Anna's tag: top 10 food pics

Anna tagged me to post 10 food pics, and whatever Anna wants, Anna gets! I went through my archives and selected my favorites. Thanks, Anna, for thinking of me.

1. Lasagne. I feel like I can always rely on my lasagne to turn out, taste good, and be overall satisfying.


2. Chocolate cake. This was Cooper's cake for his first birthday. I love how massive it looks, and I decorated it with the precious gold buttons. There's nothing better than chocolate cake.


3. Italian hummus & pita wedges. One of my favorite appetizers. It's Giada's recipe from Everyday Italian, and the dip is made from cannellini beans instead of the traditional garbanzos. The pita wedges are sprinkled with dried oregano. Altogether delicious, and pretty healthy.


4. Ice cream bombe! Mmm. My mom used to make Baked Alaska on special occasions, and this ice cream bombe is similar, but without the golden sponge cake base. I used strawberry ice cream and mango sorbet, topped with meringue (this step pictured) and then bronzed the meringue in the oven. It's fantastic.


5. A perfect meal. This was not made by me, but it qualifies as one of my best meals for a few reasons, and therefore deserves mention. I love staying in nice hotels, I love room service, and I love it when I eat a meal -- wherever -- that is perfect, no matter how simple it may be. This is a club sandwich & French fries, served up on a tray with an icy diet cola alongside. And little ketchup bottles. Bliss. From the Ambassador East in Chicago.


6. My Christmas morning cappuccino. Here is a picture that is worth a thousand words. Troy and I just celebrated our 14th wedding anniversary, and for nearly every morning of our years together, we've started each day with a cappuccino. Sometimes I make them, sometimes he makes them. He's much better at frothing the milk. This is what he delivered to me on Christmas morning, and it speaks volumes about his sense of humor, which is one of the things I adore about him. I love my cappuccino, and I love my husband more, and definitely consider myself very lucky to wake up to both every day.


7. B'stilla. I can't remember if I blogged about this creation or not, but it's worth waxing over. It's a Moroccan savory pie made with ground beef, fresh chopped herbs, spices, beaten eggs, and slivered almonds all baked up in a flaky phyllo dough. A real jewel. I followed Diana Henry's recipe from Crazy Water Pickled Lemons.


8. A perfect apple. Crisp, crunchy, sweet, tart. One of my favorite things to eat. I grew up near an apple orchard, and I feel a strong connection to the apple in any form. I will always go for the apple dessert on a menu over any chocolate concoction or creme brulee or other temptation.


9. Stinky, gooey cheese. I like to stop at my local cheese counter and chat with the women who work there, who are as enthusiastic about ripe cheeses as I am. Usually I select one like this, as well as a Roquefort. The ladies turned me on to these crackers, which are almost like communion wafers, very thin and delicate.


10. Frittata with potatoes & fresh herbs, and cucumber salad. This was a meal I made when I a.) couldn't think of what to make for dinner; and b.) didn't have much in the house. Rachel gave me the idea of the potato frittata, and I happened to have fresh dill & feta in the fridge, so it wound up tasting very Greek. The cucumber salad is something I grew up eating, having a German mother. But, again, the dill tweaks it a bit for a nod towards Greece (or Scandinavia, another of my obsessions). So here we have a plateful of food that reflects the people and tastes I love, and that is a large part of what cooking is all about for me.

Toby Tyler Day

One of the things I love about having children is that I get to relive some of the best parts of childhood (you're kind of forced to). This week, we went to the circus, which I seriously doubt I would do if I didn't have kids, which is not good. Every time I do something like this for or because of the kids, I leave with a heart uplifted.
It was great! Everyone was so happy and psyched to be there. There was a palpable excitement in the air and I couldn't stop thinking about the cliché of children wanting to run away and join the circus. Maybe that feeling never really goes away.
There were elephants, tigers, horses, dogs, and all of the costumes were sparkly and colorful. The performers definitely looked more interesting than most of my neighbors.
Now, it was a bit stinky because of the animals (presumably...although it could have been Cooper), and I'm sure that living out of a trailer and moving from town to town has it's disadvantages. However, it's hard to focus on that when you're watching a woman hanging from her hair a hundred feet off the ground, twirling like a top and releasing glitter into the air. Wow!
We ate popcorn and drank Sprite, which was a lot more fun than being in school.
The ringmaster was a woman, and she had very cool costumes.
Here she is with some high-kickin' ladies.

Has Cooper seen a scary clown?

Yes.

The tigers. I was sort of hoping they would attack their fat tamer.

This man, whose name was Johnny, had a great array of dogs that he had rescued, over time, from local shelters. These dogs seemed to be having more fun than anyone, human or animal.


The family of acrobats who rode horses standing up. The horses pooped an awful lot, so the family had to do a lot of shoveling in between standing on the horses' backs, but they didn't seem to mind, it's just part of the job.

Griffin was a big fan of this hula-hoop girl.

The popcorn was excellent.

In the end, we did go home, but I know I spent a lot of time wondering about what it must be like to live under the big top. I'm glad I live in a town where circuses are still very much alive and part of the local culture. It's probably better than actually running away.

In a nutshell

La Georgina tagged me to describe myself in six words.
Okay, let me see...

1. Curious.
2. Impatient.
3. Loving.*
4. Obsessive.
5. Assertive
6. Thoughtful.

* "As long as it doesn't involve back-scratching," claims Troy.
(Perhaps because I'm impatient...)

I now tag Anna, Pistachio, Ilana, Sandy, Julie, and Mara.

The Pink Menace

"I'm going to go kill them," he stated.
He turned and looked me square in the face.
"Stay there," he ordered, "because you don't have a weapon." I stared back at my four-year-old and said nothing. I was too tired to move.
"I'll handle them up!" he shouted, and bolted out of the bedroom.
'Handle them up?' I thought. Where does he get this stuff?
Moments later, he ran back into the room again at lightning speed, panting, "I got away. I wasn't powerful enough. I better climb up here." He shimmied up the bed post like a monkey up a tree.
We'd all just watched Star Wars: Episode 1 - The Phantom Menace, and my sons had divided into teams of good vs. evil.
We were, however, under seige by a different menace: conjunctivitis, a.k.a. "pink-eye," and I was weary after three days of battling, wiping down surfaces with disinfectant and constant hand-washing. As the scourge spread through our house, Harry and I were now out-numbered, four against two, the only healthy hold-outs. The main weapon at my disposal was a small bottle of prescription eye-drops, to be administered two drops per pink eye, three times a day, for 10 days.
Friends from the outside had buoyed me with messages of encouragement, but I was feeling more and more germaphobic as the hours ticked by.
"Hope this doesn't freak you out too much, but apparently Pink Eye is contracted from fecal matter touching the eyes," said Sarah.
Oh, it did freak me out, so I immediately Googled that bit of info, gleaned from "Knocked Up," in an attempt to reassure myself that there are lots of ways to get this highly contagious infection. I told myself that we had the viral type.
It was only 8:00 p.m., but I was on my bed, ready to tuck under the comforter for the night. Dosing four children with eye-drops is a challenge fit for a nimble Jedi. I sat on the bed and distracted myself from the situation by letting my thoughts drift to musings on how Darth Maul had managed to kill Qui-Gon Jinn, perhaps the greatest Jedi alive, even stronger than Master Yoda. It just didn't seem right.
My thoughts were interrupted by the clashing sound of three siths busting into the room with light sabers. Their eyes were pink.
I centered myself, calling upon The Force.
I'm gonna handle them up, I vowed.

All hail Ellie Krieger!

I bought Ellie Krieger's cookbook, The Food You Crave, with interest. I'd tried and loved her green bean salad recipe. It's fantastic!
Krieger is a registered dietitian and nutritionist who takes a very healthy approach to cooking without sacrificing flavor and satisfaction. I've really come to admire her.
I like working in more super foods whenever I can, and want to eat healthfully, but can't abide by some of the more draconian cookbooks that suggest vegetarianisn and all whole foods; they just don't interest me. Nor do I happen to have a great sweet tooth, so I am not one to look for rich desserts or recipes that contain a lot of sugar.
Krieger's book strikes the perfect balance.
The Food You Crave contains recipes stocked with powerful nutrients from high-quality, fresh fruits and vegetables and low-fat protein sources. The dishes are flavor-packed through the use of spices and vinegars, and other ingredients like yogurt and buttermilk. It makes me feel good to know I'm getting a lot of nutritional bang for my buck, eating food that is loaded with anti-oxidants and yet tastes really good, not dull.

Every recipe includes nutritional values and what the foods are good for, like if something is an excellent source of calcium or vitamin A, for example.
In addition to the green bean salad, I've made the mustard-maple chicken, Asian-style three-bean salad, chocolate cherry-almond biscotti, triple chocolate cookies, and everything tastes delicious!
Beyond that, which is actually enough in and of itself, I really am pleased to read Krieger's philosophy that no foods should be forbidden, or off-limits; that such thinking only leads to feelings of deprivation and ensuant backlash. I heartily agree that it's better to have a smaller amount of a good-quality, real ingredient rather than more of its fake substitute, which usually tastes sub-par and may contain chemicals.
I'm looking forward to cooking more recipes from this book, and highly recommend it, if this sort of style appeals to you.
Krieger has a show called Healthy Appetite, on the Food Network. More information on her, her books, and access to recipes and videos can be found at the Food TV site.

She does get a gold star

When I first read about Denise Acabo and her Pigalle confectionery shop, I knew that one day, I would have to pay her a visit.
It was not just that her L'Etoile D'Or is stocked with the finest chocolates & candies in the world that I found intriguing, but also the fact that Denise wears braids and a traditional schoolgirl outfit. The combination was just too much for me to bypass. Also, she gift-wraps her treats in comic pages. All great choices!
I couldn't wait!
We took a taxi directly to her door, as I did not have time to dilly-dally around. Denise opened the door of her shop and came out onto the sidewalk to greet us and make sure all was alright with the taxi driver. She speaks in rapid-fire French, and welcomed us heartily as we followed her into the shop, delighted by the feast for our eyes.

The boys were rendered speechless by Denise and the glittering array of chocolates and candies they found themselves surrounded by.

Mirrored walls multiplied the shop's contents, transporting us to a Wonka-like room of deliciousness. When I told Denise that I'd read about her in the blogs of Clotilde and David Lebovitz, she enthusiastically showed me a bevy of press clippings and raved about David. She clearly adores him as much as he likes her.
The whole experience had my head spinning so much that after selecting a little assortment of chocolates from one glass case, and grabbing a bag of salted butter caramels for Troy, I forgot to get the big bar of Bernachon that I'd had my eye on!
Wahhh!
Upon taking our leave, Denise gave us explicit instructions on catching the right bus to the top of the hill, as well as an entertaining tutorial on how to spot pick-pockets. She was sweet. Nothing less than what I expected.

When I arrived home, I found that I actually had selected, amidst the flurry, one bite-sized piece of Bernachon chocolate filled with salted-butter caramel. It was seriously smashed from travelling, but still perfect to me, and I savored every nibble.

L'Etoile d'Or
Denise Acabo
30 rue Fontaine
75009 Paris

Happiness in St.-Germain

You may or may not know that I loathe Disneyworld, but that's another story for another time. While that kingdom of faux tries to convince us it's the Happiest Place on Earth, I've known for years that this is not true. Now, however, I think I know the place most deserving to rightfully hold title.
It's Ladurée.
What was it that Holly Golightly said she loved so much about Tiffany's? That nothing very bad could happen to you there. Ladurée is my version of that dream. Specifically, the Ladurée Bonaparte, located on the corner of rue Jacob & rue Bonaparte in the Saint-Germain.

On the outside, it is the quintessential charming Parisian storefront. Inside, a beautiful world all its own, where time seems to stand still. The cozy, slightly exotic salon de thé, is tucked up in the back, with an upholstered banquette stretching the length of two walls, heavy wooden tables, and leather chairs reminiscent of my favorite type of fantasy atmosphere: civilized colony.
The boys and I positioned ourselves in the best corner of the room, and ordered hot chocolate and caramel macarons. The hot chocolate is a proper drinking chocolate, so intense that I really could only handle about an espresso-cup's worth. The boys, however, asked if they could add sugar to their cups, most likely because they could not resist touching the natural sugar lumps tantalizingly waiting to be grabbed from a tiny silver bowl on our table. I refused at first, but then softened and allowed them to eat one nugget each.
Ladurée was the ideal place to find ourselves in the late afternoon of a drizzly grey day. We fortified ourselves with the hot drinks and sweets, and I gazed about the room, imagining all the back-stories of those around us, young and old, sharing this heavenly respite from the hustle-bustle. An elderly French couple; four young Parisian ladies, one recently married; an American mother and her daughter; a table full of Japanese visitors; each group unique, with a tale of its own.
It was the perfect pause at the end of a lovely day, and we left smiling and renewed.
An oasis of civility.
And, as it turned out, it was the perfect place to go, several days later when we were back in Paris. Somewhere along the line, it had occured to me that the perfect gift to take home for Troy would be a box of assorted macarons. Even if it hadn't been, a return might have been inevitable, but here we had a very good reason, and I'm so glad we did! We went to the front counter and selected a variety of macarons, all perfect. Caramel, chocolate, blackberry, raspberry, lemon, vanilla, pistachio, and rose petal. The young man who served us knew he was in the best place in the world. You can see it in his smile.

Our business finished, we sat once again in my favorite corner, and this time, I ordered the boys hot chocolate and tarte tatins. For myself, the rose petal tea. The porcelain teacups & saucers were white, with wide bands of soft pastel colors, and the hot chocolate arrived in its weighty silver pitcher. The rose tea was subtle, providing the faintest waft of one of the world's most romantic and beautiful flowers. Just a suggestion. I took a second sip and asked if I could try a bite of Wyatt's tarte tatin.

There it was: the best thing I've ever tasted in my life! Ever. Soft apples, butter, caramelized sweet, slightly salty, and layers of puff pastry. To top it off, a small dish of creme fraiche. It was perfect, the kind of sensory experience you want to bury your face in and inhale so you can try to absorb the whole of it through every pore. I refrained.

Notice how the tarte tatin is moving closer to my place setting.

Nothing will ever compare, and that's okay, because now I know it's there. I will always remember those wonderful two visits with Wyatt and Griffin, in this haven where a person can be, as Holly might say, divinely and utterly happy.

High times

Being in Paris, I was overwhelmed by a sense of time and history. To walk along cobblestone streets that have existed for centuries and tread by some of the most influential people in the world, well, it's almost hard to grasp how many momentous events have transpired at the very points on which you stand.
Can you imagine having a lifetime to explore the city?
My goal in Paris was simple: to have a good time with Wyatt & Griffin, show them some key sights, and please all of us. It was easy to do. They're great travellers, and they gamely go where I suggest.
On our first night, I sought out a restaurant that had been recommended to me by a friend: Le Relais de L'Entrecote.
This was a perfect choice after a long flight and a full day, because there are very few decisions to be made. Sometimes (usually) when I'm tired, I can't make a decision for the life of me. Like, if I'm at a restaurant looking at a menu with a lot of good options, my brain starts to ping-pong inside of my head and I get stuck in a loop of indecision.
Voila L'Entrecote. This is a restaurant where they serve steak and frites, and that's it. My friend had told me that the frites were excellent, and so, going in, I knew that if nothing else, Griffin would be happy.
Another good thing: no reservations are taken. I'm not a big planner, so this works well for me. We arrived before 7:00 p.m., got a nice table by the window, sat down, and made Decision #1: what to drink. Easy: a half-bottle of the house red wine, a San Pellegrino, and two Cokes.
How did we want our steak? One rare, one medium-well, and no steak for Griffin, just a plate of frites.
The absence of decision-making was as good as a tranquilizer; I was like a content communist. I sat back, breathed deeply, and smiled at my two boys. Life was good!
We chatted and the waitress brought us a basket of bread, then green salads, lightly dressed with a vinaigrette, for Wyatt and me. The pace was leisurely, unhurried, yet not painstakingly slow. When our steak & frites & frites arrived, everything was hot, and the steak was dressed with L'Entrecote's "secret sauce." I would guess that it's made of butter and olive oil, onion, some garlic, and thyme. Whatever it is, it was excellent on top of the perfectly cooked, tender steak; and the frites were golden, crispy, and hot. Everyone was happy!

There was also some Dijon mustard on the table, which added the perfect note of zing to my steak. Griffin even tried some.

Our friend had said, "Eat a profiterole for me." So when we had finished our main and our waitress asked if we wanted dessert, I ordered a plate of profiteroles for us to share.

Stuffed with vanilla ice cream and covered with a dark chocolate sauce, the first taste struck the boys as revelatory. Paris was a hit!
We left the warm glow of the restaurant smiling and full, and fueled with enough sugar to propel a brisk walk to the Eiffel Tower.
The boys were really excited, and decided we should scale the tower, like Spiderman.

There were no crowds, and there was no line (benefit of travelling in wintertime). As we rode the old elevator up to the very top, I thought to myself, "Oh, I'm glad I had that wine at dinner. How old is this elevator?" Well, it didn't bear dwelling upon; we were in. At the top, we looked out upon the whole city, sparkling in the cold air, and the boys gasped and said, "Oh, WOW!! AWESOME!!"


It really was.

The infamous couch

Last year, the boys got a wicked stomach bug and barfed all over Venice, but mainly all over the hotel. As a mother, I felt simultaneously sorry for my sons and horrified that they were throwing up on our hosts. The worst case being when Griffin barfed on the red velvet sofa in the hotel lounge.
Ouch.
Yuck.
The staff couldn't have been kinder, I swear, and despite my offerings to help clean up, or pay for any damage, they insisted there was no problem and then they miraculously made it look like nothing had ever happened to this beautiful fabric. I should have asked them for some cleaning tips to use back home on our own furniture, but I was preoccupied with following the boys around with towels and getting them up to bed.
2007: A look back at the beginning of the horror...the horror...


2008: We happily arrived to warm greetings, after which I confirmed that all of our stomachs were A-O.K.

We then bounded into the lounge to check on the couch and order two hot chocolates and one Bellini.
And they all stayed down.


As you can see, the red velvet is still looking bellisima. Whew.

Return to Venice

It's hard to take a bad picture in Venice, it's such a visual treat for the eyes. Everything seems elevated, as if rising to the beauty all around. Walking a dog. Feeding a bird. Drinking hot chocolate. The ordinary can be extraordinary sometimes.
When we arrived at the crest of the Accademia Bridge to look upon this Grand Canal scene, I felt content.

Griffin loved the pigeons of San Marco, he was so happy feeding them and interacting with them, that I see a bird in our future.

One of my favorites: spaghetti with clams. I love the jingling sound the clam shells make.

Hand-made gloves. If I lived in a cold climate, I would be a glove addict.


A candle lit for a friend.




Inside the Palazzo Ducale.

Eating pizza.

Il Dottore!

This is not The Chambermaid's laundry. I can't get my whites that white.

I'm hard pressed to think of any symbol cooler than the winged lion. Pax tibi. Peace to you.



Treasures from the sea, at the Naval Museum.

More pizza.

A room with a view.