The Brooklyn Tart

It's here!

2010-08-20T23:54:00.002-04:00

It's here, it's here, it's here! This has been in the works in my head for months, and managed to get down on paper, I mean screen, in just a couple days. Praise to Macs for being accessible and making it happen.

So we are now saying goodbye, farewell, and adieu to The Brooklyn Tart. Let's bring in a new and improved woman- one who is happier, positivier, and yes, even hungrier.

Ready? It's:

www.ravenouswoman.com

Did you all get that? Check it out. If you don't like it, not to worry. It will probably be a little different every time you visit. Comments welcome, emails too. Let's see where it goes.

I thank you all for reading, and look forward to getting to know you more at the new site. Here. See you all there!

Resurfacing

2010-08-20T01:44:00.002-04:00

Don't worry, I'm not gone for good! I've just been a little preoccupied with relocating my life from Brooklyn to the Bay Area. And .... I was computerless for a few months and phoneless for a few weeks. Things got complicated ...

The good news is I am working on a new project, since clearly I am no longer the Brooklyn Tart. I was hoping to just merge the old blog with the new, but I don't think it will be possible. Anyway, sometimes it's better to make a fresh start.

So hang on, as soon as I work out the kinks in my new URL, I will let you know the new location. The blog will be evolving into a full website that I've been able to design completely on my own (thank goodness for templates that make things simple even for the techno-challenged like myself). I would like it to open up more possibilities for readers to interact in a forum, but not as invasive as facebook, kind of setting.

Get ready! And even though my geography has changed, the spirit will be very much the same.

For more news on the cross-country odyssey, Sammy's freak outs along the way, my latest whereabouts, and the kick-off of the California adventure, stay tuned! It will all be revealed in the next blog.

As they say in California- later, dudes.

D-E-S-S-E-R-T-S, backwards?

2010-07-02T13:22:00.003-04:00

There are days when your dog throws up on your bed, your car dies, and the only man you ever loved has married someone else. Thankfully, this is not that kind of day. But the adventure of moving cross country continues to keep me on my toes. My head has been full, my pen quiet- not the best combo for me.

I just got back from visiting family and friends scattered across the Midwest, and to buy a hot rod. I mean a car. I mean a hot rod. I'm never thought of myself as a cherry-red Pontiac Grand Am kind of girl, but after breaking down twice on the drive back to New York (once in Indiana, once in Ohio, three hours later), the red head and I are fully bonded. Ever notice how a car seems to work better once its identity is formed and gets lots of praise? All she needs now is a name.

Meanwhile, Sammy has come undone with the transition. I'm trying to tell him that life will be better in California- he will have an oceans for a pool, a yard to run in, months without rain, a doting grandfather and fewer stray cats to taunt him. He is not convinced. He sees boxes and change on the brink, and he hasn't finished punishing me for abandoning him last week. I worry he may never be the same.

I've decided that moving is the most stressful thing in your life you can do- regardless of if it's across town or across the country. My friend, Brandy, came over last night and helped me stay on task with packing without distractions, excuses, or the overwhelming task of sifting through the pile. I had thought in four years, I hadn't accumulated too much in the limited space capacity of my bedroom. I was wrong.

In addition to sorting, one can't help but look at the state of their life when going through a massive transition. I think of all the things I've done while living in New York, and depending on my mood it can amount to a whole lot or not even a hill of beans. Concerned friends pointed out last week that I'm not using my college degree. Helpful? Not really. Said with good intentions? Probably. Sending me into a panic about where the rest of my life is headed? Kind of.

A friend once said to me she could be happy anywhere, that home was just a place you carve out for yourself. I see were she's coming from. I used to agree. And now I kind of envy her because I'm not in that place anymore. I want life to feel simpler, to be closer to family, I want dry heat and local produce and a kitchen where I can make cookies without balancing sheet pans on the dish rack. Mostly, I want to be in a place that calms my heart and slows me down from the hectic, racing life that I lead.

All I have to do is pack another box and let Sammy know everything's going to be okay.

My Computer is Broken ....

2010-06-07T17:08:00.002-04:00

... but a dear soul has lent me his spare computer till I get my external hard drive secured and a new computer to reboot. In the meantime, I'll be posting without pics, but stay with me and they'll re-appear shortly!

Girl Meets Grocery Store

2010-06-04T10:49:00.001-04:00

Living in New York City, I've gotten used to seeing the same bags all the time. Macy's, Strawberry, Forever 21, Whole Foods, Trader Joes, M&M's World, and Zabars are the main ones. Some of them are places I shop at, too, but some of them I lump together as a spot on the tourist map (namely, M&M's World- since when did M&Ms become a hobby anyway?).

When I saw Zabars bags, I thought the same thing. A New York kosher grocery store, but not much more than that.

Boy, was I wrong. So wrong.

I went there for the first time on Tuesday and my mouth dropped open. My pulse raced and I felt giddy. I suddenly had the urge to call every girlfriend in my address book and make them guess where I was. It was the food version of meeting that special someone. I am still smiling, just thinking about it.

To give you an illustration, here is a shot of their cheese department, or a sliver of it:

That's probably only about 15% of just the cheese department. My heart.

Upstairs are kitchen tools and gizmos in a space the size of a city block. Thank goodness I am moving and left my credit card at home.

If my pride didn't get the best of me while I was trying to maintain decorum, I would have taken more photos. Instead, I ran around drooling over everything and trying not to touch anything I wasn't serious about buying. (My fave thing is poking soft cheese through the saran wrap, trying to imagine how much oozier it will get at room temp.)

And look! A little bit of heaven from home- Point Reyes' Cowgirl Creamery.

I'm glad I've learned to never again judge a bag by its cover. But visitors, please skip M&M's World and just go here instead!

A Tribute to June Brides

2010-06-03T13:27:00.002-04:00

It kills me when Sammy plays with my curtains. Kills me.

Want to know why?

Because of this:

And this:

That is all.

Chicken, Waffles, and Heaven on Earth

2010-06-02T10:26:00.005-04:00

Friends who truly know and love you will often know and love your favorite food. Last week, two of Brooklyn's newest tenants took me out in their new neighborhood of Carroll Gardens.

Two words: Buttermilk Channel.

I'm a beer girl, but the guys had a Westlake and a Fair Harbor. And then the food started coming.

Melt in your mouth popovers:

Grilled flatbread:

Green tomato soup with grilled cheese:

And my entree, fried chicken with cheddar waffles. Oh my goodness.

Dandelion salad:

Abe got the veggie waffle plate:

May I please have an extra tub of syrup?

No, really.

When I'm with these boys, there's always room for dessert. Even when there isn't.

I'm not really sure what was in front of me, I just ate it. Caramelized banana bread pudding.

I will house-sit for these boys any day or night to be this close to perfect chicken.

A Brooklyn Surprise 30th

2010-06-01T08:20:00.006-04:00

My friend needed a hand throwing a surprise party for her boyfriend's 30th.

He's a metal dude, so crepe paper just wouldn't do.

A lot can be done with a ball of twine and a few bags of empty beer cans.

Brandy did everything else, including food fixin's for 35.

30 seconds in ... watch it vanish.

Surprise!

Cheeseballs, a staple at our venue, the Levee.

Drinking the Levee's signature "Henley"- a spinoff of the Tequila Sunrise. Handle with care.

Hostess with the mostess. Gorgeous AND generous. Basically, girlfriend of the year.

And your can gets served in a beer cozy. Brooklyn thinks of everything.

In the Lap of Luxury

2010-05-31T13:13:00.003-04:00

I'm back in Jersey City for Memorial Day weekend, trying to earn a few extra bones dogsitting.

It's been really nice, having time alone in a comfortable (grown-up) apartment, soaking up the gorgeous weather, and enjoying the breathtaking views of the city.

And of this lovely lady:

(The photo is an old one from when I took the tour with my dad a couple years ago, but you get the idea.)

Some of you may remember Max and Stanley, who are now like nephews to me. I agreed to sit for them even before I brought Sammy home. Still, I'm feeling a bit guilty this weekend going back and forth between Brooklyn and Jersey.

Do dogs consider sleeping in another dog's house cheating?

If only Sammy were here, he and the guys would be full-on buds.

And meeting this guy at the park made my day ( not a great phone pic, but note the swimsuit and socks combo).

Happy Memorial Day!

Big news, drumroll please ...

2010-05-31T12:50:00.003-04:00

The following news should not be too much of a shock to most of you, but to me it is still raw and scary.

I'm moving back to California.

After four influential years trying to find my place in New York, my restless heart can no longer ignore the pull of the West Coast. I have wrestled with this decision for over a year, all the while wrestling with my love/hate relationship with Brooklyn.

This blog has made me truly appreciate Brooklyn for all that it is and all the challenges life in New York City brings. I have been kicked down. I have been blessed. I have grown. I have lived here, in one place, longer than anywhere else since high school.

It is the perfect place for antsy spirits. It has tried my patience, kept me on my toes, filled me with surprises and unpredictability, all the while forcing me to look inward and continue searching for what it is I really want.

And in that search, I have known deep down that I am a California girl, pasty white skin, neuroses and all.

As I work out the details of extricating myself from the city and starting my life over 3,000 miles away, I am saying my goodbyes to this wonderful, crazy place.

And trying not to freak out.

And though in two months, I will no longer be a Brooklyn tart, I will still be chowing down regardless and writing to tell you about it.

A new website to chronicle the next chapter of the adventure is coming soon! This site will now take a turn to honor the precious time left in New York City.

Store is Open for Business!

2010-05-31T12:38:00.004-04:00

At last, I figured out how to set up my Etsy account. I'm inspired by the Renegade Craft Fair coming up in Brooklyn next weekend.

Click here.

More to come, including crocheted coasters and campy pottery. Take a peek and check out other talented crafters, artists and jewelry makers.

Word up to the handmade maidens and mates!

More info for the Brooklyn-specific fair: http://www.renegadecraft.com/brooklyn

Cooking with Sammy

2010-05-28T09:18:00.001-04:00

Sammy isn't used to being fancy.

Or being dressed up.

Or homemade dinners and dog biscuits.

But he's trying to take it all in stride.

And I think he's happy to be a part of it all. Even if all I'm doing is making macaroni and cheese.

He may even like that more than being fancy.

Un-Fried Chicken

2010-05-26T20:50:00.000-04:00

I think some people are born with a friend chicken gene. I sure wasn't raised on it, but boy, has it had a force in my adult life. I'm sure many of you feel the same.

But what do we do when we have an inkling and the best chicken and biscuits place is closed (or in my case, two subway rides away and behind bullet-proof glass)?

Bake it!

Stay with me here, for those who haven't already left in search of a deep fat fryer.

This is super easy for meager kitchens. I used breadcrumbs and crackers for the breading, and yogurt with seasoning for the batter (buttermilk is best, but I thinned the yogurt out with a splash of milk). After marinading in the batter for at least an hour in the fridge, coat in flour, then egg, then bread crumbs. Give it a quick sear in a frying pan and bake at 375 for 35-45 minutes (keep checking, it really depends on the oven, the pan, and the chicken you use).

This is an easy thing to make for one person, though leftovers are great for mixing into salads and pasta.

I had mine with a spinach salad with goat cheese and goddess dressing. Sorry, Colonel, you're not invited to this one.

Time and Tempeh

2010-05-17T10:39:00.004-04:00

I have way too many vegetarians in my life. I love every stinking last one of them, but they are a pain and they make me want to go on rabid meat binges after we finish meals. (I mean, how do they ever get full?)

Since I can't do without the meat and I can't do without them, I stay on the lookout for alternatives. Fake meat. It's just another unfamiliar and challenging ingredient, really. I hope it makes me a better person.

Voila, tempeh tacos!

I don't totally get what tempeh is. I had to google it, like so many things in my life (a few months ago I even had to google Lady Gaga). It's a soy product fermented into a cake form, but you can crumble it up and pretend it's ground beef, which I did. (Incidentally, tempeh is sometimes referred to as a "meat analogue," which I find funny. It puts a little more distance between the meat than to call it a substitute.)

Would you believe tempeh has its own website? There is even a recipe to make your own tempeh, but I'll have to wait and try that when I am really trying to put off doing something important.

No offense, I have the utmost respect for the convictions of vegetarians and health-buffs- I simply don't have the discipline for that kind of lifestyle. I applaud you if you can stick to it and find balance with a diet that doesn't include meat. I simply couldn't do it.

I cook tempeh in a skillet just like ground beef, but I keep adding a few tablespoons of water at a time to soften it up. It actually does work as a pretty good substitute and can help you out in a pinch when you are cooking for someone who is a vegetarian with a wheat and dairy allergy (one step away from being a vegan).

It's actually pretty darn good when cooked with the right amount of seasoning. Okay, I'll keep working with it and stop grumbling when I have to skip meat now and then. Really, though, can we stop referring to it as an analogue and call a spade a spade? It's a substitute.

Give Cheese a Chance

2010-05-13T07:35:00.003-04:00

Last Wednesday, I stumbled upon this article about raw milk sales being legalized in Wisconsin.

So what?

If you're asking that question, perhaps you have never been exposed to the world of raw milk cheese. In that case, yeah, big deal.

For the die-hard cheese heads and dairy enthusiasts out there, this is really good news. It means we are one step closer to legalized production and sales of raw milk cheese. I'm not clear what the phobia of unpasteurized milk is- there have only been two reported deaths in ten years as a result. With cheese production, unsafe milk with the wrong bacteria won't coagulate properly anyway, which is easier to identify when the milk is unpasteurized and in its natural state. It also has far more nutrients than pasteurized.

As far as unpasteurized cheese goes, there are simply no words. It just tastes a zillion light years beyond what you can get in the store. I still dream about unpasteurized Camembert I ate in Brittany, which would often become the main part of my meal.

Hope this spreads to the coasts soon. Leave our milk alone!

Again, find the yahoo article here.

Kindred Spirits are Awesome

2010-05-04T16:50:00.000-04:00

Is it May already? What? When? How? I've been eating dust the last couple weeks while chasing after Sammy. I know there were blossoms all over in McCarren Park in Greenpoint, but it's kind of a blur.

I'm just coming out of hiding from the weekend. I've been busy. Reading. A lot.

The author's name is Georgia Pellegrini, she calls herself the Girl Hunter ... and she's awesome. In a shrinking world oversaturated with blogs, it is amazing to find fresh, edgy food writing with a philosophy behind it that I completely agree with.

She's a cute blond with a shotgun and she's not afraid to use it- only her blog is not about being a blood-thirsty carnivore, but about taking an honest approach to food.

"Hunting is not about male bonding in the woods anymore… it’s about understanding how to participate in nature, how to hunt for food, take only what you can eat, use every part of the animal and treat it with respect all the way to the plate," as she explains in my favorite post of hers here. (Though I'm still making my way through them all- hence, my absence.)

"Women are the cooks in the world, despite what you see on cooking shows. So why shouldn’t they be the hunter/gatherers as well? And understand that ingredients come from nature, not a Styrofoam wrapped package in the meat section of the grocery store."

It's all good stuff, but I don't want to cut and paste the whole thing. Finish reading it! And for more awesome stuff, here's her food philosophy.

I found out about her from a post she wrote on the first great chef I worked for when I lived in California and the organic farm he and his wife lovingly tend (Zin Restaurant and Eastside Farms for those of you lucky enough to find yourselves in Healdsburg). She totally gets them. I totally get her.

Georgia travels the globe covering food adventurers and pioneers in the slow food movement. She also shares a lot of kitchen wisdom with her adorable Italian grandmother. And she has a hunting/cooking show on ESPN. She's awesome. Did I already mention that?

Check her out. If you follow me, you should definitely follow her. If you don't follow me, then do that, too.

It's nice to know there's a no-fluff, real-deal food bloggess out there. Thanks for keeping it real, GP!

A Night at the Opera

2010-04-30T15:39:00.001-04:00

Even die hard fans of holes-in-the-wall and dive bars need a little culture now and then. So I went to the opera this week.

Actually, I'm a huge opera fan. I went to about a dozen performances last season- this year has been slow and I've only been to three. I feel guilty about it because I'm such a nerd.

Quality over quantity. For all of you out there, opera fans or not, you simply must put a visit to the Metropolitan Opera on your list of things you need to do. It is one of the most incredible opera houses in the world (renowned for its elaborate set design and effects) and every production is fantastic. Acoustically speaking, there isn't a bad seat in the house and the cheap seats are only 20 bucks. Last year, they were $15, a little more than the price of a movie ticket.

I was lucky enough to snag an affordable ticket to Bizet's Carmen about 5 months ago. Some productions sell out almost immediately, and Carmen is one of the most popular operas out there. The music is easy to recognize and the storyline has a bit more complexity than the usual couple-fall-in-love-at-first-site formula. I highly recommend it as a gateway opera for first timers. Other great operas for those new to the scene:

-I Pagliacci/Caverilla Rusticana (both are short and usually performed together)
-The Barber of Seville
-La Boheme
-Madame Butterfly
-La Traviata
-anything by Mozart

I wouldn't recommend delving into modern 20th Century, Wagner, or atonal operas until you become a fan. Wonderful as it is, opera is an acquired taste.

If you are a music or architecture lover, it is well worth a visit for the venue and Swarovski crystal light fixtures- I'm going to get a couple for a my next apartment.

Thanks to the emotionally-charged soldiers, bullfighters, and cigarette-smoking hussies for inspiring such a passionate Wednesday night.

Love, the girl in the cheap seats.

City of Endangered Languages

2010-04-29T08:25:00.002-04:00

I just read a fascinating article about dying languages in New York City. I'm posting it, not only because of the dire importance of cultural preservation, but as a pause to honor life in the most ethnically diverse place in the world. If you have an extra minute, read the Times article here.

It is so easy to fall into the grind of routine. I've been guilty of this- caught up in micro details of life to appreciate that I hear at least 5 languages when I step out of my apartment, without even leaving my neighborhood. I am too often so engrossed in my book on the subway that I don't notice the pot of cultural soup I'm in or the world's interconnectedness squished into a train car.

One of the remarkable things about language is that it is always changing. Old tongues die out, new ones are formed, words and phrases become archaic as soon as new colloquialisms pepper our speech. In many places, even the native language is under threat.

Thank goodness for New York. It may be a tough place to make it, have intense weather and little patience for the weak, but culture, culture it is always kind to. Language can flourish here, and even have a shot at getting off the endangered list.

Next time I rush to work with my headphones on, or feel like scowling at chatty commuters while I'm reading, I will instead put my book down, mute my ipod, and listen. And be grateful to live free in a place where every corner of the world meets.

Fetch and Release

2010-04-28T09:40:00.003-04:00

I'm trying to teach Sammy to fetch. So far it's not going that well. Maybe I'm being too hard on him. Maybe he can't handle the pressure. Maybe he's an idiot.

Personally, I think he's faking it. I suspect he's actually a smart dog and is just dumbing down out of convenience, like Jessica Simpson.

Either way, he's much more content chewing up a ball than bringing it back to me.

At least now he's showing interest in the ball instead of watching it roll away while looking at me like I have three heads. I guess that means we're half way there.

Solder Me

2010-04-27T08:18:00.004-04:00

This weekend, I was lucky enough to go to a plumbing workshop offered to grads of the NEW program I finished in February. With a joyful heart, I made my way to UA Local 1's education facility in Long Island City to learn some plumbing basics with a group of strong women.

Happiness, thy name is soldering. I can't explain what is it about pipes I find intriguing and wonderful- to me, they just are. For those of you who know me, my interest in plumbing may seem out of left field. I became interested in it about seven years ago when I worked at a school with old pipes. The complexity of joining new pipes with an older system fascinated me, and I was ready to jump in if I wasn't limited by my ignorance. Unlike some maintenance projects, plumbing is tough to navigate on your own through trial and error. So here I am, ready to take the mystery out of drains, heavy toolbelts and stereotyped buttcracks.

For my first plumbing project, I got to measure, cut and join copper pipe with fittings. And then learn to solder! I'm very comfortable with a blow torch- I knew my days as a pastry chef would shape me to be compatible in other areas.

Here's a close up of my joint- not gorgeous, I know, but I picked an ambitious fitting for my first try.

I loved prepping the pipe by cleaning, applying flux and joining the fittings. What can I say? I'm a crafty girl.

After soldering, we learned about the inner workings of toilets. Is it weird that I found this mesmerizing? I mean, plumbing has been around since ancient times! I was always the counselor at camp who could unclog any toilet. Okay, it is kind of weird.

Then we used snap cutters to cut 3" cast iron pipes. Aligning the chain tightly around the pipe was the trickiest part.

A good trick is putting a hammer inside the pipe to prevent it from shooting across the room. Here are two cutters lined up and ready to go.

This was tough, but as much fun as soldering.

The essence of my being is finding how things in life are randomly linked, be it through people or experiences. I was surprised to realize that so much of trade work lines up with similar traits from the food world. (For example, the repetition and use of blow torches and heat lamps.) On my way to the classroom, the hallways were decorated with student projects showcasing "rigging" and demonstrating the different knots for lifting pipes. I instantly linked this affinity with all the knots I've learned through rock climbing, and also my draw to sailing (one of the next hobbies on my list). I'm convinced that everything is connected and nothing is random.

Next weekend I'm attending an electrical workshop, since wiring was a major struggle for me in class. Can't wait, but I know I'll be dreaming about pipes the whole time, wishing I was back in Long Island City with a blow torch in my hand.

Trader Joe's Fails Me

2010-04-23T20:00:00.000-04:00

Before I even begin, I must say that I have been fiercely loyal to Trader Joe's. And I always will be. Trader Joe's is not only the most wonderful grocery store (not just in New York, but just about anywhere), it has the friendliest staff, best prices, and best selection of products. Plus, all the store clerks are cute, and will often compliment you on your glasses or t-shirt.

When I go to Trader Joe's, I must stick to my shopping list or things get out of hand. (I am a marketing agency's ideal client and have been known to cave at flavored coffee creamer, unusual ice cream treats, or birthday cakes when it's nobody's birthday.)

I also love junk food and things that are already prepared. I love to cook, but I love to be lazy.

So when I saw this, I got excited and figured it was worth the $1.99 splurge.

Ready in 2 minutes with the help of a microwave. Here's how it looked after I opened it:

The package isn't even halfway full? Why did I think the noodles would expand? I was bummed. If this is punishment for veering off my list, then the lesson is learned.

Good things come in small packages, unless the cute little noodle cart to-go package is less than halfway full. Better things are made from scratch, in larger portions.

I'll still wait in a ridiculously long line that wraps through every aisle in the store, and will continue to endure the vicious old ladies from the Upper East Side plowing through the herd with their shopping carts. I will stay loyal when I'm trapped behind a girl from NYU fighting with her boyfriend on her cell phone- even when the shelves are empty, again.

But I will think twice the next time I'm tempted by the delectable salads and tarte d'alsace and mini quiches, all ready to go with an oven nearby. And I will definitely pay more attention to the fine print at the top- Vegan. Double fail.

(Head in hand.)

The Un-Root Beer Float

2010-04-22T12:51:00.003-04:00

I'm so glad the South taught us that ice cream and fizzy drinks go well together (thank you, coke floats). I thought I had another root beer in the fridge and an orange soda had crept its way into the cardboard six pack holder- someone did a switcheroo at the store and I didn't notice.

I used it anyway and hoped for a creamsicle-inspired, new, amazing, accidental dessert.

The verdict? Can not replace the root beer float, but pretty darn good. Just don't use diet soda. Ever.

I'm more upset about that than about being one root beer short.

A Conversation with Sammy

2010-04-21T05:53:00.002-04:00

Sammy doesn't have to say anything to me. I can tell exactly what he wants by the look on his face.

If I can catch him holding still for long enough.

Can I go in your room?

Okay.

Can I jump on your bed?

No.

Please?

No.

Please, please, please? Puh-leeeeez???

Well ... okay. But don't get too comfortable.

Save that Bread!

2010-04-20T12:47:00.000-04:00

Ever buy too much bread? Does it go stale on you before you can say Jack Robinson?

I ran into the same problem this week. Before you throw it out or feed it to the birds, here are some tips.

Croutons for salad. Toss with a little oil, salt and any other seasonings you'd like (I like a dash of garlic powder). Toast in a frying pan, or on a cookie sheet in the oven (but SET A TIMER if you do). They will last over a week when sealed properly and your dinner guests will be impressed.

Make panzanella. This is one of my favorite things. It's an Italian bread salad with lots of added "stuff." Add anything you like. I like olives, capers, roasted tomatoes and tossed in olive oil and balsamic vinegar. It's a creative alternative to pasta salad and works well for picnic season.

Hint, it tastes best when the bread is actually a bit stale, so it can really soak up the vinaigrette without turning to mush. But no one has to know the bread isn't perfectly fresh.

If you've still got too much bread, stock up on breadcrumbs (need to be toasted and dried out first so they don't get moldy). Then if there's anything left, give the birds a snack.

Dry Season

2010-04-19T21:39:00.000-04:00

I'm thinking about Scotch tonight. Just a little bit.

I thought about it a lot a couple weeks ago when a friend and I enjoyed this:

If you're not super comfortable with the smokey peat flavors, this one is very smooth. I call it a good gateway Scotch.

I would not, however, recommend drinking it all at once. It's meant to be sipped and savored.

And that's not really what my friend and I did.

When you drink an entire bottle of Scotch in one night, a couple things go through your head:

Wow, I'm awesome! This is going to give me some street cred with the heavyweights.

Uhhhh, exactly when did I become a heavyweight?

Because so much of being a twenty-something in New York involves drinking, sometimes you don't even realize how much you're doing it.

When things get a bit stuffy, you open the windows and clear the air. So since Easter, I've been taking a little break from drinking, a reverse Lent, if you will, to try to make up for the fact that I had a million glasses of Scotch with no hangover the next day (thank you, roast chicken dinner).

Honestly? I've barely even noticed. Except tonight, when my new dog, Sammy, is at home while I'm away at my computer, I thought, gee, a little glass of Scotch later sounds good.

Naaah, I'm saving money by staying dry at the moment.

It's always nice to take a little breather from indulgences. And there's that old adage that if you let go of something you love, it will come back to you if it was meant to be. Or you can replace it with a new love.

In the meantime, I'm getting drunk from doggie kisses and walks in the park.

Sammy Gets Bailed

2010-04-18T21:59:00.005-04:00

I'm back! Got a little distracted this weekend with the new critter to look after. Here's the special guy on Friday afternoon after I picked him up:

He looks a bit stunned there, but he managed to make himself right at home later that night:

You can see him on the couch trying to hide from my roommate- he knows he's not supposed to be on the couch!

I think Sammy's first weekend was an overwhelming, but great intro in what life will be like with two Brooklyn girls. One of the first things a Brooklyn dog should have is an awesome toy- this was a gift from my boss:

Sammy wasn't sure what to do with it at first- little orphan dogs aren't used to having toys!

Let me give you a list of what Sammy's been up to the past 48 hours:

-got a sweet new collar and leash

-went to 3 dog parks- played hard with a dozen dogs in one, got muddy with 2 dogs in another

-had 2 baths

-walked across the Williamsburg Bridge

-discovered the Lower East Side and had first visit to Manhattan (as far as we know)

-went to first cupcake bakery, the famed Sugar Sweet Sunshine

-met 5 puppies

-met zillions of dogs and their owners

-met the landlord

-had first piece of cheese

-survived first night home alone while mom was at a metal show

-figured out how to break into mom's room while home alone while mom was at a metal show

-devoured a bag of cheese doodles in mom's room while home alone

-napped with Auntie Bessie

-got a quick drink from the toilet (luckily, he didn't seem that into it)

Here are some more pics:

Big Week, Big News

2010-04-16T11:25:00.002-04:00

After years of wishing, hoping and praying (and some practice being an adult with only ONE address for more than two seconds), the day has come. I'm getting a dog. In three hours.

It is a pretty simple story. I started volunteering at Brooklyn Animal Rescue Coalition a couple months ago. I fell in love. We all could have predicted that one, right?

The special guy is named Sammy, a handsome melange of boxer, pit, and millions of other doggies fused into a sweet, goofy, laid back dude. On our first walk together, he leaned his head against my leg every time we stopped to cross the street- and that was it for me.

This is my first dog- mine, not my brother's or my dad's or my mom's or my friend's boyfriend's. This is going to be mine. And I'm nervous.

I've been taking care of dogs for a while now. And kids (who I find to be easier). But having this guy as my first dependant is huge. Will I be a good mom? Will he adjust well? Will I be able to give him the life he deserves- and an opportunity to chase bunnies in an open pasture someday? Will he love me as much as I love him, or just find me really clingy and annoying?

And I have one other nagging question in my head- after years of patience, why are the minutes all of a sudden dragging so, so slowly?!

Pics to follow, if the next two hours and fifty minutes ever come.

Walking the Freegan Trail

2010-04-13T12:55:00.002-04:00

100th post! I'm excited to enter into triple digits for meals, musings, and adventures.

Today I present a new adventure: one I've had in mind for ages, one that will definitely go outside the comfort zone for many of you. One that I could only find in New York.

I give you the food salvage garbage tour of Washington Square. Wait, let me go back.

Ever heard of freegans? Neither had I, unless you count that episode of Oprah. This group adopts environmental principles that go a step further- finding ways around consumerism to promote sustainability.

The freegan group in New York City organizes sewing, gardening, and bike repair workshops to cut down on their carbon footprint. For my first event, I attended an evening trash tour outside major neighborhood grocery stores.

Are they hippies? Yes. Are they making conscious, informed decisions that they believe will benefit their community and world? Absolutely. And for tht, I applaud them.

Each day, grocery stores make room for new shipments by dumping out food approaching the "sell by" date, not to be confused with expired or bad food.

We didn't have much luck at a couple stores, who almost seemed to deliberately mix in salvageable produce with regular trash. At one store, employees had gone through the trouble of emptying individual bags of chips and containers of salad and fruits. Out of our large group of over 20 people, only a couple were brave enough to grab from a mixed bag. I was not one of them.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that most of the "past due" food was dumped into clean, doubled-up garbage bags and set apart from the rest of the trash. Lots of it was ripe but perfectly fine, even sealed up in plastic. It was an unspoken understanding in the group not to eat during the tour or take anything that had touched the ground.

It astounded me to see the enormous amount of waste at each store, just for one day. Unfortunately, the food can't be given away because of liability, and even when establishments make scheduled donations to food banks and rescue organizations, many pickups get forgotten if there is a volunteer shortage.

The freegans are happy to fill in the gap, and know the trash schedules of most of the stores. They are considerate when they pick, untying bags at the knot and often leaving the trash in better condition when finished. There was no stinginess within the group because there is simply too much to go around.

Even so, some of the stores do not appreciate the freegan philosophy, despite the hunger problem in New York and the fact that once garbage hits the curb, it is no longer private property.

The funny looks along the way would be tough for me to get used to, which is why many freegans like to go as a group: safety and anonymity in numbers, as well as being dialed into the trash schedule. My feeling is, if they're not hurting anyone or making a mess, what's the problem?

I can understand that dumpster diving is definitely not for everyone. But I scored a couple loaves of fresh, wrapped bread and some produce, which I washed thoroughly when I got home. I met some wonderful, educated people who walk their talk and are open to sharing their community with strangers (and offer their bounty with the homeless and curious lookey-loos on the way).

And you know what? I'm glad that for one night I got a chance to take a break from being a capitalist consumer. And get some free grub. Just don't forget the rubber gloves.

Mini-Facelift, or just a Chemical Peel

2010-04-12T23:45:00.002-04:00

I'm tweaking the appearance of the layout a bit so it's easier to read. What do you think?

And I'm also getting myself revved up for my 100th post! It's a very big deal for me, considering that I started the blog almost a year ago and didn't start to contribute regularly until four months in. I've also contemplated starting a new blog, or a website ... there are enough distractions in my life that hitting triple digits seemed like an impossible feat, and I'm psyched that I can reach it tomorrow.

So to celebrate, I have a very special post for the big 1-0-0. Hint, a food adventure is involved.

Check back tomorrow afternoon to find out what city shenanigans I got myself into.

Thanks for reading!

A Sandwich to Build a Dream On

2010-04-11T10:09:00.000-04:00

There are food experiences that transcend you to another level of culinary understanding. First escargot. First champagne. First raw oyster. Friday brought me a new one: my first Vietnamese sandwich.

My good friend, Abe, took me to the unassuming Num Pang, near Union Square on 12th Street. We waited for our orders upstairs, while admiring the mantras on the walls:

Advice directed specifically at me:

If only I could get away with this one:

I don't know how I never knew about this place. Check out the Sriracha placed every 8 inches on the counters! Apparently, this place is jam-packed every lunch and dinner, so being there on the early side gave us a place to ourselves. Notice the paint splattered windows. I love those little touches.

I'm not really sure where I've been living without knowing about these places. Where were they when I was in Vietnam? Most likely, right in front of my face, but I was too obsessed with pho at the time to notice (guess I was too phocused). These baguette sandwiches, called banh mi, are popping up all over the place now, and with good reason. I am passionate about sandwiches, especially meaty, gooey ones. I never dreamed the American sandwich could be improved.

Abe, the vegetarian, had roasted cauliflower with chinese & thai eggplant spread and soy milk chili mayo. I had five spiced pork belly with pickled Asian pear. My God.

My pork belly baguette was almost too big for my mouth, but I managed.

I love going out to eat with Abe because I can have sauce and meat all over my face and he will still love me. As if a poetic, flawless sandwich wasn't enough, they were less than 8 bucks- in Union Square. You must, must go. Or find a Vietnamese sandwich place where you live.

Take a bite and feel your life change.

Coffee with Dorothy Parker

2010-04-09T12:16:00.002-04:00

Oh, Dottie, I'm so happy to know you, even though I never met you.

Inventory

Four be the things I am wiser to know:
Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.

Four be the things I'd been better without:
Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt.

Three be the things I shall never attain:
Envy, content, and sufficient champagne.

Three be the things I shall have till I die:
Laughter and hope and a sock in the eye.

-Dorothy Parker

How to Fix a Bad Hair Day

2010-04-08T18:43:00.000-04:00

I don't remember the last time I got a decent haircut. There was the time a few years ago when I had a boyfriend saw off the ends ("just cut straight across, you can't mess it up" I remember saying). At Thanksgiving, a good friend gave me a trim. And I think I had a real haircut in Williamsburg sometime last spring. Or was it the year before? I know for a fact I've had at least two haircuts in the past four years, which doesn't seem too bad.

But it could be better. I decided to give my frizzy wires a break and treat them to a deep conditioned hair mask- made entirely from the contents of my fridge.

There are lots of homemade hair mask recipes you can find online using yogurt, eggs, honey, mayonnaise, oil, and just about every other ingredient under the sun. My hair is really dry, so I needed a sure thing. Mayonnaise it is!

Was it a good idea or just another "hair-brained" scheme?

Throw a half a cup in your own hair (dry, not wet), let it set for 15 minutes, wash as normal and see for yourself. Maybe wash it a second time, just to be sure.

Other Stuff I Ate

2010-04-07T15:54:00.006-04:00

I'm back in Brooklyn, back to work, back in action. I miss the food in Colorado- and cooking in a kitchen with more than six inches of counter space.

Today I've been busy uploading photos from my new camera from the past week. See any difference? It's still a point and shoot, but the Canon PowerShot 3000 is a major step up from the Sony CyberShot from four years ago. I just hope it doesn't mind being dropped every now and then.

Here are pics of other things I made.

I cooked my first bison- a pound of tri-tip I threw on the grill with a red wine reduction and garlicky mushrooms.

It made me a very happy woman.

And made terrific leftovers as a wrap with salsa, sour cream, and a hard boiled egg and pickle on the side.

Let's not forget breakfast ...

... Or lunch for that matter. Mom's french toast with grapefruit and a huge cup of strong coffee.

The mountains can really give a girl an appetite!

Snow Bunny

2010-04-05T22:40:00.002-04:00

My last full day in Colorado and I went skiing for the first time in four years! Woo-hoo!

It was a great day- no crowds after Easter and warm weather! I took advantage of the short lines and experienced skiiers accompanying me. After 19 runs, my legs felt like jelly.

Nothing a nice dinner can't fix. Met my mom and her friends at Hearthstone in Breckenridge. A chili relleno, Rocky Mountain trout and creme brulee? Yes, please!

This restaurant is interesting because it was originally a brothel back in the Wild West days. Only classy ladies now.

Here's a video of me in the gondola heading up to the slopes. Do I look nervous?

Back to Brooklyn tomorrow.

Princess Eggs and other Easter Fancies

2010-04-04T12:32:00.006-04:00

Last year, I spent the holiday dyeing Easter eggs with 1st graders in the Bronx using good old-fashioned vinegar and food coloring. This year is just as fun with my mom instead of 15 youngsters, but we decided to add the one ingredient I wouldn't dare share with school kids. Glitter!

That's right, glitter- every teacher's nightmare.

We had a blast.

And aren't they pretty?

We also made chocolate-dipped strawberries for church refreshments (and made us very popular amongst parishioners).

On to eating my way through Colorado ....

Moms to Match My Mountains

2010-04-03T12:09:00.007-04:00

Let me tell you some things about my mom. She has been a ski instructor for children and people with disabilities for the past ten years. She makes the greatest scrambled eggs in the universe. She recently got back from the Olympics in Vancouver where she was a radio correspondent, oh, and a couple months before that, she did a cultural exchange to Senegal.

Less than a month ago, she broke her shoulder and drove herself to the doctor. Yeah, she's a feisty one. But that seemed to pale in comparison to our snowshoeing adventure yesterday. It was my first time on snowshoes, and one of her first days getting brisk exercise with the new shoulder in tow (since she has refused the sling, Percoset and other hard drugs since the first days following surgery). We hiked up to views of the Continental Divide, about six miles.

Put a strong woman on snowshoes in the woods and she will go far. Put two strong women in snowshoes together and they will move mountains- or at least climb to the top of them.

My Latest Whereabouts

2010-04-02T11:50:00.005-04:00

Happy April! FYI, I am not going into hiding; I'm in Colorado for a long weekend and will be posting from here for the next few days.

And good news! I have a new digital camera that I don't want to throw against a wall, with a long-lasting, dreamy lithium battery. Peace out, double A's. I can't wait to start posting more pictures. My plan for the next few days is to eat, eat, eat and play with nature.

Bear with me while I explore photo uploading on other people's computers!

Here is my welcome dinner- bacon wrapped scallops with wild rice and a spring greens. And here's my lovely mom.

Tonight, we feast.

Blogging can wait. Dinner can't.

Cake Wreck

2010-03-30T00:31:00.006-04:00

I just finished reading Cake Wrecks by Jen Yates, a coffee table book that is exactly as it sounds. I love this woman. Her premise is genius in its simplicity: when professional cakes go horribly, hilariously wrong. And oh, do they. Her wit is sharp and dead-on accurate. Check out her blog here.

I especially love that she's being seasonal, as with an example of a frightening bunny cake here.

If you are not familiar with the cupcake cake, consider yourself lucky. It basically involves cramming a bunch of them together and smearing an insane amount of frosting over the top (and coming from me, that says a lot).

Jen was guessing this is supposed to be some kind of hamburger theme? Anyone? For many of these photos there are no words- only hysterical laughter. Jen finds the perfect words for all we want to say and more.

These photos are only a taste, and make me feel better about myself and all those tortes I destroyed during pastry school. Thanks for brightening my world, Jen!

What Real Women are Made Of

2010-03-28T08:58:00.001-04:00

I've learned a few things from this little high heel challenge for the weekend. First, that walking in heels is really hard, which leads me to realize that being a woman can be pretty hard at times, too.

That led me to ponder on what is difficult about being a woman (it wasn't any of the things that you fellas would guess). As I finally admit I'm a grown woman and start loosening my grip on being a girl, here are some of the things I've realized about being a woman that other ladies could benefit from:

-Real women know the difference between really liking someone and being in love. If they're lucky, one day they'll get to feel both at once.

-Real women know how to change a tire themselves, even if they take offered help.

-Real women have set a future plan for themselves before a romantic partner enters the picture.

-Real women know how to look their fears in the eye and wrestle them to the ground.

-Real women will let themselves cry and be vulnerable, but know the time and place.

-Real women support other women instead of cutting them down.

-Real women know at least one defensive block.

-Real women are open to constantly reinventing themselves. And strive for improvement no matter how perfect they already are.

-Real women aren't afraid to get their heart broken. But they won't let it happen too often.

-Real women have at least one dress or skirt that makes them feel beautiful.

-Real women know they are beautiful.

And most importantly:

-Real women don't have to know how to walk in heels. But it sure does help.

Running in Heels- The Test

2010-03-26T10:26:00.005-04:00

Okay, we've got a problem here.

Last night I got dolled up and went out with friends. I went out of my comfort zone and put on makeup, straightened my hair- I even went as far as to put on a fresh shirt after work. This was huge for me, but it didn't seem like enough. So I put on heels.

It didn't go so well.

My friends know I am up for anything. I have no problem embarrasing myself. I will take just aboout any dare. I love challenging myself, both physically and mentally. I have trekked the Himalayas, gone swimming with jellyfish in Halong Bay (did I mention I can't really swim?), learned to ride a bike in Vietnam, and will eat anything put in front of me (maybe with the exception of breast milk cheese, as noted in an earlier post).

But put a pair of high heels on me and I am the biggest wimp. I stumbled through the bar before I'd even had a drink. I whined and moaned for a seat, and then whined and moaned about how much my feet hurt. Then I hobbled ten incredibly painful blocks home on tender, blistered, and very angry feet. I've found my achilles heel, literally.

How is this possible? I am a well-travelled, independent, strong woman who has lived in multiple states across the country. I'm a cosmopolitan, for crying out loud! I'm a savvy, independent, dynamic New Yorker- excuse me, Brooklynite.

Who looks like a drunk giraffe when she puts on heels.

This just will not do.

As my duty to empowered, confident women everywhere, I vow to learn how to do this impossible feat. I won't wear flats again until I can wear heels with poise and walk at least two blocks without complaining. To the women who are already there, you are amazing.

Even though it's a self-inflicted torture comparable to foot binding. And one more obstacle and injustice for women to face. I will make myself do it.

Maybe I'll just try it for a few days and see if I survive the weekend.

So who wants to go out?

Ms. Fix-It

2010-03-25T10:25:00.001-04:00

Ever since I finished my pre-apprenticeship, I've been looking at New York with different eyes. Carpenter eyes. Or wannabe architect eyes.

I do double takes at plasterwork and hardware. And beautiful doorways.

Just keep me away from those hideous new "luxury apartments" inspired by 1970s communist architecture that are so popular in Williamsburg these days. Sorry, I'm not into cinder blocks or the slapdash, cheap construction look. I can't keep it out of my neighborhood, but I can keep it out of my blog- so no photo.

To the people who preserve the integrity of their neighborhood by renovating instead of tearing down, I applaud you. If only Brooklyn could be a little more like Manhattan on this subject.

Here's one I would love to get my hands on:

If renovating isn't your thing, there are other options:

A girl can dream, can't she?

If Bacon Were a Vegetable

2010-03-24T11:48:00.001-04:00

Here's my take on serving bacon as a side vegetable with dinner. Don't do this on a night you have vegetarian company.

Saute thinly sliced garlic in a bit of olive oil. Add broccoli florets when the garlic softens. When the broccoli is mostly cooked through, add cooked bacon pieces (cut in 1/2" sized pieces) and frying cheese cut in bite-size cubes. Cook for one minute more, adding a splash of water to the pan if needed. It's easier cooking the bacon ahead of time so the excess grease can be drained- this is, after all, a vegetable dish.

Frying cheese can be found at most bodegas in New York and at Latin grocery stores. This was my first time working with it- the mild flavor and sturdy, non-melty structure is well suited to the other ingredients. I'm a bit skeptical of cheese that doesn't melt, but it was fun to try something different. My ears will always perk up at the mention of fried cheese- that's what having Sconie roots is all about.

Swimming Upstream

2010-03-23T08:30:00.001-04:00

What a week! I haven't felt this busy in a looooong time. Don't ask me what I've been doing, I honestly have no idea. I've been dragging during the day because I stay up too late going through my checklist of dumb things to do. I ran around Manhattan all last week walking dogs, nannying, running errands, making silly phone calls. I'm determined it will all get done eventually.

I'm pretty sure I'm not spawning, but I can definitely empathize with the diligent salmon while I swim upstream. By "empathize with," I really mean eat.

I made an easy pan-seared salmon with garlic butter and cracked black pepper, and served with a simple salad of romaine, smoked gouda and goddess dressing. Finish your salmon in the oven if you don't know your stove very well. The most even way to cook fish is to continue splashing it with the oil or butter from the pan with a large spoon (and this will speed up the cooking as well).

When life gets busy, I reach for junk food. I'm glad this meal isn't letting my diet take a hit.

Reading is Sexy

2010-03-19T00:18:00.001-04:00

I know the weather's coming around. I know New York is going to burst into bloom in a couple weeks, that I should be gearing up for cute dresses, going out and meeting boys. I know, at the very least, I should do something about my hair. But these days, I can't stop reading.

Here are just a few of the books in line on my shelf:

The Portable Dorothy Parker

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy (Can't wait for this one; I've never read it!)

Dreaming in French by Megan McAndrew

Girl Meets God by Lauren F. Winner

Cake Wrecks by Jen Yates

Mr. Darcy's Daughters by Elizabeth Aston

Eats, Shoots, and Leaves by Lynne Truss

Journey to the Well by Vashtim McKenzie

Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight by Alexandra Fuller

New Yorkers love to read. I read at least two or three times more than I did before moving here. Everywhere I look, someone has a nose in a book or a book in a bag for the subway ride home. I love it. I take note of interesting covers or titles I often see. This word of mouth, or word of observation has only backfired on me a couple times, as with the Twilight series and I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Both were so unpleasant for me, I can't be bothered to make a link.

On a disturbing note, here's an article from the Washington Post showing how few books Americans read each year. Their average number was somewhere around four. (On an internet search, I found a suspiciously generous average of 12. That's still too little for a world power.) The Post said one in four adults didn't read a single book last year. The Pollyanna in me hopes things have changed since the article from 2007, but I doubt it's changed much.

I try to read at least one book per week, which is totally feasible for those who rely on public transportation and get an hour or two of down time each day during their commute. I also don't have legit TV, nor do I miss it. The great thing about reading is once you're into it, you're hooked.

For everyone else with busy lives that can't budget for additional time commitments, try 15-20 minutes each night before bed: that's two hours a week, nine hours per month, and over four days each year. You build vocabulary, promote brain activity, have something interesting to talk about, and if you're lucky, are inspired or moved.

Plus, it will make you sexier.

Check out this link.

What are you reading? Give us the dish or recommend something you thought was great.

"Hello Spring" Salad

2010-03-18T12:08:00.002-04:00

I love salads. They can be simple or gussied up, ethnic or themed, healthy or indulgent. I'm partial to adding meat to my salads, but I skipped that this time while I send out the old season with something light and fresh.

Here's what you need:
-1 head of red leaf lettuce
-feta cheesee
-1 small fennel bulb
-2 asian pears (what you get when an apple and a pear have a baby)

The fennel adds a nice bite that I find more interesting than celery, the asian pears add a tangy sweetness. This goes best with a sweeter vinaigrette, like balsamic or apple cider.

Feel free to add meat, onion for more kick, or fresh herbs.

She's Crafty

2010-03-17T11:40:00.005-04:00

Lately, I don't feel like cooking. This is very strange because there is nothing I'd rather do than make things.

I get this way every time the seasons change. Excited about too many things. Busy. Antsy. Distracted.

"Idle hands cause trouble" was the saying my surrogate grandmother used. In my case, she's right. So I'm putting my hands to use when I'm flying between projects with these crocheted rag rugs. I've adapted them into a chunky, rustic version from the dainty ones my grandmother makes (mine also hide mistakes better).

The best part: they are all eco-friendly and made from recycled sheets and t-shirts. Each is one-of-a-kind and made by a loving, if distracted, hand.

Now if only I can sit still long enough to market them properly on my etsy account.

Let's just hope I don't end up on regretsy.

Magic Sundays

2010-03-14T11:20:00.001-04:00

Here's my perfect Sunday morning in Brooklyn.

1. Wake up before 9 (not too early, not too late).
2. Have strong coffee in my favorite mug with the Eleanor Roosevelt quote.

3. Eat a breakfast that has a bit of sustenance (lately my fave is oatmeal with blueberry syrup drizzled over the top).

4. Try to have as little to do as possible. Today, crocheting is taking priority over cleaning and being "productive."

5. Repeat often.

Dinersaurs

2010-03-12T09:44:00.003-05:00

A couple weeks ago, a few of my dearest friends in Manhattan trekked over to Williamsburg to join this tart for dinner, Brooklyn-style. Diner is one of the restaurants that's been at the top of my list for ages, and though right in my backyard, it's taken me three years to actually get there.

Lots of things make this place special before you even set foot in it: it's in an old diner from the 20s and was beautifully renovated. Having completed a pre-apprenticeship program to introduce women into tradeswork, I am a sucker for old hardware and architectural detail.

What makes Diner really special is the fresh, unpretentious menu that changes every day. (They embrace the farm to table philosophy and also own Marlow and Sons and Roman's. Check out their blog here.) Our lovely server scribbled the evening specials on the paper tablerunner, explaining the cooking procedure and ingredients used. Our dining experience began.

House made flatbread with serrano ham, caramelized onions and rosemary.

This is me having a transcendent experience with the Portuguese fish stew. It's one of my favorite things in the world and they just happened to make it that day.

Seriously, I could have bathed in the tomato broth.

Frank had a burger with hand cut fries that hadn't been sitting in a bucket all day. They made me so weak, the camera lens got blurry.

Even Abe, with his pain in the butt vegetarian demands, had a marvelous homemade pasta that didn't beg for meat: pappardelle with pesto.

We squished up in the corner booth, completely oblivious to the high traffic aisle next to us and the line out the door. All that mattered was we got a table.

Kissing Winter Goodbye

2010-03-11T12:16:00.003-05:00

Ice skating with Bessie- a photographic journey.

It's hard to tell, but I was actually working on some sweet jumps and twirls, until one of the rink refs told me to stop.

Isn't she beautiful?

Click here for more info on skating in Prospect Park. It's way better than Central Park or Rockefeller Center in Manhattan, where you spend an arm and a leg and sometimes have a time limit. Plus, you get to be in Brooklyn.

Peace out, winter!

Barb the Builder

2010-03-10T09:57:00.003-05:00

I graduated from NEW! Here's me getting my pre-apprenticeship diploma.

Sadly, the hard hats were only for the girls with no tardies. It would have mostly sat in my closet, anyway. I did get an awesome 20 foot tape measure that weighs at least a pound. My tool collection begins!

I wish I had been able to blog about the program more as it was happening, but there were a couple factors inhibiting that.

1) Having a camera was awkward and the teachers didn't seem very excited about me taking pictures when I was supposed to be working.

2) I didn't want to go through the rigmarole of asking permission for classmates to be in the blog.
3) I was too tired. This is actually the real reason and the first two are just excuses.

Between carpentry math, blueprint making, financial workshops, self-defense, occupational safety, painting, electrical work, and shop class, each day was a little different.

Here are some pictures of me in shop.

Here we are beginning to build our very own miter box for cutting 90 and 45 degree angles (for picture frames, for example). This was a proud day for me; I went into the class with the least practical experience as the rest of the girls and I got one of the highest grades. And that was after a gal heckled me for having high math scores, but working at a snail's pace with no hammer skills.

I didn't make it past the first round in the hammer contest, but if I can take my time, I have confidence in my craftsmanship. It shows that I would best be suited for finishing work. It also shows that I'm my father's daughter.

You can see the woman in the corner using a combination square, one of the next tools on my list. I'm getting out some aggression using a crosscut saw.

I wasn't sure if I was going to leave the program with the same feelings as I had going in. Surprisingly, I have them and more. I entered Nontraditional Employment for Women because I wanted to take advantage of the incredible learning opportunity, and all offered for free. I wasn't expecting to fall in love with every minute of it (except for maybe the 5:30 am wake-ups on Saturdays).

This program is really giving women in New York City the ticket to change their lives. I am so proud of the ladies with children who commuted on top of rearranging their work schedules, just so at the end of this, they could get out of a dead-end job or financial dependence.

I went in with an interest in plumbing, and left with an interest in everything. I doubt I will stick around New York for the 5-year apprenticeship on top of a very long wait list, but I do know I'm going to apply the skills down the road. I am grateful for the confidence NEW instilled in all of us, for all the strong women it churns out into a dusty, dirty world.

There is an old house out there, falling apart from neglect and waiting for someone to rescue it, like an old dog at the pound. Somewhere on the horizon, you will see me bent over a work bench, taking a chance on trying to put it all back together again.

How to Ruin Cheese

2010-03-09T15:07:00.002-05:00

Warning: this post is going to gross you out.

Here's how to take one of the most perfect foods in the world and ruin it:

1. Exploit your wife after she gives birth
2. Use her breast milk to make cheese
3. Offer it at your restaurant

This is exactly what Chef Daniel Angerer has done at Klee Brasserie, as reported in today's New York Post, which has quickly coined it as Klee Brassiere.

I don't really know where to begin. Social mores, anyone? Turns out, Angerer's wife is encouraging him to try making gelato next. Maybe we can start using sweat as a flavoring- you know, since no two musks are the same, like snowflakes. How about booger garnishes?

Breast milk, on its own, is beautiful and flawless by nature's design. It is also meant to be for babies during the crucial first year or so of development. If it is disturbing to see a 5-year-old still nursing, then why shouldn't it be that much more taboo for an adult to consume?

While there is absolutely nothing wrong with breast milk, I am completely against using any kind of ingredients produced by the human body in cuisine. No thanks. I'll stick to the moral code set by the Western world. If I was in a remote part of an underdeveloped country and breast milk was part of the food culture and was offered to me by the chief of a tribe honoring me as their guest, then that might be another story, but come on. We're New Yorkers. We don't eat shark fins, monkey brains, tiger bones, whales, endangered species; nor do we practice cannibalism. And as far as I know, breast milk is hands off, too.

If this couple wants to do experimental cooking with their bodily secretions, I don't think it should be offered as haute-cuisine at a trendy Chelsea restaurant in New York City. It seems awfully attention-seeking and out for shock value. It's gross. What does their baby think about all this?

Read all about it here. That is, when you're done throwing up. The comments at the end are fantastic.

Sharing a Wish with Jamie Oliver

2010-03-09T11:33:00.002-05:00

Photo: jamieoliver.com

Jamie Oliver just soared to the top of my celebrity chef chart. Last month he was honored as winner of the 2010 TED Prize, awarded each year to an exceptional individual with a wish to change the world. His wish? To teach every child about food.

At the Ted Talk, Jamie stressed the need for food education in this country to set an example for the rest of the world in conquering the obesity epidemic. Two-thirds of the U.S. population is overweight or obese. Our main causes of death are related to diet and make up ten percent of health care costs today. In ten years, costs are expected to double to 20 percent- a staggering 300 billion dollars a year just on diet-related diseases. And it's all preventable.

Jamie humbly introduced himself as not a doctor, but a chef. He shared experiences from his visit to West Virginia, home of our country's largest percentage of obesity. During a school visit, children could not recognize basic vegetables, including cauliflower and tomatoes. Most schools actually promote fast food by limiting cutlery and serving quick, hand-held meals loaded with sugar and fat additives, which lead to addiction. (Anyone with a sweet tooth, I know you know.)

I never realized the severity of the situation until I moved to New York. I spent most of last year teaching cooking and nutrition to kids in the south Bronx, most of whom rely on school for their main meal each day.

You don't have to be a teacher in New York to see the destruction of unbalanced diets a million times a day. Watching teenage mothers feed their children Cheetos and candy on the subway makes me feel helpless because I can't say anything. Two-year-olds who eat McDonald's have no idea how much harm the parent is inflicting.

Adding insult to injury is the misguided idea that fast food is affordable. Excuse me? A $5 minimum for each meal per person, which are designed to make you hungry again in an hour or two? So it's expensive in the long AND the short run? It's enough to make my blood boil.

What resonated with me about Jamie's presentation was his statement that children having poor nutrition is a form of child abuse. I could not agree more, and I love him for having the guts to say it. Children are growing up to be the first generation with a shorter life expectancy than their parents. Food diets are something you are taught- they become a habit. Kids don't have a choice what they are served, so when adults are being irresponsible on their behalf, what will that lead to for them?

Adults should know better, but they are also entitled to make poor choices, whether it's once in a while or, God forbid, every day. We can't expect children to know any differently, unless we teach them.

The truth is, though limited, kids do have a choice. I will never forget one of the third-grade girls tell me she didn't want to drink cow's milk because of all the hormones added to make the cow produce more milk. I applauded her for making an informed decision and we talked about other ways her body can get calcium and why it's important for bone growth.

If you have twenty minutes, I urge you to watch Jamie Oliver's presentation here. If time is crunched, at least skip ahead to 9:30, when he starts really getting to the meat of the issue and offers reasonable solutions to our nation's most damaging epidemic.

Yogoraphobia

2010-03-08T22:15:00.006-05:00

I hate exercise. I hate the gym. I hate team sports. And for a long time, I hated yoga, too.

Before the entire free world boos me off the internet for slandering yoga, allow me to explain. I have no flexibility whatsoever. My hamstrings are so tight that when I bend to touch my toes, I'm still about a foot away. A foot!

I took a yoga class once in college, only to be made an example of by the teacher (who was as amazed by my lack of flexibility as one would be horrified by a circus performer). I cut my losses and never went back.

Since I learned to swim last year and ride a bike the year before, my stiff joints are all I have left in the freaky body department. I thought I had come to a resolved knowledge and acceptance about my physical limitations. At least I can still rock climb, even if the rest of my body is like a clumsy giraffe.

My roommate, Bessie, wouldn't let me off the hook. Have I mentioned she's a professional dancer and has been practicing yoga for 15 years?

Since I alternate Sundays between being lazy and bettering myself, I decided to better myself and join her for a class at Greenhouse Holistic in Williamsburg.

A restorative class was the route we went- it was gentle and "not aggressive," good for a yoga virgin like me. We did gentle stretches like child's pose, cat and cow. There was also a lot of napping. It's strange to me that yoga is aimed to center most people and find inner quiet. For me, my internal voice just gets louder.

While everyone else closed their eyes and lay still, here's what went on in my head:

"Hey! So this is how you have a productive weekend? You're gonna nap all day? Don't forget you still have to grocery shop, pay your bills, clean the house and cook something with that hamburger left in the fridge. And you need to call your mother."

"Try to find the quiet within," the instructor said. "Put a block up against distractions. Find clarity in this moment. Strive to be satisfied with everything right now, just as it is."

"Yeah, quit getting distracted. Listen to the teacher, sucker."

When I thought that yoga's purpose is perfecting the body and deciding who's the most flexible in a class, I realize now that I'm the only one looking around. It's just like when I was in kindergarten and couldn't fall asleep with the rest of the kids during nap time.

I also have a hard time relaxing my shoulders back to open up my chest and solar plexus, which I know is one of the main chakras in the body (though I can't think too hard about chakras or I'm really going to start getting lost).

The challenge is not going to be how far I can stretch, if I do continue to practice yoga. It's going to be finding a quiet place within myself, within Brooklyn, and remembering to keep my heart open.

Ghetto Sundaes

2010-03-06T23:56:00.001-05:00

What do you get when you have two roommates together on a Saturday night with cheap whiskey, junky ice cream, cake mix, and frosting?

The invention of something wonderful.

Behold the ghetto sundae.

Bloods vs. Crips

2010-03-06T10:00:00.001-05:00

Photo by Lee Emmert

It's time to pick your side. It's new-age vs. traditional cooking, battling head to head! Hank Sawtelle loves the sous-vide method of cooking he picked up from his days working at wd-50 in Manhattan. Louisa Neumann is a classically-trained French chef. Whose side are you on?

Louisa and I go back to staging in France together through the La Varenne trainee program, so naturally I'm on her team. She can turn any animal or vegetable into a poem. Check her out at the Portland Pickle.

Sous-vide is a method of cooking food sealed in plastic bags at low temperatures in controlled water baths. The French developed this idea in the 70s, and apparently, the results can be sublime. There's something very artificial about it for me, and lots of drawbacks. Cooking sous-vide is expensive, it takes forever (sometimes days for one dish), and makes ideal conditions for breeding bacteria and botulism. In other words, you really need to know what you're doing.

You can read about the fierce battle between these Oregon chefs in the cover story of Mix, based in Portland.

This proves Anthony Bourdain's theory that chefs are either Bloods or Crips. (For more on this, read The Nasty Bits- it's gritty and wonderful.) I stand corrected, Bourdain was actually quoting Timothy Taylor from his novel, Stanley Park. Bloods are old-school and can devote their entire careers to mastering classic recipes with a strong emphasis on technique. A Crip, on the other hand, reinvents, deconstructs, fuses, and makes foams.

Crips keep the industry moving, set trends, inspire awe. Bloods send you home with a full stomach.

If the results are fantastic, I'll give the sous-vide method a shot some day, in small doses. It is all about how the food tastes in the end. But, like most things in life, the 'journey" to get there is also important. Louisa's quote in the article pretty much sums it up for me:

"...sous vide is cooking at arm’s length — the cook doesn’t seem necessary since there’s no browning, deglazing, sauce-building. It’s also much less of a sensory experience; no sizzling, bubbling, wafting aromas. “Cooking” without those things should go by another name! Hundreds of years of French culinary tradition is good enough for me."

What can I say? I'm a Blood.

Makeover Giveaway!

2010-03-04T09:38:00.004-05:00

My prayers have been answered. Zesty Cook is offering a blog makeover giveaway! I don't often enter these contests, but my blog is in desperate need of tech savviness to match its sassy tartness.

For you new bloggers out there, check the link. If you win instead of me, you owe me big time.

Please pick me, Zesty Cook! Or just a hint on how to imbed videos and organize my posts into categories. Or just a clue on what "imbed" means.

I refuse to lose my sanity to technology.

Brooklyn Tarts and Cowgirl Hearts

2010-03-01T10:59:00.000-05:00

I haven't spoken much about music in this blog, but since moving to Brooklyn, it's become an increasingly important part of my life.

This past year, I've welcomed Emmylou Harris into my life. I've welcomed a lot of new music to my life thanks to the influence of wise friends.

The biggest change has been adding country to the mix. I fought and fought it for so long, making concessions only for Patsy Cline and Willie Nelson. Neko Case came along and shook up my world. Then Randy Travis was thrown in the mix and the floodgates were opened.

While everyone is entitled to their musical opinions and preferences, no one can deny that there is a point in your life when lyrics suddenly mean something. It's a pivotal rite of passage- like when you realize your parents' music is actually really great. Country, more than any other genre with exception to the blues, captures the emotion of the human condition through its lyrics.

Brooklyn has brought a musical awakening to my musical coma of my stale, tired favorites. I resisted the indie scene as long as I could, but inadvertently fell in love with it (probably through osmosis- hey, I live in Williamsburg). The free summer concerts in Prospect and Central Parks have added to my repertoire, along with all the crazy punks I've worked with the past few years who have insisted that I listen to that amazing song or playlist. Now that country's in the picture, I know I'll never be the same.

It is only after seeing Neko and Emmylou on stage (at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival in San Francisco) that I fully realized the truth. Underneath it all I am just a simple cowgirl, tripping over my heart, but following it nonetheless.

Now as I sip my coffee and savor the morning, Emmylou croons, while beautiful baby Liliana sleeps in the next room. And maybe, just maybe, she will grow up to be a cowgirl, heeding Emmylou's advice to follow her heart, too.

Wanna listen?

Old School Emmylou

Newer Emmylou

Artichokes and Old Friends

2010-02-28T21:53:00.004-05:00

What a wonderful Sunday! All my friends are getting married or having babies right now, which is definitely telling me spring is on the way. It also gave me the chance to catch up with Maria, one of my dearest friends from college, who could rival the sun in lighting up the world.

Brooklyn can't decide if it wants to be winter or spring, and the afternoon brought a schizophrenic frozen rain after days of snow. I'm gearing up for spring with a little help from the steamed artichokes I had for dinner tonight.

If you know how to boil water, you can do this.

Trim the stem of the artichokes, steam them until the base is tender (about 15-20 minutes), and voila! Spring forward.

Some of the photos are out of sequence due to my continuing technology struggles. Oy vey. Bear with me.

Melted butter is the perfect accompaniment for dipping your artichoke leaves. Butter is my dip of choice, but some like mayonnaise, aioli, or vinaigrette.

Don't worry if some of the outer leaves get seared. A steamer is best, but if you don't have one, leave an inch of water at the bottom of a pot, cover, and check frequently if you need to add more.

You can trim off the tops if you like. I left them alone because I thought they were so pretty.

I love getting down to the heart of the matter. (Sorry, I'm a sucker for puns.)

College pals have the biggest hearts of all.

Mulligatawny Soup for the Soul

2010-02-27T19:45:00.001-05:00

It has been snowing cats, dogs and elephants for the past couple days, so I've decided to make the greatest soup in the world: Mulligatawny soup, the Indian version of chicken noodle. No, it's not great because of Seinfeld. It's great because the broth is so simple and round and harmonious that it makes regular chicken soup seem alienating and cold.

This was introduced to me by one of my roommates in college who said, "it doesn't really matter what you put in it because of the broth- you could put a boot in it and it would still be amazing."

This is best when you use a leftover roasted chicken- pick any leftover chicken from the carcass and throw all the bones in a pot. Top with water, onion skins and any other veggie scraps to make the stock. If all you have is the chicken, that is totally okay for this recipe.

Making stock may seem like an overwhelming task but once it's on the stove, you can forget about it and go about your business. Once it barely boils, I turn the heat down to low and prepare other meals or clean the house for the next hour or two. Go on facebook. Call your mother and let her talk your ear off. The longer you cook your stock, the richer it gets.

If time is of the essence, you can always cheat with bouillon cubes or the boxed stock, but the integrity of the final broth will be compromised.

Once your stock is ready, strain and set aside.

Now for the soup. The best part is, there are only six ingredients. You won't believe how easy it is.

As with everything you prepare, it's best getting all your ingredients chopped and ready so you don't have interruptions along the way.

Chop 1 small onion, small dice
Chop 2 garlic cloves fine
Peel and mince a small piece of fresh ginger (not much bigger than your thumb)
And remember, you've already got your chicken pieces set aside (the darker the meat, the better, and you don't need much more than half a chicken)

Now we're ready to go. Heat a few tablespoons of vegetable oil. NOT olive oil- this is India, not Italy. Cook onion till it begins to caramelize and add the garlic and ginger. Add 1 1/2 tablespoons of curry powder and the chicken with a couple tablespoons of water. Add a pinch of salt and pepper. When the curry is mixed in and absorbed, you can add the chicken stock. Simmer at least 15 minutes.

This is how you can utilize every square inch of your kitchen. (This is all the work space I get in my Brooklyn kitchen):

When you are five minutes away from serving, add 1 cup of coconut milk. Let it simmer 5 minutes and serve with a slice of lemon. This is great over rice or on its own.

Enjoy and please leave a comment if it changes your life as it has mine.

Procrastination Station

2010-02-24T23:03:00.000-05:00

Blogs are funny things. They can be read by zillions of people. They can be read by a tiny handful. They can be written several times throughout the day. They can have one or two entries and then abandoned entirely (as is usually the case with the already-taken clever blog names you wish you had thought up first).

Or they can be somewhere in between. They can be thought out and polished, or raw, stream of consciousness diary entries filled with monotonous details of the ordinary and routine. They can be a message board for you to share your stories with friends, or a goal you have for the way you want to live your life.

The thing about blogs is that it's really easy to get behind.

Get behind? you ask. Who's setting the deadline? Well, when you let a day or two slip by and then it becomes three or ten, you end up starting a traffic jam of stories you want to share. Your blogging dashboard can have a list of drafts glaring up at you with blue lettering, a to-do list of photos that need to be edited and added, unfinished musings, or text that never got a second read before that post button was clicked because you got distracted by facebook updates.

Let's just say, hypothetically, that your blog goal is to contribute every day or so. I know some people who do well with routine and regimen. For me, committing to even one task each day is difficult. And darn it, as much as I need my pen, I also need my freedom. Or an excuse. Or ten.

So when you're ready to start writing again, do you move forward, or rewind to the stories from before? Do you backdate your blog posts to make it look like you never skipped? (Guilty!) Do you write stories ahead of time to plan ahead (ooh, that's kind of a good idea). Do you break down and get wireless so you can actually depend on having an internet connection and one less obstacle?

Well, after meditating on this subject for several days, I've decided I'm going to do a combination. Just as soon as I finish my laundry.

That's the good thing about procrastinating- it can make you incredibly productive in other areas of your life, such as eyebrow tweezing maintenance and closet organization.

Back in a Flash

2010-02-08T23:19:00.003-05:00

You know your schedule is a little too crunched when you struggle to remember the last time you washed your hair. No, it hasn't actually been that long (I don't think), it's just the days keep bleeding into each other with very little distinction.

And it's only Monday.

I'm behind on just about everything, but the good news is I'm wrapping up my pre-apprenticeship class. Graduation is next week! Check back over the weekend and I will have lots of the gaps filled on what I've been up to.

Otherwise, wish me luck in studying, presenting and testing. Believe it or not, there's about a 2-inch binder's worth of information to memorize, so I will return to the computer screen as soon as I get my head around exams.

Have a great week.

Tofu-Masochist

2010-01-29T17:34:00.000-05:00

I am no shrinking wallflower in the kitchen. I am comfortable and confident, a go-getter. I'm ready to take charge, try new things, be bold, be daring. I cook without fear. In fact, if there is one place in the world I am confident, it is in the kitchen.

Tofu enters the picture, and it's another thing entirely.

Since almost half my friends are vegetarian, I've done a lot of cooking with tofu. What else are they supposed to eat? I like the challenge of working with different ingredients, I like the versatility of tofu. I like the green movement it stands for, the nutritional benefits. I like the idea of it.

But tofu itself? I hate it.

I become a different chef when I'm cooking tofu. Instead of taking charge with reckless abandon, I turn into a hesitant, unsure cook. I want someone to tell me what to do- heck, sometimes I just want the tofu to tell me what to do. I become a sous-chef in my own kitchen.

And unfortunately, the tofu also ends up taking a hit in the process. Because I am always trying to use it as a substitute for a recipe that calls for meat.

If there's one thing I've learned about tofu it's this- what you see is not what you get. How in the world do people make this look appetizing? And why have so many healthy chefs insisted it's easy to work with?

On this attempt, I used coconut milk and red curry as a marinade for a block of medium-firm tofu. First mistake- I didn't press the water out of the tofu first. Second mistake- I should have used extra firm tofu. I don't understand what difference it makes.

Doesn't it look like the tofu is laughing at me? It must be amused that I served it on a bed of wild, not jasmine, rice.

So tofu makes me second guess. So I have to double check my recipe, fiddle with the oven temperatures, add things. So I hold my breath when I take my first bite, unsure of the results. I refuse to let it beat me to submission.

This tofu business just makes me crave real food even more. Luckily, I planned ahead and pulled camembert out of the fridge before I started the tofu abuse project of the day. Cheese and crackers never looked so good.

Run and hide, tofu. I'm going to be your master one of these days.

Overheard in Brooklyn- Snap, Crackle, Pop

2010-01-26T13:17:00.003-05:00

Some of you may be familiar with the overheard-in-New-York quotes. I hear the best ones on the subway, but usually forget to write them down.

Here's a great one I heard in Brooklyn. I look forward to adding more as they come along. Feel free to submit one of your own!

Teenaged boy 1: My skateboard ain't got enough pop.

Teenaged boy 2: Yo, my skateboard tail got more pop than Beyonce's booty.

-Bushwick, Brooklyn

Marley and I

2010-01-25T19:34:00.000-05:00

Have you ever known anyone in a rocky relationship who got a dog to try and fix it? Well, those frustrated souls are really on to something. It's true, a dog can fix a relationship.

Life in New York has presented some obstacles. Finding steady work, making ends meet, dealing with the massive crowds, being without a car and away from family are only a few of the countless challenges of living in the big city.

When I was ready to hang up on New York completely, I had a change of heart when a dog entered the picture. Actually, it was more like a pack. I became a dog walker.

You may think the last thing a disenchanted New Yorker in February needs is a job walking the streets and picking up poop all day. Yep, that's exactly what I needed.

I am a tunnel-visioned speed walker who marches from point A to point B with little patience. Put a leash in my hand and I'm a different woman. I lengthen my gait. I really open my eyes and look around. I notice relaxing park benches I never knew were there. I walk by literary cafes to add to my "must go to" list. I notice the ornamental hardware on buildings. I get out of the tunnel.

I owe it all to Marley. (Yes, dogwalkers, like teachers, do have favorites.) He is a handsome boxer with an unparalleled joie de vivre and enthusiasm for New York that instantly rubbed off on me and changed my outlook.

Boxers are easy to misjudge. Their good looks and over-the-top perkiness reminds me of a high school cheerleader and makes them come off as dumb. Don't be fooled, these dogs are just trying to contain a heart and soul that's too big for its body.

The uncontrollable licking, I'm convinced, must be the result of a tongue too big for its mouth. Or a sensitive palate.

Next time you go through an existential crisis and want to flee, take a deep breath and unpack your bags. Maybe you just need more dogs in your life.

A Neat Knitting Nook

2010-01-21T14:19:00.000-05:00

Any knitters out there? Here's a great idea of how to organize your stash. A converted wine cellar makes each skein instantly visible by color and texture:

Of course, that leaves the question of where to put the wine. Tough choices. I guess it's all in your priorities.

Since my storage is limited to the space under my bed, I cram all my yarn in a Rubbermaid sweater box and use Ravelry to organize my stash. I can not even begin to go into all the ways Ravelry benefits knitters through free patterns, keeping track of what yarn you've used, a forum for getting knitting help, and how to display your projects and materials. It is the social network site, or facebook, for knitters. Yes, it's totally dorky, but sign up now. Just do it. Please. It will change your life.

In the meantime, if you have an open space in your wine cellar, claim a cubby for projects. It's still too early to abandon hope on New Year's resolutions, so get organized!

Now I just need to find a way to fit a wine rack under my bed.

Midtown Monday

2010-01-19T13:54:00.000-05:00

I love New York. And when I start to forget why, something will accidentally remind me. Last night, a dead cell phone led me to Midtown. When it couldn't be fixed, frustration led me to Bryant Park.

I LOVE Bryant Park. It is such a wonderful open space on the most crowded street in Manhattan. Though sandwiched between Grand Central and Times Square on 42nd Street, it's surprisingly not obnoxious. I prefer it so much to Union Square, because it serves the public as a place of leisure and not a place of stress and shopping.

Take the pond. It is transformed into a free ice rink in the winter, and an open lawn in the summer for yoga classes, movies and more.

Throw in a fountain that turns into a huge ice cube when the holidays hit. Add some Parisian cafe tables and chairs for people watchers and chess players. Plant some twisted beech trees, and in the spring, tulips and daffodils.

Hang a sliver of a moon in a black sky and let the lights of the city be the stars. Trust me, they will help you find your way.

Dumb and DUMBO

2010-01-18T15:50:00.001-05:00

It's late Monday afternoon and I think I'm finally starting to recover from Saturday night. My friend, Max, was in town from LA, Vegas, and Humboldt County (she's a woman of the world), so I met her in DUMBO for drinks and theater.

DUMBO is ... weird. It's a super cool part of Brooklyn, literally down under the Manhattan Bridge overpass- an old industrial area turned funky. To me, it's trying to capture a neighborhood feel when no one really lives there. I was still happy to check it out, since it's a part of Brooklyn I don't know well.

We met at Rice for pho, pad thai, and sake. Nothing like a bottle of hot sake on a cold night- but it's probably better to order it for two and not just drink the whole thing yourself.

Next was a show at St. Ann's Warehouse, and the theatrics of the night began. Max, a seasoned actress and producer, has wanted to see the Kneehigh Theatre's production of Noel Coward's Brief Encounter. I don't know much about theater, but I knew if Max scheduled her trip around this performance, it was going to be a great show.

And it was! I've dabbled in a bit of drama since moving to New York, but this was the first play that didn't leave me feeling alienated and confused (oh, thank you for that, Richard Foreman).

Afterwards, we went and got drinks at the Dumbo General Store, which had a huge range of high brow brews and also the gritty stuff for a divey girl like me. One of which was:

... which is really funny when you're with a good friend who also finds the idea of pigs slapping bellies a hilarious thing to put on a beer label. Other great beers included Coney Island Lager, with popcorn and caramel notes, Double Daddy Imperial IPA (from Speakeasy Brewery in San Francisco), and the Human Blockhead Barrel Aged Lager (also from Coney Island), aged in Jack Daniels barrels. Yum! Max is contemplating the overwhelming bouquet at the bottom right.

Yep, the Porkslap label is still really funny. They know how to do it upstate in Garratsville.

A treat for your ears, actors from the Kneehigh company came out after the show to play a couple ditties with a throwback to ska. They covered Destiny's Child's "Survivor," "The Time of my Life" from Dirty Dancing, and, my favorite, "Final Countdown!" Not the greatest footage, but any of you Arrested Development fans out there will appreciate this:

Baking Up Better Test Scores

2010-01-17T23:49:00.000-05:00

It's been almost five years since I was in a school environment, seven if you count college. My study skills were never sharp to begin with, making me me that much rustier in the pre-apprenticship program for women that I'm in for the next month.

Imagine the surprise to find myself at the head of the class- and in mathematics, which was one of my weakest subjects throughout my academic career, second only to anything related to science. And now I'm feeling comfortable with math?

I attribute it all to my baking.

Fractions have become a tangible concept I can apply to my daily life as a baker. I use them all the time. I may have gotten a D in high school chemistry, but it hasn't slowed me down from being a chemist in the kitchen.

So just a little tip for those of you who also struggle with maths and sciences: put on an apron and start cooking.

And don't ask things like "when am I ever going to need to know this" because one day you just may eat your words. Literally.

Ramen Grows Up

2010-01-13T15:40:00.000-05:00

That's right. I still eat ramen, by choice and not just necessity. This is one of my college vices I just can't shake because
A) noodles are the greatest food in the world and
B) they're so cheap that even the brokest Brooklyn girl can buy a week's worth for only a buck or two.

Some people can't stomach it once reaching adulthood- like jello shots, it can take you back to memories of frat houses, poverty, all nighters and malnutrition. College was a great time in my life, so I love the attached sentiment.

But mostly, I just love noodles. I was stoked to find Japanese ramen called Neoguri made with udon noodles and with little bits of extra seasonings and vegetables in the package. Do freeze dried carrots boost the nutritional value?

Seriously, ramen is absolutely delicious when you add "stuff" to it, like soy sauce, Sriracha hot sauce, and I like throwing in some mixed frozen stir-fry veggies when I've run out of fresh ones. It makes a quick and cheap hot meal.

Ramen is also special for me because it was the first thing I learned to cook as a kid. So be proud when you eat it- gussy it up with post-collegiate expertise and see what crazy leftovers in your fridge you can add to it to make a faux pho.

If ramen can grow up, then so can I.

Arrrgghhh!

2010-01-11T23:36:00.002-05:00

So many tools. So behind on blogging. Is it already mid-January? I'm entering my second week of school learning some trade skills and I'm overwhelmed by the amount of homework and reading ... and math. I've been out of school for almost five years, out of college for almost seven and I'm amazed how quickly you lose that sense of time managment.

So I have to give a huge apology for already, this early into January, BREAKING one of my resolutions. I have to back post a couple in the next day or two. I know, I know ... but the blogging still isn't into my regular routine yet and I've been juggling a lot this past week.

Who knew so much study would be involved with carpentry? I thought I was familiar with the different screwdrivers and my Leatherman, but I was so, so wrong. There are about eight different saws I need to learn, a zillion hammers and clamps, and I have yet to tackle the combination square. Just had my first shop class- I never took that in junior high, so I feel extra behind, since most of the ladies have already worked on sight. I can wrap my head around reading blueprints, but for each little new detail I can wedge into my memory, I feel like something else important falls out.

Okay, week two. Give me all you've got- I'm still with ya. Hope you're with me, too, and can spare an extra minute to scroll down for old posts this week!

Winter Wonderland on the Upper West Side

2010-01-08T19:44:00.001-05:00

There is a magic in the air after a snowfall blankets Manhattan. If you're lucky, a few snowflakes will cling to your coat and the wind will hold its breath until the snow has finished taking its turn. Once it hits the ground it usually only lasts about two minutes before turning into brown sludge mixed in with the gravy from the gutters.

My timing was perfect and I got to be part of the magic this morning when I was walking dogs on the Upper West Side. It wasn't too cold and there was no wind whipping my face from the wind tunnels between buildings. There was a stillness in Central Park, even in late morning, where rolling pathways and stone walls buffered the sounds of bleating taxis and buses from the street.

By late afternoon, I followed the light farther west and found even more quiet in Riverside Park. This is one of treasures of Manhattan, but is so often overshadowed by its celebrity sibling, Central Park. Bordering the Hudson River, Riverside Park is infinitely more quiet, at least in winter. The only people I ran into were parents and kids on sleds.

Here is the Firemen's Memorial, near 100th Street and Riverside Drive.

Sledding ...

And to think, a crowded, bustling Broadway is just two blocks away.

I'm glad I had my camera, because it's doubtful the park will stay this pristine through the weekend.

Miss Demeanor

2010-01-06T22:22:00.001-05:00

Well, my class has taken an interesting turn. After we started carpentry math tonight, my teacher volun-told those with the highest math scores to be group leaders. Guess who is included in that mix?

If you're still wondering, it's me. Great, that means I did well on the tests! Here's the bad news: we are supposed to implement the union hierarchy into our groups, so the group leader is supposed to delegate and supervise the crew. Questions for the teacher or other group leaders can only be directed through your group leader; just like in the real world, a first-year apprentice can't saunter up to the foreman when they have a question.

When you're in charge of a group of women who are each at least two or three times bigger than you, and you have no practical experience or history of doing hard labor, then it's not necessarily something you want to be assigned to. And judging from a contentious phone conversation I overheard before class, I have a sneaking suspicious that one of the girls is out on parole. Let's just hope it wasn't a felony.

On leadership: some are born leaders and have the skills to organize and motivate others. Some are better at simply following orders and getting the job done. I consider myself to fall somewhere in between- I like working independently but have learned how to be a strong team player. Until I can identify a tool other than a phillips or flathead screwdriver, my plan was to stay under the radar to foster my handy skills, or lack thereof. I guess plans change.

I'm going to have to step up to the task of being a leader, because tonight didn't show anything besides my skill to fetch all the group's materials and my sweetest how-can-I-help-you attitude. I will have to come up with a new strategy or I'll be eaten alive before I even enter the workshop.

Being sweet coincides with pastry, but it doesn't operate heavy machinery. It's time to woman up.

Mighty and Meaty

2010-01-05T12:15:00.009-05:00

The latest adventure: pursuing my passion for plumbing. I know, weird. I've been fascinated by plumbing for several years now and I don't expect anyone to fully understand; it just is.

After setting it aside as one of those things to learn some day far off in the future (along with changing a car's oil, learning to put up wallpaper, and bullfighting), I stumbled upon a fantastic program in New York aiming to bring more women into tradeswork dominated by men.

Nontraditional Employment for Women, or NEW, is a 6-week session where ladies can get familiar with tools, construction mathematics, basic carpentry, and reading blueprints. Upon graduation, students are qualified to join unions at entry level positions. Learning how to measure and notate to 1/64th of an inch makes me feel empowered already, and it's only been a day. I can't wait to share more of my adventures- though I'm afraid photos are going to be limited (serious skills are involved and tourist snapshots aren't welcome).

When I got home from class last night, tool talk, hard hats, and our continuing cold weather in Brooklyn inspired me to make meatloaf. (Actually, I was planning on making it for when Bessie got back, but fell behind.) Meatloaf is one of those wonderful things that you can modify according to what's in the fridge. Some people like adding a full miripoix of celery, onion and carrots.

Mine is less the garden variety and more double the meat- I wrap it in bacon when I have it, then add lots of condiments. Careful if you do this or the meatloaf gets really soggy and gross. I've learned the hard way not to add too much liquid because it makes the whole thing crumbly.

Here's what I like to add to my meatloaf:
-1 1/2 pounds of ground beef (it's lovely to mix pork, veal, and beef)
-1/2 can tomato paste
-1/2 onion
-2 cloves chopped garlic
-1/2 T Dijon mustard
-1 tsp. soy sauce
-2 tsp. Sriracha rooster sauce
-salt and pepper
-1 egg

Mix all ingredients together with bare hands (unless you're a vegetarian, you'll find it extremely satisfying). Form into a loaf (not too thick, or it will take forever to cook.) Wrap in foil and place in bread pan or sheet pan. Bake for approximately 55 minutes at 375 degrees, or until internal temperature is 160 degrees (ground meat needs to be more thoroughly cooked than steaks, so if you like a pink center, cook at your own risk).

Why do meat and manual labor go so well together?
Have some garlic chopped to mix into ground beef.

Add ketchup, mustard, or whatever else you want in your version.

Mix together. This is the best part of the job.

Pretend to eat it raw, to gross out your roommate or anyone else in the room.

Make her zoom in, to gross her out more.

Form in a loaf and wrap in foil before putting in the oven.

Enjoy. Best when served with mashed potatoes and gravy.

Eggnog and Broomsticks

2010-01-04T09:43:00.003-05:00

Woohoo! Today is the day I'm reunited with my beloved roommate and longtime friend, Bessie! We have been traveling on opposite schedules for nearly five months and I am at my wit's end.

When you've had a zillion different roommates and living situations (including living with a rat in your room), there's a point where you're ready to live alone. I'm there, but I'm not quite ready to separate from Bessie, who knows, tolerates, and probably even loves all my weird idiosyncrasies. And today she's coming home!

Bessie and I have been roommates in the same apartment for over three years. She's been my only constant roommate in New York and I can't imagine living with anyone else. I also can't imagine anyone else tolerating me to the point that she does.

Our usual routine after a separation is to scrub our apartment from floor to ceiling while watching the BBC's version of Pride and Prejudice, drinking Blue Moons and eating popcorn.

I'm also looking forward surprising her with homemade eggnog. It's pushing the end of the eggnog season, but I love it and I'm itching to try out this recipe from TLC, which claims it's the perfect eggnog.

I can't finish the holiday season without an eggnog success story. I tried Alton Brown's version a few days ago. It was delicious, but it called for separating the eggs and whipping them each. I had a rough time with it because I did it all manually- at least my whisk and wrist got a workout!

The TLC version has the eggs neither separated, nor beaten furiously for 45 minutes, so my hopes are high for a lower maintenance nog.

It will be go nicely with the instant gratification of a clean house and two Brooklyn girls who are finally home together at last.

Lovin' Brooklyn Hard

2010-01-03T17:44:00.006-05:00

The past couple days in Brooklyn feel like they could compete with Siberian winters. Part of me wanted to stay in bed all day just to stay warm, but I also want to take advantage of the holiday weekend.

I made some French onion soup today. This can warm up even the coldest person in an instant. First, saute an onion with garlic in a little olive oil. Turn the heat down and add some brandy or sherry, if you have it. When the onions are cooked down, add a quart of beef stock and reduce about a third of it (I don't like to go too far, or the broth gets too salty).

I used an old hoagie bun, but it's much, much better to place a piece of crusty french bread in an oven-safe bowl, pour the soup over, grate cheese over (I used Asiago from Wisconsin, but gruyere or any other mild cheese works well), and put under the broiler for about 5-10 minutes until the cheese gets all melty and bubbly over the bread.

Here's an extreme close-up of cheesy goodness:

I could have used this yesterday for warmth when I headed out to the Brooklyn Museum in Park Slope. Here's why I love Brooklyn- when they have a free museum day, they make a whole day and night of it, complete with live music and performances.

The main draw for me was to catch the Who Shot Rock and Roll exhibit that runs through the month. This fantastic exhibit documented music photojournalism and art over the last 50 years. Seeing the original photos of Jimi Hendrix setting his guitar on fire, Debbie Harry posing in a "comic strip" series, Marilyn Manson imitating a Marilyn Monroe pin-up shot, U2's Joshua Tree cover, the famous Red Hot Chili Peppers nude shot- it was just super, super cool to see these images in person that are already so familiar.

This was a wall-sized 3-D hologram of Jimi Hendrix:

I didn't even mind the massive crowds these free museum nights draw- the packed bodies and pushing in a confined space seemed like part of the exhibit. Brooklynites, you've missed the last free night, but check this out by the end of the month before it ends!

As you exited the exhibit, there was a great corner set aside for kids and crafty adults to make a messy collage from old music magazines. I love interactive exhibits.

And by 9 o'clock, the atrium of the 3rd floor had turned into a massive rave. Is this normal? They don't do this at the Met.

In the lobby, karaoke was going on. My hat's off to the people who can get up and do this in a civilized setting, because I can only do it when lots and lots of beer is involved.

The pictures aren't great, but they're about on par with the singing. What a paradise for someone who loves attention and has no fear.

Karaoke is a nice idea, but I can't get into it unless it's at a bar or an intimate setting. I wasn't the only one who felt this way:

Still, I love Brooklyn for drawing me out into the cold and showing me something amazing every day.

Between a Wok and a Hard Place

2010-01-02T15:34:00.005-05:00

I'm not closing the door on my break from rock climbing. I'm slamming it. Last night, I finally emerged from a climbing hiatus after four months keeping my feet on the ground. Maybe it was being out of my routine so long, maybe I just needed to switch gears ... whatever the reason, I simply can't do without it for that long, ever again.

My friend, Brandy, and I spent the afternoon recovering from New Year's Eve and got ourselves up to The Rock Club in New Rochelle (only 20 minute train from Grand Central, but THE nicest people climb there so it's worth leaving the city).

My arms have turned back into spaghetti noodles and I was pumped out after a warmup of traversing around the main wall. Out of shape? Yes. The wonderful thing about climbing is that it's always fun, even when you're really bad at it or having an off-day. (To really see an off-day, check out my videos at the bottom- anyone know how I can turn them sideways?)

Best of all, I got to see a bunch of my buddies, including the hilarious Alex, boulder extraordinaire:

He always maps out his routes, excellent planner that he is. Brandy had taken a bit of a break as well, but her climbing still looks great! I always climb better when my partner is at my level or better- it really keeps me motivated.

As always, we were starving afterwards. We headed to our friend's house for some grub. Brandy likes healthy food. I need something that's going to stick to my ribs after a big workout. We reached a happy medium with steak and vegetable stir-fry over rice. It's quick if you are in a pinch for time and grab a frozen veggie mix and meat already sliced. Thank you to whoever invented minute rice- this group of hungry climbers didn't have an extra minute to spare waiting for dinner!

Best of all, I got to cook in our friend Richie's kitchen, which had a professional 6-burner range and a huge wok, well-seasoned. I love to cook in other people's kitchens and pretend they're my own. I have a tendency to take over. (Some would even call me domineering.)

When I thought the night couldn't get any better, we grabbed some beers and headed for the hot tub outside, while it lightly snowed over us.

Climbing, cooking in someone else's kitchen, beer, friends, laughing, and a hot tub. It's like the best of all possible worlds collided into one perfect evening. I can't think of a better way to spend the first day of the year.

First boulder back! And first video uploaded to Blogger.

Will she make it?

Resolute

2009-12-31T13:08:00.001-05:00

Is anyone else as excited as I am? I don't really care what's going on tonight for New Year's Eve, I'm still trying to cement my plans. Tonight is the last night of 2009! I don't know about you, but this year was a rough one for me, and I'm looking forward to it being over and moving on to all the good things to come in 2010, of which I feel there will be many.

But first, let's set some goals first. Instead of one resolution that I will surely break after a couple days, I will try to set ten so I can pick and choose what I feel like striving towards, given the day and mood I'm in. I think this year will be all about choices, so having a choice of resolutions seems like a good start.

1. Most important. Be. On. Time. Stop being late for everything.

2. Eat better. (A bit subjective. Can refer to quality OR quantity.)

3. Cook more new dishes. (Bonus point if it overlaps with #2.)

4. Learn to walk in heels. And be a more sophisticated lady. This, obviously, can only be expected to occur once every month or two.

5. Get more tech savvy. (Blogging right now! That will be an easy one.)

6. Stop backdating blog posts. Eventually there will be a reader and they will notice.

7. Try to keep up with writing.

8. Thank more.

9. Love more.

10. Be happier than last year.

I already am. Happy New Year!

Year in Review

2009-12-31T12:31:00.002-05:00

Okay. This is the last day of 2009, so let me assess the past year.

It was a rough one. I quit my waitress job just before the recession hit hardest. I spent months afterwards scrambling for employment, and learned that pride and impulsive decisions pay a higher price than stability. But they also keep you fighting.

However, good things came out of that situation. Learning to live close to the belt, or at the very end of the buckle, is an excellent test of discipline and character. A year of eating ramen and mac and cheese has given me a whole new appreciation for food, but also an interest in learning how to eat well on a limited budget- something a lot of us could use help with.

I learned that sometimes it is worth it to just barely get by, but to truly enjoy the work that you do. I taught cooking at an after school program in the Bronx with about 100 amazing kids who roused my curiosity in the kitchen, which had become comatose. I wrote more. I learned to rock climb, and fell into a world of adventurous spirits and new friendships. My old friendships deepened tremendously. I went to California for two months. I did a lot of soul searching. I learned a lot about my father through an epic move. I started blogging. And I'm reinventing my New York experience.

I have no idea what is in store for the next year- if things will get easier, if my career will clearly define itself, if I will get it together and make the right choices. All I know is I will trust that the path is my own. I will try with all my might to keep approaching food, pastry and life with a sense of curiosity and adventure. I hope you do the same as we embark on this new year together.

Miss Managed

2009-12-30T22:01:00.001-05:00

This is what happens when you have one too many glasses of wine before dinner and your friend knows someone who works at Mac who gave her a discount and you never wear makeup so it would be great if she could test her new eyeshadows and you didn't get enough sleep the night before so you aren't going to spend the energy arguing with her after you've already tried to fight her off.

Wow.

On a brighter note (though it's debatable if anything could be brighter than that lipstick), I got a zillion things done today and felt like I earned an indulgent cocktail hour and late dinner. The new year is right around the corner, so I'm tying up loose ends and I'm ready to start fresh, in just about every aspect of my life.

Except for with my friends. I'll keep my friends just as they are. They are always worth the fuss, even when the fussing is over me.

Back with a Vengeance

2009-12-28T09:24:00.005-05:00

Six weeks. That's how long it took for my laid back, West Coast approach to this city to run out. The rosey glasses I've been wearing are off; I'm looking at New York and seeing nothing but glaring flaws. Were all the obstacles and frustrations there all along and I just refused to see them? Are we going to go back to the love-hate relationship we went through pre-California?

It's been one of those days where I'm trying to get a million things accomplished and I'm not sure if I'll get through even one. I'm waiting for trains far longer than usual, and when they finally roll into the station at their own leisurely pace, I get pushed on by the angry mob behind me. Oh, why must bad moods be more contagious than the swine flu? A New York bad mood is probably a whole lot sicker.

On days like this, there is only one thing that can help: junky ice cream. I like to keep really good ice cream pure by eating it when I'm in a decent mood, so I don't associate it with being cranky. So for today, junky it is. I discovered this junkiest of junky ice creams at my local Key Foods. The flavor is called- wait for it- Party Cake.

I know. I would judge me, too. But if you've ever had cake batter ice cream (the flavor, not actually ice cream made of cake batter, or is it?), you will think differently. Think vanilla, with a little more milk and a butter aftertaste. It's fantastic, and for high brow foodies, you can find it at really great homemade ice cream shops. If you don't mind getting a little gritty, then there's always Party Cake.

Even better is that the brand is called Turkey Hill, which is an odd visual for a dairy product. Notice the neon-colored swirls in the bottom photo, reminiscent of the bubble gum ice cream I used to get at the Ice House when I was a kid (I would pick out all the gumballs and save them for later, leaving delightful rainbow swirls).

Keep in mind, the Brooklyn Tart's philosophy is to appreciate food on all levels.

Let's get this party started.

I think I'm feeling better already.

From the Other Side

2009-12-27T00:25:00.004-05:00

I'm getting ready to leave Jersey City and get back to Brooklyn. I can't wait. Jersey City is nice in a lot of ways; it's close to downtown Manhattan, it's quiet, it's clean. I get it. But there's something about it that isn't for me. As much as I hate noise, the police sirens and music blasting from a hoopty idling at a stoplight, the gospel music pouring out of the church down the street, the hipsters comparing benders from the night before- those sounds are what make my neighborhood my neighborhood. I think I need a little chaos and dishevelment.

The JC does have some incredible views of the city, simply breathtaking at night or dusk:

This shows part of the 9-11 memorial along the waterway, constructed out of surviving metal:

Here's a view from the tip of Liberty State Park. If you look closely, you can see the edge of Lady Liberty's arm peeking from behind the water tower.

What I don't like are all the high-rise luxury condos.

At that same park, there's a cool old Colgate clock, which is nicely juxtaposed against the backdrop of Manhattan.

I did really like the Paulus Hook neighborhood and all the pre-war buildings. I wish the new apartments could find a way to harmonize with the originals.

One thing's for sure- whenever I'm somewhere else, it really makes me appreciate Brooklyn. Here I come!

Barking and Pastry

2009-12-25T21:20:00.006-05:00

I find myself back in New Jersey with Max and Stanley again, enjoying a quiet holiday while I house and puppy sit. This is my third time staying with them, and I think we're pretty comfortable with each other by now.

Many of you would find the prospect of spending Christmas alone depressing and boring. I actually recommend everyone spending at least one Christmas away from family, or even completely solo. Not only does it make you appreciate your family a whole lot more, but it lets you do a lot of soul searching only true solitude can allow.

With that, I must say I hope this is my last Christmas alone for a while. That is no offense to Stanley and Max, who are wonderful company, but I've spent more holidays on my own than a healthy young woman with a loving family should. For a couple years, I made Christmas out to be a dreaded affair that only caused strain on my family and friends.

I have since shut that book and look forward to decorating gingerbread houses with nieces and nephews who adore me, random dogs knocking ornaments off the tree, and a good mix of cheek pinching and awkward conversation with neighbors and in-laws.

But for now, there is music, macaroni and cheese, warmth, and two cheerful dogs in a clean and quiet apartment. It could be a lot worse. I'm going to really enjoy the lap of luxury with some baking, and treat the dogs to some homemade dog biscuits.

Dog treats are actually easier to make than cookies and if you're a dog lover, you should give it a try. If you've ever flipped over a container from the pet store, you know how many weird and disgusting ingredients get added. I opted to make some minty vegetarian treats, just to give the guys a little help with their tuna breath.

You can find cute cookie cutters at kitchen stores. The bones are pretty standard, but I do like the mini fire hydrants:

Here's the recipe:

2 cups whole wheat flour

1/2 cup cornmeal

3 T dried mint

2 T dried chopped parsley, or 1/4 c. fresh

3/4 cup water

1/3 cup vegetable oil

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Mix flour, cornmeal and herbs in a large bowl. Add oil and water and mix well. Roll out on floured surface to 1/4". Cut with cookie cutters and bake for 40 minutes or till lightly browned. Turn heat off and let dog treats dry out in oven for at least one hour.

Merry Christmas!

Truffle Maker

2009-12-24T00:12:00.000-05:00

Here is a photographic journal of how a classically trained pastry chef makes truffles at her tiny apartment in Brooklyn while holed up during a snow storm.

First, the ganache: one part cream to 2 parts chocolate, add a little liqeuer for flavor and a little butter for smoothness.

It is so true that the messier the job in the kitchen, the more fun it is.

I do most of my cooking in my jammies, which mimic the fit of chef clothes.

And don't worry, I washed my hands between licks.

Another Holiday Party

2009-12-23T00:05:00.003-05:00

Oh, holiday party. Just when I thought I'd had enough of you, you sprang another one on me. This time, it was at Bar Toto, my old stomping grounds in Park Slope. My lovely ex-colleague turned wonderful friend, Valerie, invited me as her guest to join the crew as an adopted Totoan. I used to work there ages ago, but that place has long stayed under my skin as one of the top hoody establishments in Brooklyn, as it is for so many Park Slopers.

You can imagine my surprise at the invite, especially considering that my presence at last year's Christmas party turned into me arm wrestling everyone at the bar ... and WWF wrestling some people in the street at the next bar. But then again, maybe that's the exact reason why I was invited back this year.

Here's me and my lovely date, who also happens to be one of the sweetest people on the planet:

Let the wine flow, the lasagna be served, and the party begin!

Note: there are some parties where no dancing is required. This was not one of those parties.

Luckily, the bar was stocked enough for us.

I can vouch that the lasagna was terrific. We all made our mass pilgrimage to our favorite dive bar, Commonwealth, afterwards, but that seems to be the last thing I remembered from the night. And I thought I was on my best behavior after the antics of last year.

Fragility and Frigidity

2009-12-22T08:30:00.003-05:00

Has anyone else noticed how ornery people are just before Christmas? It is even more blown up in New York, when one cranky person has the domino effect power to rub their mood off onto every person who crosses their path.

It all came to a head for me last night at rush hour when I was on a 1 train so packed with people that a woman actually blocked any more people from boarding. She started pushing everyone back like a lunatic, while people on the platform insisted on trying to make room. It's times like that I was lucky to have a seat, or this shaky domino would have toppled over in a second.

So we're down to the wire, we're all working hard and ready for a break, we have to be emotionally prepared to face our families in a couple days, and there's still a ton of shopping to do. The streets of Manhattan are jam-packed, oh, and there's heaps of snow, making us cold, wet, and late for everything.

I get it. I really do. I have even been known to throw some elbows on the train (which is my own personal indicator for when I know it's time to get out of the city for a couple days). But at the risk of sounding obvious, what about the Christmas spirit? Does everyone get asshole allowance until the streets are properly plowed and all our purchases are made? It seems that everywhere I turn, someone has their own Christmas grumble and list of grievances.

So let's make that our own personal indicators- that when you are pushing on the subway, you should treat yourself to a cab ride or walk a few extra blocks. If you're cold, have a hot chocolate and put on an extra layer. When you are tired of waiting in lines and are snappy at the store clerk about getting too many ones back, then stop shopping. Take a deep breath. Put down the credit card. We have morphed the meaning of this holiday into a warped tribute to consumerism, with lots of competition thrown in.

If you are feeling overwhelmed and can't bring yourself to spread Christmas cheer and kindness, at least try not to knock over the ornery dominoes. Maybe we can't love our fellow men every day, but pushing them off the train is not the answer!

I wish all of you happy holidays and success in tackling those never ending to-do lists. But if you need to set the list down for a minute just to get into a happier mental state, then I beg you. Please listen to your indicators.

No photos for this post, so for a look at better dominoes to knock over, check out this video here.

Artichokes and Egg Nog

2009-12-20T00:50:00.002-05:00

Holiday parties are the best. As if being with great friends isn't enough, there's good music, good food, drinks, and at this time of year, lots and lots of spiked egg nog. I know a lot of people who hate the stuff, but to me, there's nothing better. It's like drinking creme anglaise laced with extra yolks and rum. I can't get enough of it- I even put egg nog in my coffee instead of half and half.

Meet Bob, my friend Coty's wonderful bulldog. I'm his occasional nanny. Bob loves to party, even more than I do.

I tried the soy egg nog, just to be open minded. It wasn't bad, but I'll stick to the real stuff from now on.

Our friend, Sarah, made her delicious secret artichoke dip recipe. I couldn't get her to dish it out, but she did let me know the ingredients:

-artichokes (obviously)

-parmesan

-romano

-red and green pepper

-garlic

-mayonnaise

Otherwise, I found a pretty good recipe here from Paula Deen.

It took everything for us to keep Bob away. Are there any pet-friendly substitutes for mayonnaise?

Tim Burton and American Folk Art

2009-12-19T18:08:00.000-05:00

Desperate for culture, I ventured to MoMa last night for free Fridays. (You'd be surprised how many wonderful things you can do in New York on a shoestring, or for next to nothing. Even someone as frugal as I am can reap the benefits of the city sights.) Many of the museums have a free day once a month or more for people like me.

The big draw this visit was the Tim Burton exhibit- I was lucky I got there right when the doors opened at 4, or I wouldn't have gotten a time slot on my ticket. The exhibit was so crowded, lots of the Friday night crew gets turned away. This featured the artist's work throughout his life, including sketches and early videos he made as a child and young adult. In addition to being a genius director and producer, Tim Burton is an incredibly talented writer, illustrator, and photographer. Wish I had some photos to share, but there was a very strict no-camera policy by the gestapo security guards.

I was allowed to take pictures everywhere else:

Including new work by Gabriel Orozco:

One of my favorite paintings, Henri Rousseau's The Dream:

And lots of Monet's Waterlilies, which are displayed in seven large panels on the second floor. These always bring me instant calm, even in the Friday night hoard of visitors.

The photos don't do it justice, but here's a close up to get a better idea:

An added bonus is the gem of The American Folk Art Museum, just next door. This is a real treasure, not so hidden in Manhattan, but very often overlooked. And it's also free on Fridays, often with live music and receptions. Don't miss the enormous crocheted rug discovered in a woman's attic, made entirely out of recycled Wonderbread bags.

And on the same block is The Modern, a restaurant icon, which I have yet to visit. The list of things to do gets something added to it every day!

My Favorite Things

2009-12-17T15:18:00.004-05:00

It's a chilly day in Brooklyn. The weather is finally dropping, as we knew it inevitably would, but secretly pretended it would take weeks and weeks for winter to materialize. I'm always stunned by winters here- it gets ... so ... cold. I like to think ten years living in Wisconsin helped buffer me a bit, but get in between one of those wind tunnels on a narrow street lined with skyscrapers and you have entered the Canadian province of Nunavut.

Some simple indulgences are a good way to end my first day with the two-month-old baby Lily, my newest co-star. She will be a regular to the blog, as she's a fellow Brooklyn girl with a great appetite and hunger for life. I just started nannying for her and I can already tell we're going to have some great adventures together.

One of the benefits to this time of year, besides all the holiday cheer, is the abundance of comfort food and the satisfaction it brings. I'm a hard-core soup girl and I rock it all year long, but it's never better than on chilly days like today. My personal favorite is from Trader Joe's:

... and no matter how many times I've made roasted red pepper soup from scratch, I can never make it as good as from the carton, believe it or not. Try it with chevre crumbled in, it will change your life.

Also on shelves, which I never discovered until last year- peppermint and chocolate have done it again! Be careful with these, I singlehandedly ate an entire box over a weekend. They filling is way better than that mystery green stuff in the mint Oreos. Trader Joe's also has chocolate covered oreos, but I prefer these:

It's been a good day, and I'm looking forward to a mellow night nesting. One thing about the cold is that it always curbs my adventurous side. At least some good food will come out of it.

Santa Con

2009-12-13T03:18:00.007-05:00

Tonight I'm trying to recover from an epic night of Santa Con. For those of you who don't know, Santa Con is one crazy night in December where thousands of people dressed as elves and Santas roam Manhattan on a massive pub crawl. I thought it would be fun this year to check it out. At the very least, the whole thing sounds wildly entertaining.

The night began innocently enough, with dinner amongst friends in Queens. People really seem to be approaching the holidays with intense spirit, perhaps as a way to end such a rough year on a good note, or set the tone for 2010. It's a good excuse to party.

This is the first in a long string of holiday parties scheduled over the next two weeks. We started off with spiked egg nog, hot spinach dip, and baby tomatoes skewered with basil and fresh mozzarella, followed by lots and lots of wine. My friends, Sam and Sue, made a delicious dinner of onion tart with beef tenderloin, asparagus and roasted potatoes.

When I left at 11, the night seemed young. I met up in Williamsburg with some elves who'd gotten a head start. Here's how I went out (the red nose is fairly understated):

My nose was naturally red from the festive dinner, and the group I joined was trying to rally on. Instead of hitting the next destination in Williamsburg (which had a $10 cover charge and a line out the door for drinks), we went to The Levee instead, where we were guaranteed drinks and a good time.

Here's what I like about the concept of Santa Con:
-people from all over are brought together
-you are forced to venture to a different part of town and discover new bars
-dressing up is super fun, and it's nice to have an extra day to do it
-a fleet of Santas, elves, reindeer, and snowflakes is hilarious and entertaining for bystanders as well as participants
-you feel like you can drink with a purpose

Here's what I don't like about Santa Con:
-crowds are insane
-costumes get really expensive and ladies always end up being scantily clad
-all those extra buttons make the wait in the bathroom line that much longer
-bars have cover charges and no drink specials
-belligerent Santas are actually quite frightening

So is today the first of the twelve days of Christmas? We were theorizing with another elf and Santa on why tonight was the Santa Con night when Christmas feels so far away. Unfortunately, everyone was a bit too far in the bag to look into the matter.

It's worth going to, but I was happy to get home and cross that off my list. The important list is still getting double checked over the next couple weeks.

Treating Myself in Tribeca

2009-12-08T10:01:00.001-05:00

Dog walking in Tribeca left me in need of a pick-me-up, where I mulled over getting a simple coffee or splurging on something sweet. Guess what won? I went into the Grandaisy Bakery at the edge of SoHo on Sullivan Street. The gal at the counter sold me on a chocolate cookie with cream cheese filling, but it was a tough call when chocolate cookies with Nutella were right next to them.

This bakery is really cool- it's the first place in a long time where I didn't feel stressed ordering a coffee or feel herded through the milk and sugar counter. The staff all seemed delighted to be there and delighted I came in. Check out the rest of the menu, the web page is more interesting than the usual online bakery site.

Grandaisy Bakery has gotten several awards for their breads. As much as I love bread in a conceptual way, it is rare that I get a hankering for it and run out to a store. But I was impressed that they do have a seasonal stracciata (bread with grapes), which I have only had in Italy. That will be the perfect accompaniment to my next cheese party.

At the moment, chocolate is all I need.

Jersey Girl

2009-12-03T15:12:00.005-05:00

Wait, have I left New York again? You'd think I had some sort of issue with commitment. This trip, my excuse is dog sitting in Jersey City- not that there's anything wrong with New Jersey, but would have needed a reason or I probably wouldn't have ventured there on my own.

My draw is Max and Stanley, a delightful German Shepherd and yellow lab through the dog walking company I work for. The three of us are hanging out in the lap of luxury in an airy apartment two blocks from the harbor. After an eventful couple months, I'm happy to be focused on a simple weekend of walks, meals, and chasing tennis balls. The guys make great company, even though Stanley hogs the bed.

First thing's first- breakfast. The guys have theirs:

And I have mine. By the way, after being not so great to my body the last couple weeks in California, I'm making strides to be better to myself. Hot cereal is one small step for man, one giant step for me. Let's see how long I can stay disciplined.

Carbs with a Side of Meat

2009-12-01T22:26:00.001-05:00

I told myself when I got back to New York I would start being better to my body and make more sound food choices. But not today. My body is screaming for beef, starch, grease ... and maybe a cold beverage to help me digest it all.

After a long day walking dogs in Manhattan and too busy for a lunch break, I headed back to Williamsburg with just enough time for a meal before meeting up with my fellowship group. I was tempted by the no-nonsense Kellogg's Diner on Metropolitan and Union (which is always good when you just want something hot, fast, and filling), but my eye drew me across the street.

El Moderno is a Mexican restaurant I notice whenever I walk by, but never go into. My expectations weren't super high, so it seemed like a perfect time to give it a try.

The thrill of this place was having a $3 margarita on the rocks during happy hour, plus a $6 Mexican burger with cheese and jalapenos that was pretty darn good. I can't vouch for the "authentic" Mexican food it boasts, but felt like I got a lot for a little, and the rest of the prices are incredibly reasonable for the area. Feel free to check out the rest of the menu here. (Limit your time on the homepage because the music is a bit over the top.)

Goal for tomorrow: Now that you've had yet another cheeseburger, try to get some veggies.

Stonemaidenry

2009-11-29T21:40:00.005-05:00

Years ago, the first thing I noticed when I moved to Massachusetts were the stretches of stone walls linked along the country roads and marking property lines. This sign of habitation is much more harmonious with the nature of the rugged land than the picket fences lining every cookie cutter house in Connecticut.

John, my friend Eve's father, has worked as a stonemason in the Berkshires for years. With the unpredictable weather, he is quickly finishing up a stone wall in the entryway before winter sets in. I gave him a hand, always eager to test my brawny side.

The first thing I had to do was mix up more cement, which is a lot like making cake batter. Sand and the two cement additives are mixed together dry before adding the water and mixing it to a cakey consistency.

While John placed the exposed slabs for the face, I followed with alternate layers of cement, large rocks for the big gaps in the center of the wall, and gravel to fill in the smaller spaces. I got into a rhythm and used the same principles for assembling a wedding cake- keeping the layers level and alternating rows of materials to make it more stable.

It's important to really fill in all those tiny cracks, as the wall is only as strong as its weakest spot, he said. Nothing would be worse than having to go back after the cement has set and break apart the rocks because of poor reinforcement.

The biggest thrill was getting to use the diamond power saw and cutting through giant slabs! Sadly, my camera battery died so I couldn't shoot the dramatic video I intended. Since I try to live by Eleanor Roosevelt's great quote, "Do one thing every day that scares you," I felt like I got my quota for the day.

Stonework can be a bit tedious, but it's amazing how much it parallels working with pastry. Only you get to use a sledgehammer while you are assembling the layers.

Gratitude. Every day.

2009-11-26T21:49:00.000-05:00

I woke up today thrilled to be an adopted daughter to my friend Eve's family on their farm in Columbia County. As much as I love my family, I find the dynamics of other people's families intriguing, especially in a holiday setting like Thanksgiving, no less.

For starters, there was a strange sense of calm when I walked in the kitchen. Ominous. Tea was being sipped while NPR buzzed in the background. The turkey was sitting on the counter, still wrapped. The dining room table hadn't been set the night before. No one was stressed.

This was not the Thanksgiving I grew up with. I was accustomed to a cleaning overhaul comparable to extreme home makeover and pandemonium in the kitchen as we raced to get everything done before guests arrived. There was the year the turkey fell on the floor, the countless squabbles I had with my brother, and the years and years growing up in California where we had no turkey at all (can't complain about a honey baked ham, but it's not the same as traditional turkey).

At Eve's, we were all ready to go, with an ample 6 hours before guests would arrive. There was no mandatory football, but I felt the need to get some exercise. I volunteered to do some mucking in the pen for the miniature horses, and satisfying a romanticised idea of being a farmgirl for part of a morning. A little fresh air was what I wanted, and a full-blown workout was what I got.

Sweaty and covered shin-high in horse poop, I came back to the house to shower. The dining room was ready, laundry was hanging to dry on the line over the porch, the kitchen was full of incredible smells, and everything was ready for the big feast of the year.

We sat for dinner at about 6 and enjoyed two kinds of stuffing with gravy, creamed peas and onions, mixed winter vegetables caramelized with bacon, cranberry sauce, and a beautiful mixed baby green salad. And that was after I had already filled up on cheeses, chips and dip, hummus, and smoked salmon. I still went back for seconds.

This year, being with someone else's family makes me appreciate mine more, for all the different traditions, for the generosity of my friends. It also made me realize we do need to have more than one day being appreciative for what we have and for who surrounds us. As my favorite saying goes, shared from a very dear friend: Gratitude. Every day.

Preparing the Stuffing

2009-11-25T16:25:00.002-05:00

For the third year in a row, my friend Eve invited me to spend Thanksgiving with her family in Hillsdale, New York, since I've found myself family-less around the holidays the past few years.

This year, the timing was perfect with no work, no apartment, and two months of basically no cooking. For weeks, I've been looking forward to a big day of cooking in a spacious country kitchen with a fridge full of ingredients. For a chef just back from sabbatical, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving is the greatest day of the year.

Eve was driving back from her med school in Maine, so her mom, Pat, and I got a jump on food prep for the big feast. When I am in someone else's kitchen, I take on the role of sous-chef. It's so much easier than assuming responsibility when you don't know where things are or the idiosyncrasies of the appliances. I've run into enough snafus lately from forging ahead on overly ambitious dishes in under equipped kitchens- it's like trying to strategize for battle on foreign terrain.

So I kept it simple today with peeling vegetables and prepping stuffing at a leisurely pace. The cranberry sauce is done, the pies are in the oven, and the stuffing is ready for the turkey, as am I.

Big India in Little Massachusetts

2009-11-24T15:20:00.005-05:00

Once in a while it's fun to eat way more than you should, almost to the point of discomfort.* That was the plan today when JP and I headed to Bombay in Lee for an indulgent dinner. I very seldom have the craving, but when I go, I can't imagine anything more satisfying than Indian food.

Here's what we had:

-the Veggie Sampler with Samosas, Bhajia, Medhu Vada (vegetable fritters) and Bhel Poori (puffed rice)

-Bagari shrimp with poori (puffed fried bread)

-Paneer Naan (flatbread with Indian cheese)

-Lamb Phaal (the hottest thing on the menu)

-Dal Makhanni (yellow lentils)

-Steamed rice

If you aren't intimidated by spicy food, phaal is amazing. You can see the chunks of hot peppers in the sauce, while earning mad respect from the chef and waitstaff. And I've always believed in the powers of spice for scaring off threatening colds.

We just managed to stand up to the phaal, but by my last couple bites, I was ready to surrender, both to the heat and to the limits of my stomach capacity. And I forgot I'll be doing the Thanksgiving binge in two days. Oops.

*Not recommended every day.

Candles and Butterflies

2009-11-23T13:40:00.003-05:00

It feels like I just got back to New York and I immediately ran off to Massachusetts for the holiday week. My sublet goes through the month, so some time in the Berkshires (my last home before moving to Brooklyn) will give me the chance to couch surf, enjoy a big Thanksgiving, and get the last week of wanderlust out of my system before I settle back in my own place.

I'm spending the day with my friend, JP, at Magic Wings in Deerfield. JP brought his mother to the butterfly conservatory for her birthday and let me tag along. He's a professional photographer and chef, so our outings are always interesting.

This conservatory is enormous, and houses exotic birds, reptiles, plants and flowers in addition to thousands of butterflies. You can even see butterflies hatching straight from the chrysalis.

Afterwards, we went to the Yankee Candle Company right up the road. I don't usually get caught up in the Christmas frenzy but at this time of year, it's nice to get drop-kicked into it if you're otherwise a bit of a grinch. Every inch of this place was decked out in full blown holiday cheer and every imaginable candle scent under the sun. What, exactly, is a "beach towel" supposed to smell like?

JP was getting restless as his mom and I wandered around the store for hours, transfixed by bright lights and shiny objects. He found the corner of the store where you can custom dye your own personal candle. He went with the complicated rainbow taper.

I'm officially in the holiday spirit, but I'll back up and deal with Thanksgiving first.

Coffee without the Fuss

2009-11-22T13:15:00.003-05:00

I've gotten a bit lazy when I'm in the Financial District. No matter how tired and bleary-eyed I am, there seems to be a Starbucks on every corner, and halfway up every block. One of these days I need to take a count of how many I pass from the Fulton Street stop to Water Street.

That's why it was so refreshing to try something new, at the suggestion of my beautiful godsister, Madeleine. She's lived in that neighborhood for several months and guided us to Zibetto Espresso Bar.

I have gotten more straightforward with my coffee as I get older, and usually go for a simple house brew or an Americano, in this case. Madeleine had a latte with an unusually adorned foam:

It was worth it to not have to wait in a line going out the door. Also ironic was being in an Italian coffee joint and ordering coffee in English instead of java jive. I'm going back just for that.

The Other Julia

2009-11-21T12:31:00.000-05:00

Today I met with my friend Julia, fellow Brooklynite. In addition to being an avid coutdoorswoman and climbing extraordinaire, she is a seasoned fashion designer who works for Mint. One of the things I love most about her is that despite her sophisticated training, she never passes judgment on anyone else's style sense (or lack of it, as in my case).

We caught up on our accumulated adventures and climbing news, and Julia shared her lovely winter salad with me. She is as adventurous in her approach with food as she is on the crag! I'm now inspired to start incorporating more pomegranate into my repertoire- real pomegranate and not just the pre-packaged seeds.

Here's what was in it:

-arugula

-pomegranate seeds

-parmesan cheese

-cherry tomatoes

-red onion

-oil and vinegar

So simple. So good. And it goes great with mimosas.

Sarah's Sensationally Simple and Sophisticated Salad

2009-11-19T18:23:00.004-05:00

Yum! Another great dinner at a friend's house while I'm couch surfing my way back to my place in Brooklyn. I often forget how wonderful food can be when at its simplest. My friend, Sarah, reminded me of that with a beautiful salad- and it's all about the dressing and just a few ingredients.

Here's all it took to make it happen:

2 big handfuls of baby arugula (approx. 2 oz.)
1 pear, sliced (I like it with the skin on for more nutrition)
Shredded parmesan cheese
Mango dressing- Olde Cape Cod Zesty Mango Vinaigrette is what she had in the cupboard

It also goes well whether your slumming it for dinner (i.e. frozen pizza, as in our case), or accompanying something more elegant.

Stay classy, Sarah.