the days are numbered...with prizes!!

Crippling laziness has finally prevailed. You all knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. My lovely and talented sister Brittany has evidently thrown in the chocolate-stained bar towel on regular posting (as demonstrated by the last three from her, which have all been many moons apart, each one apologizing for previous extended lags in blogging), and my offerings are routinely half-assed attempts at who knows what.

So we've decided to join forces in our failure and try another avenue altogether: a shared blog. Yes, a collective Frankenstein-like abomination that will be the best of both of us. It should solve all the world's problems. Readers can look forward to something from this end of the cyberkitchen a little more often, and we won't have to continue losing sleep over the hideous, gnawing guilt of not posting often enough (or of posting badly). It's such a win-win.

Brittany will probably continue bringing you cozy, delicious desserts and details about the hip Seattle restaurant life. I will continue with whatever it is I managed to make for dinner and happened to take a picture of. It'll be a meatloaf style variety show blog, without the awkward segways. Variety is the spice of life, yo.

So anyhoo, we're pretty pleased with ourselves and our big, juicy brains for coming up with something so insanely genius. Trouble is, that's the extent of our brilliance. We're both completely spent, and kinda dizzy from the strain. We can't come up with a blog name to save our lives. So, rather than pop a blood vessel from thinking too hard, we're asking for your help.

Name our collective blog. And please, nothing too gay.

Go ahead and post your ideas under the comments for this blog, or at Brittany's pie lady venture. The smarty pants who comes up with the name we choose with receive FABULOUS prizes! Brittany is offering a coupon for one free back rub (she has strong little sausage fingers, lucky you), and from me you'll receive something terribly crafty and oh-so-cute that should totally be sold for money at a quaint little boutique shop, but instead is usually given away to family members as cheap Christmas presents cuz I'm a tightwad with time on my hands.

Like this lovely handmade votive holder. Innit purdy?

Yes. Yes it is. That thing looks like a beast in the picture, but it's actually only slightly bigger than a shot glass.

Please help. We need an identity. Besides, you've been craving a dose of healthy competition and everyone knows it. Now stop with the card games, the foodie jousts and marathons, and the fantasy football bullshit and start brainstorming for us.

smorgasbord

CK’s birthday was on Saturday, and we had a bit of a shindig. A hootenanny. A box social. It was special because it was really the first party in the house, where we have lived for nearly 2 years. We’re not anti-social, just tragically inhospitable. Our guests are not foodies, and the point of the evening was binge drinking not binge eating, so I was only planning on a few quick munch-upons to go with the copious amounts of alcohol. I suggested an assortment of homemade pizzas, but CK wanted a Norwegian style smorgasbord of open-faced sammiches. Gotta love him.

So I looked into it and decided not to delve too deep into Norwegian fare with pickled herring and lutefisk, because yuckity yuck. I also didn’t want to make the trip to the town of Uff Da bumper stickers and piss-poor vehicular maneuvering to buy rullepolse (though that does make one helluva delicious sammich). The week had been way too busy to plan ahead for anything special, so I kept it simple.

I made three different kinds. There was deviled ham and cucumber on buttered garlic bread (CK’s favorite), roast beef and jarlsberg on rye with stone ground mustard, and goat cheese with red bell pepper on wheat beer bread. My plan was to make a cream cheese and lox too, but the goddamn grocery store was out. Effing bastards.

Andouille stuffed mushrooms. Spinach, bell pepper, onion, bread crumbs etc. Topped with swiss. The andouille came from the Swinery. Crazy delicious.

I also made andouille stuffed mushrooms and roasted golden nugget squash dip. The final request from the birthday boy was for Lil Nasties. Bear with me here, I promise you’ll like where I’m going. Present at every family Christmas party, these things look awful but they are oddly delicious. I think of them as white trash sushi, sans aquatic creatures. Pickles, wrapped in cream cheese and ham, sliced up like a sushi roll (first picture, upper left). They always shock and confuse, then disappear before you can fully explain what they are.

So I spent a couple hours working on all this, and forgot to eat lunch. When people started arriving I thought it would be a good idea to get a bit of a buzz going right away to help with the mingling, cuz I'm a bit shy. I drank a full bottle of wine by myself in about 20 minutes. Then the shots of Aquavit and whiskey. Then cheap beer. I am a very stupid person. Though I don’t recall much aside from the nausea, apparently the food was pretty good.

off my gourd

Pumpkin is a delicious food. It is also relatively cheap, when purchased in a large can from the Safeway. Don't bother me with the roasting and pureeing by hand bullshit, cuz I'm just not going to do that. Whole pumpkins are for carving funny faces into while you remove and roast the seeds, then watching them decompose on your front porch. They are not for hand processing. At least, not for me. But I will buy a big can of Libby's and go nuts.

This was definitely a pumpkin-themed week, and not even on purpose. I just didn't want to waste any. First I baked a batch of my all time favorite cookies. They're soft pumpkin cookies that I adapted a bit, then added chocolate chips to satisfy my craving for chocolate. They're spicy, cakey, almost like a muffin top, and a bit chewy all at the same time. They're also orange and black in a completely non-food-coloring sort of way that I appreciate, so I call them my Halloween cookies. Delicious. Cannot stop munching upon them. Though I probably should.

But that only used one cup out of the big-ass can, so I made Pumpkin Penne for dinner the next night. Ground pork, onions, sage, pumpkin puree, a touch of half & half, cooked penne, then topped with bread crumbs and parm. Baked until I can't stand it any longer (about 15 minutes), and it's a wonderfully orange treat for dinner. Sorry, no pictures. I was in a hurry to eat it.

Then my play date. Over the weekend, a very close friend from the high school days (which was the last time we spent any significant time together) came over to play. She wanted to learn how to make cheesecake. Fortunately, this is an area where I have a bit of experience. Right out of culinary school, I worked as the morning baker at a quaint little bakery/cafe in my hometown. I would show up at 4am, whip out the morning bake, then spend the rest of my shift on pies and cheesecakes, which were both huge sellers. The cheesecake recipe is ridiculously simple, and I learned that simple = better, so I still use it today.

First, don't mess around with recipes that call for sour cream in the filling. Bah, that's just asking for trouble. Sour cream goes on top, and only on top. The filling should just be cream cheese, eggs, sugar and vanilla. Plus whatever flavoring you want. Second, graham cracker crusts are the devil. Serious pain in the ass, and not really worth it. I use a simple sugar dough, made in the food processor, then pressed into the springform and chilled for a bit while working on the filling. It's much quicker and easier to work with, and sturdier when baked. Third, don't mess your pants if the top of the cheesecake gets dark brown. It's going to do that. That's what the sour cream is for.

Cheers to a job well done.

So we made our pumpkin cheesecake with the rest of that big freakin' can. Can finally emptied, poor persion "waste not, want not" tendencies satisfied. Pumpkin also happens to be my favorite cheesecake flavor. My friend went home with the recipe and a bunch of cheesecake, I kept the rest. Which is still in my fridge; a fact I'm very proud of.

Yesterday, CK decided he wanted to keep the pumpkin trend alive a bit longer. He very politely requested two pumpkin pies. Yes, two. He's nuts. I don't even like pumpkin pie (hence the cheesecake), but he vowed to eat it all before it went bad, or take some to work. So I became nice wife and made a batch of cream cheese pie dough (it gets puffier and doesn't use shortening or lard). I meant to make quiche this week anyway. So another big can of Libby's later, I now have two - count them, TWO (two pies, ah ah ah) - pumpkin pies in my fridge as well. Also no pictures. Everyone knows what pumpkin pie looks like.

So now I'm wondering if over-consumption of pumpkin will have any serious physical side effects, like turn my face orange a-la George Hamilton, or maybe make me pee orange until Thanksgiving.

based on true events

Ever had Lomo Saltado? Yeah, it's really good. This isn't it.

But it is based on it.

Lomo Saltado is a Peruvian beef stew kinda thing with fried potatoes just tossed in there. Pure genius. Peruvian food is heavily influenced by the Chinese (mostly due to thousands upon thousands of Chinese contract laborers sent to work on the sugar plantations in the 19th century), so there's a lot of soy sauce in addition to cumin, cinnamon, and chili peppers. Sounds tasty, right? It is.

I just wasn't feeling like putting in the effort. It was getting late, I was tired, and we were hungry. I mean, it looked like a great big pain in the ass, and really it's just modified beef stew. Which I can make blindfolded and napping on the couch. So instead, I once again opted for the lazy solution and made said modified beef stew. I added a yellow bell pepper, a metric buttload of soy sauce, cumin, cinnamon, a couple chili peppers, cayenne, and a dash of Worcestershire (cuz where there's beef, there should be Worcestershire). I baked store-bought French fries (gasp!) and threw them in at the last minute.

The fries soaked up all the beefy-tomatoey broth right away and got just a titch on the soggy side. Still very edible, mind you, but I can see how frying your own from scratch would have its textural benefits. Really though, this took me very little time to make and I didn't have hot oil splattered all over my walls and countertops afterward. A small sacrifice in order to eat much sooner.

I also ran out of cilantro. That was the part that made me want to cry just a little. I'm sure this dish would have been markedly improved by fresh cilantro, even as a mere garnish; a splash of color, if you will. Alas, I made udon soup a few days earlier and used it all, then forgot to pick up more. I'm kicking myself, I assure you. Just imagine you see beautiful green cilantro bits on top, and it will make me feel a whole lot better.

To be honest, I was sort of expecting to not be impressed by this at all. I mean, I totally phoned it in. Sometimes that's been known to happen with my experimental cop-out versions of fancier dinners. But that did not occur. Apparently you really can't go wrong with meat and potatoes.

thug life

Indeed.

Sorry that's my friend's daughter Bailey, who is adorable, and way too trusting of the adults when there are magic markers and digital cameras in the vicinity. She'll learn.

This post is in no way about thug life. I just had that picture on my camera from last week and it keeps making me giggle.

This post is about butternut squash ravioli, yay. This was my attempt to replicate the flavors (operative word, as it does not resemble in any way) of a dish from a small neighborhood Italian restaurant that sadly, has become one of the latest casualties of the economy. I'll miss you, Smashed Tomatoes (although your name was pretty crappy).

Butternut squash ravioli with sage brown butter sauce. This dish was my favorite. I am sad that I now will have to continue to make it myself when I crave it, because as you can see, I am not very good at it.

Pile-o-ravioli.

The problem is most likely my method. I am very lazy, you understand, and can't be bothered with such things as making pasta dough by hand. That's what wrinkley old Italian women are for. I am neither old (yet) nor Italian, so I do what any self-respecting lazy person would do, and I buy little wonton wrappers.

I swear the raviolis looked perfectly fine before they went into the boiling water. They just got all foldy and stuck together after that. But they still tasted the same. The brown butter sauce was fragrant and nutty and the sage was crispy and delicious. Inside, velvety butternut squash (cooked down with onion and sage, then stick-blended). Paired with a quick wilted spinach salad with fig vinaigrette.

I made too much filling, so I ended up with butternut squash concentrate. Just add milk and I had a delicious soup for lunch today.

Very deliciously thug life. Yeah, that's how I roll.

breakfast of champions, I guess, like little chocolate donuts

We were on Mount Baker a couple weeks ago, when the weather was still warm and sunny at sea level but brisk and foggy at elevation (the fog obscured the peak most of the time, boo). We hiked in and camped just below the glacier, in a sprawling meadow that would have inspired Julie Andrews to burst into spontaneous, annoying song about deer and Christmas presents. There were mountain huckleberries everywhere. Literally everywhere. When I needed to make number one in the dark, I had little choice but to pee right on them. They were that abundant. So before hiking out the next morning, I spent some time hunkered over in the bushes, filling up one of our Nalgene water bottles with delicious little gems (picked from an area that would have been difficult to pee on, unless you have Inspector Gadget legs and excellent balance).


The ground is covered in huckleberry bushes. Except for the narrow trail. And I snacked.

Not really knowing what else to do with them, and only having brought home a quart (next time I must remember to bring a hand-truck and some Rubbermaid containers up the mountain with me), I froze them and will be using them in small quantities to liven up otherwise ordinary and/or boring foods. Such as pancakes.

Ugh, pancakes. I know this will be an unpopular position on the matter, but I am not a fan of the pancake breakfast. They make me feel like lead for the rest of the day. I want protein in the morning, not dessert. I used to love them--or rather the experience of them--as a wee little thing, when my Dad would get up early on a Saturday and attempt to make Mickey Mouse shapes with the batter, but accidentally end up with only two conjoined rounds instead of three. He made the most of his error, carving a hole in the center to fill with syrup and calling his creation "butt pancakes". We laughed our little asses off. We were very easily amused.

Of course CK adores pancakes, craves them fortnightly, and frequently requests them for breakfast on a weekend. I usually refuse, sometimes compromising with French toast (quicker to make but still dessert-ey), most often I just make omelets. However, having huckleberries on hand changed things a little and I felt like being a gracious and wonderful wife just this one time. I supplemented this cakey, sweet, heavy-as-iron breakfast item (which was vastly improved by the addition of huckleberries, only strengthening my belief that huckleberries make everything better), with chicken apple sausage and applewood smoked bacon. I got my meat, he got his pancakes.


Overall not a difficult cooking task, but it was probably the highlight of the month so far.

pestilence

Last time I checked, you're not supposed to get the flu from the flu shot. That's supposed to be preventing the flu, not causing it. Correct? Well I had the damn shot on Friday and by Monday afternoon I was sick as a . . . as a . . . as a very sick person. Yeah, that's it. And I blame the shot because the nurse was kind of rude and had shifty eyes. I suspect she used the non-dead virus on me. It's been a while since an illness has kicked my ass to this degree. I made several efforts to go in to work, each time being sent home within a couple hours with the same "why the hell are you here" glares from my co-workers. Sorry guys. Hope you don't get it.

So the week has been spent in the recumbent position in fleece pants, drinking chicken broth and water, watching shitty movies and playing solitaire. Yeah it's been pretty rad.

But before the pestilence was able to fully declare war on my body, my sister gave me a big-ass box of italian plums. Right on. Plum time.

Or not. See above RE: the kicking of my ass.

All I managed before the flu took control of my immune system was a batch of plum-chambord jam and a couple loaves of plum bread (oh sweet baby jesus it's so good). I was able to get most of the stragglers into the freezer -- submerged in apple juice -- before the fruit flies could set up camp in there, but I did have to toss a bunch. F-ing flu.

And I had such big plans for chinese plum sauce and fancy tarts and all sorts of fun shit. Now all I'll get later on is a plum pie or cobbler of some sort. Oh well, still good.

The plum bread was so good I've decided to share the recipe.

• 2 cups italian plums, seeded & chopped
• 8 oz butter, room temp
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 4 eggs
• 3 cups flour
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 tsp cream of tartar
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 3/4 cup vanilla yogurt

Cream together the butter, sugar and vanilla. Add eggs one at a time. Combine dry ingredients. Add dry mix and yogurt in batches, until it's all in there.

Grease 2 loaf pans. Add about a quarter of the batter into each, layer chopped plums on top, then the rest of the batter, then the rest of the plums. Bake at 350 for about 50-55 minutes.

Apparently it freezes really well, but I didn't have to test that out.