Birthday Madness, or Should I Say Badness?

    Well, It's official.  I am now in my forties.  I turned forty-one on Wed, April 27th.  There is no turning back now.  Not that there ever was.  If someone ever figured that one out it would be the end of this world as we know it.  Basically, since Wednesday evening, I have attempted to eat as much bad-for-you but great-tasting food as I possibly can. 
   On Wednesday night, the plan was to go to Dirty Franks Hot Dog Palace but it was packed full.  So we went to Little Palace, which is conveniently located right next door to Dirty Franks.  For dinner, I had a Philly Cheese Steak and Fries.  Then, we went to Jeni's.  Then to The Crest Tavern, to indulge in a few cocktails.  The highlight of which was a shot that was dubbed "roast beef" but actually tasted like sweet-tarts had been dropped into root beer (This was Michelle's description).
   On Thursday, I made scrambled eggs and toast for myself.  Then for dinner, Michelle and I went to O'Reilley's, were I had the Pepper Burger with onion rings (as far as I am concerned this is the only choice).
   Friday, I had a chicken burrito from Chipotle for lunch, which is actually fairly healthy although absolutely enormous.  And I ate it all.  For dinner, Amy and I went to Dirty Franks where everything I had was covered in Coney Sauce.  Well, not the Bloody Mary. 
   Today started out with super healthy eating too.  I had a small bowl of the ice cream I made yesterday.  You know, I had to take photos for this blog post. I had to scoop some into a bowl for a picture.  Then, it is in the bowl.  Might as well eat it.  And I had to make sure it was edible, right? Breakfast of champions.
    So the ice cream is chocolate-heath.  It is really, really tasty. The picture above is the unsweetened chocolate melting in the double boiler.  I know a double boiler is kinda old school.  But I inherited this from my grandmother and I figured I might as well use it.
 

    Homemade ice cream is the bomb!  Wonder why it tastes so good?  Maybe it's the sugar, eggs, milk and cream.  Notice the Snowville Creamery milk.  I am a convert.  If you haven't tried this milk, you should.  It is awesomeness in a carton!

    This looks pretty damn good!  And it is all ready to go.  I waited and added the Heath crumbles right before I popped the base into the ice cream machine. 

    Ice cream maker at work.  Remember, back in the day, when you made homemade ice cream, in a hand crank ice cream maker.  When you had to take turns cranking the machine and adding salt to the ice outside of the canister.  Those were actually fun times at my Grandparents.  And it always seemed to make the end result sweeter.  Well now, there is this fantastic Cuisinart machine which does an excellent job and is super easy to use.  And it comes in red!   Yea!!

   Check it out!!  Nothing says breakfast like homemade Chocolate-Heath Ice cream!  Actually, I am at the end of my bad food eating run.  Tomorrow is the first day of May.  I am gonna be eating nothing but vegetables from then on.  Well, maybe not, but I gotta do better than this week that is for damn sure!
   Tonight, birthday dinner number two at Knead Urban Diner.  It's gonna be awesome.  But, can I get a side of fries with that?

Scary Bunnies and Sweets - My Holiday is Complete!

   I'm not sure who brought the mini heath bars and chocolate truffle eggs into my house.  Oh, that's right, it was me.  The mini truffle eggs I purchased, in a moment of weakness, from Williams-Sonoma because they reminded me of the Cadbury candy-coated milk chocolate eggs.  I have a problem with those Cadbury eggs.  It's a clear cut problem.  I can't stop eating them.  In fact, Wendy (my BFF) said she stopped purchasing them because I always ate all of hers.  This may have been a slight exaggeration - but only slight. 

    Now, the Heath bars were purchased for a purpose.  That purpose was pie.   I made a pie for Easter that had a layer of crumbled Heath bars on the bottom.  On top of the toffee went a whole lot of ultra chocolate craziness.  The photograph above shows the chocolate and the Heath crumbles in the graham cracker crust.  I am true chocolate believer.  And this chocolate will surely set you free.  It was an intense mixture of milk, chocolate, sugar, egg yolks, butter and vanilla.  Put it on top of crumbled up Heath bars and it is almost too much.  I said ALMOST.

   But, you know, it was a holiday.  A holiday where many people (young and old alike) tend to overindulge on sweetness.  So what did that chocolate-toffee mixture need to make it completely over the top and out of control?  Let me think.... whipped cream.  And of course, a few more toffee pieces for good measure.  This pie was so intense that after eating it, Wendy had to stretch herself out on the sofa for a bit.
   In honor of the Easter holiday, I named this pie insanity "Evil Bunny Pie".  "Evil Bunny" makes me think of that scary ass bunny costume from "Donnie Darko".  Cause nothing says Easter like a scary bunny...

Meet My New Boyfriend

   Meet my new boyfriend.  I know it's wrong to fall in love so quickly but I am a sucker for shiny exteriors and excellent performance.  And the 10 inch All Clad fry pan (with lid) has both of those features in spades.
   If that sounds like a funked up ad from Williams-Sonoma blame it on the fact that I work there part time and love it.  Not only do I get to cook while I am working but I also get to try out all of the extraordinary products that WS carries.
   It's a trap really.  Because when you get to use all of the fancy pants cookware, knives, electrics etc, you see first hand just how much better they are.  I mean that cheap knife you bought from Target is just not going to hold up in the long run.  And you first set of pots and pans, you know the ones with the nonstick coating that is peeling off, are going to pale in comparison to the lovely red Le Creuset pot or the glorious All Clad fry pan.
   It gets even worse, when you wake up in the morning to find your car has been broken into.  The front passenger side window has been broken, the glove box and center console rifled through, and nothing taken.  Nothing taken!  Now you are really mad because what then is the point?  And a little sad with the realization that the burglar thinks you have bad taste in music.  Then you go into work  where there is a sale on All Clad pans.  You realize that you can purchase a covered fry pan for an excellent price.  You don't have a covered fry pan.  And you have been completely spoiled because you have been using the All Clad Sauteuse that you won in a work drawing.  Then a coworker encourages you by saying things like, "These pans are investments" and "It will last a lifetime."  Remember you are feeling bad because of the break in.  You are weak.  You see the shiny All Clad 5 layer shiny fry pan.  And bam, you have a new boyfriend.
   The first thing you make in it is so gourmet, so highbrow that you can't hardly even stand yourself - grilled cheese.  Although, to be fair, it was Swiss, cheddar, pesto grilled cheese.  And it was done to perfection.  On the second night you throw together a "ragu" in the pan and now the deal is done.  It's love.  That's all there is to it.
   All of the silliness aside, I have come to a point in my cooking life where I now realize the importance of having the best tools and ingredients (that you can afford and acquire legally).  It really does make a huge difference.  I blame several fantastic cooks I know (you know who you are) and working at Williams-Sonoma for making me see how badly I NEED new kitchen tools and fresh, local ingredients.  It may be a sickness.  But making food and sharing food is one of the great pleasures in life.  I mean, everybody has to eat.  And it is way more fun when you share a meal with family or friends.   

Poetry Sunday...Oh wait it's Wednesday..Oh well

I Am in Need of Music

I am in need of music that would flow Over my fretful, feeling fingertips, Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips, With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow. Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low, Of some song sung to rest the tired dead, A song to fall like water on my head, And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow! There is a magic made by melody: A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep To the subaqueous stillness of the sea, And floats forever in a moon-green pool, Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep. Elizabeth Bishop

Isn't Quiche Just a Fancy Pants French Name for Egg Pie?

   A couple of interesting things happened in my week of food.  I made a very simple Lebanese Couscous soup last Sunday which was super easy to prepare and nice and fresh to eat.  Lebanese Couscous is way bigger than normal couscous.  It's kinda like a pea sized dumpling.  Or for those of you familiar with bubble tea, it's the size of those hideous tapioca balls in the bottom of the glass (NOT a fan of bubble tea). I made a crumbly topped apple pie on Monday night for a work function which was excellent.  I think I finally got the ratios right for the crumble topping.  Yea me!  On Saturday, I chose my dinner of a Polish sausage po'boy and red beans and rice from the Yankee Cajun food truck which is now parked in the lot of The Crest Tavern (virtually across the street from my house).  I enjoyed eating this Cajun tastiness, inside of the tavern, accompanied by a gin and tonic - very nice combination actually.  I would recommend a visit to the Yankee Cajun food truck.  The truck is open Friday and Saturday night throughout the Summer.  Tonight, I made a Swiss cheese, mushroom and onion quiche with a thyme/rosemary crust.  Hence,  the photograph above of mushrooms and onions.  Quiche is pie too.  It's just a fancy French term for an egg based pie! 

   Okay, I want to talk about eggs.  I have recently discovered the awesomeness of farm fresh eggs.  Oh my goodness, eggs fresh from the chicken are the absolute bomb!  And apparently, some even pop out of the hen in fashion colors.  Notice the green eggs in the photo above.  These eggs came from the mother of a friend.  Once you go farm fresh, you will never go back!  The cutting board above has all of the dairy/ protein love that I used in my quiche. 

   Sauteed crimini and button mushrooms with onions are thrown in right on top of the Swiss cheese.  I just love mushrooms and onions sauteed in a little butter.  Once again, I used my brand new All Clad pan.  I gotta say, that pan is just amazing.  If you find yourself in the market for new cookware, check out All Clad.  It may be pricey but it really does make a difference!

   Here is the French Egg Pie in the oven ready for cooking.  Please don't look that closely at the bottom of my oven.  When I put the quiche in the oven, I realized that I desperately need to run the clean cycle.  Apparently, the blackberry pie I made last week is still making its' presence known on the bottom of my oven.  Oh, I am so bad....

 My beautiful Swiss-mushroom/onion quiche!  And it really did turn out nicely even though I inadvertently turned off the oven mid way through the baking process.  No wonder the egg custard portion was still wiggling all over the place after 40 minutes of baking at 375 degrees.  But I caught it and fixed it.  Isn't that one of the tricks to cooking/baking?

   Look at that egg loveliness!  Here's what I recommend: Invite your best friend and one of her many dogs over for a French Egg Pie or Quiche dinner.  Serve this delight with a salad.  Have your friend bring over chocolate-peanut butter ice cream.  That's a nice meal on a warm Spring day when you spent five hours in your garden preparing for growing.  PS: Might try taking a walk after dinner.  The dog will appreciate it!

Stop Me If You Think That You've Heard This One Before - Let's Celebrate The Smiths!

It had to happen.  There had to be a music post about my favorite band of all time - The Smiths.  I was introduced to The Smiths by my aunt in 1984.  My aunt had alarmingly good taste in music and a killer vinyl collection.  In 1984, I was spinning records on my red turntable, listening to new wave tunes through baby blue fuzzy speakers.  I was so cool it hurt.  Now my whole record collection is stored on my mac and ipod.  Sadly, the blue speakers have gone by the wayside.  

 

This is, I think, my favorite of all time.  I just love the lyric, "Ask me, I won't say no. Why should I?" 

"Heaven knows I'm miserable now"- the quintessential maudlin Smiths song.   

"The boy with the thorn in his side. Behind the hatred, there lies a murderous desire for love."  Man, that's saying something.  Gotta love Morrissey - with his off the shoulder unbuttoned look.

Totally digging the swiveling dance moves going on in this video. Go on with your bad self Morrissey!

Okay, so if you know one Smiths song this is probably the one.  And if you hate The Smiths chances are you may still like this song. 

Here is an excellent cover of "There is a Light that Never Goes Out" by Neil Finn and friends.  Neil Finn is totally awesome and so is this cover!

Ahh, here is another cover... Radiohead covers "Headmaster's Ritual"  If Radiohead covers it it has to be good, right? 

This is also one of my favorites.  And I love this cover by Elefant.  Of course, there are so many other fantastic songs by The Smiths but I couldn't possibly post them all here.  I could but it would be an insanely long blog post.  And it might drive some ( I won't mention and names) to despair.

So if you don't like The Smiths I am sorry for this post.  No, no I am not.  Don't be a hater.  Take a listen.  You might surprise yourself.  You might like it...a little.

If you are a fan.... good show!

I will leave you all with this - "Nothing's changed, I still love you, oh, I still love you, Only slightly, only slightly less than I used to, my love."

Seventeen Years

I received facebook notifications from several music pages I follow about Kurt Cobain's death on April 5th seventeen years ago. And for some reason it really struck me this year. Seventeen years. 1994 was seventeen years ago. Man, this makes me feel old.

Come on all of you 30-40 year olds. Doesn't it make you nostalgic for your high school or college years. Don't you just want to dig out all of your flannel. Don't you want to skip changing clothes or washing your hair for a few weeks. Come on and embrace the dirt. I mean the era was called grunge after all.

For real though, it makes me supremely sad to think that it has been seventeen years. Nirvana, as we all know, changed the music scene forever. I appreciated them then and I appreciate them now. They made it okay to feel anger and angst and to yell and scream about it. As a closet goth, I was and am down with that.

As I watched a few Nirvana videos, I realized that I have pretty much the same hair cut now as Kurt Cobain had then. I could totally pull that look off if I neglected to wash my hair for a couple of weeks. Actually, when I walked into work this morning, my friend Jen said I looked a little crazy - that my hair looked a little crazy. She asked if I was up late making pie. And the really scary fact is that I was! So, rolling into work with crazy hair looking sleep deprived and strung out (on pie) puts me even one more step closer.

In honor of seventeen years passing, I have been listening to Nirvana. I remembered my time at Ohio University hanging out with the rockers. But to be honest, I was never a big fan of flannel.

Poetry Sunday on Monday

High School Senior (from The Wellspring)
by Sharon Olds

For seventeen years, her breath in the house
at night, puff, puff, like summer
cumulus above her bed,
and her scalp smelling of apricots
--this being who had formed within me,
squatted like a bright tree-frog in the dark,
like an eohippus she had come out of history
slowly, through me, into the daylight,
I had the daily sight of her,
like food or air she was there, like a mother.
I say "college," but I feel as if I cannot tell
the difference between her leaving for college
and our parting forever--I try to see
this house without her, without her pure
depth of feeling, without her creek-brown
hair, her daedal hands with their tapered
fingers, her pupils dark as the mourning cloak's
wing, but I can't. Seventeen years
ago, in this room, she moved inside me,
I looked at the river, I could not imagine
my life with her. I gazed across the street,
and saw, in the icy winter sun,
a column of steam rush up away from the earth.
There are creatures whose children float away
at birth, and those who throat-feed their young
for weeks and never see them again. My daughter
is free and she is in me--no, my love
of her is in me, moving in my heart,
changing chambers, like something poured
from hand to hand, to be weighed and then reweighed.