Sunday, November 22, 2009

Thanksgrieving

The first time I met my future in-laws was on Thanksgiving. Chris and I had been dating a short time and I was here on a work trip from Philadelphia. My entire family is here as well, but this was the first holiday since my parents had separated and meeting my boyfriend's family seemed like the perfect way to avoid my own. I've never been nervous about meeting other people's families - my awkward black-sheepishness seems to be limited to the people I share DNA with and generally speaking, parents love me. I decided that there is no good first impression like a fresh baked first impression and pulled out the stops making a delicious Pumpkin Pecan Cake with White Chocolate Ginger Mousse from "Caprial's Bistro Style Cuisine" by Caprial Pence.

As dessert was brought out I listened while everyone "oohed" and "aahed" over the cake. Oddly, the only person to take a slice, besides us, was my father-in-law. We were sitting adjacent to him in the living room when he took a bite, chewed, then slowly set down the plate. "Aah! He's a man who likes to savor a good dessert!," I thought. About 10 minutes later he stood and shakily said, "I don't think I'll be able to drive home after eating Scully's cake. Margaret, you may need to drive us." Now, anyone else may have been embarrassed by this. Perhaps even mortified. But I knew the cake was a winner. I had made it just the year before and an elderly distant-relative-by-marriage that I'd never met called someone the next day to say, "That young lady who made the cake could either be a model or a chef." Now, I acknowledge that her glaucoma was off the charts. She had needed help "pulling up" in the bathroom and I saw her try to set her drink on the back of our dog, whose fur was similar in shade to the coffee table. Still, her tastebuds were intact and my cake was no dud. A recipe that calls for 1/3 cup (liberally applied) rum is not something to turn your keys in for. My only thought at the time was, "Wow. Chris's dad really can't handle his frosting."

Since then I've learned that tradition reigns with my new family and any unrequested addition to the meal is seen as an intruder both foreign in taste and unwanted in presence. They don't take kindly to roasted brussel sprouts with water chestnuts in them parts. It's Durkee all the way. This doesn't apply to just Thanksgiving; I've seen brownies made with $30 worth of Valrhona chocolate passed over in favor of a Costco cake. No matter, we just bring them home and eat them like greedy little pigs.

Now, to be fair, a holiday with my family requires several serious preparatory conversations. One of my most distinct memories of my family's Thanksgiving meal was one of the last years that my parents were miserable and in the same home, rather than awkward, in denial and living 10 minutes apart. It was an unseasonably warm day and deep-frying turkeys was all the rage. I pulled into the driveway just in time to hear, "Okay, okay. I have the dog, he's out of the way this time. You throw it in, then run like hell in case it catches on fire again." Not exactly words you want to hear in reference to your dinner. Pyrotechnics, ammunition and off-road vehicles are the glue that holds my family together and I'm pretty sure that the deep-fryer was abandoned the following year because it didn't actually blow anything up and the dog's injuries were minor.

For the last several years we've somehow managed to strike out on our own and create an independent holiday. We've shuffled obligations and used every excuse under the sun to justify why we need to do Thanksgiving on our own and instead join Chris's family for "Leftover Day" (Friday) and my family for "Some random meal" within a week or two of the actual holiday. And it's worked. I've gotten to drool over a stack of cookbooks 3 feet tall and moan over the beauty of Gourmet's spread and choice of jewel-toned place settings. I've lived in a state of blissful preparation for our own underground dinner with friends and when we're told that we don't need to bring anything to family affairs I just shrug and say, "Lasagna for Thanksgiving? Sounds great to me!" But this year is different. As Chris's grandma approaches the big nine-four we realize that we should probably put in our appearance on the proper day and save our "real meal" until the day after. My parents just celebrated 5 years of separation with no resolution in sight and we were recently subjected, once again, to a meal with two people who now share the same uncomfortable relationship but insist on pretending that they're already at the good buddy stage of divorce. The climax of these shared evenings is always waiting to see what moment my dad will choose to present my mom with a stack of mail that she's accumulated at what he still refers to as "the house." I gauge his progress by when this happens and since he's moved it to the end of the night rather than the middle of the meal, this year ranked as near tolerable.

I've given it a lot of thought and my resignation to join our families has little to do with the food and everything to do with the feeling. It makes the whole day feel like a bit of a fraud when no one seems at all thankful to be there. This year I've heard the phrases, "very little effort," "nothing fancy or special," and "something quick and easy" thrown around when I ask what the plan is. Making an effort, cooking something both fancy and special is simply my way of saying, "Hey. I know you don't like to be touched or talk about your feelings and I know that green beans not from a can seem odd, but making an effort on this meal is just my way of saying that I'm thankful for you." When you feel so grateful for what and who you have, adopting a "get in, get out" mentality on this day seems especially depressing. And so I refuse to engage in pettiness, I refuse to eat quickly for the sake of the football game and I refuse to make something quick, easy and bland. I will dress-up, wear lipstick and put my contributions on the gaudiest platters I can find. And I'll do it because I want to, not because I have to.

So, as I sit here, using a needle and syringe to inject bourbon into assorted chocolates for my father-in-law, I think about what I'm grateful for. The list is endless, but the thing that sticks out the most is that I can't remember the last time that I went a day without laughing. I mean genuinely laughing. Sure, it may have followed crying and it may have taken a 3 year-old's potty talk or the "Family Guy" to make it happen but it does and I hope I never take that for granted.

Happy Thanksgiving! Now pass the frosting, please.



Pecan-Pumpkin Cake with White Chocolate-Ginger Mousse

Pumpkin Cake
2 cups canned pumpkin puree
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 cup pecans, toasted
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
3 whole eggs
3 eggs separated
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon allspice
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground ginger


White Chocolate-Ginger Mousse
10 ounces white chocolate
1/4 cup unsalted butter
5 egg yolks
3/4 cup sugar
1/3 cup dark rum
1/4 cup chopped candied ginger
1 cup heavy whipping cream
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Ground cinnamon

To prepare the cake, preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 9-inch springform pan, and set aside. Put the pumpkin puree, sugar, pecans, and flour in a large bowl and mix well. Add the whole eggs and egg yolks and mix well to blend. Add the vanilla, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg and ginger and mix well. Put the egg whites in a medium bowl and whip with a handheld beater until soft peaks form. Gently fold the egg whites into the pumpkin mixture. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake in the oven for 30 to 40 minutes, or until a knife inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean. Remove from the oven and set aside to cool completely.

To prepare the mousse, put the chocolate and butter in the top of a double boiler and bring to a slow simmer to slowly melt the white chocolate. Meanwhile, put the eggs, sugar, rum and 2 tablespoons of ginger in a medium metal bowl and whisk together. Set the bowl in a saucepan of simmering water and whisk the mixture until it is thick and resembles softly whipped cream, about 4 minutes. Be careful not to let the eggs get too hot (or they will scramble). Fold the melted white chocolate into the egg mixture. Place the mixture in the refrigerator for 30 to 45 minutes to chill.

To assemble the cake, remove the mousse from the refrigerator. Put the cream and the vanilla in a medium metal bowl and whip with a handheld beater until soft peaks form. Gently fold the whipped cream into the mousse, mixing with a handheld beater to combine, if needed. Pour this mixture over the top of the pumpkin cake and let it set for 2 to 4 hours in the refrigerator before serving.

To serve, slice the cake into wedges. Top each slice with a bit of candied ginger and a sprinkling of cinnamon.


Cook's Note: This cake gets even better after being in the fridge a day. The recipe makes a lot of extra frosting, definitely enough to smother on a few cupcakes as well. The last time I made it I realized I was out of rum and used half Grand Marnier, half cognac and I think I like that even better. Either way, this cake will put a little hair on your chest! So maybe not for the kiddies...

Sunday, November 15, 2009

One delicious storm

As I've spent more time nibbling my way through "A Homemade Life" I've found more delectable goodies that are must-haves on these snowy days. A few are below:



Pickled grapes. Oh, man. These are so delicious that I have to keep them slightly hidden in the back of the fridge or they'll be gone in no time. The day Flynn can open Ball jars I'm in serious trouble! A perfect pre-dinner nibble or snack. I love to eat them alongside my favorite Ines Rosales Sweet Olive Oil Tortas (find them here), which I like to top with a soft cheese or butter while sipping tea. A nice slice of prosciutto would be an excellent addition!

Chana masala. So heavenly and so easy to make. I like to prepare it sans yogurt and add extra crushed red pepper and lemon then serve over rice. Find the recipe here.


And, in the "don't knock it till you try it/no prune jokes needed" category, there are these beauties: Stewed prunes with citrus and cinnamon. I've had them on waffles and oatmeal, on crackers and plain. Then there's my favorite - serving them on a bowl of vanilla bean coconut milk ice cream with walnuts on top or a Carr's Lemon Ginger Sandwich cookie on the side. My husband, who has some seriously awful childhood prune associations to overcome, as well as a 3 1/2 year old, are both fans. That's enough convincing for me!

Wheat Berry Salad

These days I'm pretty shocked by what I'm eating. Not that any of it's bad, it's more a matter of sheer volume. I worry that one day I'll start to notice a discolored, worn spot in front of the refrigerator where I can usually be found standing, peering into the shelves. I'll find myself torn, eyes darting back and forth between a beautiful honeysuckle apple and a slab of sharp cheddar the size of a Smart Car. I'll weigh the options with arguments like, "Hmmm. Hard to choose because Big Bird recommends eating both of these. I suppose I should just eat what there's more of...in case someone else wants the apple." Of course, this is a pointless exercise because I know someone will want the apple. Me. And I'll be back for it in an hour or so.


The best defense against taking foraging to a level that will eventually land you on a reality show is to stock up on delicious, healthy things that are meant to be made and consumed in bulk, guilt-free. Early last Summer I stumbled across this book - "Super Natural Cooking: Five Ways to Incorporate Whole & Natural Ingredients Into Your Cooking" by Heidi Swanson. To me, the sign of a good cookbook is that you carry it around like a security blanket for a couple weeks and read it whenever you have a moment to spare. Doctor's appointments, the park, to movies so you can peruse during the previews. When someone asks, "How are you doing?" the response is, "Great! Wanna see my new cookbook? Wanna see? Wanna see?" I've definitely gotten my use out of this one, which features vegetarian recipes that can easily be made vegan. There's a great dessert section with recipes like Coconut Panna Cotta, Mesquite Chocolate Chip Cookies and great tips for how to swap sugar substitutes like agave nectar and honey in various recipes. I got hooked on the Big Curry Noodle Pot, Espresso Banana Muffins and Spring Minestrone with Brown Rice, but it's the Wheat Berry Salad that I'll be keeping in the fridge at eye-level for the next few months.

Combine 2 cups wheat berries, rinsed, with 6 cups water and 2 tsp. sea salt in a large saucepan. Bring to a boil, lower the heat and simmer, covered, until the berries are plump and slightly tender but still chewy. This can take 1 - 1.5 hours. Taste often and find a texture you like. Remember, these are very hearty and are meant to be dense and slightly chewy. Drain and season to taste with more salt.


Combine the grated zest and juice of one orange or tangerine with 1 tbsp. fresh lemon juice and 1 tbsp. minced shallot. Whisk with 1/3 cup to 1/2 cup olive oil, depending on your preference and season with a few pinches of salt and some fresh ground pepper to taste. Toss the hot wheat berries with 3 large handfuls spinach (stems removed) and 1 cup toasted pine nuts. Stir in the citrus dressing and top with 1/2 cup crumbled feta or goat cheese. Enjoy cold or warm.

Cook's Notes: Heidi Swanson suggests several seasonal variations that all sound delicious; cranberry vinaigrette with toasted walnuts in Fall, basil dressing with heirloom tomatoes and corn in Summer.

I'm sure you'll find yourself walking into many walls while distractedly sifting through this cookbook. You can purchase it here.

Friday, November 13, 2009

The pitter-patter of little beats

I can't believe it's here! That's right, the third trimester! It really is shocking how quickly it's happened this time around. Although this month brings words like "mucus plug" and "sciatica" into my vocabulary, it also brings what is definitely my favorite prenatal activity...music time! 

You start reading reports very early on about how your baby can hear everything you say and will slowly begin to identify your voice. While this is amazing and touching, it also leads to days where you just want to sit, in silence, while pondering what exactly that baby has heard. These days I cringe as I realize that I'm more and more like Ma Kettle. I feel like I'm either standing on the porch, hollerin' at the dog or issuing idle threats to The Boy about what will happen if he doesn't finish his breakfast. Okay, part Ma Kettle, part Joan Crawford. I sometimes imagine that this child will be born already able to talk and its first words will be, "I promise to pick up my socks, Mama, I promise. Just tell me what they are and I'll do it." 

While pregnant with Flynn, I often felt hyper-aware of what he was hearing and imagined him soaking it all up, like a little sponge, floating around in my stomach. These thoughts would later lead me to ask ridiculous questions like, "I wonder if he hits children because I had to reprimand so-and-so at work while I was pregnant?" I then remember the huge steps I took to avoid fetal angst...like tucking my iPod earbuds into the gigantic waist of my pants and letting him enjoy Ibrahim Ferrer during especially boring meetings, or giving him his nightly rounds of classical music. We switched to opera just once and watched in horror as he began to kick and wiggle violently, then moved across my entire body in a way that made it look like he actually stood up and tried to shove his way out through my ribcage. Chris watched in wonder as I began to yell, "Get it out! I can't take it! This is too Sci-Fi! I hated that scene in Spaceballs!"

This week I've been dusting off my special pregnancy headphones and pondering our first playlist, which will be an amended version of some CDs I made called, "What Day Is It?". I think it will go something like this:

1. Who Loves the Sun - The Velvet Underground
2. My Cherie Amour - Stevie Wonder
3. Air - Talking Heads
4. L.E.S. Artistes - Santogold
5. Pink Moon - Nick Drake
6. A Nod On Hold - Ms. John Soda
7. Piazza, New York Catcher - Belle & Sebastian
8. Me And My Charms (String Version) - Kristin Hersh
9. Run Devil Run - Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins
10. Five Feet High and Rising - Johnny Cash
11. I Want You - Bob Dylan
12. Angels and Devils - Echo and the Bunnymen
13. The Wind Cries Mary - Jimi Hendrix
14. NYC - Interpol
15. I'm A Lonely Little Petunia (In An Onion Patch) - Imogen Heap
16. There's An End - Holly Golightly
17. La Vie En Rose - Edith Piaf
18. The Wind - Cat Stevens
19. Have Mercy - Loretta Lynn
20. Slip Away - Clarence Carter
21. The Night - Morphine
22. A Melody From the Sky - The Sons of the Pioneers
23. Redondo Beach - Patti Smith
24. Vampire - Antsy Pants
25. Across the Universe - Rufus Wainwright
26. Sunshowers - M.I.A.
27. I Was a Lover - TV on the Radio
28. Hyper-Ballad (Live) - Bjork

I know, a little pedestrian, but what did you expect for the first session? This? Or, maybe I'll go the easy route, and just play one of my favorite soundtracks of all time, one that pretty much sums it up today - this one


Friday, November 6, 2009

I'll be in my pants. Call if you need me.

It started harmlessly enough. We'd gone to the mall to return my anniversary gift - a beautiful green, plaid cashmere scarf. It was being returned partly because I'm the pickiest person to buy gifts for EVER, and partly because what my husband didn't know was that I'd already shot our collective gift-giving wad on seats to see Wicked. So, back it went. 

I am the ultimate online shopper. Malls, dressing rooms, make-up counters all make me feel mildly claustrophobic and I never go without a plan of attack. Before I even park the car I already know what stores I'm going to, what items I'm looking for, etc. and I rarely veer from my plan. That being said, there are times when I feel so financially and socially deprived that I just need a good browse. So, while Chris returned the scarf, Flynn and I ventured over to the Kiehl's counter where I slathered on my favorite coriander fragrance oil (heavenly) and sniffed around. Of course, the door to Nordstrom's is right by Anthropologie and I mentioned that we may want to go in and look at the paper mache ostrich. For the child. 

We made it 20 feet past the door when Flynn's double espresso kicked in and it became clear that this was going to be a quick trip. Halfway through accessories he announced, "I have to go potty really bad!" and I immediately spun around, seizing my chance, "MaybeyoucouldtakehimtothebathroomwhileIlookaroundreallyreallyquick? Thenbythetimeyou'rebackIpromiseI'llbedone????" Then, before he could answer, I did what any good wife would do; I threw a bar of persimmon soap to distract them while I dove behind a rack of tweed capes. 

Once they were gone I breathed a sigh of relief and mentally calculated how much time I had to peruse. This is a highly mathematical formula determined by store proximity to bathroom, day of week, time of day, weather and what crazy outfit Flynn had insisted on wearing. I figured I had about 7 minutes. I made it through housewares, body care and the sale racks before they returned. I couldn't help but note that it had only been 6 minutes and 32 seconds and vowed that from that point on, whenever the three of us were shopping together the boy would be wearing overalls and a belt. Maybe tights, too. 

As we started to walk out I just happened to look to my right and there they were, on an eye-level rack, hanging discreetly among some seamless camisoles: the harem pants. I fingered the fabric, a soft, lush cotton the color of dusty grayish lavendar. Neutral, yet not bland. It seemed so familiar because it was the same color that was presiding over half my wardrobe. Hmmm. I dared to sneak a peek at the size label as Flynn shoved Chris toward something sharp and breakable. Large. Yes, large. Perfect! Yes, I'm 5'2" but they could grow with me! They were lounge pants. I love to lounge! They were on a hanger. I love hangers! I was already committed before I even saw the price tag...$9.95!??! Marked down from $68.00?!! I snatched them away like a fiend and announced to Chris and everyone else within earshot, "I'm buying these. Even if they weren't $9.95 I would still buy them. They are perfect." Chris gave me a puzzled look and followed Flynn to some nude art books. 

I practiced my argument as I marched to the counter, "But the tag says $9.95! I'm sorry if someone made a mistake but that's not my fault. I feel like you should honor what the tag says. Especially for a pregnant person who so obviously can't live without these pants." Luckily, no such argument came. As I paid, the sales girl merely muttered, "Wow. That's a really good deal." I stared at her with my most intent Vulcan mind penetrating gaze and said firmly, "Yes. It is. And I will enjoy them. Thoroughly."

Although I put my new harem pants on later that night, I didn't really have time to fully consider them until the next morning when we were getting ready to go out. "So," Chris asked, "How do you like your new pants?" I gently folded them, sighed, and said, "They're wonderful. Seriously. Every once in a while, something like this comes along that just changes everything. There are things, like these pants, that are just...well, life changing."  My husband, Master of the Poker Face, looked up and said, "Really? What are some others?" Of course, products like these have such an impact that you instantly force yourself to forget "The Before Time" when they didn't exist. I didn't think that was a sufficient answer so I thought for a moment before saying, "Ummm...I would say my iPod. And, probably my eyelash curler? Vapor balm." I pretended I heard someone calling me and scurried from the room, letting the topic drop. 

Since that day, I have found myself turning more and more to my pants in times of joy, times of need. See, since they weigh about 3 pounds due to all the fabric, you're very aware that you have them on. Although they are balloon-like through the thighs and knees, they're gathered and fitted in the ankles, kind of like leg warmers. The "waist" is what's called, in the maternity clothing world, a "full panel", meaning that you can roll it down or all the way over your stomach. For someone my height, a size large can actually be pulled ALL the way up, like a tube top. I told you, a great investment. When I roll them down they accentuate my growing stomach and when I pull them up and over they provide warmth and security. Unfortunately, wearing them this way gives a very unattractive appearance similar to that of a sad clown in a velvet painting or Archie Bunker. I've heard this referred to as a "gunt" in more crass circles. Either way, it's incredibly comfortable. I sometimes drive home faster to change into them and on Tuesdays, my first work day of the week, I'm extra moody as I take them off to put on my other clothes, which then feel confining, scratchy and generally shitty. Last week while cooking bacon a dot of grease splattered out of the pan and I found myself jumping backwards, muttering, "that was a close call. Too close," because I had them on. 

I've since realized that these pants are a huge part of my life at the moment. I know it seems silly but they really do make me happy. I feel certain that when the time comes to give birth, I will pull them on and head off to the hospital. Then, after Baby Minty is born and we prepare to come home, I will pull them on again, folding part of the waist over my recently returned six-pack abs. I'll then use the extra yard or so of fabric still available at the top to fashion a soft, snug sling for my baby. I will preserve them over the years, and when this baby one day heads off to college I will tearfully present it with a beautiful queen size duvet made from "the pants I brought you home in." 

All for $9.95. 

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Rata-tat-touille



Although I didn't see the Disney movie about that culinary whiz/rodent in the theater, I distinctly remember watching it. We were on our way to Santa Fe for a vacation and had borrowed a portable DVD player and several movies for the trip. Paris? Food? Sounded good to me. I tried to keep an open mind, but about the time that the cavalcade of rodents came pouring out of the ceiling, I reached for the door handle whispering, "No, no, no! Get me out! Shut it off!"

It's not that I wanted the little pests, I mean, sous chefs to be killed, it's just that my tolerance for insects, rodents and anything uninvited in my presence is dwindling as I get older. I didn't enjoy watching what's his name (Nick? Joe?) get chased around with a butcher knife, but I certainly didn't want to see him adjusting seasoning, either.

It's taken considerable time to stop associating the wonderful meal with the movie, but the recipe below has helped nudge me along. I first heard of the book "A Homemade Life" when it came up as a suggestion on Amazon and immediately requested it from the library (I'm more of a try-before-you-buy kind of girl when it comes to books). I was immediately disappointed when I realized that it was a collection of blogs from Molly Wizenberg, author of the blog Orangette and not just a full cookbook. But once I opened it I was delighted to find that the posts were short enough to entertain while giving a back-story and the recipes I've tried so far have been delicious. Since then I've found several that I've referenced frequently and have loved sharing.

You can roll your r's all you like but the odds of getting a three-year old to eat this dish are slim and you know what? That's actually okay because there's just more for me!



Roasted Eggplant Ratatouille

1 pound eggplant, sliced crosswise into 1-inch-thick rounds
Olive oil
1 pound zucchini, trimmed, halved lengthwise, and sliced into 1/2-inch-thick half moons
1 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced
1 large red bell pepper, cored, seeded, and chopped
4 large cloves garlic, thinlly sliced
5 Roma tomatoes, seeded and chopped
3/4 teaspoon salt
3 sprigs fresh thyme
1 bay leaf
1/4 cup finely chopped fresh basil


Position a rack in the middle of the oven and preheat the oven to 400F.


Arrange the eggplant rounds in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet. Brush the slices with olive oil, flip and brush the second side. Bake 30 minutes, turning once, until lightly browned on each side. Remove from the oven and cool. Cut into rough 1-inch pieces. Set aside. (You can do this a day or two ahead, refrigerating the eggplant until you're ready to use it. It'll make the final dish a little quicker to prepare.)


Warm 2 tablespoons olive oil over medium-high heat in a Dutch oven or large, deep skillet. Add the zucchini and cook, stirring occasionally, until golden and just tender, 10-12 minutes. Remove zucchini from the pan, taking care to leave behind any excess oil, and set aside.


If there is no oil left in the pan, add about 1 tablespoon. Reduce the heat to medium, and add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until slightly softened, 4 to 5 minutes. Add the bell pepper and garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until just tender but not browned, about 6 minutes. Add the tomatoes, salt, thyme and bay leaf and stir to combine. Reduce the heat to low, cover and cook for 5 minutes. Add the eggplant and zucchini, stir to incorporate and cook until everything is very tender, 15 to 20 minutes more. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Discard the bay leaf and stir in the basil.


Cook's Note: Orangette recommends making at least one day in advance to allow the flavors to blend and I totally agree. I've also tossed in a splash of broth on the second day to make it a bit soupier for eating with bread and have tossed it with pasta. Both are wonderful!