tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16841938854272505292024-02-20T19:16:49.474-08:00Food Snob on a Tuesday NightIts Tuesday night. I'm a college student. I got off of work at 10pm, after being in class since 10 am. I made a nicer dinner than most husbands get on a Sunday when their wife's in trouble. I hate that our society has developed in a way that makes those statements outrageous. I just think real food tastes good. So here I am, food snob on a Tuesday night, recording my supposed decadence for all to see.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-63170032461678501512011-01-27T08:14:00.001-08:002011-01-28T10:44:22.599-08:00Resurrection.<span style="font-family:arial;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwhYUysQCAarXxx7yNo68oFgvnq-XTqYLl6kLjXyR2zPhfmsU_dZuLfrr6ggWAMfWT8BZhM35eoehnNGq0k-lVRDrrLpO5i9HHARsRDthOCc2PtJ2IIHdqdD7jhO69BVwxbAAk3hmUCaU/s1600/IMAG0200.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwhYUysQCAarXxx7yNo68oFgvnq-XTqYLl6kLjXyR2zPhfmsU_dZuLfrr6ggWAMfWT8BZhM35eoehnNGq0k-lVRDrrLpO5i9HHARsRDthOCc2PtJ2IIHdqdD7jhO69BVwxbAAk3hmUCaU/s320/IMAG0200.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5567309193735064466" border="0" /></a></span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">My little food snob of a blog has been rattling in her cage lately. For a minute there, she was placated by Christmas carols and New Year's vacations, but the din she makes around supper-time is outrageous.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:arial;">So I'm Back.</span><br /></div><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;">I'm back, and I'm going to tell you about fish tacos. </span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />The first thing to know about fish tacos is that I'm usually very partial to the beer-battered deep-fried kind. However, I wasn't feeling that heavy last Monday so I decided to just wing it.<br /><br />And that's when the cage broke.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:arial;font-size:130%;" >Non-Battered Fish Tacos</span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />Feeds two people two-to-three tacos<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br />For fish:<br /></span> <span style="font-family:arial;">1 lb Cod Pieces </span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />1/2 c. flour</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">1 tbsp Aleppo<br /></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" >For Cabbage:</span><span style="font-family:arial;"> (can be made ahead)</span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />3/4 a bag shredded cabbage (or half a small head)</span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />1/3 c. plain Greek yogurt (I use 2%)</span>*<br /><span style="font-family:arial;">1-2 tbsp. Mayonnaise<br /></span> <span style="font-family:arial;">1 tbsp </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.penzeys.com/cgi-bin/penzeys/p-penzeysbuttermilk.html">Penzey's Buttermilk ranch</a><span style="font-family:arial;"> mix*</span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />1 tsp. </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.penzeys.com/cgi-bin/penzeys/p-penzeysaleppopepper.html">Aleppo*</a><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Juice from half a lime</span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />salt and pepper to taste</span> <span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" ><br /><br />To Serve:</span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />1 pt. grape or cherry tomatoes<br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;">small diameter tortillas</span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />shredded cheese (optional)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Method:<br /></span> <span style="font-family:arial;">Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Defrost fish in a bowl of cold water. While fish is bathing, cut the tomatoes in half and arrange them face up on a baking sheet with sides. Cover the sheet first with tinfoil if you also hate washing baking sheets. Drizzle olive oil, salt and pepper on the tomatoes and put them in the now-warm oven.<br />Don't forget about them. </span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />Check on fish. Change its water if necessary, or, If its defrosted, pour the water off and dry it on paper towels. </span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />To assemble cabbage, mix everything together in a large bowl. To be fair, I didn't actually measure any of that stuff when I made it, so use your head, if necessary. If you are not eating immediately, or are preparing the cabbage in advance (which isn't a half bad idea), err on the side of too much cabbage/not enough dressing, as just a couple hours will reduce the volume of the cabbage by half as it absorbs the dressing and settles/looses air. </span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />Once the fish is dry (ish) mix the flour and Aleppo. You'll be shocked to learn that I didn't measure this either, but your looking for a fairly high ratio of Aleppo to flour, and just enough flour to coat all your fish pieces. </span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />Heat your favorite frying pan over medium-high heat with a tablespoon or so of olive oil. </span> <span style="font-family:arial;">Dredge the fish pieces in the flour mixture till just coated. When the oil is hot, add them to the pan. Work in batches if necessary so that they don't overlap.<br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />You forgot about the tomatoes, didn't you.<br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />That's alright, check them now, they're probably just right-- disintegrated and a little caramelized. Take them out of the oven. </span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />To serve, assemble fish, cabbage and tomatoes in a warmed tortilla. Or, if you wanted, in a small pan lightly coated in oil, melt a little bit of shredded cheese between two tortillas and built your taco in a mega,cheese-filled tortilla. </span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">* Some notes on ingredients:</span></span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />1. Plain Greek yogurt tastes a whole lot like sour cream, is the same texture/viscosity, has a lot less calories, and is actually really good for you (live cultures and what not). I keep a sour-cream sized tub of it in the fridge at all times: Its great for breakfast or a snack with honey (or jam or something else to sweeten it), it can be used as sour cream for Mexican or Indian, and is a great base for dips-- add taco seasoning for sweet potato fries, or chopped spinach and shallots for spinach dip.<br /></span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />2. If you don't know about Penzey's spices, you should. They run a primarily mail-order operation of herbs and spices that are high-quality, affordable, and specifically sourced-- they carry four different types of cinnamon! I extra-recommend a trip to one if their stores if you can swing it-- touching and smelling and exploring all those spices is a sensual bliss. (The nearest </span><a style="font-family: arial;" href="http://www.penzeys.com/cgi-bin/penzeys/penzeysstores.html">store</a><span style="font-family:arial;"> in southeast Michigan is in Beverly Hills.)<br /></span> <span style="font-family:arial;"><br />3. I'm sure I've ranted about Aleppo before, but I have to do it again. I use it more than any other spice or seasoning. Its a soft, subtle, flavorful heat that is never overwhelming. I've only ever seen it at Penzey's though, so you should probably just go order some. </span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-84473959279450943882010-01-14T19:39:00.001-08:002010-01-14T19:40:04.594-08:00If you miss meLook for me <a href="http://inaglass.wordpress.com">here</a>.<br />Student teaching doesn't allow for worded-frivolities.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-76518455672133754092009-09-11T09:25:00.000-07:002009-09-11T12:29:31.664-07:00Italian peasant pantry pastaIn my opinion, being able to cook out of the pantry is an important skill, and one that I think is a tell-tale mark of a good home cook-- one must first know what to stock a pantry with, then, have the dedication to maintain it and the ingrained knowledge of flavors to use it successfully. To be absolutely clear, up there where I say "good," I do not mean adequate. I mean good in the thick sense, like the curves of a beanpot coddling a ham hock and cannellinis, or mothers' hips shaping out a skirt. Solid. Reliable. And <span style="font-style: italic;">good</span>.<br />This post was supposed to be about wine. In fact, I have told at least three different people that my next post would be about three specific wines. I even dug the empty wine bottles out of the recycling and took pictures of them.<br />Indstead, I'm going to make a liar out of myself and tell you about the unexpected pantry pasta I made last night, entirely out of pantry items.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmK4CJJqYvDcHVlZJw_TwuRzkDwSYzysKS-IAB2ObiVGcGk5VSb6hmk1wqznoKtT0K_c3dMqrY6w4gatPJ7SDrlBh6n9LOFQR0YbnwdX5Mh4jGAuiL2FtxLTUog3Abmh1oIWTL-_4fFVo/s1600-h/IMG_1773.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmK4CJJqYvDcHVlZJw_TwuRzkDwSYzysKS-IAB2ObiVGcGk5VSb6hmk1wqznoKtT0K_c3dMqrY6w4gatPJ7SDrlBh6n9LOFQR0YbnwdX5Mh4jGAuiL2FtxLTUog3Abmh1oIWTL-_4fFVo/s320/IMG_1773.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380273476547511266" border="0" /></a><br />Despite my best efforts, summer is escaping.<br />This dish seems sort of timely, then, on-the-brink Italian peasant sort of food. I prepared this as four distinct elements that I then piled on a plate: pasta, eggplant, tomato-bean sauce and tuna. It was a nice presentation and I think cooking each bit separately, while a little time consuming, ultimately added to the complexity of the dish.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Peasant pasta with tuna</span><br />1 can yellow fin tuna<br />cooked pasta of your choosing-- I used TJ's basil garlic linguine<br />bread crumbs<br />Parmesan<br /><br />For sauce:<br />olive oil<br />3 large cloves garlic pressed<br />5 ripe tomatoes,or about a can and a half canned in a large dice (drain canned ones; leave the seeds in fresh ones)<br />1 can drained and rinsed cannellini beans<br />~1/4 balsamic vinegar<br />~1/4 red wine<br />salt and pepper<br />a few good shakes of Aleppo<br /><br />For eggplant:<br />one large eggplant, cut in to rounds<br />olive oil<br />salt, pepper, Aleppo<br /><br />Method:<br /><br />In your favorite saucing pot, cook garlic in a couple table spoons of oil, careful not to let it burn. Add tomatoes and simmer. Add beans and vinegar. Let it cook down a bit and add wine. Season with salt, pepper and allepo. keep over low- medium heat, replenishing liquids with additional splashes of wine and balsamic if it starts to cook off to much. The finished product should be thick like a stew and a deep red.<br /><br />At the same-ish time, slice the eggplant thinly (1/4" ish). Lay flat on a baking sheet and drizzle with a slightly excessive amount of oil on both sides, then salt, pepper and Aleppo generously. Bake at 300-400 degrees, depending on how much time you have/how hungry you are.<br />Flip eggplant slices half way though. I left them for about 25 minutes at about 400.<br /><br />When everything's about ready, drain and press as much water as possible out of the tuna, then sautee it in a small pan with a little olive oil until its starting to look a little crispy.<br /><br />Serve in an artfully arranged pile in this order:<br /><br />pasta---a few eggplant slices--bean sauce--tuna flakes--sprinkling of breadcrumbs---sprinkling of cheese.<br /><br />I recommend smashing it all together a bit before eating, to get the full effect of texture and flavor.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-88833974818556083002009-09-02T07:00:00.000-07:002009-09-02T09:50:44.711-07:00farmshare: Notes for the CuriousYes, yes, I'm one of <span style="font-style: italic;">them</span>; I have a farm share. It's terribly hip of me, I know, but I don't really feel bad about it: Its a pretty awesome concept-- who could say no?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4VBsA9AorY3U-7PGtfmNGlQJ7YxPlz2rSVGiOKPxWuQlcxcnV9-T4gkCUjLg1JuIKt7UIMGWbv4z76f3Bn8-f1jDlnup4ClS20SkuHdEHnm3M5vnd6aTmqOnoW44FJSuTxHhTJneyPhY/s1600-h/0714091635a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4VBsA9AorY3U-7PGtfmNGlQJ7YxPlz2rSVGiOKPxWuQlcxcnV9-T4gkCUjLg1JuIKt7UIMGWbv4z76f3Bn8-f1jDlnup4ClS20SkuHdEHnm3M5vnd6aTmqOnoW44FJSuTxHhTJneyPhY/s320/0714091635a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376747797593723282" border="0" /></a><br />For those unfamiliar, a CSA farmshare is basically like investing in a farmer. You give them money at the beginning of the year to fund the farm, they give you produce as it is harvested. Essentially, I paid $300 in May for a half bushel of produce every week.<br />This is not a new concept, but it is the first time I've done it. Now that we're over half way through the growing season, the share and I have gotten in to a rhythm, I think, and I've been compiling some notes on the topic.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1. Regardless of the cool-ness of the concept, this is not "special" food. Eat it. Now. </span><br />The first couple of weeks, I suffered from special/cool/new disorder-- you're familiar with it, I'm sure-- where I was hesitant to use my share except in the *perfect* recipe--suateeing just wasn't good or clever enough. It turns out though, that unlike your favorite party dress when you were eight, produce does not like to wait around on the shelf for adequately fancy occasions. In fact, very unlike your special-occasions outfit, it will wilt and rot in record time, fast than you really realized was possible, until you've made a hobby and/or drinking game out of swatting fruit flies. Produce is not something to get sentimental about.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTwNOtrI9L35sOqYQnhCHcHS8mtf-yJbIXfqxx_0SRQsEqRIvyG_K5ojpPXhwbwUYFs8W3GH6RVmJO1Bm8wAvpEemcIB0o-KjI2tB-pnctOGCmuXy0Stvkngx5JOVrOtcgxRAIi39xB8/s1600-h/506841156308.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTwNOtrI9L35sOqYQnhCHcHS8mtf-yJbIXfqxx_0SRQsEqRIvyG_K5ojpPXhwbwUYFs8W3GH6RVmJO1Bm8wAvpEemcIB0o-KjI2tB-pnctOGCmuXy0Stvkngx5JOVrOtcgxRAIi39xB8/s320/506841156308.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376905279889807890" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. Creativity takes on new meaning when you get 6 ears of corn a week for a month. </span><br />The biggest downside of the farmshare concept is that you don't get to choose what produce goes in your half bushel-- your limited to what your CSA grows, has in season and wants to allot you.<br />Such as 6 ears of corn a week for a month. To be clear, this is not at all the worst thing that's ever happened to me, just one that required a little creativity. Similarly, I haven't a clue what to do with celery herb (tastes like celery, looks like parsley-- I guess soup?) For as much fun as being presented with a box of fresh food is, it can take considerable efforts in the arenas of creativity and time. I know I'm not the fist person to say this; I had <a href="http://gastronomical3.wordpress.com/">read all about</a> the farmshare-oh-shit-phenomenon before I bought one. Its just one of those things that's hard to fully grasp without having experienced, like hair bands or roller coasters, I think.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. Your pick-up day matters. </span><br />Overall, I do think it's a good investment, but next year I may look in to another farm that offers a more consistent variety of produce and will choose my pick-up day less arbitrarily-- right now it's on Tuesdays, which is problematic since I tend to work ten hour shifts on Tuesday and Wednesday, meaning I can't even think about starting to cook until Thursday, and by that point, things are starting to wilt.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-56621577135828782422009-08-24T12:04:00.000-07:002009-08-26T11:01:07.222-07:00Madison in parts: Street FoodTo a girl that grew up on a dirt road called Rustic lane, street food has always been foreign fodder contained in the pages of timelessly trashy <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Francesca-Lia-Block/e/B000AQ024S/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1">teen novels about LA</a> and movies my mom probably didn't want me to watch. For all practical purposes, street food was something that dragons and the tooth fairy ate while they were kickin' it in alternate-universe Mexico.<br />Even if you feel a bit less hyperbolic about food sold out of carts, I'd wager a guess that the phrase conjures images of tacos dripping grease and bursting hotdogs on wonderbread buns.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNLm21wXbq5EmMCVY2sN-J4a-3kpdV2Rrhv_ILBMJ-mG5-A6_9heM9aLoix7ok5x6zmq6oBMK8mzvsPCe_3EFHUkIyT4XfJ6Ln_QnRvXl2gEezSMIsEsZnucL-kh0gE0fK_giSrBBRpBw/s1600-h/IMG_1668.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNLm21wXbq5EmMCVY2sN-J4a-3kpdV2Rrhv_ILBMJ-mG5-A6_9heM9aLoix7ok5x6zmq6oBMK8mzvsPCe_3EFHUkIyT4XfJ6Ln_QnRvXl2gEezSMIsEsZnucL-kh0gE0fK_giSrBBRpBw/s320/IMG_1668.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373959057601892658" border="0" /></a><br />Well, I'm here to tell you that such veiws are becoming, well, wrong. The September 2009 issue of <a href="http://www.bonappetit.com/tipstools/slideshows/2009/09/the_art_of_the_street_cart?showall=true">Bon Appetit declares </a>"the art of the street cart" a "delicious dining revolution."<br />After my Friday afternoon encounter in Madison, I'm inclined to agree. Who knew?<br />We stumbled upon this diag-esque strip of brick at the end of State Street, tucked between an odd shaped Catholic Church and the University Library. Lining it were eight or ten street food carts, offering everything from smoothies to Indonesian fare. With four hungry adults to feed, we shopped around and then gathered back on the lawn of library square to share our findings.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1kEAFg2VN-aukHlAH3tnPSzPPxTak3QRmuRR_eipfw-tiWkAZGOUGqIgukEE9l2xQ-WvxSAG8t4JDMzbabNhmztVaOBzGLFA6hYOdZMqKiglRS3q4-FFOGTv4u82wqJs9QkI8gRyrAW8/s1600-h/IMG_1665.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1kEAFg2VN-aukHlAH3tnPSzPPxTak3QRmuRR_eipfw-tiWkAZGOUGqIgukEE9l2xQ-WvxSAG8t4JDMzbabNhmztVaOBzGLFA6hYOdZMqKiglRS3q4-FFOGTv4u82wqJs9QkI8gRyrAW8/s320/IMG_1665.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374144902680668178" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFf9Xy0bYvmO8960quCehmcX0O5mmWYgpss4PhdUvrRdFjFKB9waO77eOIg8e_ZCSa0qXCkqv78dPuxJDFlo_zjkiHXbEa2Kf-wJaOv17messHqzSlEtKISebuodgD2J-w4drVMBSls58/s1600-h/IMG_1672.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFf9Xy0bYvmO8960quCehmcX0O5mmWYgpss4PhdUvrRdFjFKB9waO77eOIg8e_ZCSa0qXCkqv78dPuxJDFlo_zjkiHXbEa2Kf-wJaOv17messHqzSlEtKISebuodgD2J-w4drVMBSls58/s320/IMG_1672.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374305301643604018" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Jason's choice was <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hibachi">Hibachi</a> steak. While they clearly win the award for best-dressed mini trailer, it wasn't all looks-- that hibachi steak was pretty good too, salty and tender, with a spicy sweet tang from the barbecue style sauce that topped it.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHyewftNil89RgdLGMQmNhhHMqfSTKwPIf6-dcxhNAvE_ttVMH8GGdWQOeHjvn31Y1GGbMnYpTggL1IWH578TNPU0CFy4pwi5c5beOrzjCX5cmwcqo5ddEYyRsPKba7o_2KcKmszjbQOw/s1600-h/IMG_1667.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHyewftNil89RgdLGMQmNhhHMqfSTKwPIf6-dcxhNAvE_ttVMH8GGdWQOeHjvn31Y1GGbMnYpTggL1IWH578TNPU0CFy4pwi5c5beOrzjCX5cmwcqo5ddEYyRsPKba7o_2KcKmszjbQOw/s320/IMG_1667.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373954097268499922" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhThx6aYtRp4OAs-K1be2ujHEdKQkTqHqJW1MzQxzcSyuldaSdRUzbXjVPAKz6AXWqFqfwui02To7GkcMV8-Bb6eaE207-kmAgekzufWSmnUdsfK6anJbiOFF4XWZLFN3eXw2fEuTKp0/s1600-h/IMG_1677.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhThx6aYtRp4OAs-K1be2ujHEdKQkTqHqJW1MzQxzcSyuldaSdRUzbXjVPAKz6AXWqFqfwui02To7GkcMV8-Bb6eaE207-kmAgekzufWSmnUdsfK6anJbiOFF4XWZLFN3eXw2fEuTKp0/s320/IMG_1677.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374314450186085362" border="0" /></a>From the Indonesian cart, Kakilima, we chose a dish that was fried chicken and potatoes, served with a tangy sauce. The seasoning reminded us of the massaman chicken curry at<a href="http://www.tuptim.com/"> Tuptim</a>. It was served with a salad of pickled carrots and cucumbers-- the crunch and tang contrasted the softness of the rest of the dish nicely.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65ka0ORohuhmIzFDNz2ZwE5rn3EPTQqOHDGUqlmTsrGqT62KyR6eIZt4F0wj_b_oAXkhbigQa1h8oU7prv6ztM6_jemK8HybhOQKhWmcIybYgT4hD5KLKe17Md_1_y2vOy8aJdAtEks8/s1600-h/IMG_1666.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi65ka0ORohuhmIzFDNz2ZwE5rn3EPTQqOHDGUqlmTsrGqT62KyR6eIZt4F0wj_b_oAXkhbigQa1h8oU7prv6ztM6_jemK8HybhOQKhWmcIybYgT4hD5KLKe17Md_1_y2vOy8aJdAtEks8/s320/IMG_1666.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374322305161678674" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqO16vF8-anpm9WY57acQCG6Y8RbJqBnf_dNNGC4cWhjRiHBP65AJ3LX6m_vWRgROQfN_zcDJ1zIwX-GXjq20HV8dmgOqdhAQpUKnJu-YkcQ6vWsqlHVsMZxMj1lycYZsl_59z8bwNw1w/s1600-h/IMG_1674.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqO16vF8-anpm9WY57acQCG6Y8RbJqBnf_dNNGC4cWhjRiHBP65AJ3LX6m_vWRgROQfN_zcDJ1zIwX-GXjq20HV8dmgOqdhAQpUKnJu-YkcQ6vWsqlHVsMZxMj1lycYZsl_59z8bwNw1w/s320/IMG_1674.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374328166341295650" border="0" /></a>South of the border style food may seem like an unadventurous cop-out of a choice for street food-- unless your my dad, the quesadilla master. He can do things with beans and a tortilla that <a href="http://www.hulu.com/watch/9172/napoleon-dynamite-make-yourself-a-dang-quesadilla">Napoleon Dynamite</a> can't even imagine. The chicken quesadilla from Sabores Latinos cart didn't contain beans, but was otherwise a fine specimen of the trade, if a little messy.<br /><br />Over all, we had a pretty stellar dining experience-- great variety, great flavor, and great price (about $5 a dish). According to <a href="http://77square.com/food/restaurants/story_461968">77 Square</a>, "the definitive" Madison entertainment guide this is not quite concidence as "getting a spot, a good one, on the Mall requires enduring a process regulated by the city. Each September, a group of 20 judges reviews each cart and assigns a point rating based on physical aspects, food menus and variety." And while I'm sure we've all got a thing or two to say about government, this seems to be one thing Madison got absolutely right.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-13754517130371840372009-08-17T09:02:00.000-07:002009-08-17T22:22:57.486-07:00Madison in parts: The Dane County Farmer's Market<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFo5SgFpByDzBqf51_0nh6tsB9TIxA93C3bM1-OIywZAessNdc0-KDGEWbh6xbq6-g3SGpONSDtD5_NnlC8M4xdXpchcG0AlBs8TagmW_zV0OqgkahqHNuYIXgbgbQwHAhwa0g8RBZlj4/s1600-h/0725090845.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFo5SgFpByDzBqf51_0nh6tsB9TIxA93C3bM1-OIywZAessNdc0-KDGEWbh6xbq6-g3SGpONSDtD5_NnlC8M4xdXpchcG0AlBs8TagmW_zV0OqgkahqHNuYIXgbgbQwHAhwa0g8RBZlj4/s320/0725090845.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371169987945004258" /></a><br /><br /><br />Around here, we like our farmer's markets, I know. The <a href="http://www.a2gov.org/government/communityservices/ParksandRecreation/FarmersMarket/Pages/Farmers%27%20Market.aspx">Ann Arbor Market</a> could pick a fight with almost any other market in southeast Michigan and win on sheer number of supporters alone. Ann Arbor farmer's market rolls deep, and for a good reason-- we have a great little producer-only market on our hands.<br /><br />The Dane County Farmer's Market market is also Producer-only, but boasts over 300 vendors (for contrast, A2 has about 100) and is widely believed to be the largest producer-only market in the county.<br />It's mind boggling. It's farmer's market mecca. I'm serious. Its the only farmer' s market written up in that <span style="font-style: italic;">1,000 Places to see Before you Die</span> book (as far as I can tell from my very unempirical flipping through). It is <span style="font-style: italic;">the</span> market.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiblllW2hyphenhyphen_uzyg5D_NkoJUwCwLuFzBg-O-itJtaac5IAQEgN3fNg0MJrU6fbKivgcqEpJzkq68EP8CsGmLVKMEvTX8s70ba2ZmfZRSsCYf3UcMreNOjhLdSGn6bi0UiLeM9fk1hVeayvc/s1600-h/IMG_5994.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiblllW2hyphenhyphen_uzyg5D_NkoJUwCwLuFzBg-O-itJtaac5IAQEgN3fNg0MJrU6fbKivgcqEpJzkq68EP8CsGmLVKMEvTX8s70ba2ZmfZRSsCYf3UcMreNOjhLdSGn6bi0UiLeM9fk1hVeayvc/s320/IMG_5994.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370984986650000370" border="0" /></a>It's held each Saturday around <a href="http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=madison,+wisconsin&sll=37.0625,-95.677068&sspn=34.396866,52.119141&ie=UTF8&ll=43.074217,-89.385474&spn=0.015486,0.025449&z=15">capitol square</a>, which is the sidewalk that rings Madison's spectacular capitol building in the center of downtown.<br />It is a well established fact that foot traffic moves counter clockwise around the square-- not that you have much of a choice. By the the time we left at 11 am, the crowds were like art fair, or Huron's 6200 hall, or floor ticket at a concert. A concert full of veggie loving folk with a thing for cave aged Gouda and cheese curds.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjofBTqFXADrO5xELhawvNLigMmm3z4TZkCOwBtMVZ1n3pirwXbk2ZGF0B4JsAhzv_e1ZTLpobE-6LWpcuQjd7KPFxxJ3BTgFRVfC68FECat14dq3w1QqB2pF9a2i2tj-yKcmgH8Aa-Gmg/s1600-h/IMG_5989.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjofBTqFXADrO5xELhawvNLigMmm3z4TZkCOwBtMVZ1n3pirwXbk2ZGF0B4JsAhzv_e1ZTLpobE-6LWpcuQjd7KPFxxJ3BTgFRVfC68FECat14dq3w1QqB2pF9a2i2tj-yKcmgH8Aa-Gmg/s320/IMG_5989.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370984466132145890" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Not to mention ostrich jerky and jam and snickerdoodles and hot and spicy cheese bread, which was still warm when we bought it, wispy like old fashioned school rolls, flecked with hot pepper flakes and greasy cheese pockets.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDaL4zwdNm2I-sizDaJbFdywbEqX2jAbg5is7IK63rT7D53pvelgmlBUy39pITP1e523MEJjhR6S0FZk93nGK-2uJs4VQtC_zTEU9jjjq-pPihqVupsQ_wnY_L0I-AgwavV94AjUbIJ64/s1600-h/IMG_6001.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDaL4zwdNm2I-sizDaJbFdywbEqX2jAbg5is7IK63rT7D53pvelgmlBUy39pITP1e523MEJjhR6S0FZk93nGK-2uJs4VQtC_zTEU9jjjq-pPihqVupsQ_wnY_L0I-AgwavV94AjUbIJ64/s320/IMG_6001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370989021080316258" border="0" /></a>It definitely did not make it home with us.<br /></div>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-816255185277108382009-07-27T18:29:00.000-07:002009-08-03T11:04:28.121-07:00Madison, in parts: The Tractors<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnP7Y_cRAMC_-rsuX9jFhsPpK5Pi2DWqjbDE1-l8Z2lNULTtl8NjqtW4cKqArvh3xAgELHX1zLXU4lsP6IY1LYyyUJQKqfGvZzkDm3fKS9gF2MvNOMDrb98fnn81tGGyq-djP0drkJft0/s1600-h/IMG_5873.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnP7Y_cRAMC_-rsuX9jFhsPpK5Pi2DWqjbDE1-l8Z2lNULTtl8NjqtW4cKqArvh3xAgELHX1zLXU4lsP6IY1LYyyUJQKqfGvZzkDm3fKS9gF2MvNOMDrb98fnn81tGGyq-djP0drkJft0/s320/IMG_5873.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365187454968703314" border="0" /></a>Last weekend, I went to Madison, Wisconsin with my family for the national meeting of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Harvester">International Harvester</a> enthusiasts, aptly known as <a href="http://nationalihcollectors.com/">The Red Power Roundup</a> (let me tell you, there's more to it than that damn <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=antUcw20V1w">Craig Morgan song</a>).<br /><br />While farm-implement shows may not seem like a steamy cup a tea to everybody, I find them pretty neat, and not just because the first thing I drove was a tractor. Much like a comic book convention or quilt show, this is a cultural experience, a microcosm of passionate individuals who never fail to exceed expectation and stereotype. Even when their <span style="font-style: italic;">thing</span> is not my <span style="font-style: italic;">thing,</span> I always enjoy the company of folks who love what they're doing.<br /><br />There wasn't much in the way of food at the show though, not unless you count <a href="http://www.kentsbigbar.com/">Kent's Big Bars,</a> which are undeniably delicious homemade ice cream bars, and What My Family Made For Dinner each night, which also fell in the categories of ridiculous and delicious.<br /><br />Madison, However, and It's crazy between-the-lakes, monster capitol squared in by one-way streets, bike-trails everywhere self had a lot to say on the subject. So, instead of giving you a novel on my trip to Madison, I will be writing about it in a series, a little trick I learned from trying to write one poem about ten different things. That poem wasn't very good, but I think these posts will be.<br /><br />In the meantime, I'd like to show you a couple of pictures from the show, which I know, you're thinking <span style="font-style: italic;">I came here to see about food</span> but I'd like to take this as a public service announcement opportunity and encourage you to think about where your food came from who grew it -- not just the pointedly local food you get at the market, but all of it-- and then, maybe, to share in some of the small joys of farmers, like using the same tractor your Grandpa bought new.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht3PBa2Ii-_gzNzsZA0s2rrmsZZC35QbqfxTXbMFCIPOtmzvbKYEqANdNezwYPJGiURg75sQmfUGonjzXOpJkTuo1-FcB2mLrbmiVCueMmw-idOKEeLFRCqJUsWSj9_MCw5DCvxOw2l5o/s1600-h/IMG_5927.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht3PBa2Ii-_gzNzsZA0s2rrmsZZC35QbqfxTXbMFCIPOtmzvbKYEqANdNezwYPJGiURg75sQmfUGonjzXOpJkTuo1-FcB2mLrbmiVCueMmw-idOKEeLFRCqJUsWSj9_MCw5DCvxOw2l5o/s320/IMG_5927.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365785354341195538" border="0" /></a><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Farmall</span> 1206 Turbos from the fifties and sixties.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">International Harvester is just any ole tractor company; the founder, Cyrus McCormick, invented the horse drawn reaper that revolutionized the way the entire world farmed.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6nKIKy1GCjF2C_vC3y7D18_CwEfmhiFv-KKIOX0aktr1-opATwVwj2GCKdirtujlQ93VjqYxEYL0DlgLh2ov6WRP9pnDVFpk8ajJuxWkA4mq7iGfmm8Odsv8HqLaD-2-2rcB_FmrgbsE/s1600-h/IMG_1646.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6nKIKy1GCjF2C_vC3y7D18_CwEfmhiFv-KKIOX0aktr1-opATwVwj2GCKdirtujlQ93VjqYxEYL0DlgLh2ov6WRP9pnDVFpk8ajJuxWkA4mq7iGfmm8Odsv8HqLaD-2-2rcB_FmrgbsE/s320/IMG_1646.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365789557007449666" border="0" /></a>The Family <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Havanese</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Asta</span>, dressed for the occasion.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDbVh4PozoqXGFh7rFmcN9peZ8z9RCnGumW-lmfs-06DsElyDo_Gq3JuG5wXP86bRi4HRzWUChi17fxXq6k1x8GBJG0mNgLdv36Bop3ut-hQB4y-wj2-h39oGkSmApaO4ZBnYvrD6rz3g/s1600-h/IMG_5833.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDbVh4PozoqXGFh7rFmcN9peZ8z9RCnGumW-lmfs-06DsElyDo_Gq3JuG5wXP86bRi4HRzWUChi17fxXq6k1x8GBJG0mNgLdv36Bop3ut-hQB4y-wj2-h39oGkSmApaO4ZBnYvrD6rz3g/s320/IMG_5833.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365788949834828754" border="0" /></a>Our Truck, a 1966 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Travelall</span>, waiting to parade to the <a href="http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/">Wisconsin Historical Archives</a>.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnyUJ5oIw4FI3m70qsESpsZU7xZjC40pmW15gtEbuOSYKaCMyrp7MKg4Lq827Vc7aWn5lcCGfG-zcE_MDrTf_Ck9ozGyuJAQRg758tFpk54ZQUdnQiypNLsggriXff5c6Flr6jZqA5JdE/s1600-h/IMG_6043.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnyUJ5oIw4FI3m70qsESpsZU7xZjC40pmW15gtEbuOSYKaCMyrp7MKg4Lq827Vc7aWn5lcCGfG-zcE_MDrTf_Ck9ozGyuJAQRg758tFpk54ZQUdnQiypNLsggriXff5c6Flr6jZqA5JdE/s320/IMG_6043.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365770439570130050" border="0" /></a>Me and Kent's Big Bar.<br /><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibF5xCtYz8674WGbFziUvwgkaWT2LueRHrK8uf52Z0KkF04dihPgS12KIV4iQll-REyKYfLN7h16btu6CJoHVERDqknyV84uuR8ZiZaPRV8fvkT8Aw4_zNUzKno5I11OSrg_7iU5bVYv4/s1600-h/IMG_1681.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibF5xCtYz8674WGbFziUvwgkaWT2LueRHrK8uf52Z0KkF04dihPgS12KIV4iQll-REyKYfLN7h16btu6CJoHVERDqknyV84uuR8ZiZaPRV8fvkT8Aw4_zNUzKno5I11OSrg_7iU5bVYv4/s320/IMG_1681.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365798541039678818" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"></div>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-51681210423186625102009-07-27T18:28:00.001-07:002009-07-28T23:10:14.526-07:00Art+beer= Fair<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaOYHK0-gH2GS14V4MwBhkP30MPLwyuqMBckJoxl-qxabwt1QhYluiOqglwtrqxPOYCY4JY6hOKTw0VPq_WoIvtF51OcN2A19iA7KXLnP7kSeZtEFFweQHZv4C5amU9izO6hmmgk1yNSA/s1600-h/0718092139a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaOYHK0-gH2GS14V4MwBhkP30MPLwyuqMBckJoxl-qxabwt1QhYluiOqglwtrqxPOYCY4JY6hOKTw0VPq_WoIvtF51OcN2A19iA7KXLnP7kSeZtEFFweQHZv4C5amU9izO6hmmgk1yNSA/s320/0718092139a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363760415500858834" border="0" /></a><br />If you want to read what I had to say about the Shadow Art Fair, you should look <a href="http://www.annarbor.com/entertainment/the-deuce/ok-so-picture-it-youre/index.php">here</a>.<br />It includes beer but mostly is about Shadow Art Fair, thus it is an <a href="http://annarbor.com/">Annarbor.com</a> exclusive. Check it.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-679965864742369022009-07-09T12:24:00.000-07:002009-07-22T10:35:18.610-07:00Old News<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsn9LmdGjeReGqiHGcXSLd9P8JdqYzs03Z2JKbEa5zXHBie_8T-Tpa5nM8LmRADrCjBquh_GjUe-dFWQgQJoeqtNz1Rm51JN_Lf8WgnjoSQQ4VAKp5NPuJnDfsqJYtooHIqacppYX-fr4/s1600-h/IMG_1084.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsn9LmdGjeReGqiHGcXSLd9P8JdqYzs03Z2JKbEa5zXHBie_8T-Tpa5nM8LmRADrCjBquh_GjUe-dFWQgQJoeqtNz1Rm51JN_Lf8WgnjoSQQ4VAKp5NPuJnDfsqJYtooHIqacppYX-fr4/s320/IMG_1084.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356545974433061314" border="0" /></a>When I am struck by long bouts of busy/ lazyness such as this, I always debate weather I should start back up with the thing i was going to post a month ago and never got around to, or if I should ignore what happened between my latest blog worthy experience and the last posted one.<br />Today I decided to give you news from June 1st anyway.<br />If you are just so over the Taste of Ann Arbor, well, then, I guess you should go read something else-- but maybe scroll down real quick and look at the pictures.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxSOA-TihN15RT-8tnkZDsLukRPaK4VSF8DJZnwC_HD_c5wQNpWUqFz5NOdhSRMmZ3mFmc_qASM42KufbKrkXUuiPFZOLVdisHVDdhuiUIWtA_mEL7cRMdrcd5Dr-ytFCZiNG-XZoe8LM/s1600-h/IMG_1076.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxSOA-TihN15RT-8tnkZDsLukRPaK4VSF8DJZnwC_HD_c5wQNpWUqFz5NOdhSRMmZ3mFmc_qASM42KufbKrkXUuiPFZOLVdisHVDdhuiUIWtA_mEL7cRMdrcd5Dr-ytFCZiNG-XZoe8LM/s320/IMG_1076.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358187119064520914" border="0" /></a><br /><br />In case you missed it (or are just one of those sorts of people who like to have the same bedtime story read to them over and over again) Taste of Ann Arbor was a Sunday street festival that closed down Main street between William and Washington, borrowed the art fair booths and filled them with bite-sized tastes from local restaurants. In true festival/fair form, you bought tickets (see above) from a lady wearing a smock and sun visor and traded <span style="font-style: italic;">those</span> for food.<br />Pictured with the tickets above is pulled pork from <a href="http://www.conoroneills.com/">Connor O'Neill's</a>, which certainly wasn't my first choice for either restaurant or food item. However, when you arrive half an hour or so before things shut down you can't really be choosy about what's left.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTacyR-DouNeg3nh02Uu4Ve_5jzSADHC-viTfCNWqqtMsn-3xxJUGnEehOdCDr79V9WOzzPzEX3vzMN8bYdTIV6ILWQVq-6Ly4i4UBrW5lcCNw6XiZBj-do9h2ZvQB3BZyJwYV4sXiVJA/s1600-h/IMG_1087.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTacyR-DouNeg3nh02Uu4Ve_5jzSADHC-viTfCNWqqtMsn-3xxJUGnEehOdCDr79V9WOzzPzEX3vzMN8bYdTIV6ILWQVq-6Ly4i4UBrW5lcCNw6XiZBj-do9h2ZvQB3BZyJwYV4sXiVJA/s320/IMG_1087.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357418298938565586" border="0" /></a> What you <span style="font-style: italic;">can</span> do though, is get lucky: as we strolled around post pulled pork, a certain dessert caught my eye: <a href="http://www.amadeusrestaurant.com/">Amadeus</a> had one piece of iced apple torte left, which turned out to be exactly what I wanted. I have to imagine that the chilling was for outdoor food safety purposes and that indoors, it would be served warm, which would be fine-- adaptive, even-- because this was an apple masterpiece: tart and sweet, crunchy and soft with a hint of lemon. Apple perfection is no small honor around these parts: both Jason and my favorite pie is apple. He won't even let me bake him one he likes his mother's so much.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF7wRJ0RLeiZcY31FJnGMq26_ZMp3DCjeeRa8W_jilmgcTRE0xxGWuUVnIQZFp5uUCdakQEYPn8d_FTFU5YhohISnRZyQLbmRtd-XBjXdVsQEUUF2-BvNlXNFVstn3aTVPwbZXe-OKp68/s1600-h/IMG_1086.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF7wRJ0RLeiZcY31FJnGMq26_ZMp3DCjeeRa8W_jilmgcTRE0xxGWuUVnIQZFp5uUCdakQEYPn8d_FTFU5YhohISnRZyQLbmRtd-XBjXdVsQEUUF2-BvNlXNFVstn3aTVPwbZXe-OKp68/s320/IMG_1086.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361331900822787890" border="0" /></a>Jason got that piece of chocolate raspberry cake up there, which was soft and airy and moist and delicious, but it couldn't hold a birthday candle to that tart.<br /><br />I'm getting off track. What I meant to tell you about-- or perhaps remind you about-- is Amadeus. Its not new or flashy or loud. It's menu doesn't contain wild caught rock shrimp with mango arugula chutney.<br />They do have kielbasa and pirogi though,and tradition and romance and old world charm a little like your grandfather, though their coffee is probably stronger than your grandfather would like it. You probably walk past it all the time, on your way to Arbor Brewing or Habana or the like. It's right there on Washington, dimly lit behind some curtains.<br />Next time, I recommend you poke your head in, at least for coffee and dessert, and just see if you can resist. I dare you.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />This will be my last post before I *squeal* go "syndcated" and also post my blog at the Ann Arbor News' new online home, <a href="http://annarbor.com/">Annarbor.com</a>, which goes live Friday, July 24th. Check me out there too, I may occasionally post non-food things over there in the Duce section. Woot. End Broadcast. </span>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-90663204804509602162009-05-30T05:00:00.000-07:002009-05-30T07:42:16.539-07:00Bitters<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOamJj8KDvpi8oxJ85H5bzaWvAlrZ-QE0Uxx-HidDPP65SniuoVhNbYnswZjqFtMM8TLWOzP5T1d_jxmXiu8opqYHpJUH41tgQFMbZn2TUmwFAy_oPkc2PXdZm5_yodfQiZkQ3yRqMpFI/s1600-h/IMG_0863.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOamJj8KDvpi8oxJ85H5bzaWvAlrZ-QE0Uxx-HidDPP65SniuoVhNbYnswZjqFtMM8TLWOzP5T1d_jxmXiu8opqYHpJUH41tgQFMbZn2TUmwFAy_oPkc2PXdZm5_yodfQiZkQ3yRqMpFI/s320/IMG_0863.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335914920053408930" border="0" /></a>SO, I like the <span style="font-style: italic;">idea</span> of cocktails. They seem sort of neat, and perhaps sophisticated, and at least a little more interesting than than my usual whiskey straight or, as previously mentioned, the occasional gin and tonic. But, you need stuff to make them. More precisely, you need little bits of stuff-- dashes and eighths of teaspoons for instance. I'm pretty sure that's why I generally avoid them; they seem like a nuisance. Like Gnats or fruit flies or lint.<br />Therefore, I'm perpetually secretly seeking an arsenal of mixed drink recipes-- ones that simply require pouring pours and mixing with ice via the lone sundae spoon that always ends up underneath the silverware tray some how.<br />And that, ladies and gentlemen of the Jury, is how I ended up with a bottle of Campari. I would request conspiracy charges however, for the guy who wrote the "lazy bartender" blurb in last month's Bon Appetit that described Campari as the perfect summer cocktail when mixed simply with club soda.<br />Given such a glowing review, you can imagine my surprise when I wandered over to the Campari website and they described it as "the ultimate acquired taste"... should they be trying to <span style="font-style: italic;">sell </span>the stuff? Honestly, how bad could it really be?<br />The reverse psychology worked. We ran out and bought a bottle.<br />Campari is neutral grain alcohol flavored with a secret blend of herbs and barks and bug shells (for color) that tastes approximately like the peel of a grapefruit: a lovely light citrus that is quickly replaced by the purest bitter imaginable, the sort of pureness that lands metals and gasses on the periodic table.<br />And people drink it. For fun. People like me, apparently, since Jason and I are now proud owners of a whole fifth of it.<br />Now, least Jason call me on it, I am being a bit hyperbolic. Or at least, he would think so, because he likes the stuff, cold, mixed with a little club soda.<br />I do not. There's a cocktail made out of this stuff, called a negroni, which adds sweet vermouth and gin, which I find palatable, but the best way I've discovered to drink it is in a light white wine, like cheap Vhino Verde, which is down right delicious.<br />And while the fifth was nearly $30, and near everyone I have handed it to thus far has made a face like a cat in the bathtub upon first sip, I'd say it's worth buying for a party if you never have. Just make sure you have a little sweeter white wine around, or even orange juice, and you just may acquire the taste.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-42391456614581495762009-05-06T09:47:00.000-07:002009-05-07T17:21:05.943-07:00Dominoes and Gin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUDvtY2d8ldp5TS6MEXwTA-SFBIe8KFAuVkPgqRxmW7b_choR9ndrvMokeAefwCu_dm_99w9hqcTNhelEhfS9jnv3btPDw13_1TH3O92v0LVjKC22wk6xyM7nSSbNa-BowDg_g_5vQL1c/s1600-h/IMG_0765.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUDvtY2d8ldp5TS6MEXwTA-SFBIe8KFAuVkPgqRxmW7b_choR9ndrvMokeAefwCu_dm_99w9hqcTNhelEhfS9jnv3btPDw13_1TH3O92v0LVjKC22wk6xyM7nSSbNa-BowDg_g_5vQL1c/s320/IMG_0765.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333224199222348722" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm back. I apologize for my extended absence, it wasn't all fun and games-- its was mostly papers and research (if you have a hankering to read 10 pages of analysis about Success For All Schools, or The Workshop in the Classroom, or Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, I could hook that up) with occasional fits of cooking and evenings running.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnIm8KM6sDN5e7ty5y8BbLuwF6Gwq-kyCbgOd7Gszbrv9jL4FmJM4xujL2qWqUMQulV9FTijgDRyqwYxqbCg2UIU6j7QJAm0qcahn3oOzSoQ-IZwIfq5ZTtH8gtMOjgdtPsY4dMi9UKtE/s1600-h/IMG_0319.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnIm8KM6sDN5e7ty5y8BbLuwF6Gwq-kyCbgOd7Gszbrv9jL4FmJM4xujL2qWqUMQulV9FTijgDRyqwYxqbCg2UIU6j7QJAm0qcahn3oOzSoQ-IZwIfq5ZTtH8gtMOjgdtPsY4dMi9UKtE/s320/IMG_0319.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332758569653605170" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I tried my hand at blender-soup, for example, in my absence. You can see how well that went. It was a birthday present for my mother; broccoli with a lemon sour cream, and she liked what was left after I threw it all over my poor coffee pot.<br />I have been the family farm twice; once to soak in the late march sun with the last of the hay bales, and once to plants rows of root vegetables, which, as my mom pointed out, need the same amount of love, but less watering.<br />I've only had dinner on the deck three times, but I intend on changing that <span style="font-style: italic;">soon</span>. And buying more charcoal.<br />I've had two evenings of gin and tonics and have gotten much better at dominoes, as well as BS, which everyone agrees reminds them of summer camp or middle school.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2EWxoFWNlybB1K2Y1WmC-80QmkZw9FQqT9tYtidBwME-bvtCP8lSimOLoNncCeq41kT57g9xUBGk5CtFdyln8Sa_DVhx7yCxQ_nkwJkjdd6-dRKWFFXxNoTfYiOqNi7K7Rewck38Lme4/s1600-h/IMG_0679.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2EWxoFWNlybB1K2Y1WmC-80QmkZw9FQqT9tYtidBwME-bvtCP8lSimOLoNncCeq41kT57g9xUBGk5CtFdyln8Sa_DVhx7yCxQ_nkwJkjdd6-dRKWFFXxNoTfYiOqNi7K7Rewck38Lme4/s320/IMG_0679.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332763202934768754" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I understand that its out of season right now-- (along with white pumps, snow shovels and corn) but-- I've been hoarding.<br />Recipes, that is.<br />A dinner party, more specifically. I've slowly collected a mental dinner party for you.<br />I, of course, did not have a dinner party; I had finals. So, fair warning, I think this sounds great theoretically, but it could turn out to be like communism-- great on paper.<br />Anyhow, at the very least, I can vouch for deliciousness and simplicity separately, and highly recommend all of the following for any occasion.<br /><br />Appetizers:<br />Fried Chickpeas<br />Cured things: garlic stuffed olives, salami, prosciutto, etc.<br />Carbohydrate: crackers, or toasty baguette pieces<br />A cheese you like; I like Gouda.<br />Fruit, as it is *almost* fruit season.<br /><br />Salad, with baby greens and beets and feta and pecans and vinagrette<br /><br />Baked Orzo with Shirmp<br /><br />Rhubarb Custard Pie<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQc8QMsJHSKdc94xSJM088A1974tnFXh_BxA_kXKR-fFm6dI7M1RDeI2rPGhXRhnVX0_hq7nLCZr23i_yU8SVYapaUahE6PR2SvqN-uqwvFHVmHUAIOtHCyVXeF_aSgo06BxX0N_THDB8/s1600-h/IMG_0779.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQc8QMsJHSKdc94xSJM088A1974tnFXh_BxA_kXKR-fFm6dI7M1RDeI2rPGhXRhnVX0_hq7nLCZr23i_yU8SVYapaUahE6PR2SvqN-uqwvFHVmHUAIOtHCyVXeF_aSgo06BxX0N_THDB8/s320/IMG_0779.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333219437590373042" border="0" /></a><br /><br />So, chickpeas. In case you missed, I loooove chickpeas. This, however, is my favorite way to love chickpeas-- its more of a formula than a recipe though. Your going to need a can or two of chickpeas, one if its for you, two if its for sharing. Rise the chickpeas, in a colander or in the can, and then dry them out on paper towel.<br />In a good sized heavy pan, heat up a large glug of olive oil. Remember, your frying not sauteeing-- you want enough to make 'em greasy, but not so much that they're swimming.<br />Once the oil is hot, add your garbanzos. Ideally, you want them to brown and crust a little, and get sort of creamy on the inside. When you feel confident that this is happening (sneak one out of the pan if you need tangible proof), add about a teaspoon or so of smoked paprika, which come in a tin <a href="http://www.cybercucina.com/ccimages/products/SD7018M-l.jpg">like this</a> and can be found at Morgan and York, if I recall correctly, and generous salt and pepper. I recommend adding a little <a href="http://www.penzeys.com/cgi-bin/penzeys/p-penzeysaleppopepper.html">Aleppo pepper</a>, which is an oily Syrian flake-- leave it out you have hot smoked paprika, though.<br />If you have no smoked paprika, you really really should get some, but regular ol' paprika will do in a pinch.<br />Ok, well, that's it. You're done. Put 'em in a pretty bowl with a spoon, and watch them disappear.<br /><br />The rest of the appetizers and salad I think you can figure out on your own.<br />On to the largest Pyrex you own.<br /><br />You're going to need it for the baked orzo. I followed the recipe pretty exactly (which I have shamelessly stolen from <span style="font-style: italic;">Gourmet</span>), but would make a few changes next time-- I used a pound of jumbos, which was not enough; two would have been great. The recipe has you mix in the shrimp with the pasta, which makes them hard to find, and thus, hard to serve evenly. Next time I would fish 'em out of the sauce before mixing with the orzo and spread them over the top, under the cheese, before baking. I could also see grilling the shrimp and then throwing 'em on there, instead of cooking them in the sauce.<br />I'm sorry I didn't take any pictures, I should have as I had plenty of time-- Jason and I ate it for three days straight.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ingredients</span><br /> <ul id="ingredientsList"><li>1 medium onion, finely chopped</li><li>3 garlic cloves, minced</li><li>1/2 teaspoon dried oregano, crumbled</li><li>1/4 teaspoon dried hot red pepper flakes</li><li>2 tablespoons olive oil</li><li>1/2 cup dry white wine</li><li>1 (28- to 32-oz) can crushed tomatoes</li><li>1 teaspoon salt</li><li>1 1/2 lb large shrimp (about 36), shelled and deveined</li><li>1 lb orzo (rice-shaped pasta)</li><li>1/2 cup Kalamata or other brine-cured black olives, pitted and chopped</li><li>1 lb feta, patted dry and crumbled (3 cups)</li></ul> <div style="font-weight: bold;" class="detail_division"><br /></div> <div id="preparation" class=""><span style="font-weight: bold;"> Preparation</span> <p> Preheat oven to 425°F. </p> <p> Cook onion, garlic, oregano, and red pepper flakes in 1 tablespoon oil in a 4-quart heavy pot over moderately high heat, stirring, until onion is softened, about 3 minutes. Add wine and boil until reduced by half, about 3 minutes. Stir in tomatoes and salt, then reduce heat and simmer briskly, stirring frequently, until slightly thickened, about 8 minutes. Stir shrimp into sauce and simmer, stirring occasionally, until shrimp are just cooked through, about 3 minutes. </p> <p> While sauce and shrimp are cooking, cook orzo in a 6-quart pot of boiling salted water until al dente. Reserve 1/2 cup cooking water, then drain orzo in a sieve. Return orzo to pot and toss with remaining tablespoon oil. Stir in sauce with shrimp and reserved cooking water, then add olives and salt and pepper to taste. </p> <p> Spoon half of pasta into an oiled 13- by 9- by 2-inch glass baking dish, then sprinkle with half of feta. Top with remaining pasta and feta, then bake in middle of oven, uncovered, until cheese is slightly melted and pasta is heated through, 10 to 15 minutes.<br /></p><p><br /></p></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy3pk2mUfoVU15XIMyrmqSuPY48U-MHwjaCcIY8UT4mvz_2u0C2lULNhkOl6k_nbV5-qcw3wl-a5F5Od3UFjMYVICVPDLtT7Wn7_jw6uR-tWVZLEJDn9cI9tJPpcuK6sArMfGo-2psc4E/s1600-h/IMG_0769.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy3pk2mUfoVU15XIMyrmqSuPY48U-MHwjaCcIY8UT4mvz_2u0C2lULNhkOl6k_nbV5-qcw3wl-a5F5Od3UFjMYVICVPDLtT7Wn7_jw6uR-tWVZLEJDn9cI9tJPpcuK6sArMfGo-2psc4E/s320/IMG_0769.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333236524390640546" border="0" /></a>Rhubarb Custard Pie was not my idea. It was something my mom whipped up last Sunday after spending the day planting potatoes, and it was already in the fridge by the time I arrived for dinner. I must admit, when she first put my little slice in front of me, I was skeptical-- it was this funny pale green color that reminded me of a faded and yellowed fifties photograph. It turns out thats a fair assessment of this pie-- pale and calm and markedly old fashioned, except that it tastes a thousand times better than I could imagine anything else that color tasting. It's sweet and rhubarb-sour and thick, all in the right places.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ingredients</span><br />4 cups medium diced rhubarb <br />1 ¾ cup sugar ( or even a little less)<br />¼ c flour<br />2 tbsp water<br />½ tsp salt<br /><br />2 egg beaten<br />3 tbsp milk<br /><br />grated nutmeg to tatse—teaspoon or so<br />1 tbsp butter<br /><br />Top and bottom pie crust, prepared from the recipe of your choice<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Method</span><br /><br />In a pot big enough to hold it all, combine the first four ingredients and cook down over medium-ish heat for about 15 minutes.<br /><br />meanwhile, make your crusts.<br /><br />If you have time, let the rhubarb mixture cool. If you don't we'll go over that in a minute.<br /><br />In a large bowl, combine the milk and eggs. If you cooled your rhubarb, whisk it all in. If you didn't, add the rhubarb a cup or so at a time so the dairy doesn't curdle. Add the nutmeg.<br /><br />Arrange the bottom crust in a pie plate, and spoon your filling in. Cut off little chunks of the butter, and spread them evenly atop the filling. Roll out your top crust and affix it to the bottom one. Don't forget to cut steam holes and give it a little egg wash so it browns up nice.<br /><br />Bake at 350 for 40-50 minutes, depending on your oven.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-32592324717365764342009-02-25T22:51:00.001-08:002009-02-26T00:53:36.539-08:00A weekend in the CityIn case you hadn't caught on, my boyfriend is pretty spectacular. For instance, my valentine's day gift was a hand painted mug (I love mugs. I have a genetic love of dishes from my mother) and today, he cleaned (!) my room (!) while I was at work because I spent the day moaning about how I hadn't gotten anything done, cleaning or otherwise, and he <span style="font-style: italic;">likes</span> me. In addition to be amazing, his best friends have a beautiful apartment in Chicago, and have extended us an open invitation to their spare room.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigNbmYrbpyMU0axUESxlWmLM-DUYPTkY9QZ4_4M1Qws0jWuOR3ZrusUXSkVZs0s_iFolH1z4OYFUm_2nA7v-6Q8ADUTgK7tNVf8KwTKgL4ymuKtEIZEyGJTuCwMhszQF80ESVf4uh7-Vw/s1600-h/IMG_0261.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigNbmYrbpyMU0axUESxlWmLM-DUYPTkY9QZ4_4M1Qws0jWuOR3ZrusUXSkVZs0s_iFolH1z4OYFUm_2nA7v-6Q8ADUTgK7tNVf8KwTKgL4ymuKtEIZEyGJTuCwMhszQF80ESVf4uh7-Vw/s320/IMG_0261.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307001225932385010" border="0" /></a>So, far we have quickly destroyed it each time we visit and even hung our bath towels to dry on the edges of James' electric drums-- but James and Ariel have been very good sports.<br />So good in fact, that when I suggested we check out an <a href="http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2006/01/22/MNGOOGRA241.DTL">underground supper club</a> in town, they were not only agreeable, but excited. Chicago's version is called <a href="http://www.clandestinodining.com/">Clandestino,</a> and the ring leader, Efrian, got his start with the much publicized Ghetto Gourmet interviewed in the first link. The dinner we attended was in the loft office of a mortgage company.<br />Well, everyone keeps asking, How was it?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wSr8i9CEtBPssxy0YBUFuoL1gyfyPBWsmVhJUYG1vnu7Z9YG4OVcTu6ep1yO5xOP0m0GxeQXEQSPfUjnbMJysuTXjVQSJ0uFjPMPS2vaZavC801hQYR1I8FLPJcl-gVCMIHm_PCWcJQ/s1600-h/IMG_0162.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wSr8i9CEtBPssxy0YBUFuoL1gyfyPBWsmVhJUYG1vnu7Z9YG4OVcTu6ep1yO5xOP0m0GxeQXEQSPfUjnbMJysuTXjVQSJ0uFjPMPS2vaZavC801hQYR1I8FLPJcl-gVCMIHm_PCWcJQ/s320/IMG_0162.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307008978856795138" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It was cool. It was <span style="font-style: italic;">way</span> cool. The vibe was awesome, the people were great, and the sense of community was visible. The food was delicious, meticulously planned and exuded soul and spirit. Menu was as follows:<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br />Chips and 2 salsas<br />Flautas w/ lamb chorizo and potato<br />Spanish Mackerel ceviche, cured w/ lime and grapefruit<br />Chicken Tortilla Soup<br />Birria de Chivo, served in roasted poblano<br />Tres Leches Torte<br /></div><br />The winners, in my opinion, were the chicken tortilla soup and the Birria, which is goat. The soup, especially, was subtle and salty and deep without being rich.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqzFs9dMEVSHWjMw6fYMmD6bdBRxjCJn4N8mu61ykLYFFOaCJ7QO-3l5YO9B4yesmB8gLLYhQVPK10sjDrRIL5JXzInb7kUpsKGV7uPNr-HS8XzpcENFl1uUO8XunuKCpzZmvWm5tjcqk/s1600-h/IMG_0189.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqzFs9dMEVSHWjMw6fYMmD6bdBRxjCJn4N8mu61ykLYFFOaCJ7QO-3l5YO9B4yesmB8gLLYhQVPK10sjDrRIL5JXzInb7kUpsKGV7uPNr-HS8XzpcENFl1uUO8XunuKCpzZmvWm5tjcqk/s320/IMG_0189.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307011298187324978" border="0" /></a><br />The goat though. It was my first goat-eating experience, and it was infinitely better than my over-all first goat experience, which occurred at the tender age of three at the Detroit Zoo when a goat snatched my zoo-map right out of my chubby hands and had the nerve to chew it apart it in front of me.<br />This goat course was sublime. It was sort of shredded, and stuffed in a pepper with a little rice and topped with a little cheese. It was tender but chewy, and I ate it quicker than I wanted to, because, well, I couldn't help it. It came with what seemed to be roasted root veggies and smear of some sort of barbecue-like sauce that, I swear, with the squash, was one of the best sauces I have tasted.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLHNvVZS72YWhSyiXJuZwdQ2ECKLm87HWrUdYy4mqd2hC2WhejQCCA1NTGfx7da0jkyjVXmjUCtFpjUGMnptWwVTStpE-OIcj7NAyiN6xrnKn68XxZavVcDVdXCswdnNtDE3CFTdWzkw/s1600-h/IMG_0216.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLHNvVZS72YWhSyiXJuZwdQ2ECKLm87HWrUdYy4mqd2hC2WhejQCCA1NTGfx7da0jkyjVXmjUCtFpjUGMnptWwVTStpE-OIcj7NAyiN6xrnKn68XxZavVcDVdXCswdnNtDE3CFTdWzkw/s320/IMG_0216.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307014600121889810" border="0" /></a>Afterward, we went to the Signature Room for a drink, which is the bar at the top of the Hancock building with spectacular, hard to photograph and easy to be awestruck by views. My scotch on the rocks was $13, and so was Ariel's amaretto and James' Bloody Mary, which was, coencidentally, too spicy to drink. It was nice though, and we were dressed for it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQX5NDp_7HM9kALnTesCKMBZ956xCW2ePA1gD3DggjzKOFUGmEJD-f-t1NaMDSneF8oVK7YXv_BmMYlQcn4NGN-Yx5evQmqGUkLC6dA8g07S2JqLpTnbgNoucLg26uC1Coq4jUXx093mc/s1600-h/100_0824.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQX5NDp_7HM9kALnTesCKMBZ956xCW2ePA1gD3DggjzKOFUGmEJD-f-t1NaMDSneF8oVK7YXv_BmMYlQcn4NGN-Yx5evQmqGUkLC6dA8g07S2JqLpTnbgNoucLg26uC1Coq4jUXx093mc/s320/100_0824.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307016830468823058" border="0" /></a>On the way home, we had the cabbie take us to a liquor store and the boys went in and bought bought some beer while Ariel and I held the cab.<br />We may have gone to bed a little late, and may have woken up a little hungover. So in the early afternoon, we meandered through the radiant sunshine to ye old Zagat-rated corner breakfast spot, <a href="http://www.nookiesrestaurants.net/oldtown/facts.html">Nookie's.</a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4AoDwdzctD_zH-TOsMZnsWuOudFnXHYD4J5K-txH3xVxAx4hwhJB2CvNoms6Zo6C2XgGV8ga9eHzREeeCBMxv7J1K2ZoivFheip2qIzGeIc1VoRmYGuhq3V5-oFOFpPYFVN9-tAJ9_j8/s1600-h/IMG_0267.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4AoDwdzctD_zH-TOsMZnsWuOudFnXHYD4J5K-txH3xVxAx4hwhJB2CvNoms6Zo6C2XgGV8ga9eHzREeeCBMxv7J1K2ZoivFheip2qIzGeIc1VoRmYGuhq3V5-oFOFpPYFVN9-tAJ9_j8/s320/IMG_0267.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307019300368539794" border="0" /></a>It was so good I didn't even finish my eggs, and I <span style="font-style: italic;">love</span> eggs over easy. The coffee was free and Jason had buckwheat pancakes and after, we took a train downtown and spent the afternoon in one of my very favorite places on earth (so far), the Art Institute of Chicago, which not only has some of my favorite Toulouse-Lautrec and Monet's haystacks, but <span style="font-style: italic;">American Gothic</span>, which I find in even more surreal to be in the same room with than Surat's monster.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIBBPoxgoAc_7qHJWCIdooO3EZKGeuamDc6hDIG9gS09TwpaH8BYXbYyJ8t0BliqF5c0kbfL6jwajGSCtaH2vftZ1fboUdBdxNionkADeTLlw01Mlsww9PfN-CP9AxniZJASkBw0S_mPA/s1600-h/Untitled.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 312px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIBBPoxgoAc_7qHJWCIdooO3EZKGeuamDc6hDIG9gS09TwpaH8BYXbYyJ8t0BliqF5c0kbfL6jwajGSCtaH2vftZ1fboUdBdxNionkADeTLlw01Mlsww9PfN-CP9AxniZJASkBw0S_mPA/s320/Untitled.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307026230586037698" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Did I mention that James recently graduated from the Chicago Le Cordon Bleu institute? Right.<br />So, Sunday James made us a fantastic pork tenderloin dinner that every bit reflected his formal education and love of food.<br /><br />That night we played a make shift version of cranium and watched <span style="font-style: italic;">The King of Kong</span>, which, was ridiculous and I recommend highly.<br /><br />In the morning, Jason and I picked up a little bit and crept out, long after James had left for work at the fish market, while Ariel slept and Stan chased water around the bath tub.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhl_crV3fm9jM8hhqNduS0KJdgxUG2nPCdsLH_ScLk_sf7scexAf6077B9OpB_Ohm8Wyr6QoBZADIuaNYtKB6sv6haIrLeXL9Wgq_gSieZB5C6wAe4CTJuq_qgYw4Lcvtgp2Jyy6SF32g/s1600-h/IMG_0301.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhl_crV3fm9jM8hhqNduS0KJdgxUG2nPCdsLH_ScLk_sf7scexAf6077B9OpB_Ohm8Wyr6QoBZADIuaNYtKB6sv6haIrLeXL9Wgq_gSieZB5C6wAe4CTJuq_qgYw4Lcvtgp2Jyy6SF32g/s320/IMG_0301.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307024862532500994" border="0" /></a>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-76050736836464418682009-02-14T00:01:00.000-08:002009-02-14T00:27:55.657-08:00Canada is just over thereThe time has come: It is truly, unmistakably, most dismally, winter. The holidays have past, the sun is sparse, and the few warmer days we do have are just a cruel set up for impending blizzards. (That's right Michigan, after 20 years I've figured you out).<br />It would be a great time for a California vacation, except that as I figure it, it would cost the entire contents of my checking account to get there.<br />However, for about $18 in travel expenses you can can still spend the afternoon tasting wine.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIhODKQa-4M0kUfT7fm9VyqDqxloMazZ5W5Mkx86Zmxehx3cmeAgDcZEl1b21reWH3N7Blx1w0S8pCSRBMVkA4ol6bvHSoEfg7cQdlSurIeRJREx5AI7L7dAcy7BS2i82S7x316e1D33k/s1600-h/992350513308_0_ALB.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIhODKQa-4M0kUfT7fm9VyqDqxloMazZ5W5Mkx86Zmxehx3cmeAgDcZEl1b21reWH3N7Blx1w0S8pCSRBMVkA4ol6bvHSoEfg7cQdlSurIeRJREx5AI7L7dAcy7BS2i82S7x316e1D33k/s320/992350513308_0_ALB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301597901692967202" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Pictures by the mamma</span></span> </div><br /><br />Though it's easy to overlook, Ontario is just right over there, and they have their very own guaranteed vintacultural region (like Italy's DOCG in theory). In a little over an hour, you can make it to Lake Erie's north shore region, which is packed full of wineries willing to give a free taste on a Sunday afternoon. The official winery route map shows six, and we stopped at least one that wasn't on the map. There are little grape signs everywhere once you get down there.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLIXWL0uvMP_aWo-0rWpheIhbvHi0LFU19iJWqmvdt5ydE5FwGGzzNC2qXkjbXgrBoP53YdJYLtOgPdQtCe1rR0LLXe-55o81ZItsHiVfFd1tnshmD37vzCGzaQcjFAUVzyc45oPZOJrU/s1600-h/183660513308_0_ALB.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLIXWL0uvMP_aWo-0rWpheIhbvHi0LFU19iJWqmvdt5ydE5FwGGzzNC2qXkjbXgrBoP53YdJYLtOgPdQtCe1rR0LLXe-55o81ZItsHiVfFd1tnshmD37vzCGzaQcjFAUVzyc45oPZOJrU/s320/183660513308_0_ALB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301605979718698498" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Jason, Me, and the daddy at Sprucewood Shores</span><br /><br /></div>If you need a mini vacation, this is what you need to do. I swear. You don't even need a passport. And if you take the tunnel, when you get out, there's a tourist information center where the lone lady manning the giant desk will pluck you a map and write directions on it <span style="font-style: italic;">upside down</span> AND highlight your route.<br /><br />No, not all the wine was amazing. Quite a bit of it was watery. (I'm willing to attribute this to the relatively cold growing season) But the merlot-cab at <a href="http://www.colchesterridge.com/index.php">Colchester Ridge</a> was excellent, and the <a href="http://www.mastronardiwines.com/home.php">Mastronardi</a> cab franc was quite nice too. And, Windsor has quite a few nice restaurants that are remarkably cheap (we have been particularly impressed with <a href="http://www.mezzo.ca/">Mezzo</a>, though we researched quite a few others that looked nice-- they just didn't serve lunch.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdmpPy_kjU0AjBw9PMJwou9e5Ia-eisZ77WU6gp0eb9dTwRKifgXJNT4IKxdwX5hVZRv7ByD7GzokEFrsUGoGy_8otYsSHFFj3yupHyNSOWFV63ApXulvwtp2LIpOgOnHQLOwIpdW6zSU/s1600-h/IMG_0039.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdmpPy_kjU0AjBw9PMJwou9e5Ia-eisZ77WU6gp0eb9dTwRKifgXJNT4IKxdwX5hVZRv7ByD7GzokEFrsUGoGy_8otYsSHFFj3yupHyNSOWFV63ApXulvwtp2LIpOgOnHQLOwIpdW6zSU/s320/IMG_0039.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302564466442319090" border="0" /></a><br />In short, it was a satisfying Sunday. We drove back to Windsor along the river as the sun was setting, and as it grow colder outside we relaxed in to the front seats and didn't even have to look at each other to know that <span style="font-style: italic;">this was good.</span> When we got home, we fell asleep on the couch in a heap, waking up just in time for a round of scrabble before bed--<br />And if that's not vacation, I don't know what is.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-62592603323311439542009-02-09T10:39:00.000-08:002009-02-09T11:47:29.772-08:00Weekends, for me, aren't quite the relaxing opportunity for doing all the thing that get pushed aside all week-- I work until midnight Friday and Saturday, which severely limits my ability to relax in general (if you've ever accidentally tried to go to Trader Joe's on a Saturday afternoon you'll understand why), not to mention my ability to do weekend-type food things, like cook or go out. As a result of this, if I don't have a solid plan and alarm set for Sunday, I am highly predisposed to accidentally sleep all day, and spend the early afternoon eating peanut butter and jelly on frozen waffles while drinking coffee and getting lost in the internet.<br /><br />I am pleased to announce, however, that I did an excellent job of doing stuff this weekend.<br /><br />Friday after work we headed out to Sidetrack's for post-work beer. While this really isn't anything unusual, I did want to mention that while Sidetrack's occasionally has the worst service of any restaurant in the Ypsi-Arbor area (it occasionally takes a strong combination of luck, persistence and a touch of bitchy-ness to get a waiter) they also have a great selections of beer on tap (such as Bell's hop slam currently) and the kitchen is open until 2am. Sidetrack's is know for their burgers, which are excellent, but my favorite is their wacky selection of bar-food appetizers-- particularly beer-battered and deep-fried pickles. If you've never had a deep-fried pickle, you really should, and Sidetrack's are far better than any others I've had. They also deep-fry battered artichoke hearts, and make a mean veggie slider. <a href="http://www.sidetrackbarandgrill.com/food.php">Click here</a> for the menu-- also of note are the Irish egg rolls, which are just so grossly delicious.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi829pcEZjuGFG9RKbC5ZgiswpZgL07-FdU0JJzQqVwLlZUMQg62oVmg2D4yhm1IFOsXT02-Nwk-CnF-gppqkXBN-eJG8PQuy8-pmEH6QeWJGWVWkYnSjuufC-T0gOXkOmmk20wS5Ffvvg/s1600-h/IMG_0044.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi829pcEZjuGFG9RKbC5ZgiswpZgL07-FdU0JJzQqVwLlZUMQg62oVmg2D4yhm1IFOsXT02-Nwk-CnF-gppqkXBN-eJG8PQuy8-pmEH6QeWJGWVWkYnSjuufC-T0gOXkOmmk20wS5Ffvvg/s320/IMG_0044.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300877803529293362" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />On Saturday, Jason and I went to Morgan and York for lunch. M&Y do made to order sandwiches at the deli counter, and while they're giving Zingerman's competition for the most expensive sandwich in town ($10-11) Morgan and York's offerings are subtler, and more inventive. Last time we went, I had shredded beets and spicy ham, this time I went for Bresola and artichoke. What these sandwiches lack in size is easily made up for in flavor, not to mention that it just feels good to hold hands and slowly wander the shop while your sandwiches are made, reading bottles and chocolate bars and vinegar descriptions. Its a lovely way to spend part of a sunny Saturday afternoon before work. And, least I forget, they have this ridiculous Zucchini soup (its in the bowl up there) that's only $12 for a whole quart. The soup doesn't have any cream in it-- but it's creamy and thick and just a little bit spicy and comes with a little cup of mancheigo to sprinkle on it, and somehow, it feels very forgiving. It is a <span style="font-style: italic;">nice</span> soup.<br />I will warn you though, that while you wander around and look at things in a way that's a cross between a kid in a candy shop and an afternoon at an art museum, you are likely to find something that is out of your budget that you convince yourself would be ok to try because it's Saturday, and the sun's out and you have a quart of forgiving soup waiting for you.<br />We ended up with a six-pack of Bell's hopslam.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GKBSWluZVeszSvcrsfKdg9EPVXCMJZXtYlEsqTxw2jhFS7UHucvhPtEH2K3TevQRvUndOJ1cE2bBx8G3C_u-Mcm4QErLp__R8DhTRczgHi5_sSU0o9ZsjNNtj7YTcW21Irv8qaC6JKk/s1600-h/IMG_0052.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GKBSWluZVeszSvcrsfKdg9EPVXCMJZXtYlEsqTxw2jhFS7UHucvhPtEH2K3TevQRvUndOJ1cE2bBx8G3C_u-Mcm4QErLp__R8DhTRczgHi5_sSU0o9ZsjNNtj7YTcW21Irv8qaC6JKk/s320/IMG_0052.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300886160661630018" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-size:78%;">There it is, hangin out on my windowsill.</span><br /></div><br />a six pack of beer doesn't sound so bad, except that this particular six pack is $18.50. Yes, that 1 is supposed to be there. Hopslam is one of Bell's specialty beers, that is only available seasonally. Why is it so expensive? Well, part of it is that it's a seasonal specialty. The other part is that it's 10% abv. In our defense, we didn't notice the price tag until after it was rung up, and at that point, our gulit about putting it back overrode the gilt about spending $3 a beer.<br />Is it worth it?<br />Not really. Don't get me wrong, the stuff is good. Its brewed with honey, which gives it a light citrusy flavor and completely overrides the bitterness of the hops. I liked it a lot, and I do not <span style="font-style: italic;">like </span>IPA's-- i'm a wheat beer girl. Not to mention that one bottle left me completely buzzed, a task that generally takes about two and a half. But, I don't drink to get drunk I drink to you know, <span style="font-style: italic;">enjoy</span>, so the fact that it got me there twice as fast wasn't exactly a posetive.<br /><br />Verdict: If someone like you enough to buy you one, go for it. I doubt you'll be disappointed. But it's not twice as good as the rest of Bell's beer, so I wouldn't reccomend spending twice as much on it.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-4655728019259790822009-01-21T09:31:00.000-08:002009-01-21T12:55:58.357-08:00What you're having for dinner<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeEpD20F3xCNVjZTnPEY0mZ_gTEI3Z_ffIA3_Awe_ijW2gERZgq-CiJCOVbkJ9itBf9Av18HjjLmLnbMKaU-ngjV_oy25T_LcIUvDPGUpONs9YqlE4A3BzHhSnKh-Jw_-ykOTw8PjpPBI/s1600-h/358276770_1233049590_0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeEpD20F3xCNVjZTnPEY0mZ_gTEI3Z_ffIA3_Awe_ijW2gERZgq-CiJCOVbkJ9itBf9Av18HjjLmLnbMKaU-ngjV_oy25T_LcIUvDPGUpONs9YqlE4A3BzHhSnKh-Jw_-ykOTw8PjpPBI/s320/358276770_1233049590_0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293815624931601666" border="0" /></a>you'll have to excuse the fact that I took that with my cell phone, because it is delicious. Now, perhaps you read my last post about the soso-pork "stew" I made for dinner last week. If you did, I'm sorry. Don't make it. I can't imagine why anyone would go through all the bother of making that one, when this one is so much more satisfying and so much quicker. Skeptical? This recipe has 120 positive reviews at epicurious. You can't go wrong-- its got all the makings for perfect-- slightly smoky from the ham, rich and tromato-y, with a lil tiny kick form the arugula. All inside 20 minutes.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Fast White Bean Stew</span></span><br /> <ul id="ingredientsList"><li>2 large garlic cloves, chopped</li><li>1/4 cup plus 1/2 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil</li><li>1 (14- to 15-ounce) can stewed tomatoes ( I used diced)<br /></li><li>1 3/4 cups reduced-sodium chicken broth</li><li>2 (19-ounce) cans cannellini beans, rinsed and drained (3 cups)</li><li>1 (1/2-pound) piece baked ham (1/2 to 3/4 inch thick), cut into 1/2-inch cubes</li><li>1/4 teaspoon black pepper</li><li>1 (5-ounce) bag baby romaine or baby arugula (10 cups loosely packed)</li><li>8 (3/4-inch-thick) slices baguette</li></ul> <div id="preparation" class=""> Preparation <p> Cook garlic in 1/4 cup oil in a 3 1/2- to 4 1/2-quart heavy pot over moderately high heat, stirring, until golden, 1 to 2 minutes. Coarsely cut up tomatoes in can with kitchen shears, then add (with juice) to garlic in oil. Stir in broth, beans, ham, and pepper and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, uncovered, 5 minutes. Stir in greens and cook until wilted, 3 minutes for romaine or 1 minute for arugula. </p> <p> While stew is simmering, preheat broiler. Put bread on a baking sheet and drizzle with remaining 1/2 tablespoon oil. Broil 3 to 4 inches from heat until golden, 1 to 1 1/2 minutes. </p> <p> Serve stew with toasts. </p></div>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-58830357665752816822009-01-17T12:13:00.000-08:002009-01-19T09:18:35.933-08:00Dear December,I'm sorry I've been gone so long. It's been nearly two months, I know. But I have a note from my mother. It reads:<br />Dear Bogosphere:<br />Please excuse alli for her lack luster blogging. She has been very busy sleeping on the couch,<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6pUTfyx73dz5CQQKtvJ0zNb4zojSAFEqXJPNsKaOlyTsMP3JOo9o1nK55zquitrBWk0NTXqB3SG3XSoyhwgvQ4hTbRkOsgrJ3FwGid7nW6ojMxFE9d8B9pW09DhsLrheE1CCwFzJNK6Y/s1600-h/654343652308_0_ALB.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6pUTfyx73dz5CQQKtvJ0zNb4zojSAFEqXJPNsKaOlyTsMP3JOo9o1nK55zquitrBWk0NTXqB3SG3XSoyhwgvQ4hTbRkOsgrJ3FwGid7nW6ojMxFE9d8B9pW09DhsLrheE1CCwFzJNK6Y/s200/654343652308_0_ALB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292792405979396994" border="0" /></a><br /><br />putting her aunt's dog in her sister's purse,<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFiM64QJFXKPVsfkP-JH3tJ5j_1AOA_x6XX4r8Wf0r7KoKqQQL1UcQepVbWTNdtxfbr_PPSElLgJf2mzAL77CH6KaSJoUTA7kPrILr9ZkwJBqNy2naTRsZGSUbQ4TycCxJqiSEdVv9f8/s1600-h/434343652308_0_ALB.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieFiM64QJFXKPVsfkP-JH3tJ5j_1AOA_x6XX4r8Wf0r7KoKqQQL1UcQepVbWTNdtxfbr_PPSElLgJf2mzAL77CH6KaSJoUTA7kPrILr9ZkwJBqNy2naTRsZGSUbQ4TycCxJqiSEdVv9f8/s200/434343652308_0_ALB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292792880757916434" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />and having her parent's over for dinner and feeding them <a href="http://vitaille.blogspot.com/2008/09/winner-winner-chicken-dinner.html">chicken in Riesling</a>, made entirely from Detroit farmer's market purchases.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_lFctUpIYIcUw-qGEk2bR1TmfoqB7rC8_eQUXByI5MsBhMEZ94QFq5wtJEEZ6Ic_YDv0QMukom9V4i5KiJcEnEcy4OaxEPDN6ieFPufyzmldACpY-qW7r4JAGz2LAS2wkVLRDulOT8M/s1600-h/462813652308_0_ALB.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_lFctUpIYIcUw-qGEk2bR1TmfoqB7rC8_eQUXByI5MsBhMEZ94QFq5wtJEEZ6Ic_YDv0QMukom9V4i5KiJcEnEcy4OaxEPDN6ieFPufyzmldACpY-qW7r4JAGz2LAS2wkVLRDulOT8M/s200/462813652308_0_ALB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292793242865521970" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Regards,<br />The Mamma<br /><br />It's true. December was busy. But I wouldn't want to deprive you of my December cooking adventures simply because I am a solid mixture of lazy and overbooked. So.<br /><br />First, I want to tell you about <a href="http://gastronomical3.wordpress.com/2008/12/21/scramble-just-like-grandma-used-to-make/">Maria's Grandma's scramble</a>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWap1qAhM6B6n2YfxWXmDuHL-9UHp5e2LAGCD97h2SJ7fSvsKLQRisUqUeGrDGGQMzbpzbnKUWtKkQoGZYEixO1d9NMjKa8e5l-G-d6T9eQ93_8Sh-Itn9Ds0LFriIGTuS7NQ1kCzgnbA/s1600-h/312033652308_0_ALB.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWap1qAhM6B6n2YfxWXmDuHL-9UHp5e2LAGCD97h2SJ7fSvsKLQRisUqUeGrDGGQMzbpzbnKUWtKkQoGZYEixO1d9NMjKa8e5l-G-d6T9eQ93_8Sh-Itn9Ds0LFriIGTuS7NQ1kCzgnbA/s320/312033652308_0_ALB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293046371036246834" border="0" /></a><br />If you look carefully, you can see a big bag of it sitting in the corner there. I'd suggest you pop over to <a href="http://gastronomical3.wordpress.com/2008/12/21/scramble-just-like-grandma-used-to-make/">gastronomical three</a> and read Maria's scramble story, as it's particularly lovely and warm and nostalgic. My story about it involves multiple very very slow drives around Ann Arbor to gather the necessary ingredients in lots of snow and even more traffic, which was warm, but not lovely or nostalgic.<br /><div class="entry"><div class="snap_preview"><p><em><strong><br /></strong></em></p><p><em><strong>Scramble</strong></em></p> <p>4-6 cups Cheerios or other multigrain “O” cereal</p> <p>4-6 cups Wheat Chex</p> <p>4-6 cups Rice Chex</p> <p>4-6 cups thin pretzel sticks</p> <p>2 lbs. mixed nuts</p> <p>2 cups canola oil<span style="font-style: italic;"> ( I used olive oil, because I ran out of canola and the idea of taking 45 minutes to make a 5 minute drive for the second time in a day was too much to bear. It was a noticeable change, as cereal soaked in olive oil tastes like olive oil, but it was a change I enjoyed immensely.)</span><br /></p> <p>1 T worchester sauce</p> <p>1 T onion salt</p> <p>1 T garlic salt</p> <p>1 T celery seed<span style="font-style: italic;"> ( I did not use celery seed, for the same reason I did not use canola oil)</span><br /></p> <p>Preheat oven to 200 degrees</p> <p>Combine cereals, nuts and pretzels in a large roasting pan. Whisk together oil, worchester sauce and spices. Pour over dry ingredients and mix gently. Bake for two hours in the oven, stirring occasionally, until aromatic and crispy.</p> <p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">* * * * *<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Summer Christmas Stew</span></p></div> </div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRfL1f2MvEqkpOnd6W_HitnNbVQwJ3cBX48pvlq_ilkaR7-6cV6lXDDIAbf9L1uQO6Q2MbBWqs_dzkP_vN8suoAML1b-Am6zsu5PGtCqZtN_JqA3RRgK6wac5CL2XRUBcYPR8BPTQL5s8/s1600-h/352053652308_0_ALB.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRfL1f2MvEqkpOnd6W_HitnNbVQwJ3cBX48pvlq_ilkaR7-6cV6lXDDIAbf9L1uQO6Q2MbBWqs_dzkP_vN8suoAML1b-Am6zsu5PGtCqZtN_JqA3RRgK6wac5CL2XRUBcYPR8BPTQL5s8/s320/352053652308_0_ALB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292794339564020578" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />What do you do with something that calls it self stew but contains 6 CUPS of chopped parsley? Well, first, you should read the entire recipe, particularly the bit that says "serves 12-14 as main course." If you don't, that's ok, you'll just have to eat pork soup for the rest of the week too.<br /><br />Everyone who ate this <span style="font-style: italic;">thought </span>they liked it. Which, is a pretty fair evaluation of it. See, it's not really stew at all, because it's not nearly thick enough. Also, there's relatively little seasoning, which isn't necessarily bland so much as soft. Then, there is 6 cups of parsley in it-- which makes it taste<span style="font-style: italic;"> Clean</span>. Clean like new converse and puppies after baths and your teeth after the dentist. What I'm trying to say is, while it's nice, it sort of <span style="font-style: italic;">unnatural</span> clean. At least, for being soup in the middle of December's issue of Gourmet it is (it is festive looking however, what with the parsley and tomatoes). My mom is adamant that this turned out exactly the way it was intended, and while I don't doubt her, it was not at all what <span style="font-style: italic;">I</span> had intended. (I'm so sorry; I apparently love italics today). So my fix? Cheese (parmesan or mozzarella) and lots of lemon juice at the end. It gives it the richness and kick it's lacking, and is much more pleasing. And while I maybe haven't done the best job of selling this, I'd love it if you tried it your self and told me what you thought.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Cannellini with Pork</span><br /><br />NOTE: amounts included below are intened to serve 12-14. I'd reccomend halving.<br /><ul id="ingredientsList"><li>2 pounds dried white beans, such as cannellini or Great Northern (4 3/4 cups), picked over and rinsed</li><li>5 pounds boneless pork shoulder, trimmed and cut into 1½-inch pieces </li><li>4 quarts water</li><li>2 Turkish bay leaves or 1 California </li><li>1 teaspoon dried oregano</li><li>2 medium onions, chopped</li><li>3 tablespoons finely chopped garlic</li><li>4 teaspoons finely chopped rosemary</li><li>1 1/2 pounds cherry tomatoes, halved</li><li>2 tablespoons olive oil</li><li>1 teaspoon sugar</li><li>6 cups flat-leaf parsley (from 3 bunches), very coarsely choppe</li></ul> <div style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" class="detail_division"><br /></div><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> Preparation </span><p> <strong>Soak beans: </strong><br />Combine beans with enough water to cover by 2 inches in a 4-to 5-quart pot. Bring to a boil and boil 2 minutes, then remove from heat and let stand, covered, while you cook the pork. </p> <p> <strong>Cook pork while beans soak:</strong><br />Bring pork and water (4 quarts) to a simmer in an 8-to 10-quart heavy pot. Skim any foam, then add bay leaves and oregano. Simmer, uncovered, 1 1/4 hours. </p> <p> <strong>Cook beans and roast tomatoes</strong><br />Drain beans and add to pork mixture along with onions, garlic, rosemary, and 1 tsp each of salt and pepper. Simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until beans are just tender, 35 to 45 minutes. </p> <p> While beans simmer, preheat oven to 475°F with rack in upper third. Toss tomatoes with oil and spread out, cut sides up, in a large 4-sided sheet pan. Stir together sugar, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper and sprinkle over tomatoes. Roast until tomatoes begin to shrivel and caramelize on bottom, about 45 minutes. </p> <p> <strong>Finish Stew:</strong><br /> When beans are tender, scoop out about 4 cups beans with a slotted spoon and coarsely mash. </p> <p> Return mashed beans to stew along with tomatoes, parsley, and 1 teaspoon salt and simmer 3 minutes. Discard bay leaves and season stew with salt and pepper. </p>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-10242165993864951682008-11-15T11:54:00.000-08:002008-11-17T20:18:18.077-08:00Stupid things I do (in the kitchen)The lovely ladies at<a href="http://gastronomical3.wordpress.com/"> G3 </a>tagged me for this one. Without my usual fanfare because I would like to shower before I go to work:<br /><br />5 stupid things I do in the Kitchen:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1. Cut bagels in my hand.</span> With a super sharp, super huge jimmy-johns issue bread knife. I have yet to hurt myself, but I get nervous every time I do it. Which is probably a sign I should stop.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2.Store all my spices in an old gift bag on the dining room floor.</span> I wish I had a good explanation for this, but I don't. My mom sent me home one day with a buncha spices in a bag, and instead of taking them out and making them a home, I just keep putting more spices in the bag. Its really impractical. Maybe over Christmas break I'll clear them a shelf, like I said I would the whole summer.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3. Waste Wine</span>. Cover your ears dad. I suck at finishing bottles. While folks like doctors and mothers against drunk driving and puritans and my professors may appreciate this, I feel incredibly guilty pouring 4 day old bottles down the drain so I can open another one. Consequently, I've taken this as a chance to work my way through the $5 wine selection at Trader Joe's that people constantly ask me questions about and I constantly have to say "uh, actually I haven't had that bottle yet, how about this $8 one? "(in the land of two-buck-chuck, I often get looks usually reserved for the insane and inept when I suggest this) Side note, most of these cheapies have sucked, and my well-bred instincts to stick to bottles closer to $10 seems to be well founded. Score 2 for the drain, Alli, 0.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4. Completely forget about side dishes.</span> I haven't been as bad about this lately because I haven't planned as intricate meals lately (thanks, college) but it was becoming a hallmark of mine over the summer. It'd go something like this: buy fish to grill, the workings for an involved marinade, sweet potatoes to grill with it and asparagus to steam because the looked good. Spend 15 minutes talking grill in to lighting, 20 minutes marinading fish, realize that grill is over-ready, put sweet potatoes on (after some unsuspecting friend was forced in to oiling, salting etc. because I'm so worked up about the fish) get fish on grill, hover, hover, hover, bring in fish and potatoes (which are slightly burned because its 10pm by now and I can't see the grill very well) get everything inside and realize I forgot about asparagus. They don't get prepared, because its late and we're hungry and said friend doesn't care about asparagus by now, and so they sit in my fridge for the next week until they turn in to something that would make a 5th grade boy giggle with delight. I do this alllll the time.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">5. Sit on the Floor.</span> I have no good explanation as to why I do this. I just like it. My kitchen is a little small (and dirty) for me to sit on its floor too regularly, but it's one of my favorite places to be at my parents. Especially if I have something to read (if I'm talking to people though, I prefer to sit on the counters. Which my mom has mysteriously stopped asking me not to do. Perhaps adult privilege?). Plus, then the dog usually comes and lays on my legs. And I can sit squarely in front of the heat vent under the sink and wedge my self between the cabinets. It's a very childish pleasure, I'll admit.<br /><br />So the next step with these things is to tag some one else to answer the question. I'm suddenly realizing that I don't have very many blog friends. Or really, any at all. Except of course for the one, the only, the delightful <a href="http://strangelyheavenly.blogspot.com/">Brian Tucker</a>. I'll tag <a href="http://hannahcsmart.blogspot.com/">Hannah Pants</a> too, even though the only blog she has is the one we have to do for class, and she probably doesn't even know this blog of mine exists, just the <a href="http://abondie328.blogspot.com/">silly one where I answer prompts</a> for class in the craziest way I can still hope for an A on my blog grade. Yes, that's right, I have a blog grade. And because I feel bad that this post was photograph-free, here's a great picture of Hannah and I dressed up for a class project. (I am an essay, and she is a writing style-guide super hero. Can't you tell?)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MIIqYJiu4Jf9x8CiWFuFAoLZrucRwHpLnrmkoHxQPsUaUf0L4UVj3DYCbO9HSCsrO-6__JfW5SCjIZ8Lfy3b3tjg-eQcVHXidGkS_OulAaNVWed9DOu1FqsVakcZBAdEe0TAcqdJvY0/s1600-h/1117081505.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7MIIqYJiu4Jf9x8CiWFuFAoLZrucRwHpLnrmkoHxQPsUaUf0L4UVj3DYCbO9HSCsrO-6__JfW5SCjIZ8Lfy3b3tjg-eQcVHXidGkS_OulAaNVWed9DOu1FqsVakcZBAdEe0TAcqdJvY0/s320/1117081505.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269822113553934610" border="0" /></a>For the curious: Yes, this really is what 300 level writing courses are like. (The project, and ugly step child blog for that matter, are for English 328, Writing, Style, and Technology. )Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-64236870505399527342008-11-12T22:36:00.000-08:002008-11-13T22:40:21.489-08:00The readers digest.I really hate to say this, but I think I already miss summer. I cross my heart and hope to die that I love winter, but, really, it's not here yet. And moreover, I think I miss summer because I miss having Time, with a capitol T. For example, I shouldn't be doing this right now because I have two past-due education papers open in word (don't worry too much, I got an extension on one, and the other has minimal "late fees" if you will, it's just the principle of it). I couldn't help it though, i feel negligent for having not updated in so damn long. So, a Monday over-view:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCeRsu2QQeZcB6fJZOBZD-fmSG-Dc5fXKSPRP_nAahz5Mzu7eomvwGjdDXcTyaI_lnpaWfzSfk-HHfIfEkAAwfvCjpNBrsEpgL8kaoV9Q2azIlnpEOdk3uXBxEzI5FgKdtKp639ThX7GE/s1600-h/Picture+2.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 126px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCeRsu2QQeZcB6fJZOBZD-fmSG-Dc5fXKSPRP_nAahz5Mzu7eomvwGjdDXcTyaI_lnpaWfzSfk-HHfIfEkAAwfvCjpNBrsEpgL8kaoV9Q2azIlnpEOdk3uXBxEzI5FgKdtKp639ThX7GE/s200/Picture+2.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268030686608977794" border="0" /></a>10/13 Jason and I had a spur of the moment date to Cafe Felix. Felix is my favorite restaurant downtown, hands down. I'm always happy there (its never the best food I have ever tasted, but I am always happy), and this night was no exception. We had four plates, two glasses of wine and a coffee for $62, which, really, who can complain? We sat outside and I wore a skirt and then went home and graded tests and we held hands and drank tea and I felt like a Real Adult.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3OYQMy9Inurd-XRoenmmDbb0Gi1IkKNZ-du-czrWWWOI6M6XYOyeqCHzn-xqyD9rl-2ZaYfuNE-dx0XaM-95WVVUNFZBtC-60ubZc8NQ0s__6e5CmhyyrUm7wxJoPwrpB2CTLIWBdWc/s1600-h/Picture+5.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP3OYQMy9Inurd-XRoenmmDbb0Gi1IkKNZ-du-czrWWWOI6M6XYOyeqCHzn-xqyD9rl-2ZaYfuNE-dx0XaM-95WVVUNFZBtC-60ubZc8NQ0s__6e5CmhyyrUm7wxJoPwrpB2CTLIWBdWc/s200/Picture+5.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268274925437116722" border="0" /></a>10/20 We made braised onion pasta, ala Orangette ala James Beard. Basically, this is onions, in butter, simmered for about an hour, and then slightly caramelized. It has somehow mastered delicate and hearty all at once, and I reccomend it very very highly. On a related note, my dad made a version of the from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/French-Farmhouse-Cookbook-Herrmann-Loomis/dp/1563054884/ref=wl_it_dp?ie=UTF8&coliid=I2PLQXUSA7KG27&colid=ARYN7RP514UQ">The French Farmhouse Cookbook</a> that called for the pasta to be boiled with a bay leaf and twelve (it was very specific about that) sprigs of thyme, which I would recommend. It added a bit a of depth that my version was lacking. You can find the recipe <a href="http://orangette.blogspot.com/2008/05/entirely-unmannerly.html">here</a>, which, coincidentally, is where I stole this picture from. In fact, so far, all of the pictures in this post have been stolen. Forgive me.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlIlWa3j2DpqY2UJfrD68tvz8I_Z_qJfJ2VVBK9PGGITn1uNxt_LwiTmqT2k0RQjGklE8ukNv4OS9gP6_iceKrFS4PrTZ4aBAoaC9KwMB9OpuToJC9XaZCURuhJr4sJUpvCp1kAFBr-Sc/s1600-h/Picture+3.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlIlWa3j2DpqY2UJfrD68tvz8I_Z_qJfJ2VVBK9PGGITn1uNxt_LwiTmqT2k0RQjGklE8ukNv4OS9gP6_iceKrFS4PrTZ4aBAoaC9KwMB9OpuToJC9XaZCURuhJr4sJUpvCp1kAFBr-Sc/s200/Picture+3.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268032841576662850" border="0" /></a> 10/27 We had sushi take out and trekked to Royal Oak to see Atmosphere. If intelligent rap/hip-hop sounds like a nice cup of tea, Atmosphere is one of my favorite brews and I would recommend him highly. In other news, this has nothing to do with food. His new album is called "If life gives you lemons, paint that shit gold," though, so I'll say this bit is about lemons.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgconvixgT_PsgcbqynZkawwcjrnoInvARMxfcdAMsGBtoW_f-ptGLXM1pOxvDdJu1pqiuAbPkVfXArSqxGGFrmdMuNlgSEzZoQuAqf4j36OY0VBIYBOqXn9KW7qhZU-hJvhkOgniItFwg/s1600-h/mac-obama.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgconvixgT_PsgcbqynZkawwcjrnoInvARMxfcdAMsGBtoW_f-ptGLXM1pOxvDdJu1pqiuAbPkVfXArSqxGGFrmdMuNlgSEzZoQuAqf4j36OY0VBIYBOqXn9KW7qhZU-hJvhkOgniItFwg/s200/mac-obama.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268280132479566978" border="0" /></a>on Election night (a Tuesday, I know, bear with me, it's more important than Monday), I raced home from work just in time for the polls to close in the west, and crack a bottle of my favorite champagne (its a super-dry German guy, called Schloss Biebrich.or something like that. The best part? $4.99 a bottle). We toasted and jumped up and down a little and kissed a little and cried a little during Obama's speech. And since, this seems to be a popular food blog topic, what we ate: a simple salad of baby romaine with feta, beets, pecans and vinaigrette; breaded chicken breasts; and spanakopita. I know, I know, with the random, but we were hungry, and that was what I could scrape out of the fridge for two. We had chocolate souffles after, and smiled in ecstatic disbelief.<br /><br /><br />...Which brings us up to the present. Here and now, I have too much homework, too much homework, and too much homework.<br />Never fear though, this Monday was still spectacular. Well, dinner was at least. I was tired, and racing against the clock to finish an essay about "the visual rhetoric" of comics. BUT, I had this for dinner:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiruHUmTFvh_SUxWeagNvSp8ujzohQ1UxLlc_ef34n8sghhMH3ckjd5ehzuLJ8wukgYdn-Fk96POn3OCK6Py660xbGc5gmNRO3tBaPqvMZIfC97SPHuizyVlJVWtEBAWKEvDn16qber8Yc/s1600-h/PB100108.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiruHUmTFvh_SUxWeagNvSp8ujzohQ1UxLlc_ef34n8sghhMH3ckjd5ehzuLJ8wukgYdn-Fk96POn3OCK6Py660xbGc5gmNRO3tBaPqvMZIfC97SPHuizyVlJVWtEBAWKEvDn16qber8Yc/s320/PB100108.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268394270867589762" border="0" /></a><br /><br />perhaps even better, I had that for dinner AND sat on the couch while it was made, because it was made by this dashing young fellow that seems to be hanging around a lot lately:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNLKgttvmEfugbc1ZSfiEgAtUUToBSNXyOTb3Eo5KwJrP28DswNsSUTGBYlRdhetFLxpKPTSnVlFRvvUqtHKrfqmAknUHiQ4q9f-bTH1iBDM0yNlAVV4ir_csw2kx0wtIr3UuLyv0BJOw/s1600-h/PB100106.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNLKgttvmEfugbc1ZSfiEgAtUUToBSNXyOTb3Eo5KwJrP28DswNsSUTGBYlRdhetFLxpKPTSnVlFRvvUqtHKrfqmAknUHiQ4q9f-bTH1iBDM0yNlAVV4ir_csw2kx0wtIr3UuLyv0BJOw/s320/PB100106.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268395220166267234" border="0" /></a>That is the boyfriend, and Cheesy baked penne with cauliflower entirely of his own creation, with out me butting in at all. All I did was hand him last month's Bon Appetit and a shopping list (alright, so I grated some cheese, but that was just because I needed a frustration outlet). He was nervous. I knew better than that, he's been sous chef-ing for my needy ass long enough to be more than prepared, even from his "I don't really know how to cook" stand point. I won that one, because it was delicious. He nailed the recipe, likely even better than I would have because I'm impatient and mistrustful. Be warned, this is RICH. where rich is a nice way of saying fat. But it is good. If I were to change it:<br />1. more cauliflower. and I don't even really like cauliflower.<br />2. It could use a little kick. I thinking diced canned chilles?<br /><br />Ingredients<br /><ul id="ingredientsList"><li>1 1 1/2- to 1 3/4-pound head of cauliflower, cored, cut into 1-inch florets (more! cut the penne down some though if you're going to up the 'flower)<br /></li><li>2 large heirloom tomatoes (all gone. used waxy store ones.)<br /></li><li>5 tablespoons butter, divided</li><li>1/2 cup thinly sliced green onions</li><li>Coarse kosher salt</li><li>2 tablespoons all purpose flour</li><li>1 cup heavy whipping cream (AKA skim milk works fine)<br /></li><li>3 cups coarsely grated Comté cheese (or half Gruyère and half Fontina; about 9 ounces), divided</li><li>3/4 cup Parmigiano-Reggiano, <epi:recipelink id="107726">finely grated</epi:recipelink> Parmesan cheese, divided</li><li>1 cup crème fraîche</li><li>1 tablespoon whole grain Dijon mustard</li><li>10 ounces penne (3 1/2 cups)</li><li>1 cup fresh breadcrumbs (from crustless French bread ground in processor) (or panko, I say)</li></ul><br />Cook cauliflower in large pot of boiling salted water until crisp-tender, about 5 minutes. Using large sieve, transfer cauliflower to bowl. Add tomatoes to pot; cook 1 minute. Remove from water; peel and dice tomatoes. Reserve pot of water.<br /><br />Melt 2 tablespoons butter in large skillet over medium-high heat. Add cauliflower; sauté until beginning to brown, about 5 minutes. Add tomatoes and green onions. Cook 1 minute to blend flavors. Remove from heat. Season with coarse salt and pepper.<br /><br />Melt 2 tablespoons butter in large saucepan over medium-low heat. Add flour and stir 2 minutes. Gradually whisk in cream. Cook until sauce thickens, whisking occasionally, about 4 minutes. Add 2 cups Comté cheese; whisk until melted and sauce is smooth. Whisk in 1/2 cup Parmesan, then crème fraîche and mustard. Season with salt and pepper. Remove from heat.<br /><br />Return reserved pot of water to boil. Add pasta and cook until tender but still firm to bite, stirring occasionally. Drain; return pasta to same pot. Stir in cauliflower mixture and sauce.<br /><br />Butter 13x9x2-inch glass baking dish. Spoon in half of pasta mixture; sprinkle with 1/2 cup Comté cheese. Top with remaining pasta mixture and 1/2 cup Comté cheese. Melt remaining 1 tablespoon butter in small skillet. Add breadcrumbs and toss to coat. Remove from heat; mix in 1/4 cup Parmesan. Sprinkle crumbs over pasta. DO AHEAD: Can be made 2 hours ahead. Let stand at room temperature.<br /><br />Preheat oven to 350°F. Bake pasta uncovered until heated through and bubbling, about 35 minutes.<br /><br />... So there you have it. A readers digest month of Mondays.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-24834457983854650822008-11-04T21:40:00.000-08:002008-11-04T21:41:59.816-08:00<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jjXyqcx-mYY&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jjXyqcx-mYY&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />but in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-22838934163855412912008-09-30T11:41:00.000-07:002008-10-06T13:43:33.879-07:00Winner Winner Chicken DinnerMaybe you're starting to notice that I really like Monday nights. It's defensible, I think. Monday is the only night of the week where I don't have to be anywhere. Don't get it confused. It not that I dislike those things that occupy every other night of the week, It's just that I like having one to myself where I make dinner when and if I please and eat it on my own couch with a glass a wine a book called something like <span style="font-style: italic;">Style: Toward Clarity and Grace</span> and generally feel like a whole person. Yep, I may be the only one, but I <span style="font-style: italic;">love</span> Monday.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.epicurious.com/images/recipesmenus/2008/2008_march/241725.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.epicurious.com/images/recipesmenus/2008/2008_march/241725.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>So when I got home from school last night I settled in with a short-stack of Gourmets and Bon Apetit's and was all business. I even went straight to the recipe index. It was serious. In the end though, the recipe I settled on came off the wondrous epicurious. ( So did that picture, don't get too excited about it.) The recipe, Chicken in Riesling, was comfort food at it finest. That is to say, it contains all the usual suspects: chicken, potatoes, carrots and cream. But the kicker was, it wasn't bland! It was tasty of its own merit, not just because it reminded you of grandma and warm kitchens as a kid. Because, lets be honest: we like comfort food because it easy, its warm, and we know what we're getting. And this recipe? I anticipate it it getting even easier, as<br />I plan to make it often in the coming months.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);font-size:130%;" >Chicken in Riesling</span>, from Gourmet with some changes<br /> <br />1 1.5 Lb package chicken thighs and one split chicken breast<br />1 tablespoon vegetable oil<br />3 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided<br />4 medium leeks (white and pale green parts only), finely chopped (2 cups)<br /> 1.5 cups or so sliced cremini mushrooms (my addition)<br /> 2 tablespoons finely chopped shallot<br />4 medium carrots, halved diagonally (I used 2 hadfuls of baby carrots)<br /> 1 cup dry white wine (preferably Alsatian Riesling)(this is a story in and of it self, see below)<br />1 1/2 pound small (2-inch) red potatoes<br />2 tablespoons finely chopped flat-leaf parsley<br />1/2 cup crème fraîche or heavy cream<br /> Fresh lemon juice to taste<p></p><br /><br /><br />Preheat oven to 350°F with rack in middle.<br /><br />Pat chicken dry and sprinkle with 1 teaspoon salt and a rounded 3/4 teaspoon pepper. Heat oil with 1 tablespoon butter in a wide 3 1/2- to 5-quart heavy ovenproof pot over medium-high heat until foam subsides, then brown chicken in 2 batches, turning once, about 10 minutes total per batch. Transfer to a plate.<br /><br />Meanwhile, wash leeks and pat dry.<br /><br />Pour off fat from pot, then cook leeks, shallot,mushrooms, and 1/4 teaspoon salt in remaining 2 tablespoons butter, covered, over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until leeks are pale golden, 5 to 7 minutes. Add chicken, skin sides up, with any juices from plate, carrots, and wine and boil until liquid is reduced by half, 3 to 4 minutes. Cover pot and braise chicken in oven until cooked through, 20 to 25 minutes.<br /><br />While chicken braises, peel potatoes (I like potato skins and hate peeling potatoes...it was fine), then generously cover with cold water in a 2- to 3-quart saucepan and add 1 1/2 teaspoons salt. Bring to a boil, then simmer until potatoes are just tender, about 15 minutes. Drain in a colander, then return to saucepan. Add parsley and shake to coat.<br /><br />Stir crème fraîche into chicken mixture and season with salt, pepper, and lemon juice, then add potatoes.<br /><br />....And then the roommate and boyfriend at it all. Or at least tried to. I claimed the left over though. (Gotta stand yr ground). The end.<br /><br />PS story<br /><div style="text-align: left;">So the wine. I got real excited when I saw this called for Alsatian Riesling because I somehow convinced myself that I order one at work that no one ever buys and this would give me the perfect opportunity to try it. I was...close, but, wrong. What I have is Alsace One, which a blend. Funny thing is, I bought it, opened it, cooked with it, drank some.... and it tasted like olives (I'm serious! olives! it wasn't bad. just...interesting .Check it out. No one ever buys it, you'd be doing me a favor too.). Only then did I realize that it wasn't a Riesling at all. Doh.<br /><br />Disclaimer regarding post title: I have no idea what that means or what compelled my manager to run all over the store saying it, out of context, for the year or so he was in Ann Arbor. If you can see inside Kwinn's brain, lemme know.<br /></div>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-76340086314890836412008-09-21T19:45:00.000-07:002008-09-21T20:52:32.597-07:00the leeks.Its official. School is underway. I have half English classes and half how-to-be-a-teacher classes. I'm even taking a class on assessment! (Writing a test is harder than it looks, if these first few weeks are any indication). Monday night is still cooking night though, just no escaping that. So, for the first Monday night cooking of the semester, we got grandiose.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEFrpyXHQebORR-uyL6ysLlVZ5yODILXo7Qkj5lzzaC0ZImpg1wOhBZjz_taO-Ar5tCJGD65INg_6Omlh8iMmGLFCILKaxTeA-kYw4C1bFSFnFV4_HVWu4AQ0WlZFCq26WXwjU6sfg3EI/s1600-h/P8140276.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEFrpyXHQebORR-uyL6ysLlVZ5yODILXo7Qkj5lzzaC0ZImpg1wOhBZjz_taO-Ar5tCJGD65INg_6Omlh8iMmGLFCILKaxTeA-kYw4C1bFSFnFV4_HVWu4AQ0WlZFCq26WXwjU6sfg3EI/s320/P8140276.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248675524814980098" border="0" /></a>I realize that sorta looks like an combination pizza/omelette, but that's just due to my poor photographing (which was due to the fact that it was 11pm and I was too hungry to make it look good). This, my friends, was far more rich and delicious.<br /><br />It all started, as it often does, with Miss Molly, aka orangette and her column in this month's Bon Appetit. She proselytizes about leeks. Now, I had never really thought twice about leeks but I was sold-- on the vegetable, on Belgium, and on both the recipes included at the end, one for leek confit and one for Flamiche Aux Poireaux (Belgian leek tart with aged goat cheese)(which my dashboard translator translates as "Cake of leeks With Leeks". Either way).<br /><br />So, I go to the farmers market that Saturday morning (in the rain, nonetheless. It was, actually, packed and delightful) and lo and behold, one woman on the end has leeks that I pluck from the pile and pack in my bag between the raspberries, new potatoes, and apples from my childhood bus route. I left the farmers market with that satisfied comfort that some find in church and children find in chocolate milk.<br /><br />The tart calls for a cup and a half of the first recipe, leek confit. So, I figure I'll make the confit, take it to the parents Sunday night as a surprise appetizer, and use the rest in the tart the next day.<br /><br />Monday, I was forced to the grocery store to buy more leeks, because my family demolished every last speck of the confit. Scouts honor, it really really is that good. My roommate ate it out of the pan with his fingers while I was trying to make the tart, and scoffed at me for wanting to adulterate it with crackers when I suggested he not use his fingers.<br /><br />The tart recipe calls for aged goat cheese (which I didn't know existed) which I went to Morgan and York for. The recipe recommends a specific one, which I was not smart enough to bring the name of in to the store with me, so instead I bought one that was a small, hard little round that started with a 'c' and was $7. The stuff was super pungent but perfect, particularly on crackers with the confit.<br /><br />Molly's Leek recipes, from Bon Appetit.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" ><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">Leek confit</span></span><br /><ul id="ingredientsList"><li>1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter</li><li>4 large leeks (white and pale green parts only), halved lengthwise, cut crosswise into 1/4-inch-thick slices (about 5 cups)</li><li>2 tablespoons water</li><li>1/2 teaspoon salt</li></ul>Melt butter in large pot over medium-low heat. Add leeks; stir to coat. Stir in water and salt. Cover pot; reduce heat to low. Cook until leeks are tender, stirring often, about 25 minutes. Uncover and cook to evaporate excess water, 2 to 3 minutes. Serve warm. DO AHEAD: Can be made 1 week ahead. Keep chilled. Rewarm before using.<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 153);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">Leek tart</span></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Fair warning alert</span>-- crust needs 2 hours in fridge. Do not start this a 6pm if you want it for dinner, unless, like me, you don't really mind eating after 10.<br /><strong><br />Crust:</strong> <ul id="ingredientsList"><li>4 tablespoons (or more) ice water</li><li>3/4 teaspoon apple cider vinegar</li><li>1 1/2 cups unbleached all purpose flour</li><li>3/4 teaspoon salt</li><li>1/2 cup (1 stick) plus 1 tablespoon chilled unsalted butter</li></ul> <br /> <strong>Filling:</strong> <ul id="ingredientsList"><li>1/2 cup whole milk</li><li>1/2 cup heavy whipping cream</li><li>1 large egg</li><li>1 large egg yolk</li><li>1/4 teaspoon salt</li><li>1/2 cup crumbled aged goat cheese (such as Bûcheron), rind trimmed <span style="font-style: italic;">I used the little goat round I bought and about half a small log of fresh goat cheese.</span><br /></li><li>1 1/2 cups <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/350099">Leek Confit</a></li></ul><br /><p> <strong>Crust:</strong><br /> Combine 4 tablespoons ice water and cider vinegar in small bowl. Blend flour and salt in processor. Add butter and cut in using on/off turns until mixture resembles coarse meal. With machine running, slowly add water-vinegar mixture, processing until moist clumps form. If dough seems dry, add ice water by teaspoonfuls. </p> <p> Gather dough into ball; flatten into disk. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate at least 2 hours. DO AHEAD: <em>Can be made 3 days ahead.</em> Keep refrigerated. Allow dough to soften slightly at room temperature before rolling out. </p> <p> Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 375°F. Roll dough out on lightly floured work surface to 12-inch round. Transfer to 9-inch-diameter tart pan with removable bottom. Press dough onto bottom and up sides. Fold in overhang and press to extend dough 1/2 inch above sides of pan. Line pan with foil and dried beans or pie weights. Bake until dough looks dry and set, about 30 minutes. Remove foil and beans and continue to bake until crust is pale golden, 20 to 25 minutes longer. Remove from oven and cool while preparing filling. <span style="font-style: italic;">Note: I found the bake time on this to be waaaay to long. My crust was almost burned, and I took it out early. I would say that about a 10-15 minute pre-bake should be more than sufficient, and then to watch every five minutes for golden-ness. </span><br /></p> <p> <strong>Filling:</strong><br /> Whisk milk, cream, egg, egg yolk, and salt in medium bowl to blend. Sprinkle 1/4 cup cheese over bottom of warm crust; spread leek confit over and sprinkle with remaining cheese. Pour milk mixture over. Bake until filling has puffed, is golden in spots, and center looks set, 35 to 40 minutes. Transfer to rack; cool slightly. Remove pan sides. Serve warm or at room temperature.<br /></p><p><br /></p><p>And if that is not a perfectly decadent way to start off the school year, I don't know what is.<br /></p>Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-43718804025472354852008-08-15T14:18:00.001-07:002008-08-16T00:30:29.891-07:00My super sweet dinner<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSaUgLjqXagXkhuDiisWHeMCcS3SnulZKvhwai_A9XMMzZun_0oQIRiURimucHwkHdqpcqBjJumnbSxwoerb5lV2WhiUtlRzYS2aeUY4g8hrLcqo5FvVrq5mo2olbfe_n8Dn_PRIQbNvA/s1600-h/P7130207.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSaUgLjqXagXkhuDiisWHeMCcS3SnulZKvhwai_A9XMMzZun_0oQIRiURimucHwkHdqpcqBjJumnbSxwoerb5lV2WhiUtlRzYS2aeUY4g8hrLcqo5FvVrq5mo2olbfe_n8Dn_PRIQbNvA/s320/P7130207.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234857100747935122" border="0" /></a>Was delicious. That's mango-chicken sausage (sounds, how you might say with disdain, "interesting", but really, it is good. I was a skeptic myself, but it was the demo at work for all of fourth of July weekend, and one can only avoid the demo for so long... I became a believer) with sweet and hot mustard, the left over chickpea-beet-mess from last night, fresh ear of sweet corn, and a bottle of Tj's Bavarian Hefeweizen.<br />Two things I need to tell you about:<br />1. In case you don't drive down Packard in to Ypsi almost every day like I do, in the past week or so, a farm stand has popped up on the corner of Packard and Boston, between Hewitt and Golfside. It is a bizarre place for it, but I was pretty excited about it, A, because its real produce, and B, because working midnight shifts rarely allows for me to get up in time to get to the market, and these guys are there all afternoon. I finally remembered to stop today, on my way home from reading MFK Fisher's <span style="font-style: italic;">The Gastronomical Me</span> (don't even get me started on her, she's another post in and of herself) at the lake all afternoon. Now I'm super excited about it, because the produce is obviously fresh, and real and you can tell, AND, I got 2 tomatoes, 2 yellow squash, 2 Zucchini, and an ear of corn for $4. That ear of corn was fresh, and juicy (yes! juicy!) and sweet, so sweet like a Michigan sunset through the trees, that is to say, <span style="font-style: italic;">exactly</span> the way it should be.<br /><br />2. The other thing I think you should know is that Trader Joe's beer is delicious. Now, I realize that I must sound like I'm paid to endorse TJ's products, but, I'm not. ( I wish). In fact, just to set the record straight, there a quite a few products I really don't like at all, outstanding among them: Green tea Mints (taste like chalk); Identity Crisis Chips (yes, thats really what they're called) which have a clearly moronic name and taste, well, confused and bland. I will not try and sell you a bottle of Charles Shaw, our cranberry tea tastes like your grandmother's prized perfume, and all of our pre-cooked meat is either dry or over salted or both.<br />Now then.<br />All of Trader Joe's brand beer is $5.99 a six pack. Other beer that I like is at least $8 (Bells, Dark Horse, Unibroue, Red Stripe, Blue Moon) (Oh, I guess I like PBR too. But I think Pabst can have its own category, as much as I love it, its more of a large cold shot than "beer".) Anyhow, its not just that they're cheap. It that they're really really good. I would recommend a lot of them-- Fat Weasel, BrouCzech Dark, Trader Jose's, but, when it comes right down to it, my favorite, by far is the Bavarian Hefeweizen. If you're not really sure what hefeweizen is, start here, because ours is one of the best I've had (I love Corner Brewery-- their Hef sucks.) A hefeweizen is a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hefeweizen#Weissbier">wheat beer</a>, like Oberon, and thus often considered a summer beer (though I buy it all year round). The best I can do is to say that it's like Oberon, but more complex. As is traditional for Hef's, it has notes of not only citrus, but banana and clove, and all this without being sweet at all--Just light, fruity and delightful. And, while it can be intimidating to try beers you've never heard of with silly names (fat weasel? Jumping cow? Trader Jose's? What?) there's really no need to fret, because Trader Joe's lets you buy all beer by the bottle (make yr own sixer!) so you really have no excuse.<br /><br />Produce and beer. So now you know.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-68435038816997820332008-08-14T23:42:00.000-07:002008-08-15T14:17:07.679-07:00So... I am so aware my last post was, like, maybe two hours ago. BUT. I got hungry. that casserole, that was hours ago, and before my soccer game. So, despite the fact that it's late enough at night to be morning, I'm hungry. I have a small craving for prosciutto. Aww, I'll spare you the gory train-of-thought details. this is what happened:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfP4khNMzriEx9SQiBPKjtWMhxss6bBQHvQqOnYcuc5PJKRHjwgQTrsCDeY71I_GlTIZJZM5OBrbo11LjxXwt1LTwuweeYYIQ9ojid3wpka450Q-W-ifr25gUUQdbFO8WWRhjCXl5mXwA/s1600-h/P7130206.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfP4khNMzriEx9SQiBPKjtWMhxss6bBQHvQqOnYcuc5PJKRHjwgQTrsCDeY71I_GlTIZJZM5OBrbo11LjxXwt1LTwuweeYYIQ9ojid3wpka450Q-W-ifr25gUUQdbFO8WWRhjCXl5mXwA/s320/P7130206.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234856469530036546" border="0" /></a><br /><br />1 can chickpeas<br />a few strips of Abraham smoked prosciutto, diced-ish and separated<br />3 baby beets, roasted (in case you don't have fresh ones, Tj's has vacuum packed precooked ones in produce)<br />A couple tbsp crumbled Israeli feta<br /><br />Drain, rinse, and dry the chickpeas. Sautee in a medium-hot pan (in olive oil. do i need to say that? not sure) until they start to crust. Salt and pepper gratuitously. Sneak at least three of them out of the pan, minding your fingers, and marvel at how creamy and melty a bean can be. Regain your senses, dice the beets and add to chickpeas. Warm them, but don't let them crust. Meanwhile, fight to separate the layers of prosciutto, and when you get too frustrated, start throwing it in in small hunks. Once everything is warm and coated, turn off the heat and crumble a good hunk of feta in the pan, tossing once or twice so everything gets a fair chance.<br /><br />I know this is simple. I know it requires no herbs, no garlic and no spice. But I beg of you, just do it. The contrast in the simple textures and flavors... trust me on this one.<br />I am totally going to sleep now.<br /><br />Thanks for listening.<br /><br />oh, and p.s.-- I could see this being disappointing if you didn't use smoked prosciutto and super creamy feta packed in liquid. Fair warning.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-43528655224148244192008-08-14T22:15:00.000-07:002008-08-14T23:08:16.202-07:00I forgot Casserole was a food until tonight.<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQomGagyOOWpr19n0JEPqjFPDvSLBx8iIBKyUXdd7Q12M8htS4iSEdWTwvmY0qStd8app8sM7-DAuAqRTnIQNbvStbv2j2sJBR66Ue__HNBy6vBt0bkiNV0Pfz1CIxfS09_WMZaScgBKo/s1600-h/P7100203.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQomGagyOOWpr19n0JEPqjFPDvSLBx8iIBKyUXdd7Q12M8htS4iSEdWTwvmY0qStd8app8sM7-DAuAqRTnIQNbvStbv2j2sJBR66Ue__HNBy6vBt0bkiNV0Pfz1CIxfS09_WMZaScgBKo/s320/P7100203.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234621746943452898" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">[Those are my morning glories. Not edible, but pretty.]</span><br /><br /></div>My dear over-vegetable-ed friends:<br /> Went to the parents for dinner tonight. I arrived to my mom cursing at the rice cooker to work faster, THE big silver bowl (does everyone have one of these? the giant, silver bowl that is distinct, and almost exclusively used for mixing large quantities?) full of lightly sauteed veggies and Prosciutto on the counter and a shattered casserole dish on the floor.<br /> Now, after a life time with my mom, I can usually walk in to a cooking situation and more or less deduce what's for dinner. Today, however, I was completely stumped. With a look of despair I had to ask just what the hell was going on here. The answer? The casserole dish had slid right out of the lazy Susan and shattered thin porcelain shaving all over the floor. Caserole. She was making a casserole, and I would have never guessed it. I forgot completely that casserole is a food, and that it doesn't have to contain canned tuna.<br /> In case you were thinking of turning up your nose at the idea of a thing called casserole: this was delicious, easy way to use many veggies at once, with no tuna or Velveeta in sight.<br />I have been inspired. I see many a lovely vegetable casserole in my future, how about you? I will bother my mother for some form of recipe in the morning, I promise, but, I'm also pretty sure you don't need one. Rice, precooked veggies, perhaps some shredded chicken? maybe a little cheese? Don't forget breadcrumbs on top. Imperative. Oh, and don't drop the casserole dish.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1684193885427250529.post-54341536557610339412008-07-20T08:43:00.000-07:002008-12-08T19:49:18.882-08:00What I did on my summer vacation.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHFEfYvITL8SZ01FATdy5-fuCpZGQdAFNa5Msz-ybVQzxH2Qcx6gQsMXNEzaImTnoJQDhMXCv6zes5EJjM-TpJF8sq6mufZQbzqDVwLLwhOvuTsYuUoFu43NURRlMWtXo2OBub_WBBgZU/s1600-h/IMG_1762.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHFEfYvITL8SZ01FATdy5-fuCpZGQdAFNa5Msz-ybVQzxH2Qcx6gQsMXNEzaImTnoJQDhMXCv6zes5EJjM-TpJF8sq6mufZQbzqDVwLLwhOvuTsYuUoFu43NURRlMWtXo2OBub_WBBgZU/s320/IMG_1762.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225127224686392802" border="0" /></a>Each summer my parents close up their shop for a week, pick an attraction within a 12 hour drive, and pack up the airstream. Then Amelia and I climb in the backseat of the Travelall, promptly fall asleep, and we go. This year we went to New Hampshire. Some things you should know about traveling with my family: 1. eating well is a focal point of every trip, and my mom makes it happen. 2. Camping with my family is more akin to going on a roadtrip. The campground is merely a nice place to relax at the end of the day; or, depending on the park, a nice place to explore for the day. My family gives road food a whole new meaning. So, I thought you might be interested in some highlights.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO51FI3QE_3fRy6jwX2o48keJVZdJ7KTmlOXFrcfs-eB-fEzAO0EL4ioFaa0bwI47pvr_AVE3-CmUFjOJXv_T9nwlZnB9fHxtDR9qDRjmq31ANtZxLDDtmjKGlFkI8dmAZCO92-OsVS74/s1600-h/P6140031.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO51FI3QE_3fRy6jwX2o48keJVZdJ7KTmlOXFrcfs-eB-fEzAO0EL4ioFaa0bwI47pvr_AVE3-CmUFjOJXv_T9nwlZnB9fHxtDR9qDRjmq31ANtZxLDDtmjKGlFkI8dmAZCO92-OsVS74/s320/P6140031.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225130536214509266" border="0" /></a>Hampton Beach, New Hampshire is like no place I have ever experienced before. It is exactly how I imagine coney island: people and cars everywhere; a boardwalk with a zillion tacky tee-shirt shops selling shot glasses and fake jewelry; arcades, mini golf and "shooting" ranges. It's amazing. We stayed at a state park campground a short walk outside of town. When we checked in, the woman told us in a thick east coast drawl that if we bought three looobstas from the shack across the street, they'd cook 'em right up for us. We didn't need much prompting. We had an outrageous lunch of a lobster each, a bag of steamers, and chardonnay.<br />We were, in fact, so enamored with our lunchtime seafood experience that we went back for more when dinner rolled around.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-sAK1AbzPqPcvyCi27v6lWWE5fpnBJDhKQbjIFpqFgrns2qEzGy-lG3nRz43WolQVq01nToZqKMTEB4Ye0LtTIYavCa9EkGj3AGkhjHqkQMwf4AZ1dv1O2_WVKy1cgFAlNEZpZIi1mmk/s1600-h/P6150068.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-sAK1AbzPqPcvyCi27v6lWWE5fpnBJDhKQbjIFpqFgrns2qEzGy-lG3nRz43WolQVq01nToZqKMTEB4Ye0LtTIYavCa9EkGj3AGkhjHqkQMwf4AZ1dv1O2_WVKy1cgFAlNEZpZIi1mmk/s320/P6150068.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227592729351905586" border="0" /></a><br />This time the bounty was fresh-caught scallops. They were nonchalantly packed in the sort of plastic tub that you buy pre-made pasta salad in from the local grocery store, but the contents were anything but pre-packaged grocery store. My mom cooked them in butter and white wine outside in the wind while my sister and I hid inside the airstream reading. They were buttery and practically melted in your mouth, which seemed near miraculous given their enormity. Afterwards, we all drifted off in a chardonnay and scallop coma, and listened to James Taylor.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPnqe-BVX_MZyoqroxX4oYojDQN9IVrLcwxcoOYwDweiUF1arowwo-lm4PZKO4jlalO4dy5tda0Lh_dNyjzJCEqQVAVEzSslBEdpHXQHQSgeEAJ8GFw1NOUFThB9YQQ7cOPI6zcpLYlqk/s1600-h/P6150071.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPnqe-BVX_MZyoqroxX4oYojDQN9IVrLcwxcoOYwDweiUF1arowwo-lm4PZKO4jlalO4dy5tda0Lh_dNyjzJCEqQVAVEzSslBEdpHXQHQSgeEAJ8GFw1NOUFThB9YQQ7cOPI6zcpLYlqk/s320/P6150071.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227754040233457042" border="0" /></a><br />The next morning, we were off, headed north. Things to know about my mother: she has an affinity for dishes, travel books, and thrift stores. In this particular instance, her love for travel books came in handy, as she stumbled upon a bit about the <a href="http://www.tuttlesredbarn.net/">oldest operational farm</a> in the country, and it was, lo and behold, a mere 15 minutes out of our way. Who can say no to a farm thats been around since 1632? Okay, so we didn't visit the farm exactly, we visited the farm's store, which was a quirky mix a wonderfully fresh produce, organic staple items, local chesses and delightful pre-made sandwiches. I think we spent a solid $100 in there. It was neat.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTOa27hKpdPY_o9ICaXBtxT9h1yO5fwwJvb3ERUn5gPaXcda9SozlPF-pRhJ_5hSHbPKtwAJIJZMnbb6ujJU2UqTJkIuIJe5UljzkNZ7yja_iaM4VN9fWwMzbiC5x2gqxu488b5XL5e5I/s1600-h/P6170095.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTOa27hKpdPY_o9ICaXBtxT9h1yO5fwwJvb3ERUn5gPaXcda9SozlPF-pRhJ_5hSHbPKtwAJIJZMnbb6ujJU2UqTJkIuIJe5UljzkNZ7yja_iaM4VN9fWwMzbiC5x2gqxu488b5XL5e5I/s320/P6170095.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5227761375135495202" border="0" /></a>Imagine, lettuce from somewhere that has been growing it for the past 376 years. It was amazing. We decided to be purist about the lettuce, serving it as simple salads with cracked pepper and a little vinaigrette.<br />I realize we're working on the longest post ever here, but at least there are lots of pictures, right? Anyhow, it was a whole week.<br /><br />While many of you may consider something like pancakes to be a traditional camp-breakfast, somewhere along the line the traditional breakfast while in the woods morphed from pancakes to Huevos rancheros.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo6xdQeIR1LtFAev8b9noNN6Xnr8scJTepf-SVizf2Bx3tEYBAmnCZ-P7MGXdnF0jdwTWPeLULpD3df-GYXN1YIbf2SB7PKtLFOuZlaQGuMUoFxWcAQPr9H_edmIqzG4ZDBAgl_pKWrd4/s1600-h/P6180133.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo6xdQeIR1LtFAev8b9noNN6Xnr8scJTepf-SVizf2Bx3tEYBAmnCZ-P7MGXdnF0jdwTWPeLULpD3df-GYXN1YIbf2SB7PKtLFOuZlaQGuMUoFxWcAQPr9H_edmIqzG4ZDBAgl_pKWrd4/s320/P6180133.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228162746984830674" border="0" /></a><br />Surprisingly little work for a very impressive looking breakfast. Serve with red wine, and embrace the decadence. You're on vacation, after all. And, if your not, theres no harm in pretending.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 204, 153);">Mamma's Heuvos Rancheros with Refried beans</span><br />(serves four)<br /><p><a name="0.2_graphic02"></a></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" > </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >Ranchero Sauce</span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >About 5 large tomatoes, in season , diced<br /> or 2 large cans tomatoes, such as Muir Organic (Fireroasted would be nice) tomatoes<br />1 medium onion, diced<br />2 cloves garlic, pressed or minced<br />1 green bell pepper, diced<br />1 jalapeno pepper (optional) diced<br />½ lime, squeezed<br />Salt, pepper<br />Dried oregano, parsley, basil-about 1 tsp or to taste<br />Fresh Basil and Cilantro, (if available and to taste, if desired)-cilantro chopped & basil in a chiffonade</span><br /></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >4 large eggs (or 8 if desired)</span><br /></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >8 corn tortillas</span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >½ to ¾ c shredded Mexican “mixed” cheese (cheddar, jack, etc) or Chihuahua cheese</span><br /></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >Sour Cream</span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >Guacamole (your favorite recipe, made previously)</span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >Refried beans (your favorite recipe, made previously or canned)</span><br /></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >Olive oil</span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" ><b><i>Directions</i></b></span></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >In 2” deep sauté pan, lightly cover bottom of pan with oil. Sauté onions, pepper(s), and garlic until onions are translucent and peppers are soft and garlic is cooked but not brown. Add fresh or canned tomatoes (and juice from can). Add salt, pepper, dried herbs and lime juice. Cook on medium heat about 15 minutes, or more, to let flavors meld. Add fresh herbs, if using, near the end of cooking. </span><br /></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >To poach eggs, gently break egg into tomato mixture, starting at one point and adding eggs around the edge of the pan. Cover with lid. Depending upon size of pan and the number of eggs used, the eggs will spread to fill the space in the pan. (Eggs will absorb tomato mixture while cooking and will reduce the mixture geatly. Therefore, make sure you have enough “broth” before adding eggs. If necessary, could increase tomato/herb mixture to have more liquid for the eggs.) </span><br /></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >Cook the eggs in the ranchero sauce to desired doneness.</span><br /></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >While ranchero sauce is cooking, heat refried beans. Top with shredded cheese. Keep warm.</span><br /></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >Right before serving, take two corn tortillas at one time to make “sandwich”. Sprinkle outside of tortilla with sea salt. Sprinkle one tortilla lightly with cheese. Top with other tortilla. Heat small sauté pan with small amount of olive oil. Put tortilla “pair” in oil. Sauté side one until lightly crisp. Gently flip to other side. Continue with remaining tortilla pairs until complete. Keep warm.</span><br /></p> <p><span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >When eggs have poached to desired doneness, take one tortilla “sandwich”. Use slotted spoon to remove egg ( one egg or two per person, depending upon appetite) and put on tortilla. Top with tomato ranchero sauce. Top with sour cream, guacamole and a chiffonade of basil for decoration.</span><br /></p> <span style=";font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;" >Serve with refried beans, and a nice cabernet </span><span style=";font-family:Wingdings;font-size:100%;" >J<br /><br /><br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn78s6MNiNkSjrXGO4i0uFjBotDaH3cBjyv9TFDgp9NDYiw2XCY0P6Hsyh3dLjVD8_tN4OJFUNldQYXViRMceorg78Lvba8XV4nRWa4YAeFKzYQ6VHOru1wHhSRueg1N6lfc7NkYT9WU8/s1600-h/IMG_1763.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn78s6MNiNkSjrXGO4i0uFjBotDaH3cBjyv9TFDgp9NDYiw2XCY0P6Hsyh3dLjVD8_tN4OJFUNldQYXViRMceorg78Lvba8XV4nRWa4YAeFKzYQ6VHOru1wHhSRueg1N6lfc7NkYT9WU8/s320/IMG_1763.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228167663931920706" border="0" /></a><br />I swear, I'm almost done. SO, Friday we started driving home. As we descend from the mountains, it seems to be growing exponentially hotter. We pass one of those bank flashy-thermometer signs and realize, that indeed, it has grown exponentially hotter--well above ninety. So just as we're all are getting stuck to the vinyl on the seats and the sweat beads begin to drip off our eyebrows, the Top of the Hill Grill appears like a mirage.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEh6Pdu0YNXXrCFFRzw8tL3Tc7ZQ1dH-vJzFq0IaVIxu9P8D4-bIjYeMIooGdDCdAjGddTlvFfT8i-II7eytnma-YXeCD4s3dEQeu7w8NeT4wmheeN294X9CMyuuvEMgFKOaar6IalfAE/s1600-h/P6190153.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEh6Pdu0YNXXrCFFRzw8tL3Tc7ZQ1dH-vJzFq0IaVIxu9P8D4-bIjYeMIooGdDCdAjGddTlvFfT8i-II7eytnma-YXeCD4s3dEQeu7w8NeT4wmheeN294X9CMyuuvEMgFKOaar6IalfAE/s320/P6190153.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231420036109167954" border="0" /></a>Our 45 foot rig isn't fitting in their tiny lot though, so we park down the road and hike in, resembling walking human sprinklers. We're starving. The menu is scattered across the front of the building, an item to a plate. Super cool, super hard to take in all at once.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwB0h-pbuO7N1YslsyZDI31AhiMA1FyZefHgSHnwdK_nePIwR5H6Zlq62ofr-KfywSfSvYJx_ucFGQahqPZZlWhQkIIw-S0OEInY6wj7a05DqK4LqBFRfGC6_mjTzuuq65RE5US4Fhzk/s1600-h/P6190158.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwB0h-pbuO7N1YslsyZDI31AhiMA1FyZefHgSHnwdK_nePIwR5H6Zlq62ofr-KfywSfSvYJx_ucFGQahqPZZlWhQkIIw-S0OEInY6wj7a05DqK4LqBFRfGC6_mjTzuuq65RE5US4Fhzk/s320/P6190158.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231421987587847346" border="0" /></a><br />I order brisket, because its easy and its meaty and pretty quintessential BBQ food. In the meantime, dad and I hustle back to the trailer to grab a couple beers for lunch, because states that aren't Michigan let you bring in your own booze and thats sweet. They also gave us a playing card to identify when our order was up, and I appreciated that.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4w545b6uUa4SDncr-ET1N5mtTDmjJ17jB8aVgEJc7iG-VH1eR7Gvf02o8XNhT-YvIALXC3jTdOJ2hxE3oKWAHXEuW7EPVbaGmmOT-4tg3twyammkZYYePVyF7DgrweeuT4iKKoYkIH4/s1600-h/P6190165.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4w545b6uUa4SDncr-ET1N5mtTDmjJ17jB8aVgEJc7iG-VH1eR7Gvf02o8XNhT-YvIALXC3jTdOJ2hxE3oKWAHXEuW7EPVbaGmmOT-4tg3twyammkZYYePVyF7DgrweeuT4iKKoYkIH4/s320/P6190165.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231424424071071346" border="0" /></a><br />The brisket was delicious. It wasn't slathered in sauce, as you can see, and it really didn't need to be. It was moist enough, and smoky, and the roll was chewy. The beer was cold. I was a <span style="font-style: italic;">good</span> lunch. We even took a pound of the stuff with us, and ate it straight out the ziplock baggie for dinner with killer garlic bread and fresh pickles. And it was good.Allisonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03585741482828619948noreply@blogger.com3