Welp, what can I say? TST is HARD! Perhaps I was high when I stole this idea from the major motion picture, but I remain steadfast in the fact that it was a great idea and it will continue...with a few modifications.
1. I am going to cook from TST and blog about it but I'm ALSO going to cook from non-TST and blog about it.
Let's be clear: it's not at ALL that I have stopped cooking. I haven't. I couldn't if I tried lest I wither and fade. It is my stress-reliever, my heart-mender, my extra energy-channeler and I need it to stay sane and pleasant. Since my latest post, I've made baked pastas, mini pecan pies, papardella with tomatoes and chickpeas, fig and blue cheese-stuffed pork tenderloin, white chicken chili, several batches of Nutella cookies (some failed, some wonderful, all still somehow magically edible and delicious), and most recently, a big batch of the Rusciano family calzone, as dictated by Phil. It was a success though not nearly as good as his and for every person who asked me for the recipe, I issued my deepest regrets and told them that I'd gladly give them my dad's phone number so that they could personally contact him for it.
The issue is that I haven't had the time/energy/spirit to write much. I write stuff all day long and so in my down time, the last thing I want to do is be hammering away at a computer screen (though I do it plenty with Facebook, but that doesn't take nearly as much work). I would rather be cooking, reading, taking a bath, working out, watching Intervention, etc. So....
2. I'm going to recommit to posting once a week. The only person I'm truly beholden to is me on this, so save your eye rolls for your mama.
3. If I don't post once a week, I'm not going to beat myself up about it. If I screw up yet another TST recipe, them's the breaks. If I post about all things non-food related, well, it's my blog and that's the beauty of free will.
4. If there are typos, there are typos. I get paid to make sure there are no typos in my riveting health insurance articles (and there are still typos) but I do not get paid to blog (yet?), so I'm going to post without taking so f-ing long to revise, edit, proof for typos, etc. (only to find typos that I missed, then I'm angry, then I melt down, then P.J. gives me my pills and I'm fine)
In a nutshell, it takes me twenty minutes to write the blog and then hours to proof, edit and revise it, sooooo we have to pick our battles here and just write and post and you'll all understand if it's a hot mess. You are what you write, after all.
So what's new? I spent a wonderful and relaxing week in Portland with Shana, Megan, Daynia and the crew out there. We did little more than eat, drink, shop, watch the boys do funny things, sleep, repeat. Those two year olds are free entertainment (free for me anyways) and making them say funny things is as easy as saying it once and telling them to say it. "Yummy beans!" was run into the ground after eating copious amounts of edamame with them (which I'm sure made for interesting "results" and I'm not sure why I wasn't forced to do diaper duty but you don't look a gift diaper in the mouth, or something). Riley and Wilson are THRIVING and HAPPY and DANGEROUSLY cute. They love their 'nana' Gabriela, which they have in common with the rest of us because she is amazing. She's SO calm and loving. She gives back rubs and speaks in low, soothing tones and I could only HOPE to be as patient, organized and peacful as she is when caring for two rascals. They have taken to fighting a bit too and the parents and Gabby are so good at catching it before it gets bad. I don't even pick up on the signs, but they all do and we laughed about how sneaky they both are. It's like they've got it almost figured out that if they make no noise and show no outward signs of anger (give no warning), they can get a good pinch or slap in before it's broken up. Brilliant. That's where I always went wrong in the many, many street fights I've gotten into. I come in yelling and swearing so the adversay hears me approaching....I need to be quiet, like snake, and attack when it's least expected. Thank you, Riley and Wilson, for teaching me this invaluable rule of combat.
Other than that, the holidays are here, people are coming home to Minneapolis and the annual raucousness at the Flynns will be in full swing. It's like the childhood Christmas of my dreams, but in St. Paul and with all of my favorite people drinking homemade Baileys and Sangria (a good mix, despite your first thoughts and Sangria is ALWAYS apprpriate, even in the dead of winter). The Flynn parties have become an absolute staple of my holiday cheer, and I'm ready to bring it to the next level of fun this time around. It won't be the same without pupper Lilly-bear, but she has gone to the great cozy couch in the sky and we'll cheers her sweet little soul many times this Christmas.
Our tree is up, the dog is still alive, we are enjoying our fireplace almost nightly and P.J. and I are working our butts off day and night to save for the wedding. I really need to get serious about planning after Christmas. I have the caterer, the photographer, the venue, my a/v guy (my nephew Mark), my day-of coodinator (Saint Sarah Dallum...thank ye universe for her in our lives) and that's about it. The dress isn't chosen, the music is up in the air, the officiant is TBD and the rest of it sits on a list ready to be tackled. Pray for me now and in the hour of my stress. (though I'm committed to this being as stress-free as possible, what bride DOESN'T say that?)
"Bride." Hmmmm. "Bride." I'M THE BRIDE! Ok, that felt good if a bit surreal. Seems like we've still got plenty of time but the next ten months are going to fly.
I just realized that I didn't put any garlic in the calzone. That's what was missing. There aren't words for how dumb that is, but it was really very good without it and I can add it to the leftover filling that's in the fridge and is intended for this Friday's party with our favorite politician in the making, Marion Greene. Kristen and I are off to lovely St. Paul for a fabulous little suare. Kristen is the "talent" having agreed to tickle the ivory (the guests are so lucky) and I'll try not to drown her out with my drunken holiday howling. Saturday is another annual Xmas bash at Seamus and Tammy's that I hope to get to and then Sunday is the usual....prepping for the week, dog park, cooking something great and being cozy with my fiance and whatever pals can join us. This past Sunday was dinner and our favorite Xmas movies and I'm not sure how they did it, but Christmas Vacation, Elf and Eight Crazy Nights NEVER get old. NEVER. I personally think ECN is a masterpiece. Kenna, Kristen, P.J. and I sat eating and laughing and crying from laughing and just generally having a perfect evening....and a perfect Sunday evening is always a nice way to get ready for a long, worky week.
Speaking of, I've got to run. A dreaded workout and Broders this evening are on the docket!
Ahhhh, there. You can stop haunting my dreams now, blog.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
San Francisco...No Fun at All and FIVE More Recipes DONE!
Poor me. Why do I never get to do anything fun? I just returned from a long, boring weekend with Shana, Megan Flynn and Daynia in San Francisco. Yeah, as you can imagine, it pretty much sucked. The first thing that blew the big one was strolling up and down Haight-Ashbury and then through Golden Gate Park. It was all, you know, sunny and gorgeous and green and full of interesting people selling their, um, "produce."
The next thing that really chapped my hide was having a quiet little lunch in the grotto of a cafe and then boutique shopping. I just HATED the earrings and bangle I bought, not to mention the wildly discounted designer dress we found for Megan. It was so cute, it really was upsetting. The hotel was a real dump too. Yeah, the Hilton Union Square? The lobby with it's giant crystal chandeliers, plush, overstuffed burgundy love seats and creamy marble floors made me think we'd picked a hotel in a bad part of town. (to be fair, the Tenderloin - not the delicious meaty variety - is just up the way, but whatever) That evening, the Top of the Mark sky bar was really testing my patience. It was like stumbling into a crack den, with it's insane views of Alcatraz, Fisherman's Wharf and the Golden Gate. We choked down buttery chardonnay as dense fog in the shape of the fluffy white puppy-dragon from Neverending Story swept across the 360-degree vista. Ugh. Then we dragged our disgusted selves to North Beach for an Italian feast, more wine, and then um, well...I guess we went back to the hotel because we had such a big, tedious day touring Napa on Friday. We met the tour at the gross Ferry Building, which should be demolished because of its gourmet food shops and specialty stores like Tasty Salty Pig Parts (Boccalone Salumeria). There were all these petite and tanned, well, what can only be described as vagrants running around with their stray street dogs doing some sort of meth-fueled ritual. And then FINALLY, the safety of the bus and a truly grotesque drive out of San Francisco, over the Golden Gate, through Marin county and all of the other slums between the city and wine country. Domaine Chandon with it's gorgeous grotto for tastings and immaculate winery and grounds was just barely tolerable. Here, Megan and Daynia act like they're interested in the ruddy-faced Mark and his schticky spiel.
V. Sattui is where we choked down insalta del mar, pesto pasta, giant garlic prawns, decadent brie, crusty baguette, salami, pate and other things you might see on Fear Factor. Ugh. Shivers! Then Jordan, the spikey haired wine-tender (?) entertained us and shared that he's often tipped with not cash, but marijuana. Can you even imagine? That's against the LAW! Dispicable. And the wine was, well, I'm speechless here.
Next, Rutherford Grove and Black Stallion really put the shit-cherry on top of a steaming pile of a day. Did I mention the ferry boat ride on the way back? The one with the cash bar and incredible coastline and bridge vistas? Barf.
That night we had a metric truck-load of Chinese take-out delivered to our room, sat on the rooftop patio in the hot tub and drank Coors Light. (sorry, but we were totally WINED out by that point...the last two wineries are just EVER so fuzzy) Finally, sleep was a welcome respite from the intolerable sun, wine, food and company. You know those girls, they are just a bunch of sticks in the mud! Duds! All of 'em!
The next morning, my expectations were significantly lowered from the total disaster that had been the trip so far. Against our better judgment, we went to The Cliff House for thick and savory clam chowder with jumbo oyster crackers, salad of endive and walnuts, mahi-mahi, etc. The only thing that got us through this abomination was the Kendall Jackson and rocky, cliff-side views watching surfers destroy themselves and seals do, you know, whatever it is that seals do. BORING.
Next Shana insisted that we do more of that soul-crushing boutique shopping which included a shoe-filled stop at Ambiance. She did alright. (Holly B., you would love this joint if you haven't been there already)
We needed to numb the pain of this ordeal afterwards at Zeitgeist, which is basically Minneapolis's Triple Rock on crack-cocaine. Megan kept calling it a biker bar, but I think it's more of a punk bar with one working bathroom and a walk-up BBQ window with really, really good burgers.
They have a sprawling outdoor area where games are played, bloodies are drank, establishments are rejected and things are smoked. The rest of this waking nightmare included drinks and hors d oeuvres (delicate and citrusy ciopino...yuck) in the Mission starting at Limon, dinner on the city-scaped rooftop of Medjool where we had some hideous platter of imported cheese, meats, olives and figs.
We then went to some Irish bar where last call involved a bunch of "bros". They actually loudly and with full-body bro-bumps and faux crotch-punches greeted eachother when they all came in...together like they hadn't seen each other yet. One had a faux-hawk mullet type thing that made him look like an iguana. Though, I'd rather have a drink with the reptile than this f*ckface. They proceeded to loudly complain that one of them spilled his 23rd shot of Rumple-douche and were therefore entitled to a replacement on the house. Finally, Megan yelled "Get OVER it! Nobody CARES!" Ok....so that part was a little fun. Then we got about three pounds of Indian take-out from Naan-n-Curry. The host/owner was concerned for some reason and kept saying "No shady buffet!", and we're all "We KNOW it's not shady, that's why we want take-out from here!" and so this went on until we realized he was saying "No share the buffet!" to which we reassured him that of COURSE we were going to share the buffet, and he was going to accommodate with a smile, and then we'd go enjoy our naan and curried colon-blow back at the hotel. So then we did. And then we slept. I was starting to wonder if the trip could possibly get any worse.
The morning brought four very slow-moving thirty-somethings, a room that looked like an episode of Hoarders and the need to SOMEHOW salvage this mess with an edible brunch, preferably NOT in squalor like the previous meals had been. We were trying for Chole's but as we kept walking we thought we'd stop into Fattoush for a breakfast drink first. I'm going to drop the whole bizarro sarcasm here because Fattoush was my favorite, favorite spot in San Fran, luckily chosen by Shana. We first sat in the darling dining room but then Daynia let us know about the oasis-like patio in the back, aptly named the Oasis wine bar. It was totally enclosed but open-air above and was just quaint, quiet, romantic....perfect for four vulgar, exhausted females! Wine, duh.
Linguine con Aglio e Balsamico (Linguine with Braised Garlic and Balsamic Vinegar) - One word? "Meh." The balsamic all but completely covered up the garlic I so lovingly and painstakingly braised. Just like Ms. Rossetto-Casper said though, I let it go too far past "barely blonde" and into more of a golden color, which I thought looked just so nice but made the garlic bitter. I was warned and I didn't listen.
b. Ruined it. Pulled a true "Julie & Julia" and gone completely drama-licious, sliding down the cupboards onto the floor with my hair in my fists, blubbering, swearing and calling myself a fool "you can't even make a frozen pistatio mousse from scratch, loser!")...then Bryan would wander up to me, lick my tears and nuzzle my cheek. I'd chuckle and be comforted. Then I'd slam the Marsala in one gulp, shut my eyes, and walk Bryan onto 46th street.
c. Ruined it. Ruined the kitchen and several of my kitchen items. (boiling sugar syrup that turns into plexi-glass + wood floors = honey, I f*cked up the floor) Called Broders' in a panic and asked them to spare me a bestia nera, which Phil also loves. Then I would have slammed the Marsala in one gulp, vomited because dry cooking Marsala ain't for drinkin', taken a bath and chalked
So, long story longer (and several weeks after drafting this post), I'm extremely grateful for the help from Ann B. and the fact that I think it turned out really well. We had small tastes of the cake (which Ann made the good call of using lemon zest instead of vanilla...either were noted as options, but fresh lemon zest is so, so good in recipes) which was delcious and dense...in a good way. The frozen mousse was rich and Marsala-y and the chocolate sauce turned out wonderfully as well. Baking is my nightmare and my nemesis but I do hope to get better and better at it as I tackle the Tarts section and Breads section of TST.
I know that posts have been sparce and I can only say that work continues to wage war on my time and energy. I am still doing the job of many people, am under an incredible amount of pressure from the top and all sides (gentlemen: relax and run a warm iron over your white-collared dress shirt - "white collared" meaning the rest of said shirt is yellow or blue...a fashion choice that drives some women to rage), and am just hanging in there and trying to do my best. I am still very much committed to this project and am planning my next set of recipes for the upcoming date night (Friday). Date nights are always at home from now until the wedding and I just love it. There is no place I'd rather be than at home cooking with P.J. and Bryan as my very best company. Having a house full of folks is always a wonderful treat too and the upcoming Halloween party should be a success of grand proportions. I am going to try and execute on Kristen's wonderful and topical suggestion for my costume. Will have to get on that ASAP.
I love autumn (I've been making a lot of pork tenderloin, sweet potatoes, stuff with figs and balsamic, chili, etc.), I love P.J. (my hard-working hero and best friend to whom I will be married in less than a year), Bryan I love 80% of the time (he really is a good boy) and I love all of YOU! Shana, Megan and Daynia - you are such wonderful ladies and spending time with you is like just hanging out with different aspects of myself....aspects I wish were more pronounced yet I bask in your positive influence and your humor and sisterly love are precious to me. Let's do impromptu girls weekend EVERY year! And a BIG shout-out to my mom's beautiful and hilarious friend Kathleen Herrick. You are just so extremely cool; sometimes, I think my mother wants to run away with you! Thank you for reading, for the wonderful note you sent on Facebook and for being such a laugh-inducing light in my mom's life. She has a pocket of fabulous, interesting, successful and sweet girlfriends and believe me, she knows how lucky she is to have you's gals.
Cheers!
The next thing that really chapped my hide was having a quiet little lunch in the grotto of a cafe and then boutique shopping. I just HATED the earrings and bangle I bought, not to mention the wildly discounted designer dress we found for Megan. It was so cute, it really was upsetting. The hotel was a real dump too. Yeah, the Hilton Union Square? The lobby with it's giant crystal chandeliers, plush, overstuffed burgundy love seats and creamy marble floors made me think we'd picked a hotel in a bad part of town. (to be fair, the Tenderloin - not the delicious meaty variety - is just up the way, but whatever) That evening, the Top of the Mark sky bar was really testing my patience. It was like stumbling into a crack den, with it's insane views of Alcatraz, Fisherman's Wharf and the Golden Gate. We choked down buttery chardonnay as dense fog in the shape of the fluffy white puppy-dragon from Neverending Story swept across the 360-degree vista. Ugh. Then we dragged our disgusted selves to North Beach for an Italian feast, more wine, and then um, well...I guess we went back to the hotel because we had such a big, tedious day touring Napa on Friday. We met the tour at the gross Ferry Building, which should be demolished because of its gourmet food shops and specialty stores like Tasty Salty Pig Parts (Boccalone Salumeria). There were all these petite and tanned, well, what can only be described as vagrants running around with their stray street dogs doing some sort of meth-fueled ritual. And then FINALLY, the safety of the bus and a truly grotesque drive out of San Francisco, over the Golden Gate, through Marin county and all of the other slums between the city and wine country. Domaine Chandon with it's gorgeous grotto for tastings and immaculate winery and grounds was just barely tolerable. Here, Megan and Daynia act like they're interested in the ruddy-faced Mark and his schticky spiel.
V. Sattui is where we choked down insalta del mar, pesto pasta, giant garlic prawns, decadent brie, crusty baguette, salami, pate and other things you might see on Fear Factor. Ugh. Shivers! Then Jordan, the spikey haired wine-tender (?) entertained us and shared that he's often tipped with not cash, but marijuana. Can you even imagine? That's against the LAW! Dispicable. And the wine was, well, I'm speechless here.
Next, Rutherford Grove and Black Stallion really put the shit-cherry on top of a steaming pile of a day. Did I mention the ferry boat ride on the way back? The one with the cash bar and incredible coastline and bridge vistas? Barf.
That night we had a metric truck-load of Chinese take-out delivered to our room, sat on the rooftop patio in the hot tub and drank Coors Light. (sorry, but we were totally WINED out by that point...the last two wineries are just EVER so fuzzy) Finally, sleep was a welcome respite from the intolerable sun, wine, food and company. You know those girls, they are just a bunch of sticks in the mud! Duds! All of 'em!
The next morning, my expectations were significantly lowered from the total disaster that had been the trip so far. Against our better judgment, we went to The Cliff House for thick and savory clam chowder with jumbo oyster crackers, salad of endive and walnuts, mahi-mahi, etc. The only thing that got us through this abomination was the Kendall Jackson and rocky, cliff-side views watching surfers destroy themselves and seals do, you know, whatever it is that seals do. BORING.
Next Shana insisted that we do more of that soul-crushing boutique shopping which included a shoe-filled stop at Ambiance. She did alright. (Holly B., you would love this joint if you haven't been there already)
We needed to numb the pain of this ordeal afterwards at Zeitgeist, which is basically Minneapolis's Triple Rock on crack-cocaine. Megan kept calling it a biker bar, but I think it's more of a punk bar with one working bathroom and a walk-up BBQ window with really, really good burgers.
They have a sprawling outdoor area where games are played, bloodies are drank, establishments are rejected and things are smoked. The rest of this waking nightmare included drinks and hors d oeuvres (delicate and citrusy ciopino...yuck) in the Mission starting at Limon, dinner on the city-scaped rooftop of Medjool where we had some hideous platter of imported cheese, meats, olives and figs.
We then went to some Irish bar where last call involved a bunch of "bros". They actually loudly and with full-body bro-bumps and faux crotch-punches greeted eachother when they all came in...together like they hadn't seen each other yet. One had a faux-hawk mullet type thing that made him look like an iguana. Though, I'd rather have a drink with the reptile than this f*ckface. They proceeded to loudly complain that one of them spilled his 23rd shot of Rumple-douche and were therefore entitled to a replacement on the house. Finally, Megan yelled "Get OVER it! Nobody CARES!" Ok....so that part was a little fun. Then we got about three pounds of Indian take-out from Naan-n-Curry. The host/owner was concerned for some reason and kept saying "No shady buffet!", and we're all "We KNOW it's not shady, that's why we want take-out from here!" and so this went on until we realized he was saying "No share the buffet!" to which we reassured him that of COURSE we were going to share the buffet, and he was going to accommodate with a smile, and then we'd go enjoy our naan and curried colon-blow back at the hotel. So then we did. And then we slept. I was starting to wonder if the trip could possibly get any worse.
The morning brought four very slow-moving thirty-somethings, a room that looked like an episode of Hoarders and the need to SOMEHOW salvage this mess with an edible brunch, preferably NOT in squalor like the previous meals had been. We were trying for Chole's but as we kept walking we thought we'd stop into Fattoush for a breakfast drink first. I'm going to drop the whole bizarro sarcasm here because Fattoush was my favorite, favorite spot in San Fran, luckily chosen by Shana. We first sat in the darling dining room but then Daynia let us know about the oasis-like patio in the back, aptly named the Oasis wine bar. It was totally enclosed but open-air above and was just quaint, quiet, romantic....perfect for four vulgar, exhausted females! Wine, duh.
And the FOOD! We had house-made hummus, tabouli, khyar b'laban (yogurt, cucumber salad, like tzatziki but with olive oil and not as thick), rihan (tomatoes, basil, eggplant), babaghanouge (as spelled on their menu) and m'nazaleh (ratatouille of grilled eggplant, red bell peppers, tomatoes, walnuts, garlic, lemon). Ok, so that was just the appetizer. I had a frittata with mushrooms and chicken apple sausage - so wonderful and now I like frittatas. Shana had an AMAZING AMAZING barhoumi which is like this wonderful grilled wrap with lamb and mushrooms and it's truly indescribably probably one of the best things I've ever had.
Ahhhh. I will go back there FIRST THING next time I'm in Noe Valley, San Fran!
Ahhhh. I will go back there FIRST THING next time I'm in Noe Valley, San Fran!
So then Daynia graciously dragged Shana and me to the airport in the super masculine Dodge Charger we rented, and the trip ended where it began: sucking down Crema at TGI Fridays. If Fattoush hadn't been so incredible, if the trip hadn't been so perfect, the flare and misery of said chain restaurant would have had me sobbing, literally. But I was aglow with the success (or should I say SUCKcess in keeping with my previous and unfunny theme?) of the trip. I came away with a new-found love affair with the city by the bay, the ironic and haunting tale that Otis Redding died in a plane crash the very next day after the first and only time he recorded Dock of the Bay (perhaps this is common knowledge, but the whistling he does at the end was meant as filler....he wasn't done with the song yet), views and sites that I will have with me forever and the comforting knowledge that it's just a few short months before I get to see those girls again.
Ok, this post took far, far too long and is not about cooking at all (and a lot of it won't be, so that's that) but I have completed a handful more recipes from TST and I will sum them up here.
Linguine con Aglio e Balsamico (Linguine with Braised Garlic and Balsamic Vinegar) - One word? "Meh." The balsamic all but completely covered up the garlic I so lovingly and painstakingly braised. Just like Ms. Rossetto-Casper said though, I let it go too far past "barely blonde" and into more of a golden color, which I thought looked just so nice but made the garlic bitter. I was warned and I didn't listen.
Antipasto de Reggio (Fresh Pears with Parmigiano-Reggiano and Balsamic Vinegar) - Take pear (in this case, a red pear, which was SO good once it was finally ripe and I am generally not a fruit lover. It's a gamble, after all), put on plate with chunk of parm-regg, douse with balsamic, eat. It was a great combo but the pear was nowhere near ripe (i have since purchased red/asian pears again and let them ripen on the countertop and they are AMAZING...and as mentioned, I don't love fruit!).
Pesce ai Ferri (Herbed Seafood Grill) P.J. played a big part on this because he took a special trip to Coastal Seafoods for me with the direction "get 8 oz. of firm-fleshed fish" and a list of options. He came back with gorgeous sturgeon, which I don't think either of us had had. So then you make a paste of herbs (basil, parsley, etc) and coat the fish and grill it. It was good. It was nice, firm white fish with herbs. Again "meh". I used the grill pan out of sheer lazyness so I suppose it would have been really special over an actual grill. I am picking my battles with this project, in case you hadn't already noticed. Let's not even mention that I'm using balsamic from Cosco. It says "Artisan" and "Modena" right on it!
Crema di Cioccolata da Eletta (Frozen Chocolate Pistachio Cream with Hot Chocolate Marsala Sauce) served over Pan di Spagna (Ricardo Rimondi’s Spanish Sponge Cake) - Ok, so this is where the giant amount of credit goes to my future mom-in-law, Ann B., who doesn't tout herself as a blue ribbon baker, but she sure as heck knows what she's doing. Here she is with my (read: our) very first from-scratch cake...ever.
I had a feeling all day that the dessert I'd planned on making for my dad for his 67th birthday was a bit over my head, to say the least. So I sent an emergency text to see if Ann B. was available and she WAS. I picked these recipes because they involved espresso and Marsala, two things that my dad really likes as do I. However, they involved whipping, measuring, sifting, re-sifting, stabalizing, candy thermometering (hard-ball? soft-ball? now I know what these things mean), double-boiling, folding, hand-mixing, electric mixing, etc. etc. etc. Had I taken this on myself, I would have:
a. Ruined it. Slammed the Marsala in one gulp, closed my eyes, and walked onto 46th street.
b. Ruined it. Pulled a true "Julie & Julia" and gone completely drama-licious, sliding down the cupboards onto the floor with my hair in my fists, blubbering, swearing and calling myself a fool "you can't even make a frozen pistatio mousse from scratch, loser!")...then Bryan would wander up to me, lick my tears and nuzzle my cheek. I'd chuckle and be comforted. Then I'd slam the Marsala in one gulp, shut my eyes, and walk Bryan onto 46th street.
c. Ruined it. Ruined the kitchen and several of my kitchen items. (boiling sugar syrup that turns into plexi-glass + wood floors = honey, I f*cked up the floor) Called Broders' in a panic and asked them to spare me a bestia nera, which Phil also loves. Then I would have slammed the Marsala in one gulp, vomited because dry cooking Marsala ain't for drinkin', taken a bath and chalked
three of the TST recipes up to monumental disasters.
So, long story longer (and several weeks after drafting this post), I'm extremely grateful for the help from Ann B. and the fact that I think it turned out really well. We had small tastes of the cake (which Ann made the good call of using lemon zest instead of vanilla...either were noted as options, but fresh lemon zest is so, so good in recipes) which was delcious and dense...in a good way. The frozen mousse was rich and Marsala-y and the chocolate sauce turned out wonderfully as well. Baking is my nightmare and my nemesis but I do hope to get better and better at it as I tackle the Tarts section and Breads section of TST.
I know that posts have been sparce and I can only say that work continues to wage war on my time and energy. I am still doing the job of many people, am under an incredible amount of pressure from the top and all sides (gentlemen: relax and run a warm iron over your white-collared dress shirt - "white collared" meaning the rest of said shirt is yellow or blue...a fashion choice that drives some women to rage), and am just hanging in there and trying to do my best. I am still very much committed to this project and am planning my next set of recipes for the upcoming date night (Friday). Date nights are always at home from now until the wedding and I just love it. There is no place I'd rather be than at home cooking with P.J. and Bryan as my very best company. Having a house full of folks is always a wonderful treat too and the upcoming Halloween party should be a success of grand proportions. I am going to try and execute on Kristen's wonderful and topical suggestion for my costume. Will have to get on that ASAP.
I'm also THRILLED to announce that I've been given the green flag to travel to GORGEOUS Indianpolis, Indiana next week! I'll be dazzled and delighted by a four night stay at the luxurious downtown Indianpolis Marriott where I'll be treated to a non-smoking room and one KING bed. At the conference (this is actually pretty cool) I'll participate in many sessions and lectures from which I hope to bring a plan for a whole new mode of communication for our business at OmniSurance or whatever alias I previously gave my company. I hope to come back and say to the big boys "Here's the next phase of technology and reaching out to agents and here's how I'm going to implement it. Now give me a giant raise and a spot in the underground parking garage." Beyond the conference topics and training sessions, I'm extremely pumped to see Second City and They Might Be Giants. Additionally, the author of "Outliers" will be there and I wish I could say that I could power-read his book before hearing him speak, but that's not going to happen. And last but certainly not least, MARLEE MATLIN is, um, speaking. Insert horrendously inappropriate jokes here (Google: Marlee Matlin, Family Guy). I have no interest in her whatsoever, nor do I give a single pink poo about her abusive relationship with Bill Hurt (she should have known what she was getting into?). But, apparently, people think that her book and her lecture are interesting so I'll give it a shot....OR take to the hotel lobby for more blogging.
I love autumn (I've been making a lot of pork tenderloin, sweet potatoes, stuff with figs and balsamic, chili, etc.), I love P.J. (my hard-working hero and best friend to whom I will be married in less than a year), Bryan I love 80% of the time (he really is a good boy) and I love all of YOU! Shana, Megan and Daynia - you are such wonderful ladies and spending time with you is like just hanging out with different aspects of myself....aspects I wish were more pronounced yet I bask in your positive influence and your humor and sisterly love are precious to me. Let's do impromptu girls weekend EVERY year! And a BIG shout-out to my mom's beautiful and hilarious friend Kathleen Herrick. You are just so extremely cool; sometimes, I think my mother wants to run away with you! Thank you for reading, for the wonderful note you sent on Facebook and for being such a laugh-inducing light in my mom's life. She has a pocket of fabulous, interesting, successful and sweet girlfriends and believe me, she knows how lucky she is to have you's gals.
Cheers!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
You Got Portland in My Minneapolis...You Got Minneapolis in my Portland!
So, as you can well imagine, family events and the resulting exhaustion have severely hampered my cooking efforts. And, I wouldn't have it any other way. To be there with and for one's family is always the top priority, and I was proud to be a part of a grand send-off for my uncle. I could NOT believe the turn out - the Basilica was extremely well-inhabited and George's oldest and dearest friends had such lovely things to say about him. I wasn't surprised by this, but was blown away by the eloquence and affection with which people spoke. Very cool.
SO, the next meal I cook will of course be George's, and we have planned on Thursday for this to occur. My maids of honor will be here from Portland and I'm looking extremely forward to our engagement party this weekend. It's nice to eclipse the sadness with something fun and light! I think we could all use it! Last night, Megan and I housed two bottles of Shriaz at the Happy Gnome. Tonight, I get to scoop Shana from the airport and join the NE Mpls Dabys for dinner. Tomorrow, I am hoping to spend some Lake Minnetonka time with the Kenneficks and then on to cooking with TST in the evening. Friday I'm guessing will be recovery and eye-bag abatement in time for the engagement party Saturday. Life is hard but then it gets good, and so it goes, right?
I can NOT wait to use my new cookbook holder (from P.J.) for Thursday! It has a slop-guard, which I've dubbed as such because when I cook, I don't splash or spill...I slop. I also am looking VERY forward to using my new cutting board from sister-in-law Holly which she swears by and which I'm already quite fond of. I also have my official Rusciano-Rossetto kitchen towel from Holly which is bright and fun and says "Good Luck" which we all know I'll need. I must admit, along with the unforeseen delays, I'm beyond intimidated by most of the recipes in this book. Why didn't I pick "Lydia's Kitchen" or one of Giada's? Because I'm impulsive and arrogant? Perhaps. Because I just wasn't thinking clearly? Well, that's a given. But I suppose it will be just that much sweeter an accomplishment when I've got a few more successes logged. This weekend I was all "These recipes are really, like, hard! They're not modern! They're not simple! They're not designed for people with extremely demanding jobs and dogs and zero baking ability!" My Aunt Frannie was like "DUH. It's called, uh, cooking from SCRATCH!? Hellooooo!?!?" Well-stated and let me contribute another resounding "DUH!" and round that out with a "NO DOY!"
So, we press on...my friends have witnessed me fail in the kitchen before, after all (glue pasta, unpleasantly crunchy ground beef caserole; sad, tired turkey "pucks" off the grill, etc.) so it's not like our worlds will shatter if something doesn't turn out just right.
Keep reading and I promise this will get more intersting. FALL is the season to COOK and even though I'm agressively seeking part-time employment waiting tables (referrals SO welcome), the 100% lock-down on all out-of-house dining for the sake of the wedding budget is just on the horizon and life should settle down enough for me to get into a routine. I am actually looking forward to hunkering down and cooking my way through the winter. I hope you're still planning to join me!
P.S. Feel like you're getting sick? Get thee to Whole Foods for a bottle of Oreganol, or oil of oregano, which will knock it out of your system if you take it right away. Sure it's a test of your fortitude to hold the noxious stuff under your tongue for as long as you can stand before swallowing it down and yeah, the thought of oregano in any food is about enough to make me toss my Lean Cuisine, but it worked. I thought I was headed for a massive sickness and just like that, Oreganol reversed it. Brilliant!
P.P.S. I am dog whispering my way to a content, "obedient" and delightful Bryan. Turns out that physical threats and intimidation are NOT the most effective means of training your puppy. Viva Cesar! Calm and assertive energy...calm and assertive energy....
SO, the next meal I cook will of course be George's, and we have planned on Thursday for this to occur. My maids of honor will be here from Portland and I'm looking extremely forward to our engagement party this weekend. It's nice to eclipse the sadness with something fun and light! I think we could all use it! Last night, Megan and I housed two bottles of Shriaz at the Happy Gnome. Tonight, I get to scoop Shana from the airport and join the NE Mpls Dabys for dinner. Tomorrow, I am hoping to spend some Lake Minnetonka time with the Kenneficks and then on to cooking with TST in the evening. Friday I'm guessing will be recovery and eye-bag abatement in time for the engagement party Saturday. Life is hard but then it gets good, and so it goes, right?
I can NOT wait to use my new cookbook holder (from P.J.) for Thursday! It has a slop-guard, which I've dubbed as such because when I cook, I don't splash or spill...I slop. I also am looking VERY forward to using my new cutting board from sister-in-law Holly which she swears by and which I'm already quite fond of. I also have my official Rusciano-Rossetto kitchen towel from Holly which is bright and fun and says "Good Luck" which we all know I'll need. I must admit, along with the unforeseen delays, I'm beyond intimidated by most of the recipes in this book. Why didn't I pick "Lydia's Kitchen" or one of Giada's? Because I'm impulsive and arrogant? Perhaps. Because I just wasn't thinking clearly? Well, that's a given. But I suppose it will be just that much sweeter an accomplishment when I've got a few more successes logged. This weekend I was all "These recipes are really, like, hard! They're not modern! They're not simple! They're not designed for people with extremely demanding jobs and dogs and zero baking ability!" My Aunt Frannie was like "DUH. It's called, uh, cooking from SCRATCH!? Hellooooo!?!?" Well-stated and let me contribute another resounding "DUH!" and round that out with a "NO DOY!"
So, we press on...my friends have witnessed me fail in the kitchen before, after all (glue pasta, unpleasantly crunchy ground beef caserole; sad, tired turkey "pucks" off the grill, etc.) so it's not like our worlds will shatter if something doesn't turn out just right.
Keep reading and I promise this will get more intersting. FALL is the season to COOK and even though I'm agressively seeking part-time employment waiting tables (referrals SO welcome), the 100% lock-down on all out-of-house dining for the sake of the wedding budget is just on the horizon and life should settle down enough for me to get into a routine. I am actually looking forward to hunkering down and cooking my way through the winter. I hope you're still planning to join me!
P.S. Feel like you're getting sick? Get thee to Whole Foods for a bottle of Oreganol, or oil of oregano, which will knock it out of your system if you take it right away. Sure it's a test of your fortitude to hold the noxious stuff under your tongue for as long as you can stand before swallowing it down and yeah, the thought of oregano in any food is about enough to make me toss my Lean Cuisine, but it worked. I thought I was headed for a massive sickness and just like that, Oreganol reversed it. Brilliant!
P.P.S. I am dog whispering my way to a content, "obedient" and delightful Bryan. Turns out that physical threats and intimidation are NOT the most effective means of training your puppy. Viva Cesar! Calm and assertive energy...calm and assertive energy....
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Ride into the Texan sunset Uncle George...but not before I've made you something good to eat.
My sweet Uncle George passed away last night at the wonderfully ripe old age of 88. It's too bad the age part doesn't make his loss suck any less. My uncle had a wonderful and interesting life...full of interesting friends and colleagues, interesting travels and stories, an interesting Texas setting to part of his own story, and an interesting way of relating...of endearing and charming each and every person to cross his path. Oh to be interesting, and to do so like Uncle George, simply by being your authentic, warm, and unapologetic self. Now that's refreshing.
One of my favorite more recent memories was going with him on an errand run in a little town near his beloved family cabin in Anandale, MN a few Octobers ago. George took me on a tour and pointed out the cute and interesting bars, shops and diners, and of course he was warmly greeted at the local hardware store. He realized that his GPS was malfunctioning and that he needed to reset it. I was at once horrified and entertained by his method of accomplishing this. Picture George and his bewildered niece in the old maroon Pathfinder driving in huge, slow circles in the parking lot of the elementary school. Hilarious and I'll never forget it. I'll also never forget the long, long line of angry motorists behind us on the way to and from the cabin....but again, no apologies. George was dedicated to safe and steady driving and to the independence he refused to surrender. He proved his dedication and perseverance by getting his license properly renewed with flying colors about a year or so ago. High five, Uncle George. We were all plotting to bury your keys somewhere you'd never find them and you effectively told us all where to go shove it.
Uncle George was always sweet to me, always loving, always happy to see me with a warm hug and a smooch. He won a lot in life. But he lost a lot, too. One such loss, that of his son Tom, was virtually unbearable to witness. Still, he pressed on, broken-hearted as he was and would forever be. He lived well, unfailingly loved his family and especially his Frannie and lovely daughter Kate. He no doubt adored his three gorgeous grand babies, Veda, Will and Jack Thomas. He's a Minneapolis installment, a true Texas original, and I'm dedicating the Friday installment of the Rusciano/Rossetto Project to him.
Auntie Fran - do you think he'd prefer pasta or veal chops? I'm betting on the veal. I've got prepping and planning to do!
So, check in with me during and afterwards on Friday (barring family affairs) for the recap of my latest TST selection(s) and a toast to George Thomas Murnane.
Uncle George, go enjoy the breakfast club in the sky with all the pals you outlived and do some good fishing and catching up with Tom. Oh, and Snickers too.
Love and hugs - Your niece, Catherine
One of my favorite more recent memories was going with him on an errand run in a little town near his beloved family cabin in Anandale, MN a few Octobers ago. George took me on a tour and pointed out the cute and interesting bars, shops and diners, and of course he was warmly greeted at the local hardware store. He realized that his GPS was malfunctioning and that he needed to reset it. I was at once horrified and entertained by his method of accomplishing this. Picture George and his bewildered niece in the old maroon Pathfinder driving in huge, slow circles in the parking lot of the elementary school. Hilarious and I'll never forget it. I'll also never forget the long, long line of angry motorists behind us on the way to and from the cabin....but again, no apologies. George was dedicated to safe and steady driving and to the independence he refused to surrender. He proved his dedication and perseverance by getting his license properly renewed with flying colors about a year or so ago. High five, Uncle George. We were all plotting to bury your keys somewhere you'd never find them and you effectively told us all where to go shove it.
Uncle George was always sweet to me, always loving, always happy to see me with a warm hug and a smooch. He won a lot in life. But he lost a lot, too. One such loss, that of his son Tom, was virtually unbearable to witness. Still, he pressed on, broken-hearted as he was and would forever be. He lived well, unfailingly loved his family and especially his Frannie and lovely daughter Kate. He no doubt adored his three gorgeous grand babies, Veda, Will and Jack Thomas. He's a Minneapolis installment, a true Texas original, and I'm dedicating the Friday installment of the Rusciano/Rossetto Project to him.
Auntie Fran - do you think he'd prefer pasta or veal chops? I'm betting on the veal. I've got prepping and planning to do!
So, check in with me during and afterwards on Friday (barring family affairs) for the recap of my latest TST selection(s) and a toast to George Thomas Murnane.
Uncle George, go enjoy the breakfast club in the sky with all the pals you outlived and do some good fishing and catching up with Tom. Oh, and Snickers too.
Love and hugs - Your niece, Catherine
Friday, August 14, 2009
Reflections on the Virgin Voyage
1. I realize how much support I have in this thing already. You guys have no idea how much it means to me. My mom said the nicest most supportive stuff on the phone yesterday. And there's something about the way she says it that lets me know how sincerely excited and proud she is - and not just cuz I'm her (favorite) kid. She has always been my biggest fan, and while I know this, it's really, really nice to hear it. Libby and P.J. SPRUNG into action when we got ourselves settled last night and AFTER the Dallums stopped by on their way out of town with birthday treats and a wonderful card for P.J.'s b-day. Libby then tidied the kitchen (see comment from yesterday about housekeeping...but I do think that my kitchen deserves and will enjoy more attention as this project progresses - tidied to 90% cleanliness last night at 130 a.m. which is SO not like me) and gave me a clean workspace to start from and she put away my sundries and purchases. P.J. got cold beer going because Mike Flavin was joining us as a surprise guest and well, he likes beer. (who doesn't?) Libby de-shelled and deveined aka CLEANED THE POOP TRACK out of the shrimp. She only gagged maybe four times, and thoughtfully commentated on the length, color, texture, placement, oddity ("Was this one pregnant? Oh my GOD, is this shrimp roe?") or surprising absence of twosies altogether in a couple of the little buggers.
P.J. cleaned, fetched, grabbed, chopped and helped me time everything. This will very much be a "family" project and I love it already. McKenna was there for slush sampling and table setting. Mike Flavin did his part to say the word "outstanding" several times throughought the meal, and I realized that the two men in my life, P.J. and Bryan, both eat in complete silence when something really turns them on, and both can eat too quickly...to the point of choking and hacking. I take it all as a giant compliment. Libby also did her usual merciless name-butchery...."The Lynn Kitson Genome Project?", "The Leonard Nemoy-Rosario Project?", "The Lana Kasper Rossetta-Stone Project?" so then I finally snapped at my "sister-from-another-mother" and reminded her that I'm cooking my way through a culinary bible, not teaching people to speak German in six weeks!
2. I may have, dare I say it, detected a "mistake" in this first recipe. Disclaimer: I copy edit and proof read as part of my job and it's the catching of errors in particular (as you will soon realize if you haven't already) that I struggle with. So with that said, I fully understand that I may just have completely skipped over this or that section or direction, especially considering at one I point I know I was looking at two different recipes (stupid delicious vino verde). While no errant ingredients from the WRONG recipe made their way into the dish, there were times where I just had to stop, think it through, shake my head a bit, do a set of push-ups and get clear. SO with last night's dish, one step is to saute minced onion, sage, rosemary etc. You do this until the onion is a light gold. It never turned light gold but when it started to brown, I got it off the heat, covered it, and set it aside, as the recipe called for. As things were coming together toward the end I realized:
a. This is soupy! It's like soup! Oh my god, I just made fucking pasta soup! They're all gonna laugh at me!
b. I hadn't incorporated the onion/herb mixture yet. Once I did, it ALL came together SO beautifully and I realized why LRK suggests serving in warm pasta BOWLS (I will be registering for 1,000 of these btw) because it's so gorgeous this way. It turned into this delicious and medium textured broth that coated and covered everything. We used the system whereby I held the pasta vat, guests laid down their pasta "base" or "foundation" with a tongs and when they were ready for "fixins" as we called them, I ladled on a giant scoop of sauce, olives and succulent and spicy shrimp. It wasn't frickin ballet tables service at the Ritz, but it worked for our little partay. So then, due to the bowl, you can sop up all this wonderful, spicy richness with the bread I made/doctored (rosemary ciabatta, brushed with olive oil, garlic powder, salt, pepper - toasted in convection oven and sprinkled lovingly by Mike with parm-regg).
c. To my real point here (you made it this far, hang in there), LRK never tells you when to incorporate the onion/herb mixture. I have scanned the recipe ten times, not to mention the 1,000 times during cooking (when studying or reading normally, I can retain like a mo-fo...with cookbooks, I read each line over and over and over again....I could get whiplash from looking to and from the book and the saute pan), and I JUST do not see where she says to throw this mixture back in with the rest! So, I just threw it all in with the shrimp/shrimp broth mixture, crushed plum tomatoes and pasta. Perfecto.
d. The Quick Broth is quick but it's a LOT of vegetables for not much yield. LRK basically shows you how to quickly doctor up store-bought broth by boiling it with celery, parsley, carrot, broiled onions, another onion, a crushed garlic clove and a generous pinch of basil. I needed three cups of said broth for this pasta recipe and that's about all that was yielded from the Quick Broth recipe after starting with 4 14.5 oz cans of low sodium chicken broth. Perhaps the veggies absorb a lot (those were yum-yum-dim-sum after straining the broth...tried to come up with something for them in fact) but I always thought that veggies released liquid rather than absorbed it. SCIENCE! Resolved and noted to make infinity batches of either the quick broth or the chicken/beef broth and freezing them for future and frequent use.
e. The BEST parties are the impromptu ones. I figured it would be just P.J. and me last night, which would have been lovely too but then Libby signed on for the job, McKenna needed a place to store her frozen booze slush for camping so she was in for dinner, and Flavin sent a text seeing if any of us were doing something fun. All of the sudden, it was an intimate dinner party, full of horrendous jokes that I will never share here, and a list of blog post titles such as:
I hope you all have a wonderful weekend. And followers, do me a solid and put some profile pics in there! All these anonymous profile icons/silouhettes are freakin' me out!
We're off with our besties to celebrate my beloved's THIRTIETH birthday. Happy Happy JOYFUL DAY to "the bread to my butter, the breath to my life", Patrick John Besinger.
P.J. cleaned, fetched, grabbed, chopped and helped me time everything. This will very much be a "family" project and I love it already. McKenna was there for slush sampling and table setting. Mike Flavin did his part to say the word "outstanding" several times throughought the meal, and I realized that the two men in my life, P.J. and Bryan, both eat in complete silence when something really turns them on, and both can eat too quickly...to the point of choking and hacking. I take it all as a giant compliment. Libby also did her usual merciless name-butchery...."The Lynn Kitson Genome Project?", "The Leonard Nemoy-Rosario Project?", "The Lana Kasper Rossetta-Stone Project?" so then I finally snapped at my "sister-from-another-mother" and reminded her that I'm cooking my way through a culinary bible, not teaching people to speak German in six weeks!
2. I may have, dare I say it, detected a "mistake" in this first recipe. Disclaimer: I copy edit and proof read as part of my job and it's the catching of errors in particular (as you will soon realize if you haven't already) that I struggle with. So with that said, I fully understand that I may just have completely skipped over this or that section or direction, especially considering at one I point I know I was looking at two different recipes (stupid delicious vino verde). While no errant ingredients from the WRONG recipe made their way into the dish, there were times where I just had to stop, think it through, shake my head a bit, do a set of push-ups and get clear. SO with last night's dish, one step is to saute minced onion, sage, rosemary etc. You do this until the onion is a light gold. It never turned light gold but when it started to brown, I got it off the heat, covered it, and set it aside, as the recipe called for. As things were coming together toward the end I realized:
a. This is soupy! It's like soup! Oh my god, I just made fucking pasta soup! They're all gonna laugh at me!
b. I hadn't incorporated the onion/herb mixture yet. Once I did, it ALL came together SO beautifully and I realized why LRK suggests serving in warm pasta BOWLS (I will be registering for 1,000 of these btw) because it's so gorgeous this way. It turned into this delicious and medium textured broth that coated and covered everything. We used the system whereby I held the pasta vat, guests laid down their pasta "base" or "foundation" with a tongs and when they were ready for "fixins" as we called them, I ladled on a giant scoop of sauce, olives and succulent and spicy shrimp. It wasn't frickin ballet tables service at the Ritz, but it worked for our little partay. So then, due to the bowl, you can sop up all this wonderful, spicy richness with the bread I made/doctored (rosemary ciabatta, brushed with olive oil, garlic powder, salt, pepper - toasted in convection oven and sprinkled lovingly by Mike with parm-regg).
c. To my real point here (you made it this far, hang in there), LRK never tells you when to incorporate the onion/herb mixture. I have scanned the recipe ten times, not to mention the 1,000 times during cooking (when studying or reading normally, I can retain like a mo-fo...with cookbooks, I read each line over and over and over again....I could get whiplash from looking to and from the book and the saute pan), and I JUST do not see where she says to throw this mixture back in with the rest! So, I just threw it all in with the shrimp/shrimp broth mixture, crushed plum tomatoes and pasta. Perfecto.
d. The Quick Broth is quick but it's a LOT of vegetables for not much yield. LRK basically shows you how to quickly doctor up store-bought broth by boiling it with celery, parsley, carrot, broiled onions, another onion, a crushed garlic clove and a generous pinch of basil. I needed three cups of said broth for this pasta recipe and that's about all that was yielded from the Quick Broth recipe after starting with 4 14.5 oz cans of low sodium chicken broth. Perhaps the veggies absorb a lot (those were yum-yum-dim-sum after straining the broth...tried to come up with something for them in fact) but I always thought that veggies released liquid rather than absorbed it. SCIENCE! Resolved and noted to make infinity batches of either the quick broth or the chicken/beef broth and freezing them for future and frequent use.
e. The BEST parties are the impromptu ones. I figured it would be just P.J. and me last night, which would have been lovely too but then Libby signed on for the job, McKenna needed a place to store her frozen booze slush for camping so she was in for dinner, and Flavin sent a text seeing if any of us were doing something fun. All of the sudden, it was an intimate dinner party, full of horrendous jokes that I will never share here, and a list of blog post titles such as:
- "I'm So Barf I'm Gonna Full"
- "Sweet n' Beefy"
- "Riding the MoonCruiser on Dane Cook's Face"
- "Smell My Fingers"
- "Sweatyback Jones"
I hope you all have a wonderful weekend. And followers, do me a solid and put some profile pics in there! All these anonymous profile icons/silouhettes are freakin' me out!
We're off with our besties to celebrate my beloved's THIRTIETH birthday. Happy Happy JOYFUL DAY to "the bread to my butter, the breath to my life", Patrick John Besinger.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Code Brown!
The Book
The Splendid Table - Recipes from Emilia-Romagna, the Heartland of Northern Italian Food, Lynne Rossetto Kasper, 1992
The Contender
Corporate copy writer by day, amateur cook and inebriated sourpuss by night, Kate Rusciano needed help. Young enough to think there's got to be something more, but old enough to know that nothing worth while comes easy and that kids should generally stay off her lawn, she was looking for something meaningful, something that would inevitably cause hilarity and personal growth...she has no intention of setting herself up to fail any more than she might on a regular day, so she will not commit to finishing the entire book in a year, but rather will aspire to finish sometime around her wedding (unless he snaps and hits the bricks after one of many late, and possibly failed dinners to come) just in time to visit Emilia-Romagna on their honeymoon in the fall of 2010.
Tonight's meal is Spaghetti con Gamberoni e Olive Nere or Spaghetti with Shrimps and Black Olives. I was going to do Tortelloni with Artichoke and Mascarpone, but LRK says plainly that this is not a dish to be whipped up after work. I am going to start with something not quite so intimidating, and we'll just have to see what turns out.
I'm feeling very happy and motivated with my giant shrimp with shell intact (since you reduce the shells to flavor the sauce), carrying my over-filled Cosco box into the house (forgive me, but i'm going to need a LOT of unsalted butter and stewed romas for this project) and ready to start my Quick Stock....all is a go, I am poised and looking forward to that giant glass of vino...
Oh. Wait. Something smells...not right. Bryan picked TONIGHT, at 8 p.m. before dinner's even been PREPPED, to completely deface his kennel. He shat EVERYWHERE in there. I would use the term "pooped" or "had an accident" but naw, he SHAT....he shat it up good. Nobody panic, this is what hot water and disinfectant were made for. Clearly it was more upsetting for our little guy than it is for us. Can you imagine being forced to lay snuggly next to your leavings for two hours? Good thing I got him some beef pet bones at Kowalski's as a special treat!
Tonight's sous chefs are:
Libby "Just the Tip" Abdo
P.J. "Saint Patrick of the Rose-Cheeks" Besinger
Special Guest:
McKenna "Eat Pasta Out of My Adorable Dimples" Flynn (yet to arrive, but like Gandalf, she arrives precisely when she means to)
Stay tuned.
Also, for my birthday I need a cook book holder. Just sayin'. (I know you're reading this, mom)
The Splendid Table - Recipes from Emilia-Romagna, the Heartland of Northern Italian Food, Lynne Rossetto Kasper, 1992
The Contender
Corporate copy writer by day, amateur cook and inebriated sourpuss by night, Kate Rusciano needed help. Young enough to think there's got to be something more, but old enough to know that nothing worth while comes easy and that kids should generally stay off her lawn, she was looking for something meaningful, something that would inevitably cause hilarity and personal growth...she has no intention of setting herself up to fail any more than she might on a regular day, so she will not commit to finishing the entire book in a year, but rather will aspire to finish sometime around her wedding (unless he snaps and hits the bricks after one of many late, and possibly failed dinners to come) just in time to visit Emilia-Romagna on their honeymoon in the fall of 2010.
Tonight's meal is Spaghetti con Gamberoni e Olive Nere or Spaghetti with Shrimps and Black Olives. I was going to do Tortelloni with Artichoke and Mascarpone, but LRK says plainly that this is not a dish to be whipped up after work. I am going to start with something not quite so intimidating, and we'll just have to see what turns out.
I'm feeling very happy and motivated with my giant shrimp with shell intact (since you reduce the shells to flavor the sauce), carrying my over-filled Cosco box into the house (forgive me, but i'm going to need a LOT of unsalted butter and stewed romas for this project) and ready to start my Quick Stock....all is a go, I am poised and looking forward to that giant glass of vino...
Oh. Wait. Something smells...not right. Bryan picked TONIGHT, at 8 p.m. before dinner's even been PREPPED, to completely deface his kennel. He shat EVERYWHERE in there. I would use the term "pooped" or "had an accident" but naw, he SHAT....he shat it up good. Nobody panic, this is what hot water and disinfectant were made for. Clearly it was more upsetting for our little guy than it is for us. Can you imagine being forced to lay snuggly next to your leavings for two hours? Good thing I got him some beef pet bones at Kowalski's as a special treat!
Tonight's sous chefs are:
Libby "Just the Tip" Abdo
P.J. "Saint Patrick of the Rose-Cheeks" Besinger
Special Guest:
McKenna "Eat Pasta Out of My Adorable Dimples" Flynn (yet to arrive, but like Gandalf, she arrives precisely when she means to)
Stay tuned.
Also, for my birthday I need a cook book holder. Just sayin'. (I know you're reading this, mom)
August 13, 2009 - The Beginning of it All; or, Cook for Your Life, Kate!
Restless. Depressed. Trapped. Withered. Frustrated.
These are all words that I would use to describe myself as of late. Once a balanced and fulfilled twenty-something, with an obnoxious amount of optimism and joy, I am now angry, tired....drowning.
This is an emergency blog for sure.
I know myself well enough to know that I need to balance out my day job as a corporate communications monkey for a very large health insurance company, let's call them OmniSurance Group. It's a great job. A solid job. A job with a company that I'm not altogether sure is at the heart of the decline of society and is at least positioning itself at the forefront of health care reform. Whatever. It's health insurance, and I write about it all day, every day. Zzzzzzz.....beltch! (had onions with lunch)...Zzzzz.....
When I come home after a long and thankless day writing shit I'm sure half of our agents don't even read, I need three things immediately:
1. A sharp knife.
2. Something to chop (an onion, carrots, herbs, cherry tomatoes, bok choy, etc.)
3. A giant class of white wine.
I aspire to be a great cook and writer, and therefore a whole and balanced woman, capable of exceeding the expectations of my co-workers, friends, family and most importantly, my fiance, P.J.
I have humor and heart, loyalty and passion. I am an OK cook. I have OK instincts that are sorely undeveloped. I know a tiny fraction of the foundational knowledge necessary to really talk about food with a bit of credibility. I believe I have the potential to be a great Italian cook, to kick the culinary asses of my father and his parents and grandparents before him (all owners of Minneapolis and Rochester, MN restaurants "Rusciano's"), and to feel accomplished in an activity that saves me from serious despair every single evening. I owe it to the Cooking Gods to be my very best and to challenge myself far beyond my current capacity. Said divine guides give me peace and a feeling of center and belonging that nothing else on earth comes close to, so I want to honor them with the effort and dedication reflective of my gratitude.
I have a little kitchen with a gas range, convection oven, double-basin sink, dishwasher and a drive-up window. It's a one-woman kitchen that looks into our cute dining room so that I can talk to my pals while I make a giant mess. The tools I possess comprise our collective single lives before cohabitation. They've been adequate so far (rusty peelers, distorted/melted plastic Cuisinart mixing bowls, a singular yet beloved wooden spoon, a ghetto knife set and an OK Wustoff knife set), but I'm sure I will need to invest along the way. I know, bummer, right? (Hardly!)
So, that's a little bit of what I DO have. What I do NOT have is one ounce of guilt over ripping off the concept of the memoir and now movie Julie & Julia. The book felt like a gift wrapped and sent special delivery from heaven and its conclusion had me sobbing next to a snoozing P.J. on our trip to his family cabin. This is not a sad book. It's hopeful and delightful and funny and fresh. It also brought up in me such a feeling of inadequacy and envy that I almost barfed. A book deal, a movie deal and who knows what other wonderful things a little ballsie project brought into Julie Powell's life. Plainly stated "WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT?" And the answer, verbosely stated, is that I'm too busy complaining, too dedicated to procrastinating, too busy trying to sate myself with workouts and chardonnay, and all too comfortable wallowing in the romance of my hopeless professional state, to pull myself up by the apron straps and do something REAL and BIG and FUN!
Additionally, like Julie, I have:
Sure, it's dramatic, and I'll be dammed, it moved me to action (well, to be honest, it moved me to self pity first, and then it moved me to action. I want someone to pull ME out of the ocean! I want Julie Powell AND Julia Child and, screw it, it's my water rescue, after all, Simone Beck, Giada De Laurentiis, Paul Prudhomme, Lynne Rossetto Kasper AND Erik Bana (for sex appeal and the sheer physical strength to ACTUALLY pull me out of said ocean) to show up in a motorized raft, pluck ME out of the deluge, soaked and exhausted, sobbing and wilted. Then they'll feed me warm chicken broth, Julie will make me a giant gimlet, Lynne will open-hand slap me across the face, hard, and they'll tell me to relax, take heart, shut my yap and dig in.
As I am an independent woman, I think in reality, just like Julie, I'll be pulling myself out of said deluge, but in my heart, I'll be scooped up by everyone alive and dead who dreamed that they could be better, be more and believed without arrogance that they possibly were meant for something more special in the way of a career than a cube with a view.
So, tonight will be my FIRST, OFFICIAL meal from TST and my FIRST OFFICIAL post will be composed before, during and after. I will complete each recipe in one of the PREMIER Italian cookbooks of all time, The Splendid Table by Lynne Rossetto Kasper. I will not attempt to do this in one year, rather, I will commit to completing it by the time P.J. and I honeymoon in Italy in October 2010. LRK is one of if not THE authority on Italian cooking and TST is the only winner of both the Julie Child Best Cookbook of the Year award AND the James Beard Cookbook of the Year award. The book itself has another "seal" on it that indicates the IACP Cookbook Awards "Book of the Year." Beyond this, I do not know much about Ms. Rossetto Kasper, but I'm going to learn along the way. I know that I had an opportunity to meet her as she appeared at the little South Minneapolis Deli that I had the pleasure of working at for two years, Broders' Cucina Italiana. But even then, with little to no knowledge of how important she was, I felt intimidated and understood that my job was more to serve the customers flocking in to see her than it was to sit in her lap and ask her to tell me that I'm a good girl. Like the culinary Santa Claus or some crap.
Anyways, I begin this journey on the very same day as Julie Powell, August 13, 2009, just seven years later. Come along for the ride. Your support, criticism, advice and humor are all so very welcome. Just keep in mind that if you're hard on me, you may receive a response that will make you want to walk into traffic. Let's put our helmets on and be entertained!
I am not sure that Ms. Rossetto Kasper has a catch phrase on her MPR show that shares its name with TST, but for all intents and purposes, let me proudly, hopefully and fearlessly say MY catch phrase, for now and always....
These are all words that I would use to describe myself as of late. Once a balanced and fulfilled twenty-something, with an obnoxious amount of optimism and joy, I am now angry, tired....drowning.
This is an emergency blog for sure.
I know myself well enough to know that I need to balance out my day job as a corporate communications monkey for a very large health insurance company, let's call them OmniSurance Group. It's a great job. A solid job. A job with a company that I'm not altogether sure is at the heart of the decline of society and is at least positioning itself at the forefront of health care reform. Whatever. It's health insurance, and I write about it all day, every day. Zzzzzzz.....beltch! (had onions with lunch)...Zzzzz.....
When I come home after a long and thankless day writing shit I'm sure half of our agents don't even read, I need three things immediately:
1. A sharp knife.
2. Something to chop (an onion, carrots, herbs, cherry tomatoes, bok choy, etc.)
3. A giant class of white wine.
I aspire to be a great cook and writer, and therefore a whole and balanced woman, capable of exceeding the expectations of my co-workers, friends, family and most importantly, my fiance, P.J.
I have humor and heart, loyalty and passion. I am an OK cook. I have OK instincts that are sorely undeveloped. I know a tiny fraction of the foundational knowledge necessary to really talk about food with a bit of credibility. I believe I have the potential to be a great Italian cook, to kick the culinary asses of my father and his parents and grandparents before him (all owners of Minneapolis and Rochester, MN restaurants "Rusciano's"), and to feel accomplished in an activity that saves me from serious despair every single evening. I owe it to the Cooking Gods to be my very best and to challenge myself far beyond my current capacity. Said divine guides give me peace and a feeling of center and belonging that nothing else on earth comes close to, so I want to honor them with the effort and dedication reflective of my gratitude.
I have a little kitchen with a gas range, convection oven, double-basin sink, dishwasher and a drive-up window. It's a one-woman kitchen that looks into our cute dining room so that I can talk to my pals while I make a giant mess. The tools I possess comprise our collective single lives before cohabitation. They've been adequate so far (rusty peelers, distorted/melted plastic Cuisinart mixing bowls, a singular yet beloved wooden spoon, a ghetto knife set and an OK Wustoff knife set), but I'm sure I will need to invest along the way. I know, bummer, right? (Hardly!)
So, that's a little bit of what I DO have. What I do NOT have is one ounce of guilt over ripping off the concept of the memoir and now movie Julie & Julia. The book felt like a gift wrapped and sent special delivery from heaven and its conclusion had me sobbing next to a snoozing P.J. on our trip to his family cabin. This is not a sad book. It's hopeful and delightful and funny and fresh. It also brought up in me such a feeling of inadequacy and envy that I almost barfed. A book deal, a movie deal and who knows what other wonderful things a little ballsie project brought into Julie Powell's life. Plainly stated "WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT?" And the answer, verbosely stated, is that I'm too busy complaining, too dedicated to procrastinating, too busy trying to sate myself with workouts and chardonnay, and all too comfortable wallowing in the romance of my hopeless professional state, to pull myself up by the apron straps and do something REAL and BIG and FUN!
Additionally, like Julie, I have:
- A penchant for vulgarity
- A job that makes me feel ragged and ordinary
- A tiny kitchen, aforementioned
- Zero talent for or dedication to house-keeping
- A dog with an everyday guy's name (her's is Robert, mine is Bryan)
- A mother that freely and directly shares her opinions (because we are very close and I am her baby girl, the only girl with three older brothers) sometimes at the injury of my very delicate feelings and/or at the risk of making me feel like I'm not precisely what she wants and deserves in her daughter (incidentally, my mother has a daughter who does this exact thing just as well and with far less delicacy and good intent)
- The love of a good glass (bottle) of wine or a favorite bevie (Julie of the gimlet, Kate of the vodka soda)
- An affection for cigarettes, the indulgence in which Julie probably kicked and I'm coming up on a year smoke-free myself
- A ticking, tocking, hammering, squawking biological clock and a profound sense of unreadiness for motherhood (which without warning switches to sheer NEED to get knocked up when when I see my friends' kids Riley, Wilson, Caleb, Frankie, Nico, William, Bella, Layla, Sam, Fiona, Brianne, Reese, etc. and the fact that said friends have the privilege of being referred to by the most beautiful word in the English language "mama")
- A fierce and frenzied chop-chop-chop of the onion while rehashing the idiocy and abuses at work
- An impending emotional Armageddon if I don't do something creative and gutsy and difficult FAST
- Writing skills (mine are apt, Ms. Powell's are exceptional)
- And probably most profoundly similar to Julie, I too have a loving, patient, supportive, loyal, decent and selfless partner, my P.J. to her Eric, who just happens to be my best friend and most likely has no idea what he's gotten himself into.
Sure, it's dramatic, and I'll be dammed, it moved me to action (well, to be honest, it moved me to self pity first, and then it moved me to action. I want someone to pull ME out of the ocean! I want Julie Powell AND Julia Child and, screw it, it's my water rescue, after all, Simone Beck, Giada De Laurentiis, Paul Prudhomme, Lynne Rossetto Kasper AND Erik Bana (for sex appeal and the sheer physical strength to ACTUALLY pull me out of said ocean) to show up in a motorized raft, pluck ME out of the deluge, soaked and exhausted, sobbing and wilted. Then they'll feed me warm chicken broth, Julie will make me a giant gimlet, Lynne will open-hand slap me across the face, hard, and they'll tell me to relax, take heart, shut my yap and dig in.
As I am an independent woman, I think in reality, just like Julie, I'll be pulling myself out of said deluge, but in my heart, I'll be scooped up by everyone alive and dead who dreamed that they could be better, be more and believed without arrogance that they possibly were meant for something more special in the way of a career than a cube with a view.
So, tonight will be my FIRST, OFFICIAL meal from TST and my FIRST OFFICIAL post will be composed before, during and after. I will complete each recipe in one of the PREMIER Italian cookbooks of all time, The Splendid Table by Lynne Rossetto Kasper. I will not attempt to do this in one year, rather, I will commit to completing it by the time P.J. and I honeymoon in Italy in October 2010. LRK is one of if not THE authority on Italian cooking and TST is the only winner of both the Julie Child Best Cookbook of the Year award AND the James Beard Cookbook of the Year award. The book itself has another "seal" on it that indicates the IACP Cookbook Awards "Book of the Year." Beyond this, I do not know much about Ms. Rossetto Kasper, but I'm going to learn along the way. I know that I had an opportunity to meet her as she appeared at the little South Minneapolis Deli that I had the pleasure of working at for two years, Broders' Cucina Italiana. But even then, with little to no knowledge of how important she was, I felt intimidated and understood that my job was more to serve the customers flocking in to see her than it was to sit in her lap and ask her to tell me that I'm a good girl. Like the culinary Santa Claus or some crap.
Anyways, I begin this journey on the very same day as Julie Powell, August 13, 2009, just seven years later. Come along for the ride. Your support, criticism, advice and humor are all so very welcome. Just keep in mind that if you're hard on me, you may receive a response that will make you want to walk into traffic. Let's put our helmets on and be entertained!
I am not sure that Ms. Rossetto Kasper has a catch phrase on her MPR show that shares its name with TST, but for all intents and purposes, let me proudly, hopefully and fearlessly say MY catch phrase, for now and always....
Andiamo a la cuicina! (We go to the kitchen!)
Stay tuned for tonight's meal!
Stay tuned for tonight's meal!
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