserving the 1/2 cup leftover for topping. </li>
<li>Toss cooked shrimp in 1-2T of melted butter and place in a baking dish. </li>
<li>Cover with breadcrumb mixture.</li>
<li>Sprinkle with Parmesan cheese, top with more bread crumbs, plus some more melted butter.</li>
<li>Bake for 25 minutes in a preheated 350 degree oven.</li>
</ol> Unless you'd rather try her <u>Arizona Chicken</u><br />
<ul><li>1 bottle of Wishbone Russian Dressing</li>
<li> 1 cup apricot jam</li>
<li>1 envelope Lipton onion soup mix</li>
</ul>Mix and pour over raw chicken pieces and bake at 350 for 1.5hrs. Yes, I'm serious.<br />
<br />
Back to my brace,<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The HeatThe Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-56328327387795814972010-05-08T21:54:00.001-04:002010-05-10T11:18:04.858-04:00Goodness, Gracious, Great Balls of Mozzarella<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYzfTWvXbpWpKlL4iXzaHGPFwhjVQ9AkYL0ck69sRqa98ZVMnnJDc7DRlISeKaJdZiuoZIsmov3rlDyIkfhF0J6K-IPLGM73fq72X71FEPWXK6tonEsAQTlFvBb6WjbbTgMyvF6hf01g0/s1600/Mozzarella+Cheese.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYzfTWvXbpWpKlL4iXzaHGPFwhjVQ9AkYL0ck69sRqa98ZVMnnJDc7DRlISeKaJdZiuoZIsmov3rlDyIkfhF0J6K-IPLGM73fq72X71FEPWXK6tonEsAQTlFvBb6WjbbTgMyvF6hf01g0/s320/Mozzarella+Cheese.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>I am one step closer to being entirely self sustaining. I bought a make-your-own-beer kit. I learned how to produce my own wine (and sound hip by calling it unfiltered). And now, thanks to a class at Murray's Cheese, I can make my own cheese! Once I learn how to bake bread, I'll consider myself prepared for anything life throws at me. Lock me in a cellar, drop me off on a deserted island, leave me abandoned in a cabin in the woods - and I will survive! Bread, wine, beer and cheese - my four food groups.<br />
<br />
Tuesday night I worked at a Mozzarella Making class at Murray's Cheese. It was a bit like playing with playdough in preschool - except now you're <i>supposed </i>eat what you just played with. I had a thing for Elmer's glue too - I guess you could say I started developing my palate at an early age. As for the cheese making, it was more like cheese molding. We started with cheese curd from <a href="http://www.lionimozzarella.com/">Lioni's</a> in New Jersey (New Jersey?!) because it's important for the curd to be fresh, so shipping from Italy is out. The curds were flavorless little lumps that reminded me of firm tofu. We bathed the curds in tepid bath water, stretched them into string cheese, rolled it into a croissant-like shape, and then pushed it through the "OK" sign made with your thumb and index finger, which created a smooth surfaced ball. We dropped the balls in the leftover bath water which we salted generously - and voila! - mozzarella (pronounced 'moo-za-rell' if you're Tony Sixpack from Long Island). I <i>may</i> have said it that way all night.<br />
<br />
A young mozzarella maker:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://selenathomason.com/lilyphew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://selenathomason.com/lilyphew.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We also did a mozzarella tasting as part of the learning experience. We started off with Lioni's own fresh mozzarella, which was delightfully soft and lightly salted. Mozzarella di Bufala was next, a gamier, sharper version of the prior. I may lose some fans with this admission, but I didn't realize that 'di bufala' actually meant that it was made with buffalo milk. Water buffalo to be exact. Call me ignorant, obtuse or just plain silly - but I never saw water buffalo wandering around the Italian countryside. Well, they do - and do so in a highly irritable, noisy way. They can't regulate their own body temperature, so they wallow in water to stay cool, hence their name. If they get hot, they get cranky and bellow excessively (sort of like me in the subway). They eat a ton, need space to roam and will only produce milk if happy. Huh - I guess I'll have to revise my Christmas list.<br />
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Next up was a personal favorite - <b>burrata</b> cheese. Not to point out the obvious, but burrata literally means 'butter' in Italian, which explains my affection for it. Burrata is served as a firm purse of cheese, that when cut into, oozes out dairy gold and stracciatella - wait, what? Basically it's a hallow ball of cheese that's filled with sweet cream and ribbons of fresh curd - Mamma it's good. When packaged it comes with a bright green palm leaf, whose purpose, I learned, is to act as a freshness indicator. If the leaf is brown, the cheese is old - brilliant. As if I need another excuse to eat cheese, our instructor suggested we try it for breakfast, with a touch of honey and freshly cracked pepper. If you're looking for the full experience, try it as an appetizer at <a href="http://www.lilfrankies.com/">Lil Frankie's</a>, where it's served as a creamier version of a caprese salad, drizzled with balsamic glaze and spicy olive oil. <b>Stracciatella</b> has also become a favorite - spread over a toasted baguette at <a href="http://www.frankiesspuntino.com/">Frankie's Spuntino</a> with a bottle of their house red - perfection.<br />
<br />
We ended our tasting with a smoked mozzarella that was also from Lioni's. Not normally a personal favorite, I was surprised how much I enjoyed theirs. I was told it was due to the smoking of the cheese, with hickory and cherry wood, rather than adding liquid smoke to the curd, a more common practice that adds an unnatural, strong flavor. The smoked mozzarella was complimented with a surprisingly sweet Portuguese tomato jam, a few slices of a delicious wild boar salami and a crisp glass of prosecco.<br />
<br />
I still have four balls of mozzarella cheese in my fridge, which I will hopefully stay away from late-night and instead use in this modified version of a caprese salad. Ina Garten roasts her tomatoes before arranging them in the salad - a lovely change to the tried-and-true favorite:<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">Roasted Tomato Caprese Salad</span>: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(Adapted from Ina Garten's </span><a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/roasted-tomato-caprese-salad-recipe/index.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">recipe</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">6 servings</span><br />
<ul><li>12 plum tomatoes, halved lengthwise, seeded</li>
<li>1/4 cup good olive oil, plus more for drizzling</li>
<li>1 1/2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar</li>
<li>2 large garlic cloves, minced</li>
<li>2 teaspoons sugar</li>
<li>Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper</li>
<li>16 ounces fresh salted mozzarella</li>
<li>12 fresh basil leaves, julienned</li>
</ul><ol><li>Preheat the oven to 275 degrees F.</li>
<li>Arrange the tomatoes on a sheet pan, cut sides up, in a single layer. </li>
<li>Drizzle with 1/4 cup of olive oil and the balsamic vinegar. </li>
<li>Sprinkle with the garlic, sugar, 1 1/2 teaspoons salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. </li>
<li>Roast for 2 hours until the tomatoes are concentrated and begin to caramelize. Allow the tomatoes to cool to room temperature.</li>
<li>Cut the mozzarella into slices slightly less than 1/2-inch thick. If the slices of mozzarella are larger than the tomatoes, cut the mozzarella slices in half. Layer the tomatoes alternately with the mozzarella on a platter and scatter the basil on top. </li>
<li>Sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper and drizzle lightly with olive oil. Serve at room temperature.</li>
</ol><div>His name is Moo Zarell,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhub42HiTO9UI-zTtMEPTxKyUWOV-yt0CLLz9w6qOkZ71VPmQTc3ottpWdJpb2Tb4i2-wMkdz0Wu-78ouiIyIpDzr-hbjwwvj4asOYCU-1wNIbN-ZKOvkYZuQu4bp2cUDKQRsmJ8P-exyBf/s1600/Water+Buffalo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhub42HiTO9UI-zTtMEPTxKyUWOV-yt0CLLz9w6qOkZ71VPmQTc3ottpWdJpb2Tb4i2-wMkdz0Wu-78ouiIyIpDzr-hbjwwvj4asOYCU-1wNIbN-ZKOvkYZuQu4bp2cUDKQRsmJ8P-exyBf/s320/Water+Buffalo.jpg" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>- The Heat</div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-6068190628973197252010-04-30T12:12:00.002-04:002010-04-30T14:32:44.708-04:00Gettin' My Greens On with Chef Louisa Shafia<div class="header" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><div class="header" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><h2 class="me" style="color: black; display: inline; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">lu·cid</h2><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><sup style="bottom: 1ex; color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; height: 0px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;"></sup> <span class="pronset" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"> <span class="show_spellpr" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="prondelim" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">[</span><span class="pron" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="boldface" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">loo</span>-sid</span><span class="prondelim" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">]</span> </span></span></div></div><div class="body" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div class="pbk" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 15px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="pg" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 3px; padding-top: 0px;">–adjective</span></div><div class="luna-Ent" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 3px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="dnindex" style="color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 28px;">1.</span></div><div class="dndata" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 37px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">easily understood; completely intelligible or comprehensible:<span class="ital-inline" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">a lucid explanation.</span></div></div></div><div class="luna-Ent" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 3px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="dnindex" style="color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 28px;">2.</span></div><div class="dndata" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 37px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">characterized by clear perception or understanding; rational or sane: <span class="ital-inline" style="color: #333333; display: inline; font-family: Georgia, Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;">a lucid moment in his madness.</span></div></div></div><div class="luna-Ent" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 3px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="dnindex" style="color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 28px;">3.</span></div><div class="dndata" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 37px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">shining or bright.</div></div></div><div class="luna-Ent" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; display: block; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 5px; padding-left: 3px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="dnindex" style="color: #7b7b7b; display: block; float: left; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; width: 28px;">4.</span></div><div class="dndata" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 37px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">clear; pellucid; transparent.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div></div></div></div></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This week I worked with fellow Penn Alum Louisa Shafia at a class called "Get Your Greens On", which was held at </span></span><a href="http://www.thebrooklynkitchen.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The Brooklyn Kitchen and Meat Hook</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> in Williamsburg. It was a vegetarian class (except for a wee bit of chicken stock used in desperation) that focused on locally grown springtime vegetables and unusual greens. </span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I first heard of Louisa Shafia via an alumni news letter. After two careers in unrelated industries, she decided to enroll in the Natural Gourmet Institute here in NYC. With a few years experience working in a handful of health conscious restaurants, both here in NYC and San Francisco, Louisa decided to start her own company called </span></span><a href="http://www.lucidfood.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Lucid Food</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">. Starting off as a blog and catering company, Louisa has grown her company to include cooking classes, consulting gigs and most recently, her first cookbook. </span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0c8FtlxTdn6mMdUYn7HCdtDyloYlmjs9wF2eIoP8a_wNj1UaluJyOTX1fkl3d-GfGJWlFQimo1mx397jNdpg6LIE3jWbSgwrr02FEmOxnUiwHGQNAsFrfFM47x_FknVxC91_e82YbuLH/s1600/Lucid+Food.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0c8FtlxTdn6mMdUYn7HCdtDyloYlmjs9wF2eIoP8a_wNj1UaluJyOTX1fkl3d-GfGJWlFQimo1mx397jNdpg6LIE3jWbSgwrr02FEmOxnUiwHGQNAsFrfFM47x_FknVxC91_e82YbuLH/s400/Lucid+Food.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: normal;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Her recipes are veg-heavy and eco-conscious, but not in a restrictive way. Quite the contrary actually. She's more about </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">adding</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> - greens, legumes, weird little herbs that she found on a bike ride in Prospect Park (true story). And that's the reason I can get jiggy with Louisa's cooking style: she's not here to criticize - more to <i>promote</i> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">better</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">choices</span>...</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">and I for one can afford to make some more of those.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: normal;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 19px;">In <em style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: inherit; font-size: 12px; font-style: italic; font-weight: inherit; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Lucid Food</em>, I try to show you how to make earth-friendly food choices by sourcing animal products ethically and responsibly, supporting local food, and reducing your carbon footprint through urban gardening, preserving, composting, and more.</span></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: normal;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I reached out to Louisa to see if she needed any help with her catering, classes, book signings...and voila!, I found myself donning a chef's coat in an industrial kitchen wielding a multitude of insanely sharp knives. To say I was nervous is a serious understatement. I didn't even know the proper way to put on my apron (and yes, apparently there </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">is</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> a proper way to put on an apron). My first task was to peel and slice potatoes in preparation for our </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Lamb's Quarters and Pea Shoots Soup</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> (wait, I thought you said it was vegetarian?!) Well, it turns out Lamb's Quarters <i>are</i> a leafy green - news to me as well. Also new to my plate were radish greens (spicy, just like their roots), shepherd's purse (used frequently in Asian recipes), and maitake mushrooms (a grill-able meat substitute). The potatoes went well, no cuts, no missing body parts. And then came the sugar snap peas for our </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Almond Tofu with Snap Peas and Soba Noodles</span></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">. I had to delicately slice off the barely visible center string with a machete and NOT cut my finger off. "Red tinge? Oh, that's uh, tomato paste. Last minute addition." Cucumbers and garlic, ginger, mushrooms, radishes - chop, slice, mince! I had sweat on my brow and a rumble in my tummy. I tried not to sneak a snack mid class and risk getting yelled at by a particular over-caffinated hipster in our class. </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: normal;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Four hours and many a slop bucket later, the class was gone, kitchen cleaned and two lonely jars leftover of Louisa's soon-to-be-famous </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Rhubarb and Pistachios over Thick Yogurt</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> just waiting for my spoon. I'll enjoy this simple, rustic dessert for breakfast, in lieu of my regular yogurt/berries/granola routine. The rhubarb is slightly sweet with a hint of cardamom, the yogurt tart and the pistachios add the perfect hit of crunch:</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Rhubarb and Pistachios over Thick Yogurt</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> (from Lucid Foods)</span></span></span></div><div class="header" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Serves 4 </span></span></span></div><div class="header" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.25em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"><br />
<ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">4 stalks rhubarb, ends and leaves trimmed</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">1/2t. cardamom</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">1/4t. ground nutmeg</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">pinch of salt</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">1/2 cup light-colored honey</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">1t. vanilla extract</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">1t. rose water</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">2cups Greek-style yogurt</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">1/2 cup shelled pistachios, coarsely chopped</span></span></li>
</ul><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">Instructions:</span></span><br />
<br />
<ol><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">Cut the rhubarb into 1-inch pices and put in a small saucepan with 1/4 cup of water. Cover and bring to a boil, then decrease the heat and simmer, stirring occasionally.</span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">When the rhubarb starts to soften, about 5minutes, stir in the cardamom, nutmeg and salt.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">Break up any large pieces of rhubarb with a wooden spoon.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">Continue to simmer, covered, until the rhubarb is completely softened, about 4 minutes more.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">Remove from heat and stir in honey and vanilla extract. Let cool. Add the rose water.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: 22px;">To serve, put 1/2 cup yogurt in each bowl, top with a few tablespoons of rhubarb. Scatter with a few tablespoons of pistachios over the top.</span></span></li>
</ol><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Besides the dessert, I also scored some sick swag thanks to The Meat Hook - which will be donned next time I visit my brother in the Heights to avoid getting yelled at to 'get back on my island!' </span></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPT4N8NRY81IJ_3Xkgbvk8s15TPdop7v3AkWsZEo4oAZ3uBVhX5oZMQD-0DmgiXo7lKdnliPI3zBsfrxhpaHXRBHjbf-gP1iSLsblRu1_bRUMa20OlZZmAQOWpMdI9SruCJfcZMXlXP8hA/s1600/Meat+Hook.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPT4N8NRY81IJ_3Xkgbvk8s15TPdop7v3AkWsZEo4oAZ3uBVhX5oZMQD-0DmgiXo7lKdnliPI3zBsfrxhpaHXRBHjbf-gP1iSLsblRu1_bRUMa20OlZZmAQOWpMdI9SruCJfcZMXlXP8hA/s400/Meat+Hook.jpg" width="300" /></span></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Manhattanites; the new 'bridge and tunnel' crowd,</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 22px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">- The Heat</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 22px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 22px;">Thanks to Louisa and staff at The Brooklyn Kitchen!</span></span></div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-20803115702829257432010-04-22T17:09:00.002-04:002010-04-23T10:43:08.461-04:00Recalling Everything I Ate at Age 28<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.mycrunkspace.com/content/graphics/4af9474fd97464a28856ac5202ef8e90.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://www.mycrunkspace.com/content/graphics/4af9474fd97464a28856ac5202ef8e90.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
This past weekend was a whirlwind of birthday activity. It has taken me until today to recover from it. I spent my birthday exactly how I pictured it: with Friends, Family and Food. And maybe a few drinks...<br />
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Friday night was supposed to be a quiet night in anticipation of Saturday night's festivities. Dinner, wine, and a movie if I could stay awake that long. So you understand my surprise when at 4am I found myself elbow deep in two grandma slices from Bleeker Street Pizza. What the heck happened? Lets rewind the tape:<br />
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Our first stop was <a href="http://www.cafe-katja.com/">Cafe Katja</a>, a tiny, unassuming gem that serves upscale Austrian fare with an array of rare imported beers. It started off innocent - a glass of a biodynamic white wine (I'm <i>so</i> in vogue) and a hot soft pretzel (okay, maybe not). It was a solid start. The problems arose when the pretzel came served with what can only be described as the lovechild of Butter and Cheese. Hold on it actually gets better - it's whipped and lightly dusted with chives! Okay, now you can breathe. This heavenly concoction was called Liptauer Cheese - and thankfully they don't call it Liptauer Butter, because it sounds more socially acceptable to eat an entire bowl of cheese than an entire bowl of butter, right? Right?!<br />
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Next up was an enormous platter of cured meats, spreads and pickles, which is what I imagine I'll encounter when I walk through the Pearly Gates. Low and behold, guess what it was served with? Oh hello, little bowl of creamy goodness. I spread Liptauer cheese on everything in sight - bread, pork belly, pickles, directly on my tongue (hey, it was my birthday!). It was getting out of hand. Luckily our entrees arrived: an apple/cabbage slaw in a light lingonberry dressing and a hefty serving of brats and kraut to really put the nail in the coffin - well and the various 'nightcaps', celebratory shots of tequila and two slices of late night 'za. Sigh. <br />
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But what DID help matters was the incredible breakfast I woke up to. A little elf ran about the West Village and gathered up some of my favorite pre-noon eats:<br />
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Soft scrambled eggs, hashbrowns and the best croissant in the city from <a href="http://www.outofthekitchenonline.com/">Out of the Kitchen</a><br />
The featured brew from <a href="http://www.joetheartofcoffee.com/">Joe</a>'s Coffee - smooth and dark<br />
Dipped Fruit Bouquet from <a href="http://www.ediblearrangements.com/">Edible Arrangements</a> (the perfect hangover aid and as it turns out, late night snack)<br />
<br />
In a state of sugar, fat, and caffeine induced bliss, I launched into a day of shopping in Soho with a long lost girlfriend who came to town for the weekend (lost to the world of marriage in Michigan, but couldn't be happier for her!) Eventually we needed to rev our engines, so we ducked into <a href="http://nymag.com/listings/stores/faiccos_pork_store01/">Faicco's Pork Store</a> on Bleeker Street for fried risotto balls, broccoli rabe with sausage bread, and one of <b>the best</b> Italian subs I have had to date. We chased down our lunch with a bottle of Brunello, which was given to me as a gift from the friend I visited the actual vineyard with, called Fattoria dei Barbi. Alongside the vino, she also gave me a vintage 1946 edition Le Cordon Bleu cookbook, which I will report back on as soon as I can see straight next week:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6htS8AaTDNTC-p-iYRz5vlgfuFjm20AwYqqnir7z-N1bPiDQCr5Yym28LPgZjtjUnH1N-Jm7Emir5GFWs569PX3x3u50buPhDue3LmOweUGhqnXVHBRco1fOFBv_EYoG6csFPA_gDxBt/s1600/Vintage+cookbook.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6htS8AaTDNTC-p-iYRz5vlgfuFjm20AwYqqnir7z-N1bPiDQCr5Yym28LPgZjtjUnH1N-Jm7Emir5GFWs569PX3x3u50buPhDue3LmOweUGhqnXVHBRco1fOFBv_EYoG6csFPA_gDxBt/s400/Vintage+cookbook.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
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With a solid foundation of booze and food, we took a quick nap to prepare ourselves for the night ahead. Dinner was at <a href="http://www.lilfrankies.com/">Lil' Frankie's</a>, the (larger, louder) offspring of Frank's in the east village. Known for it's brick oven pizzas and hearty pastas, Lil' Frankie's had me at hello with their burrata cheese appetizer. Next up was an array of pizzas, though the showstopper was more of a focaccia with robiola cheese, procuitto di parma and a drizzle of truffle oil stuck in between two thin pizza crusts. It <i>must</i> be shared or be prepared to sweat truffle oil all night - unless you're into that sort of thing, (which I could kind of get into too). For an entree, I chose a light dish of spaghetti limone: butter, parmigiano reggiano and a squirt of lemon juice, which I will undoubtedly recreate at home. <br />
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Based on the remnants of red sauce on my plate, it appears I made my way around the table testing everyone else's dishes before diving into my own (typical). And after all of my extensive research, the polpettini ragu (mini meatballs) takes the cake:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeBNew-40t25HGSubKdZRdWKuEOK-T3flooxYJhfWwJISrmXCMKvGE5ynnBHSZq82bpcqXBs97wveRO7kbazSRus8oE4awMYLrp5qwB1S06elbX43sXYRFFuPtKFr9wuMZg2yB-i1IdDlu/s1600/Lemon+Pasta.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeBNew-40t25HGSubKdZRdWKuEOK-T3flooxYJhfWwJISrmXCMKvGE5ynnBHSZq82bpcqXBs97wveRO7kbazSRus8oE4awMYLrp5qwB1S06elbX43sXYRFFuPtKFr9wuMZg2yB-i1IdDlu/s400/Lemon+Pasta.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Speaking of cake...it was chocolate, it was decadent and it was shared 10 ways:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDCU0bijhd11Z8csUG2HD1XeH74tu_s03fgWtPAepeFtrtskrPHU6zFL5fKjjhhokAQ0WaajI5_9uzFRdQIpkh8PMhbNsKv0NBhu00bOaF_MfpJgC0MpaJHi_K24pYoWa7UY4g8FkURayZ/s1600/Bday+Wishes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDCU0bijhd11Z8csUG2HD1XeH74tu_s03fgWtPAepeFtrtskrPHU6zFL5fKjjhhokAQ0WaajI5_9uzFRdQIpkh8PMhbNsKv0NBhu00bOaF_MfpJgC0MpaJHi_K24pYoWa7UY4g8FkURayZ/s320/Bday+Wishes.jpg" /></a></div>You'd think I'd be full, but yee have little faith in the Heat! Sunday I was treated to a homemade Bo-saam at my sibling's abode. What is Bo-saam you ask? Basically it's the Asian answer to bbq pulled pork. Except this time you wrap it in lettuce leaves with sticky white rice, a slathering of ginger scallion relish and dollop of hot sauce. We used David Chang's <a href="http://nymag.com/listings/recipe/bo-ssam/">recipe</a> off NYMAG.com, and while time consuming (you slow roast the pork for hours), it is a fairly easy recipe to master and perfect for a hungry crowd. For sides we had home pickled red cabbage, jalapenos, and skewered hoisen shrimp with pineapple.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLxly5EwAQ-b_ahF3-Cwaxupbox8Yt-ECfeJQivkZJBsBECvO3vs0eatvYLNpaA71QAYNYF5Lyn7XhOozBYZDfNuAsGl5VazoTpGPspAdkX7cBnDi2k_QpTNVhYbFf6xX4n1mRYwiEwOy5/s1600/Boo+Saam.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLxly5EwAQ-b_ahF3-Cwaxupbox8Yt-ECfeJQivkZJBsBECvO3vs0eatvYLNpaA71QAYNYF5Lyn7XhOozBYZDfNuAsGl5VazoTpGPspAdkX7cBnDi2k_QpTNVhYbFf6xX4n1mRYwiEwOy5/s400/Boo+Saam.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
And it's not a birthday party without a cake! Angel food with fresh berries to be exact - washed down with our last drops of Prosecco and lulling me into the deepest of birthday slumbers.<br />
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Thanks to all for the warm birthday wishes! And for those that forgot, I'd like a bucket of Liptauer cheese, please,<br />
<br />
- The HeatThe Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-49701172814086635712010-04-15T17:57:00.007-04:002010-12-03T15:29:59.373-05:00Who Cut The Cheese?Er, actually...I did. But only in the literal sense (as far as they know). Last night I assisted at an educational class at <a href="http://www.murrayscheese.com/%20">Murray's Cheese</a> on Bleeker Street. The class was titled "Unfiltered Wines and Raw Milk Cheeses" and was taught by two impossibly thin hipsters, Murray's Wholesale Manager Elizabeth Kubbuck and wine expert Alex Alan. I am perplexed at how they stay so thin with the jobs they hold. I was at Murray's one night and already my face has swollen three times it's normal size.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhemngs_FuxCf-W6pqGA-dDqGYBTHAaqAQ8nnCPiKHJNsMw3BLZCoBqvp9aYv0RcE48FNK8fO0luZf7efxKg2breu9jMCmXu9nxxnztXWjqjKWrdDcn4V4LISa7m6GGzVdZ_ElXQtkl5muM/s1600/double-chin+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhemngs_FuxCf-W6pqGA-dDqGYBTHAaqAQ8nnCPiKHJNsMw3BLZCoBqvp9aYv0RcE48FNK8fO0luZf7efxKg2breu9jMCmXu9nxxnztXWjqjKWrdDcn4V4LISa7m6GGzVdZ_ElXQtkl5muM/s400/double-chin+copy.jpg" width="381" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>You know the saying, never trust a skinny chef. How about a fat cheeked food-blogger? Nonetheless, I have to hand it to the two toothpicks, they were entertaining, knowledgeable and on the cutting edge of wine and cheese. I, on the other hand, was on the cutting edge of a serrated knife, cutting a half dozen baguettes into paper thin slices for our 45 students. And I have the bruises on my hands to show for it. I was also in charge of wiping, setting, cleaning, and putting away of a mere 266 wine glasses (I did the math). Standing over a steaming industrial-strength dishwasher for five hours isn't exactly glamorous, but I tried to think of it as a really cheap facial. Plus I got to take home the leftover cheese and wine, which I will attack with glee after work. At this point, no amount of salt could make me bloat any further - I hope.<br />
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But I got more out of last night's class than a moon face and bad gas (wait, what?). But be warned: once you go raw, you'll never go back. What exactly <i>is</i> raw cheese? I hesitate to answer, for fear of being digitally flogged by some blogospheric frommagier - but for those not growing their own cheese in Brooklyn, raw means cheese that it unpasteurized and less than 60 days old. The law of the land is that any unpasteurized cheese entering the US must be aged at least 60 days to - in theory - protect us from bacterial infections. Some argue that this is in fact an antiquated and unnecessary regulation, and many have been known to casually ignore it. Either way you slice it (queue laughter), Americans therefore miss out on the gloriousness that is young, European cheese. Anyone that has traveled through Europe is nodding their head in agreement.<br />
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Last night we tasted some of the best, 'don't ask, don't tell', raw cheese imported into the United States. I used a highly technical rating system to keep track of my favorites: ✓-, ✓, ✓+. I tried to be critical and I tried to stay sober, though I can't help but notice how many ✓+'s I had towards the end. All the cheeses are available at Murray's and the 'fromagiers' specifically said NOT be shy about pronunciation when you're in their store. Feel free to point, grunt or gesticulate your way to good cheese.<br />
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The favorites of the night, with my own quirky descriptions, in descending order:<br />
<ol><li><b>Tomme Fleurette</b>: this one wins the 'most likely to be confiscated at customs' award. May or may not be under 2 weeks old, it tasted like melted butter. And who doesn't like butter?!</li>
<li><b>La Serena</b>: A cheese made alongside the sweaters I wear (Merino sheep) with a name from one of my favorite television shows (hint: xoxo). What's not to love? Soft and delicate like their wool.</li>
<li><b>Tomme Crayeuse</b>: We called this the 'Tom Cruise' of cheese, but more 'Top Gun' Tom than 'jumping on Oprah's couch' Tom. Earthy and creamy.</li>
<li><b>Mrs. Quicke's Cheddar</b>: far from the Cabot cheese we know and love, this cheddar tasted like horseradish biscuits to my untrained palate (say what?). The rind tasted like my Grandma's dank basement. And in some twisted way, I really really liked it.</li>
<li><b>Jura Erguel</b>: A Swiss made cheese that tasted like pineapple? that will definitely be in my next grilled cheese.</li>
</ol><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.judiciaryreport.com/images/tom-cruise-8-4-08-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://www.judiciaryreport.com/images/tom-cruise-8-4-08-1.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />
The cheeses were paired with variety of unfiltered wines, which is raw cheese's alcoholic counterpart. I learned that unfiltered wine, in short, means that the yeast used to ferment the grapes is the naturally occurring yeast of the plant, rather than that which is cultivated in a petri dish. The wines were therefore rather intense and actually tasted crude. While I didn't love them all, I found it amazing that I was drinking wine the way it was drank by kings and queens hundreds of years ago. Needless to say, I got drunk and felt quite courtly.<br />
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My favorites, all in the $20-25 per bottle range:<br />
<ol><li><b>Thierry Puzelat Ko "In Cot We Trust" 2007:</b> a French Malbec from the Loire Valley. Alex described this as having a smoked bacon taste, which I liked, but admittedly didn't 'get'.</li>
<li><b>Domaine Leon Barral Faugeres</b> <b>2006:</b> a smooth, deep red that tasted even better when I learned the grapes were grown biodynamically (which basically means naturally, whilst respecting the earth around it).</li>
<li><b>Don Chisciotte Campania Fiano IGT 2007: </b>This tasted more like a cider or a hefeweizen to me, though he swore it came from grapes. I don't believe him, but I liked it. Fool your friends. </li>
</ol>Xoxo,<br />
The Heat<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-38142487867401509602010-04-12T20:07:00.002-04:002010-12-03T15:37:17.678-05:00The Weekend ScrambleThis is my brain:<br />
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This is my brain after the weekend:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDoHik-n1fpv3Colv7SCUze72Kt1H3qTfQkEKIri6cZGaNjq11ti6sa8PR0IxOHCSGFlT-gN4G6cdyz8nEOdtZfwfJ7Rihw_W6RoanYX32NT9aYT9sKcmnTXGQTnp3rbK0VPtSEgjFBSh/s1600/IMG_0637.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihDoHik-n1fpv3Colv7SCUze72Kt1H3qTfQkEKIri6cZGaNjq11ti6sa8PR0IxOHCSGFlT-gN4G6cdyz8nEOdtZfwfJ7Rihw_W6RoanYX32NT9aYT9sKcmnTXGQTnp3rbK0VPtSEgjFBSh/s320/IMG_0637.JPG" /></a></div><br />
Any questions?<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>I’m sure you do. There are parts of my weekend I have questions about too. Mainly where all of our bruises came from and how I lost my voice – <a href="http://theheatnyc.blogspot.com/2010/01/little-down-home-in-nyc.html">bull-riding</a> being the likely answer to both. You see, it was my girlfriend’s bachelorette party in NYC this weekend. And for those of you that have ever been bombarded by or involved with a bachelorette party, God help you, you know the extent of damage that can be caused. It’s like a pack of hyenas coming upon a fresh kill - “First the pack spreads out, surrounding its prey in a impenetrable circle. Watch, as they slowly close in, warding off all unwanted visitors with blood curdling yelps and screams”. It’s eerily similar actually. And it was a blast!<br />
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I laid the foundation for my weekend at <a href="http://www.choptanknyc.com/">Choptank</a> Friday night, where I gorged myself on Old Bay chips and crab dip, fluke ceviche with corn nuts, Maryland style peel and eat shrimp and a big old crab cake. My foundation was served to me by a handful of Georgetown Prep guys, or so they appeared, all of who had delightful manners, provided excellent service and fit their whole Maryland theme quite well. I almost didn’t mind their double popped collars. I also didn’t mind their spacious back deck, which will be perfect for a weekend brunch of their Chesapeake Benedict: jumbo lump crabmeat, artichokes, and spicy hollandaise sauce with a side of boardwalk fries. Yum. I’ll leave the Meathook’s Scrapple served with Anson Mill grits and a fried egg to an indigenous Marylander. Yee haw!<br />
<br />
The rest of the night was spent on various dance floors in the Lower East Side. It was fun, it was drunk and it’s a blur. What wasn’t fun was the smell of Mt. Gay rum at 11am the next day while I made a <b>Rum Raisin Tiramisu</b>. Normally, cooking is my therapy - a source of peace and love. And while I am not a dessert person, I was excited to try my hand at this particular dish, as it’s the bachelorette’s favorite and it required no baking. Because I <i>don’t</i> bake. I don’t like to measure things, I rarely follow directions and I think rules are meant to be broken – which doesn’t bode well for baking, a science more than an art. This dessert is more a compilation of ingredients than anything. It’s easy and probably pretty fun to make if you’re not holding back the pukies. My only criticism could be a result of my tender state, but I think the recipe calls for too much rum. When the bachelorette party finally got interested in dessert, circa 4:30am, we were overwhelmed by the rum flavor, to say the very least. Granted, we were eating it in fist full’s (hence the carnage in picture two, above) and in between bites of meatball pizza from Vezzo, but next time I will cut the rum in half. I loved the addition of semi-sweet chocolate curls on top, but recommend microwaving the chocolate before shaving – and being sober while using your <a href="https://www.titanpeelersale.com/">Titan Peeler</a>. Yikes.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">Rum Raisin Tiramisu </span>(adapted from Ina Garten's <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ina-garten/rum-raisin-tiramisu-recipe/index.html">recipe</a>)</div><div><ul><li>3/4 cup raisins</li>
<li>1/2 cup Mount Gay rum, divided in half, 2 tablespoons set aside</li>
<li>6 extra large egg yolks at room temperature</li>
<li>1/2 cup sugar</li>
<li>16oz marscapone cheese</li>
<li>3/4 cup fresh squeezed orange juice, divided</li>
<li>1 1/2t. good vanilla extract </li>
<li>1 vanilla bean (thanks to Gourmet Garage for charging me $17 for one)</li>
<li>24 to 30 ladyfingers</li>
<li>semi sweet chocolate, shaved</li>
</ul></div><div><br />
</div><div>Directions:</div><ol><li>Place the raisins and 2 tablespoons of rum in a bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and place in the microwave on high for 1 minute. Uncover and set aside to cool.</li>
<li>Beat the egg yolks and sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment on high speed for 5 minutes, until very thick and light yellow. Lower the speed to low and mix in the mascarpone until smooth. With the mixer still on low, add 1/4 cup of rum, 1/4 cup of orange juice, the vanilla extract, and the seeds from the vanilla bean. Stir until combined.</li>
<li>Pour the remaining 1/4 cup of rum and remaining 1/2 cup of orange juice in a shallow bowl. Dip one side of each ladyfinger quickly in the rum mixture and place them in one layer in a 9 by 11 by 2-inch rectangular or oval dish. Break the ladyfingers in smaller pieces and dip them in the rum mixture to fill the spaces. </li>
<li>Sprinkle half the rum-soaked raisins evenly on top. Pour half the mascarpone mixture over and spread evenly. </li>
<li>Repeat the layers of dipped ladyfingers, rum-soaked raisins, and mascarpone mixture. </li>
<li>Smooth the top, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 6 hours, but preferably overnight.</li>
<li>Before serving, sprinkle the top with the shaved chocolate and serve cold.</li>
<li>Splash a little soda water in with the remaining Mount Gay and a squeeze of lime and have yourself a cocktail. </li>
</ol><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPke5PdR9TdGevIusPhxhZdGu5fL6yfnCToeMWNhWYIkdY_evgbNIxWxfoS2aqkr2XAaA06_oKnEzllLL6RGSB7DJ-EFrJ-gax6369beeVYeJx5Toga5J4tkbO1HQ0SPolWj7QomoqNyLR/s1600/The+lion+king+hyena.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPke5PdR9TdGevIusPhxhZdGu5fL6yfnCToeMWNhWYIkdY_evgbNIxWxfoS2aqkr2XAaA06_oKnEzllLL6RGSB7DJ-EFrJ-gax6369beeVYeJx5Toga5J4tkbO1HQ0SPolWj7QomoqNyLR/s320/The+lion+king+hyena.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div>Tastes best with friends,</div><div>- The Heat</div></div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-7434672056446309562010-04-07T14:57:00.002-04:002010-04-07T15:02:49.875-04:00Sunny with a Chance of Meatballs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRpBL1nuw9UNbOq3lpi3Gglya1ttSYxQepgHn-xQTlZVUeVtw23T8ccrRV-wDWiwaMWk0mKVOOBI8xm2y61s2UiWmIWUB_ZeJ6VaH1-zAqMZ2CV6lnS1zAkzAxSjOQq4aAzkemRcxMOXmX/s1600/Chance+of+Meatballs" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRpBL1nuw9UNbOq3lpi3Gglya1ttSYxQepgHn-xQTlZVUeVtw23T8ccrRV-wDWiwaMWk0mKVOOBI8xm2y61s2UiWmIWUB_ZeJ6VaH1-zAqMZ2CV6lnS1zAkzAxSjOQq4aAzkemRcxMOXmX/s400/Chance+of+Meatballs" width="400" /></a></div>This week I've been on a mission to pile on the food blogger scrum - <a href="http://www.motorinopizza.com/">Motorino</a>, <a href="http://www.numpangnyc.com/">Num Pang</a>, <a href="http://www.shakeshacknyc.com/">Shake Shack</a> - all of which are absolute hits, and relatively inexpensive ones at that. Last night I added The Meatball Shop to the mix. At this point I'm sure the buzz of this Lower East Side storefront has hit your radar, as it did mine, so I won't bore you with a four page review, especially when the menu is really only made up of two items - meatballs and chipwiches. Okay, a salad was thrown on for good measure, but that's like ordering a veggie burger at a steakhouse - purely for looks. And while we're on the topic, I'd like to throw a flag for the Meatball Shop having a veggie meatball on the menu. Don't get me wrong - I have nothing against vegetarians, but I find it poor logic that one would choose to eat at a place that prides itself on pan-fried animal products. Don't yell at me please.<br />
<br />
That being said, my <b>official review</b> of The Meatball Shop is this (queue trumpets): there are better balls out there, most notably at Frankie Spuntino's down the block, but I guess it's a fun, casual spot if you're in the neighborhood. So, don't all you Upper East Siders jump on the 6 train just yet - there are plenty of good meatballs right where you are (Ottomanelli's). Please just stay where you belong.<br />
<br />
All joking aside, I enjoyed the less traditional options the most - like the special of the night, lamb with mint and raisins as well as their chicken meatballs. But, more so because they were just <i>different</i> than kick-your-chair-out delicious (it's happened). The Meatball Shop is a fun stop for a quick bite at the bar. Try all their meatball combinations with a plate of their sliders and wash them down with a Brooklyn Lager or a glass of wine from their short and sweet list. However, the unfortunate thing is that the place is so perpetually jammed thanks to people like me who can't keep their damn mouth shut, that a timely experience is rare. We waited an hour on a Tuesday night, though our food only took 10 minutes to come out, and were then rushed to relinquish our seats 15 minutes later. My advice is to give it a few months - maybe in July when the beautiful people migrate West you'll be able to eat your balls in peace.<br />
<br />
Speaking of migrating West, some of the best meatballs I've ever eaten are about halfway between NYC and the Hamptons, in the lovely town of Northport. <a href="http://www.maronicuisine.com/">Maroni's</a> is a gem of a restaurant, seating only about 20 and offering an exclusive tasting menu at $110/person - not exactly an easy or cheap way to satisfy your hankering, but I found a loophole or two. The first is the discovery that they will run over a pot (literally) of their famous meatballs to the neighboring, but unrelated Wine Bar. It comes steaming and aromatic in a keepsake hotpot loaded with 16 meatballs for $27 - amazing. The other loophole being <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/throwdown-with-bobby-flay/grandma-maronis-meatballs-100-year-old-recipe-recipe/index.html">their recipe</a>, which I just discovered on Bobby Flay's Meatball Throwdown and subsequently posted on the Food Network website. I'll be giving this recipe a test run - perhaps only making one small change - reducing the garlic. Though I enjoyed the meatballs tremendously, I didn't enjoy the severe dragon breath it anointed me and my party with. Comfort in numbers I guess.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.maronicuisine.com/images/hotpot%201a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="138" src="http://www.maronicuisine.com/images/hotpot%201a.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>My favorite recipe for meatballs, however, comes from my favorite Italian Nonna, whom I've written about <a href="http://theheatnyc.blogspot.com/2010/01/lidia-bastianichs-sunday-bolognese.html">before</a>, Lidia Bastianich. I have made these at least a half dozen times. The process is not quick, but it <i>is </i>easy. And it is a tried and true favorite. There are two meatballs recipes: <b>Turkey Meatballs with Pine Nuts and Golden Raisins</b> OR <b>Sausage Meatballs with Fresh Fennel and Orange</b>. Both are pan fried to form a crust that will hold the ball together and then added to a long-cooking Sugo. The recipe for the sugo is the same for either meatballs, except one ingredient - if making the turkey meatballs, add a cinnamon stick to the sauce. If making the sausage, a few tablespoons of orange zest will give it a little somethin' somethin' that'll keep you comin' back for more. Mangia!<br />
<u><br />
</u><br />
<u>Long-Cooked Sugo and Meatballs</u> (adapted from<b> Lidia's Family Table</b>)<br />
<i>Makes a boatload - 2 quarts of Sugo and 3 dozen meatballs! </i><br />
<u><br />
</u><br />
For the Sofritto: (this is a cinch in a food processor)<br />
<ul><li>6T. extra-virgin olive oil</li>
<li>2 medium onions, minced</li>
<li>3 plump shallots, minced </li>
<li>2 fat garlic cloves, minced</li>
<li>1 large carrot, minced</li>
<li>2 large stalks of celery, minced</li>
<li>5 fresh bay leaves (or 3 dried)</li>
<li>1/4 tomato paste </li>
</ul><br />
For the Sugo:<br />
<ul><li>One 35oz can San Marzano plum tomatoes and juices, sieved or passed thru a food mill</li>
<li>8-12 cups broth or hot water (Lidia uses Turkey - I used Chicken)</li>
<li>1/2t. salt, plus more to taste</li>
<li>1 cinnamon stick or 2T. finely grated orange zest depending on meatball type</li>
<li>1T. fresh thyme leaves</li>
<li>1/4t. hot red pepper flakes (peperoncino), or to taste</li>
</ul><br />
<br />
For Turkey Meatballs:<br />
<ul><li>1.5T olive oil</li>
<li>1 medium onion, finely chopped</li>
<li>1/2t. salt</li>
<li>4 slices white bread from a sandwich or big loaf</li>
<li>1-2 cups of milk</li>
<li>3lbs ground turkey meat</li>
<li>3 large eggs, beaten with a pinch of salt</li>
<li>2T. chopped fresh Italian parsley</li>
<li>1.5T. porcini powder</li>
<li>1/2t. freshly ground black pepper</li>
<li>3/4 cup golden raisins, plumed in warm water and drained</li>
<li>3/4 cup pine nuts, toasted in a dry skillet</li>
</ul><br />
For Sausage Meatballs:<br />
<ul><li>2T. olive oil</li>
<li>1 medium onion, minced</li>
<li>1/3 of a small fennel, minced (about 2/3 cup)</li>
<li>2 fat garlic cloves, minced</li>
<li>3/4t. salt</li>
<li>3lbs. Sweet Italian Sausage (w/o fennel seeds)</li>
<li>3 large eggs, beaten with a pinch of salt</li>
<li>3T chopped fresh Italian parsley</li>
<li>1/2t. fresh thyme leaves</li>
<li>1 heaping cup fine dry bread crumbs</li>
</ul><br />
For cooking both kinds of meatballs:<br />
<ul><li>1 cup all-purpose flour</li>
<li>2 cups vegetable oil </li>
<li>Salt for sprinkling</li>
<li>Spread the flour about 1/4 inch deep in the center of a baking sheet</li>
</ul><br />
Directions for Frying the Soffritto and Starting the Sugo:<br />
<ol><li>Pour oil in a 12-inch heavy-bottomed pan or Dutch oven with 8qt. capacity and drop in onions, shallots. Set over med-high heat for 1-2 minutes, until onions sizzle.</li>
<li>Drop garlic, carrots, celery and bay leaves and cook for 4 minutes. Lower heat to prevent burning.</li>
<li>Add tomato paste to an empty spot and 'toast' for a minute. Stir in plum tomatoes and their juices, raise heat and bring the sauce to a quick boil for 5 minutes until it thickens.</li>
<li>Pour in 4 cups of the hot broth and take note of the liquid level - try and maintain that level throughout cooking by adding more broth or water throughout simmering process.</li>
<li>Submerge cinnamon stick or add orange zest at this time, depending on which balls you're making.</li>
<li>Cover and let cook for at least an hour, checking the pot every 20min. It should be reducing steadily, adding broth to maintain the level you want.</li>
</ol>Making the Meatballs while your Sugo simmers:<br />
<br />
Turkey:<br />
<ol><li>Pour olive oil in medium skillet and drop in minced onions, sprinkle with salt and set over med-high heat until they sizzle. Lower heat and cook for 5min., stirring occasionally until they are wilted and slightly dry, but not colored. Set aside.</li>
<li>Break up bread slices into rough inch long pieces and submerge in milk. When fully saturated, remove and squeeze out excess milk with your hands. You should have about 1 cup densely packed bread.</li>
<li>Loosen turkey meat and add to a large mixing bowl with beaten eggs, raisins, pine nuts, wilted onions, bread, parsley, porcini powder, salt and freshly ground pepper. Fold and squeeze the ingredients together and form into balls, flouring the outside of the balls lightly.</li>
</ol>Sausage:<br />
<ol><li>Pour olive oil in med skillet, drop in minced onion and fennel over med-high heat. Cook for 2min then add garlic for another minute. Sprinkle on half the salt, stir and reduce heat, cooking for 5 more minutes, being careful not to burn. Remove from pan and let cool.</li>
<li>Take sausage out of casing if packed in links, crumble in mixing bowl and add eggs, parsley, salt, pepper, orange zest, thyme leaves and cooled fennel, onions, garlic and the bread crumbs. Fold and form meatballs, dusting with flour.</li>
</ol>Frying the Meatballs and Adding to Sugo:<br />
<ol><li>Pour vegetable oil in med skillet about 1/3 inch and set over high heat until oil begins to ripple. Transfer meatballs to skillet with tongs, being careful to leave enough room between each ball so they don't touch and allow to cook for a minute or two until they begin to brown. Brown them on all sides and remove to a paper towel to drain.</li>
<li>Add meatballs slowly to your sugo with a slotted spoon, placing a few on the bottom with room between each, more on top, creating layers of spaced out meatballs, so you can carefully stir the sauce later. Bring back to a simmer and cook for an additional 40 minutes for golf ball sized meatballs - longer if larger.</li>
<li>Turn off the heat and allow to cool so the meatballs absorb more of the flavor of the sugo. Carefully remove meatballs and return your sauce to a boil to thicken it to whatever consistency you prefer. Add salt and pepper to taste and serve!</li>
</ol>When storing, make sure to use enough sauce to cover the meatballs completely. <br />
<br />
My <i>other </i>favorite Meatballs - a must see:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://meatballsonline.com/yahoo_site_admin/assets/images/Groupon_the_lake.31383928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://meatballsonline.com/yahoo_site_admin/assets/images/Groupon_the_lake.31383928.jpg" width="267" /></a></div>- The HeatThe Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-25179941009619207982010-04-02T17:07:00.002-04:002010-04-02T17:33:54.012-04:00My Custom Easter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.jasonchatfield.com/blog/images/20060411_Easter2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" nt="true" src="http://www.jasonchatfield.com/blog/images/20060411_Easter2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I was not raised religious - a fact my parents blush at, but the truth nonetheless. I <em>was</em> raised with love, faith, and a sense of spirituality, just not within the confines of a Church. Easter therefore, is the holiday of eternal candy - not a celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus. I bet I'm not alone in this admission. Walk up to most kids these days and ask them what they think of when they hear 'Easter' - I guarantee it has more to do with gelatinous, tooth decaying candy than the miracle of Christ. My point is not the disappearance of religion - I'll leave that topic to someone more educated on the subject - it's that I still think of the holiday in this childish way. So I guess what I'm saying is that I'm on level with a 5yr. old - fudge. <br />
<br />
The only thing that sets me apart from the toothless, candy loving crowd is that I'd rather eat lamb chops with a mint roumalade than a carton of Peeps. And I'll trade a chocolate bunny for the bunny baguette from <a href="http://www.amysbread.com/">Amy's Bread</a> anyday. But it's not that I'm suddenly too mature for candy - I've always been this way. When I was a child I'd trade my jelly beans to my brother for the promise of fewer public ass whoopings (it was a good trade). Then I'd hide my chocolate bunny from it's grisly death, to be discovered months later by my Mother who would find it by smell, behind the curtains in the living room, next to the radiator. I changed locations annually, creating an annual Easter egg hunt in November when my parents turned the heat on. This also happened after Halloween. It was a real knee slapper.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUd96NdGaG3x3vY7sAJNINC2JeGnHmnWET647O4SH22EiKL1NpjSBytLen1-FzOh8QNHbuRJqXevlK82S-TgM4V2niC1Hz1Z-tggpGvUxYzHFTliKZBY7uCFV-VXz_E6QZ2uSgYXIQh_-D/s1600/Peter+Cotton+Tail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUd96NdGaG3x3vY7sAJNINC2JeGnHmnWET647O4SH22EiKL1NpjSBytLen1-FzOh8QNHbuRJqXevlK82S-TgM4V2niC1Hz1Z-tggpGvUxYzHFTliKZBY7uCFV-VXz_E6QZ2uSgYXIQh_-D/s320/Peter+Cotton+Tail.jpg" /></a></div>I simply do not have a sweet tooth - a fact that made Easter drop below Christmas, Thanksgiving and the Fourth of a July on the holiday scale. Regardless, any excuse for family and food excites me. And by excites me, I mean occupies every corner of my brain - coming up with multiple, varied, and sometimes faux menus for the day. If it were up to me, I'd be cooking an Easter feast for 30+ of varying ages and tastes - with a house, kitchen and staff equipped for such a task. Instead I will likely be cooking for one in a kitchen the size of an outhouse. I therefore have provided two menus with recipes from some of my favorite blogs, forums and shows:<br />
<br />
<u><strong>My Big Fat Fake Easter:</strong></u><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/sweet-pea-crostini-recipe/index.html">Sweet Pea Crostini</a> I love pretty much everything Giada De Laurentis does. Even if I don't love peas.<br />
<a href="http://coconutlime.blogspot.com/2009/04/ham-dill-deviled-eggs.html">Ham & Dill Deviled Eggs</a> Deviled eggs made with the dyed eggs from the morning hunt yields a rainbow of colored egg whites with creepy colored yolks and it freaks enough people out to leave them for me!<br />
<a href="http://bitten.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/04/24/recipe-of-the-day-shaved-artichoke-salad/">Shaved Artichoke Salad</a> Combine two of my favorite foods, artichokes and Parmesan, and call it a salad.<br />
<a href="http://wednesdaychef.typepad.com/the_wednesday_chef/2008/02/nigel-slaters-p.html">Peas with Olive Oil and Mint</a> Simple, fresh and the perfect accompaniment for lamb.<br />
<a href="http://bitten.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/01/04/the-perfect-marriage-leek-and-potato/">Leek and Potato Gratin</a> A grown up version of a childhood classic.<br />
<a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/food-network-kitchens/fig-and-orange-glazed-ham-recipe/index.html">Fig and Orange Glazed Honey Ham</a> Laughably easy and great leftover (midnight snack).<br />
<a href="http://mobile.seriouseats.com/recipes/2010/04/how-to-cook-perfect-grilled-or-roasted-rack-of-lamb-recipe.html">Slow Cooked Rack of Lamb</a> Try a mint sauce like <a href="http://www.crosseandblackwell.com/products/default.asp?groupid=47&catid=253">this one</a> instead of the cloyingly sweet mint jelly.<br />
<a href="http://orangette.blogspot.com/">Rhubarb Roasted with Wine and Vanilla</a>: Wine and dessert in one - killing two birds with one dish. <br />
<br />
<br />
<u><strong>Easter for a Girl and her "Little" Lamb:</strong></u><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWe_BUua9aRkxzTJ15B4FYtjCUhkXoboVzH09qHiwn2fKpBicuRAZeavFd48qhvzcmeJH0iynTB8Q8XExVoFtKos27zHeQprRiRvTRFeeSMHfAIZIAG1dikOGyVFYyDW0p_fNv50e9bKYZ/s1600/Little+Lamb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWe_BUua9aRkxzTJ15B4FYtjCUhkXoboVzH09qHiwn2fKpBicuRAZeavFd48qhvzcmeJH0iynTB8Q8XExVoFtKos27zHeQprRiRvTRFeeSMHfAIZIAG1dikOGyVFYyDW0p_fNv50e9bKYZ/s320/Little+Lamb.jpg" width="268" /></a></div>Fresh Ricotta and a drizzle of honey on the floury little bum of my Bunny Baguette. Love me some rump.<br />
<a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/bobby-flay/grilled-lamb-chops-with-garlic-olive-oil-fresh-thyme-grilled-lemons-recipe/index.html">Grilled Lamb Chops with Garlic, Fresh Thyme, and Grilled Lemons</a> I will cut down this recipe for one and use a stovetop grill pan - a good option when living in a propane-less city. <br />
<a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Steamed-Artichokes-with-Herb-Caper-Mayonnaise-241907">Steamed Artichokes with Herb-Caper Mayonnaise</a>: I like to eat my artichokes and my mayo alone, without judgement. <br />
<a href="http://www.food52.com/recipes/738_individual_sweet_potato_gratins_with_creme_fraiche_onions_and_bacon">Sweet Potato Gratin with Creme Fraiche, Chives and Bacon</a>: Listen, I don't eat dessert, okay? <br />
Glass (bottle) of Bordeaux for me and the leftover bone for my little lamb (with supervision of course)!<br />
<br />
Have a Sweet Easter!<br />
- The Heat<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-980195000445659862010-03-30T22:08:00.001-04:002010-03-30T22:56:30.920-04:00The Best Thing I Ever Ate: Philly Style<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.officialpsds.com/images/thumbs/NYC-Love-Sign-psd21626.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" nt="true" src="http://www.officialpsds.com/images/thumbs/NYC-Love-Sign-psd21626.png" width="342" /></a></div>The City of Brotherly Love should be known for more than their infamous cheesesteaks. As delicious as they are at 4am, the cheesesteak did not make the cut for the Best Thing I Ever Ate in Philly. (For those that <em>must</em> know however, I am a Pat's girl through and through). Philadelphia is a culinary gem and one I am lovingly familiar with, thanks to four years of schooling there. As expected, the majority of my culinary experiences during my formitive college years were at bars. Luckily, Philadelphia produces some amazing pub food, like the wings are <a href="http://www.moriartyspub.com/">Moriarty's,</a> soft pretzels from <a href="http://millerstwist.com/">Miller's Twist</a>, and the roast pork sandwiches at <a href="http://tonylukes.com/">Tony Luke's</a>. It also hosts haute cuisine, perhaps most noteably at <a href="http://www.starr-restaurant.com/">Steven Starr's</a> restaurants where the culinary creativity is almost as luring as their eccentric atmosphere. <br />
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I returned to Philadelphia this weekend for my college soccer team's alumni game. Ninety minutes and many a pulled muscle later, the only thing I could focus on was food. What would it be? A hoagie from the array of food trucks? A gyro from the Greek Lady? I was too dirty for sushi at Pod and too poor for the calamari salad at Buddakhan. It wouldn't make sense to eat the tomato slice at Allegro's or a sandwich from <a href="http://www.kochsdeli.com/">Koch's</a> - who goes from NY to Philly to eat pizza or a Jewish deli?!<br />
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<div></div>After a frantic walk around Penn's campus, and one too many coffees from Hubbub coffee truck, I finally decided on a tried and true Penn favorite: <a href="http://whitedog.com/">White Dog Cafe</a>. Located in three Victorian townhouses on a cobblestone street, White Dog serves American fare with local flare and a focus on environmental care. (Anyone hiring a culinary Dr Seuss? I'm desperate.) I saddled up to their more casual bar and replenished myself with Amish grown food and a few local brews, which allowed me to refocus my efforts on dinner.<br />
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Contrary to popular cheesesteak lore, what Philadelphia does best is Italian. The 9th street Itlian market is home to some of the best italian produce, meats, cheeses and restaurants I have ever come across. There is nothing quite like eating your way through an afternoon, sampling fresh mozzarella, home made cannollis and the occasional Italian hoagie. However, my favorite South Philly experience can be found at <a href="http://www.danteandluigis.com/">Dante and Luigi's</a>, an old school, perfectly gawdy Italian restaurant. It's claim to fame may be a botched murder attempt on Nicky Scarfo Jr, but their bread and butter is their <strong>gravy</strong> - the distinctly Southern Italian noun for red sauce. "It's like blood's mingled with the marinara". Yum. While most order the light-as-air gnocchi marinara, I always order their clams marinara over spaghetti. It was the very first dish I ordered at Dante and Luigi's, my freshman year on Parents Weekend. After three months of the college cafeteria food and Cup O' Noodles, it was the Best Thing I Ever Ate. <br />
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I found the recipe in an archive on the website phillymafiahistory.com - and I feel pretty badass making it. Overall, it is a simple enough recipe, except for one thing: the marinara! Dante and Luigi's does not disclose their secret sauce, so I found something in the same family - from cousin Angelo if you will. <a href="http://www.philly.com/philly/video/73683547.html">Kitchen Consigliere: Angelo Marinara</a>. Perhaps one of the most entertaining recipe videos to date, mobster Angelo Lutz gives up his family's recipe for penne marinara. He claims he made this dish every Sunday night in 'college'. And by college, he means jail for nine years. "Cooking it not a crime even though the cook was once a crook". So cool. His secret is to add a dash of Parmesan to the sauce while simmering. His <em>other</em> secret is that he got all his ingredients from his "procurement agent". You be the judge. <br />
<div></div><u>Dante and Luigi's Clams and Spaghetti </u>(serves 2 big goombas, or 4 regular people)<br />
<ul><li>1lb spaghetti, cooked al dente according to package instructions and set aside</li>
<li>48 little neck clams</li>
<li>1.5 T garlic, thinly sliced (Good Fella's thin. See it stat if you're missing the reference.)</li>
<li>2oz. fresh bazil</li>
<li>3T. olive oil</li>
<li>salt and pepper to taste</li>
<li>1.5 T chopped minced</li>
<li>"touch" red pepper flakes</li>
<li>1/3 cup of white wine</li>
<li>1 cup fish stock (homemade is best)</li>
<li>1qt. marinara sauce</li>
</ul><ol><li>In a deep sauce pan over medium heat, add the olive oil, garlic and onion, stirring for two minutes. </li>
<li>Season with hot pepper flakes. </li>
<li>Add clams and stir for about 3 more minutes. </li>
<li>Pour in wine and cook until reduced in half. </li>
<li>Add fish stock and simmer for 3 more minutes. </li>
<li>Pour in marinara and season with basil, salt and pepper to taste. </li>
<li>Cook for 3-6 more minutes until clams open. </li>
<li>Pour clams and sauce over spaghetti and serve.</li>
</ol>If you don't like it, I'll pop a cap in your bum,<br />
The HeatThe Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-20868590447074113072010-03-26T16:25:00.002-04:002010-03-26T17:19:52.641-04:00The Best Thing I Ever Ate: In Paris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://th05.deviantart.net/fs41/300W/f/2009/014/6/3/Eiffel_Tower_by_sokkaxsuki.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://th05.deviantart.net/fs41/300W/f/2009/014/6/3/Eiffel_Tower_by_sokkaxsuki.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Last night over a few (too many) glasses of wine, my girlfriend and I recounted our fondest memories from our adventures in Europe. Some of the best memories are favorites only in retrospect, like the time we got kicked out of our inn in Chianti for running over their flowerpot or when we got a flat tire from a dirt road in rural Tuscany (all in the same day, I might add). But, the fatties that we are, our fondest memories usually involved the meals we ate - which quickly turned into a game of '<a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/the-best-thing-i-ever-ate/index.html">The Best Thing I Ever Ate</a>'. <br />
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When we plan our trips together, my friend takes charge of planning our itinerary and hotels, and I spend my time organizing our meals. You laugh, but it's serious business that I can't even fathom leaving up to chance ...or a tour book. I believe eating is the most intimate way to connect with a culture. Choose the right meal and it's like being able to consume and take with you a piece of their history. A taste of their people. And not in a dirty way. The meal's presentation and atmosphere are equally important to create an experience more memorable to me than even the most spiritually evocative Church. Whenever I enter a new country, city or state I come armed with no fewer than a dozen restaurant options, organized by neighborhood, meal, featured dish and vibe, all of which I have gathered from the most reputable source - the locals. Which is precisely how I came upon my most memorable meal abroad - <a href="http://www.amijean.eu/">Chez l'Ami Jean</a> in Paris - je t'adore.<br />
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Referred to me from a coworker who lived in the city of love for 7+yrs, the restaurant was exactly the kind of place you would <i>never</i> walk into. A non-descript storefront, on a quiet side street in a residential arrondissement, an irritable hostess who only took reservations by phone, and offered no English, though clearly understood every word we spoke, l'Ami Jean does everything in it's power to be 'locals only'. It was intimidating, brash, and absurdly French. It was perfect. I could write a book about the entire experience, appetizer to dessert, but the dish I took home with me (literally) was their <b>Riz au Lait -</b> rice pudding. Did the record just scratch? Is rice pudding even <i>French</i>? But you don't even <i>like</i> dessert! I know. I repeated the same things to myself when our waiter insisted we order it. Needless to say, there wasn't much discussion.<br />
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It came to us in what appeared to be a mixing bowl the size of my head with an enormous wooden spoon unapologetically stuck in. After the immaculate, manicured dishes that proceeded it, we were shocked at the crude, almost mocking manner to which our dessert was presented. "Go on, you greedy little Americans - just try and finish me". Every thick, creamy, sweet-but-not-too-sweet, lumpy, custardy bite seemed to taunt and laugh at us - as I assume all the Chefs were likely joining in on from behind their snarky little curtain. We gave it our best, but our best was just not enough. As uncouth as we felt asking for a doggie bag, we just couldn't part ways with the remainder. Our beloved rice pudding accompanied us on our night on the town and our subsequent walk home, which ended up taking us triple the time it should have due to my (eh hem) inebriated navigation abilities. The child's bike we found surprisingly did NOT help us get home any faster. (I'm pretty sure we returned it to it's rightful owner - I think). Alas, as distance and time makes the heart grow fonder, the same can be said for taste buds, even the second time around.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr84EeEySx1hhWcc9f2dp5zxIMM_3ZwdjAc-OzbsnEJvJPHo6_NdyIxe17n0WErvBRBfHp2vr3R5clogI0Rs-wF6vmo4dLtQo-pIItOkVrwn2SNdAqBFsYQHbAHCExOsZP7WXMO7iDlEge/s1600/Paris+Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr84EeEySx1hhWcc9f2dp5zxIMM_3ZwdjAc-OzbsnEJvJPHo6_NdyIxe17n0WErvBRBfHp2vr3R5clogI0Rs-wF6vmo4dLtQo-pIItOkVrwn2SNdAqBFsYQHbAHCExOsZP7WXMO7iDlEge/s400/Paris+Map.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2Tf5hTrvMEgLJuWoWC9K-kumAjPRGVsQ6e5r4qcGfFgDfijHJ1FQsw3EST1pHpnFyv6jJqm0LROaKNGmX4wWJyAaj3k57vr74XWGtnXxbXhwz3NtshoVABy3nnYvM0U-LMNPcDtrbQaN/s1600/Childs+Bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2Tf5hTrvMEgLJuWoWC9K-kumAjPRGVsQ6e5r4qcGfFgDfijHJ1FQsw3EST1pHpnFyv6jJqm0LROaKNGmX4wWJyAaj3k57vr74XWGtnXxbXhwz3NtshoVABy3nnYvM0U-LMNPcDtrbQaN/s400/Childs+Bike.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Since I can no longer afford to travel (sigh), I will resort to recreating the Best Things I Ever Ate abroad. I intend on making this a regular feature to my blog, and what better way to kick it off than with a dish from the best meal of my life! Upon much searching on the world wide web, too many wordy, over-analyzed reviews and perusing many sub-par versions of the recipe, I stumbled across the exact recipe from the chef himself on the New York Times website. So much for it being a 'hidden gem'. The recipe for the rice pudding is easy and low ingredient, however there are three other recipes to be found in the article that are accompaniments to the pudding: confiture de lait, creme anglaise, and brittle. I don't speak a lick of French, so the best translation I can muster is: milk gel, caramel sauce and a nut-apricot brittle. I will likely stick to a dollop of store bought caramel sauce, a handful of rum soaked raisins, or just a big wooden spoon. How <i>very</i> un-French of me.<br />
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<u>Riz au Lait:</u> recipe from the NYTimes can be found <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/01/28/magazine/28food.t.html?_r=1">here</a>.<br />
<ul><li>½ vanilla bean</li>
<li>2 cups plus 2 tablespoons whole milk</li>
<li>1/3 cup carnaroli, arborio or short-grain rice</li>
<li>2 ½ tablespoons sugar</li>
<li>1 2/3 cups heavy cream</li>
</ul><ol><li>Split the vanilla bean, scrape out the seeds and place the seeds and pod in a medium saucepan. </li>
<li>Add the milk and bring to a simmer. </li>
<li>Stir in the rice and simmer, stirring occasionally, until it reaches the consistency of oatmeal, 25 to 30 minutes. Stir in the sugar. </li>
<li>Cool to room temperature, then chill.</li>
<li>Transfer the chilled rice to a large bowl. </li>
<li>Whip the cream to stiff peaks. </li>
<li>Fold the whipped cream into the rice, little by little, to desired thickness. It should be light and creamy.</li>
</ol><br />
Bon appetit!<br />
The HeatThe Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-6188293258361941142010-03-22T15:12:00.000-04:002010-03-22T15:12:02.671-04:00Spring CleaningIt's official - Spring is here. Was it only a few weeks ago we were wading through knee high moats of sludge just to get the morning newspaper? Almost overnight the city was transformed from a slew of faceless, wool swathed, eskimos into a cool crowd of sunglass donning, lawn lounging, spring trendsetters. The croci are up, the parks are packed and the pretty floral skirts are out - and apparently everyone had gone shopping. <div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPm4z1CA9ga_s80grCXy7CgjNhssDT-ovyQz59v7e-bbamSX8YvuLSRK8hIz9NbgC8FwTsq_MhKgXOUzQpf1SnMIGuuTObOOpv6BV-2jJpJsJV4d9gBmIHd8DQXMTsdRHwxFitedlY8sIz/s1600-h/Sheep's+Meadow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPm4z1CA9ga_s80grCXy7CgjNhssDT-ovyQz59v7e-bbamSX8YvuLSRK8hIz9NbgC8FwTsq_MhKgXOUzQpf1SnMIGuuTObOOpv6BV-2jJpJsJV4d9gBmIHd8DQXMTsdRHwxFitedlY8sIz/s400/Sheep's+Meadow.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div>Saturday night lent some of the best people watching of 2010 - beautiful weather, March Madness and lingering hangovers from St Patrick's Day had clearly encouraged some beloved day-drinking. The streets were littered with scantily clad ladies teetering on sky high stilettos - like a herd of newborn calves tenuously trying out their new legs. Having spent the past four months in fur lined snow boots and bulky sweaters, the transition to spring gear always has it's quirks. This weekend I spotted many a quirk - pasty legs, toes that have been out-of-sight-out-of-mind for way too long, backs that were pining for a date with a wax technician, goosebumps on the morbidly underdressed, stilettos stuck in soggy lawns and many, MANY a skirt blown north by those lingering winter winds (including the skirt of yours truly). Even though I am a veteran subway rider, I have yet to perfect the skirt-controlled stair descent. Either it's my front or my back, but I can never quite get it all under control, regardless of hand placement. For the male readers that have grimaced at the sight of a respectable women holding herself in what can only be described as a cross-vaginal sleeper hold, please understand that it is not due to an inappropriate itch or a sudden, uncontrollable urge. We are simply trying avoid giving Sal the Subway Sketchball a full frontal whilst making our morning commute. Give us a break.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaoN9I-unXv43wZ0Wr201xIg-Yg6FA8-0KtIVMju7yakjczHR3bThm9e73YM7Ht1TDhCWw9H4niN5GGar00pJfE4qFs_ky3uevtSt3xsT8SFgIBJorO7FGhkphaG5sbH1woES-bGkbIEl2/s1600-h/Windy+City.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaoN9I-unXv43wZ0Wr201xIg-Yg6FA8-0KtIVMju7yakjczHR3bThm9e73YM7Ht1TDhCWw9H4niN5GGar00pJfE4qFs_ky3uevtSt3xsT8SFgIBJorO7FGhkphaG5sbH1woES-bGkbIEl2/s400/Windy+City.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The weekend's warm weather also encouraged a transition in food and drink. Long gone are the hot toddy's, crock-pots of stew and vats of soup. It was time to dust off the margarita glasses and say hello to some old friends, Fruit and Veggie. I can't speak for everyone, but in the winter I can go full weekends without consuming a single piece of fruit. It's sad, not to mention unabashedly unhealthy, but the selection (and cost) of fresh fruit in the city is embarrassing. So as soon as Spring hits, I make a consorted effort to add them to my food and drink in every way possible. Whether it's a gorgeous green salad, an apple on a walk or a pomegranate mojito, it's my form of Spring cleaning. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My Mother's birthday was also this weekend and my Brother and I, along with a few wonderful sous-chefs, compiled a health-centric celebratory feast. We started with a tried and true tray of antipasta - an easy, delicious starter that requires very little preparation and incorporates a handful of healthy options (usually wrapped in cheese or cured meats - I try).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Some suggestions:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ul><li>prosciutto wrapped asparagus or melon </li>
<li>salami wrapped breadsticks</li>
<li>cherry tomatoes served with marinated mozzarella balls (can't <i>wait</i> until beefsteak are in season)</li>
<li>bowl of olives (I prefer the tiny Spanish green olives)</li>
<li>jars of marinated veggies: artichokes, red or yellow peppers, okra etc.</li>
<li>goat cheese piped into endive leaves or onto <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/parmesan-crisps-recipe/index.html">parmesan crisps</a></li>
</ul><div>Our second course was a salad of mixed greens topped with seared, thin sliced sea scallops, toasted pepitas (pumpkin seeds) and segments of seedless oranges, dressed in a light lemon vinaigrette:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAdP2pwS6rhDFOO_xuJhlEc1fLTwsPI5JMifLwjoHnhD4_wrmRsoe2tq1jjhdIUFowAXxAGqNubLf8U2G_D9D7YkODapAeqh8wSOAeMylYnnCP4Km89fyZynBDgtursPITRGMj_227zbmM/s1600-h/photo+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAdP2pwS6rhDFOO_xuJhlEc1fLTwsPI5JMifLwjoHnhD4_wrmRsoe2tq1jjhdIUFowAXxAGqNubLf8U2G_D9D7YkODapAeqh8wSOAeMylYnnCP4Km89fyZynBDgtursPITRGMj_227zbmM/s400/photo+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The main course was a fillet of Dover sole served over a white bean puree and dressed with a spicy, green salsa. The fish was baked simply in the oven with a drizzle of olive oil, lemon slices, salt and pepper. The white bean puree was a whiz and will show up on my plate many a time this spring - a can of white cannelloni beans, two minced cloves of garlic and 1/4 cup of chicken stock heated for 5 minutes over medium heat and pureed in a blender or food processor - decadent and healthy. The real masterpiece of the night was the green salsa (which can be bought canned if you're in a time crunch).</div><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMPWSzA0txDbCVutJfdR8DdkVsPhqlSaH0_kHqOwny_-FJFsfpcFOvJ27E6SISod2JEs8xn31qS4h18JgoE8FBJpeDj3AgqWjqVAM0RpoIZPjTfdXD3VWltQzJAll6t_pyrx5zSoG3Qr0U/s1600-h/photo+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">Corey's 'Jump Out of Your Seat' Salsa Verde:</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><ul><li>1.5lb tomatillos (they look like green tomatoes)</li>
<li>2 jalepeno, Anaheim, or serrano peppers stemmed and seeded (more seeds = more spice)</li>
<li>1 onion, diced</li>
<li>2 cloves of garlic, unpeeled</li>
<li>1/2 cup cilantro leaves</li>
<li>1 lime, juiced</li>
<li>1/2t. sugar</li>
<li>salt to taste</li>
</ul><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><ol><li>Remove outside husk of tomatillos, slice in half and place face down on an aluminum foil lined baking sheet. Slice peppers in half and place face down with the tomatillos. Add unpeeled garlic to sheet.</li>
<li>Place under the broiler for 5-7 minutes or until slightly charred or blackened on the outside. Remove and let cool. Peel skin off garlic.</li>
<li>Add tomatillos, peppers, onion, garlic, cilantro, lime juice and sugar to a blender or food processor and pulse a few times, leaving the mixture slightly chunky - be careful not to puree.</li>
<li>Chill if serving with chips. Room temperature is great for topping fish, eggs or tacos.</li>
</ol><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMPWSzA0txDbCVutJfdR8DdkVsPhqlSaH0_kHqOwny_-FJFsfpcFOvJ27E6SISod2JEs8xn31qS4h18JgoE8FBJpeDj3AgqWjqVAM0RpoIZPjTfdXD3VWltQzJAll6t_pyrx5zSoG3Qr0U/s1600-h/photo+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMPWSzA0txDbCVutJfdR8DdkVsPhqlSaH0_kHqOwny_-FJFsfpcFOvJ27E6SISod2JEs8xn31qS4h18JgoE8FBJpeDj3AgqWjqVAM0RpoIZPjTfdXD3VWltQzJAll6t_pyrx5zSoG3Qr0U/s1600-h/photo+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMPWSzA0txDbCVutJfdR8DdkVsPhqlSaH0_kHqOwny_-FJFsfpcFOvJ27E6SISod2JEs8xn31qS4h18JgoE8FBJpeDj3AgqWjqVAM0RpoIZPjTfdXD3VWltQzJAll6t_pyrx5zSoG3Qr0U/s400/photo+4.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now spare us all and go get a pedicure,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The Heat</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div></div></div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3539265347205288969.post-66131896575197377442010-03-15T15:33:00.006-04:002010-03-15T15:59:31.630-04:00The Weekend BrawlThe Challenger: In this corner, weighing in at a lanky 140lbs with an experienced stomach, massive calves, and 28 years of eating under her belt (literally): THE HEAT!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglI56vXlxCW9gcD7z9VW-uOwc8ptLYHng9LFx0DLGgJXaA5M8Saw1GdHtNUXC34f-t_BIvm5I4IwuUErU8QRdq7xHkOEwH69SB-cwWZo4ZwysgmhV1VEOeEpL1BdoakTuzQcwQ-Bal9PgE/s1600-h/mega-woman-chili.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglI56vXlxCW9gcD7z9VW-uOwc8ptLYHng9LFx0DLGgJXaA5M8Saw1GdHtNUXC34f-t_BIvm5I4IwuUErU8QRdq7xHkOEwH69SB-cwWZo4ZwysgmhV1VEOeEpL1BdoakTuzQcwQ-Bal9PgE/s400/mega-woman-chili.jpg" vt="true" width="400" /></a></div>The Contender: And in the other corner, weighing in at a deceivingly light .5lbs, almost a foot in length and about three sticks of butter: <a href="http://www.amysbread.com/">Amy's</a> loaf of Brioche!!<br />
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ding ding!<br />
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<b>Round 1:</b> The Heat was hot out of the gates -slicing the brioche 1/2 inch thick, layering it in gooey Gruyere, and dunking repeatedly in a vat of hot tomato soup. But the one, two punch of a buttered exterior followed by a swift kick of truffle butter inside was too much for The Heat to handle. She had to tag in her teammate to finish what she had started - allowing her a last minute, albeit questionable victory.<br />
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<b>Round 2:</b> With last round being such a close call, the Heat decided to step it up with a more formidable first punch: Balsamic Lamb Stew. Thick, murky sauce dotted with a pungent kick of balsamic vinegar, stewed onions and chunky potatoes were no match for the tough end pieces of the brioche. It soaked up every last morsel - leaving the Heat high and dry, and sent her cowering back to the corner for a towel off and a sip of wine.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u>Balsamic Lamb Stew</u></div><ul><li>3T. olive oil </li>
<li>3lbs. lean lamb stew meat, well trimmed and cut into 2" cubes </li>
<li>3T. all-purpose flour </li>
<li>Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste </li>
<li>2 medium onions, thickly sliced </li>
<li>2 carrots coarsely chopped </li>
<li>1 clove of garlic, finely chopped </li>
<li>3T tomato paste </li>
<li>2 bay leaves </li>
<li>1 bouquet garni of fresh rosemary and thyme or any combination of herbs </li>
<li>1 cup of a <b>bold</b> red wine </li>
<li>2.5 cups of beef stock (or lamb stock if you can find it) </li>
<li>2 medium boiling potatoes cut into chunks or a handful of small potatoes </li>
<li>2T balsamic vinegar </li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Directions:</div><ol><li>Bring stew meat to room temperature before cooking - it helps it to sear properly. Dry meat with paper towels and add to a plastic bag. </li>
<li>Add the flour and a few cracks of salt and pepper to the bag and shake (Shake and Bake style) to evenly coat the meat with the mixture. </li>
<li>Meanwhile heat up the 3T of olive oil in a dutch oven or large saucepan over medium heat. </li>
<li>Sear each piece of meat in the hot oil, allowing it to bubble and brown slightly on all sides - about 6-7 minutes. Do so in shifts to avoid crowding the pan. </li>
<li>Remove the lamb and add your onions and carrots until the onions are translucent. </li>
<li>Stir in the garlic, followed by the tomato paste, toasting them on the bottom of the pan for about a minute. </li>
<li>Add the meat back to the pan and deglaze with the cup of red wine, scraping brown bits off the bottom. </li>
<li>Add the bay leaves and bouquet garni. </li>
<li>Pour the 2 cups of stock until almost covering the meat. </li>
<li>Cover and let simmer over low heat (small bubbles appear at the surface, NOT boiling) for about 1.5hrs. </li>
<li>Uncover and stir in potatoes, allowing to cook covered for an additional 30-40 minutes. </li>
<li>Stir in 2T balsamic vinegar and serve. </li>
</ol><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Garnish with freshly chopped parsley, chives or a dollop of sour cream. Crusty bread and a bottle of Cotes du Rhone round out the meal.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Round 3:</b> The contenders took a long break from each other and reconvened early in the morning. Brioche came out with a move called the French Toast, which sounded more dangerous than it was. Brioche fell apart when the Heat started throwing eggs, resulting in a soggy, un-photogenic mess. The remains were finished off by the Heat, ending in overall victory.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was a long, drawn out fight this weekend, but the Heat polished off an entire loaf of brioche and has the stomach ache to prove it - making her question who <em>really </em>was<em> </em>the winner after all.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm not proud of it, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">- The Heat</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>The Heathttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07274216075301294800noreply@blogger.com1