Thank You

Thank you so much for all of your well wishes.
Bad news.
They aren't working.
I mean come on already, this is ridiculous. I am most definitely on the road to recovery, but it is proving to be a long and bumpy road, and quite desolate. no food adventures, no Drink of the Week, no Plugra, no Ficoco, not even a complaint from Andrew. Although what would he have to complain about? We've been eating the delicious chicken soup he made for the last week, or ordered pizza, and followed it with ice cream (it soothes the throat, you see). And yes, the man who hates soup, namely Andrew, will in fact eat certain soups. Once he gave me the list of "soup requirements," it became quite clear that he hates stews and loves broth. The soup can't have any kind of wet meat or chicken (and i'm pretty sure that any meat you put in soup will, at one time or another, end up wet), it can't have vegetable pieces, and, well actually, I think I was laughing so hard at that point that he just stopped talking. I'll have him finish the list for me, and then I will concoct a soup just for Andrew. Wow, so maybe there is a food adventure in my future. Now I just need to work on a Drink of the Week.

Still Sick

1. before lemon tea, before summer/, 2. love-love [tennis match], 3. Dinner #7, 4. Cheesecake-Strawberry Ice Cream, 5. Untitled, 6. do the dishes

I am still too sick for foodie genius, so I offer you a feast for the eyes instead. A small sampling of some of my favorite food shots on flickr.

Enjoy & thank you for all of the well wishes.

I'm Still Here

I didn't abandon you, I promise. I have been sick with the flu. The very flu that I watched attack many friends and loved ones, while I stood by feeling far superior to them. Well, as it turns out, I am not far superior. I am a mere mortal. So I have spent the last several days laid up in bed sustained only by nyquil and the delicious chicken soup that Andrew made me . . . from scratch. I'm also going to pass on Drink of the Week for the moment, unless you are interested in either a delicious salt water gargle made with fleur de sel or a tonic of water, lemon juice and cayenne pepper. Neither of which are too terribly intoxicating or fun to drink.
Should typing make me dizzy? Well, it is, so I'm going to stop and return to my position on the couch moaning and feeling sorry for myself and my inferior immune system.
Poor me.

What I need

I need carbs. I don't feel well. It's raining, dreary. I have to sit in traffic for two hours, and have 3 days of shooting ahead of me. I would rather be at home, wrapped in a warm blanket, watching TBS or TNT (one of those stations that plays bad movies and reruns of Law & Order) and eating oatmeal, bread, pasta and the like.
Carbs, take me away.

My Dirty Little Secret (Yes, another one.)

I have something to confess. I have been keeping a little secret from you, and I feel so bad about it that I can’t even sleep anymore. Okay, here it is. I made cupcakes out of the box on Valentine’s Day, and worst of all, I think they may have been the best cupcakes I’ve ever had. Moist yellow cake, creamy chocolate frosting, Andrew and I ate half of them before dinner (which was, of all things, meatloaf). So, I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner, but I was just too scared. Then I thought, well, you have been quite understanding when it comes to my missteps. You confessed that you, too, like dinner from taco trucks, and you love Velveeta. So I figured you could handle this one, as well. I had all intentions of making red velvet cupcakes from scratch, including the frosting, but the day just got away from me. So I was left with a very difficult decision, Betty Crocker or Duncan Hines. I went with Betty. She was on sale, and she was delightful. So again, I am realizing the road to becoming a foodie is a long and treacherous one, marked with fast food, processed cheese and cupcakes out of the box. Hey, at least that Drink of the Week was good, right? Right?

The Cat's Pajamas

Is it your birthday today?
No?
Cause I have a present for you.
Actually, I have two.
Two great friends of mine, Jamie and Lisa, inspired this week’s drink. Jamie told me about an amazing drink she had called a Dirty Girl Scout. I didn’t even need a recipe. The name alone was so phenomenal; it would just have to be the next Drink of the Week.

Dirty Girl Scout:
1 oz Crème dementhe
1oz Vodka
1 oz Kahlua
1 oz Baileys

Even though I had the recipe, I still wanted to test this it out and take a photo of it, but I couldn’t find any Crème de Menthe, and I thought I had Kahlua, but it turns out I didn’t, so I tried to make my own version of this drink. In the process I realized, once again, it’s just not that easy to make a great drink. I used chocolate liqueur, baileys, cream, peppermint schnapps (the only minty thing I had: a leftover from that awesome hot cocoa I told you about) and vodka. I confidently poured all of the ingredients into a cocktail shaker, loaded it with ice and shook. I was absolutely certain this was going to blow the original Dirty Girl Scout out of the water. Well, it was good, not great and definitely not Drink of the Week material. In order for it to be Drink of the Week I have to take my first sip and go, “Yum. Oooh that’s good.” and then shout, “Drink of the Week, Drink of the Week” while marching around the house with it as Andrew looks at me like I have once again lost my mind. None of this happened. I took a sip and said, “Alcohol-y, Damn.” I gave it to Andrew to drink and didn’t mention the “Alcohol-y, Damn” part. He excitedly took a sip and said, “Hmmm. Alcohol-y.” Back to the drawing board.

I figured since I already had out some quality drink making ingredients, I would let them inspire my drink, although I did put the peppermint schnapps away as I was disgusted at the fact that it couldn’t live up to the crème de menthe. Plus schnapps always sounds like something a drunk old man would have, a drunk old man with one of those drunk old man noses, all red and bumpy. So I measured and poured and shook and stirred and took one sip and said, “Yum. Oooh that’s good.” and then shouted, “Drink of the Week, Drink of the Week” while marching around the house with it as Andrew looked at me like I had once again lost my mind. I gave this one to my brother, and he talk one long sip and said, “Delicious, Wow!” So I grabbed it out of his hands and ran it into Andrew, hoping to get some sort of approval. He took a sip and said, “ Alcohol-y, really good, but alcohol-y.” I said, “No you don’t,” huffed and puffed and angrily snatched the drink from his hands. No one was going to talk about my baby like that. As I left he said, “Honey, the are both really good. Come back.”
Next I had to name my creation, and while I struggled for a minute to come up with some play on the Girl Scout theme, a Filthy Brownie, just didn’t sound appetizing. Although, some of my male friends might disagree. Then it came to me. When Lisa and I were trying to perfect The Bee’s Knees, she said it would be fun if we made a drink called The Cat’s Pajamas. Isn’t that a great name for a drink? So I thought about it. I’m in my pajamas, this drink tastes great, and I have a cat. Perfect! So now, without further delay, let me introduce to you, The Cat’s Pajamas (Thanks, Lisa).

The Cat’s Pajamas:
2 oz Chocolate Liqueur
2 oz Baileys
1 oz Cream
1 oz Dulce de Leche Liqueur
A splash of Amaretto

Shake with Ice, pour over ice, put in freezer for a few minutes, and then drink it.

On Valentine's Day, I Profess My Love . . .

On Valentine's Day, I profess my love for ficoco. I found it in the way that I find most of my canned and jarred goods - - pretty label. Oh, I do that for wine, too. Is that bad? I think that might be bad. Either way, it totally paid off here. This stuff is amazing. Figs and cocoa. I wasn't even sure that I liked figs (how very unfoodie of me), but that question was answered with one dip of the finger into the jar. "I like figs!" is exactly what I exclaimed after tasting it. I already knew how I felt about cocoa. That's chocolate, right? So today, on Valentine's Day, be nice to your toast, and slather it with ficoco (and butter, but you already knew that, didn't you?).

PS. I got mine at whole foods.
That is a dangerous place.
A very, very dangerous place.

food photos

I thought I would share some of my food shots with you. Not because I am feeling generous, but merely because I am too tired to write.

plugra

for nino the hypnotist

fortunately i just happen to have a brand new stick of plugra butter in the fridge.

unfortunately i will not be able to write a review regarding the taste of plugra butter as it is 7:30 in the morning and the thought of eating a stick of butter just doesn't sound fun.

fortunately i can write a review regarding the look of plugra butter.

plugra butter looks cool. it is much larger and more awesome looking than all other butters. so it must be a far superior butter. i like to take it out when people come over so i can impress them with my enormous butter. they always say, "wow, that is some big butter," and i smile because i know it is much larger than any butter they have.

The Bee's Knees

About ten years ago I bought this vintage “bar aid”, not that I needed any help drinking, I just thought it was cute. It was a little black box numbered 1 through 80 in white writing, and each number had a drink name next to it. In the center of the box was a little dial, so you could turn to the drink number and the recipe would appear. Well, as you know, this drink of the week thing was really becoming a problem for me. I was stumped. And then I remembered the bar aid, and it really helped. Although most of the drink recipes were quite old fashioned. And, many of them had eggs, or Benedictine - - neither of which sounded like things I want to drink for enjoyment. One recipe did catch my eye, number 13, The Bee’s Knees.

Bar Aid, #13 Bee’s Knees recipe: (I have to do it from memory, because the damn dial just broke and it is stuck on #5, Alexander’s Sister)
1 jigger of gin
1 teaspoon honey
juice of half a lemon

Shake well with ice and strain into glass.

Ok, so there are a few problems with this recipe, as my friend Lisa and I found out. First, when you pour honey into a cold liquid, it coagulates and all the stirring in the world won’t change that. Second, it’s missing a mixer (tonic, anyone?). And, third, it tastes like shit.

So we left the recipe on the drawing room floor, or better yet, in the kitchen sink and moved on, but the next day I woke up and I couldn’t stop thinking about The Bee’s Knees. It had definite drink of the week potential and I would not rest until The Bee’s Knees was just that.

First, Gin. I mean come on. This drink is just begging for gin.

Next, how to mitigate the honey mass: I poured two mini bottles of tonic water (20 oz total) into a glass cocktail shaker. It probably helps if they aren’t super cold, although mine were cold and this method worked. Then, I drizzled the honey (4 tablespoons . . . a lot, but it’s so good) into the soda, while at the same time creating a tonic water vortex with a stir stick, so that the honey never has a chance to do anything but dissolve into deliciousness.
Then I added the juice of an entire lemon and two shots of gin (this recipe makes 2 drinks, because you should share this with someone you really like). Pour that mixture over two glasses of ice, add to each, a tablespoon of maraschino cherry juice and garnish with two cherries and a lemon slice.

Drink and Enjoy.

The Bee’s Knees
20 oz tonic water
2 oz gin
4 tablespoons honey
Juice of one lemon
2 tablespoons maraschino cherry juice
4 maraschino cherries
Lemon slices for garnish

Instructions above.

PS. If anyone is interested . . .

Bar Aid, #5 Alexander’s Sister
1/2 Dry Gin
1/4 Crème de Menthe
1/4 Cream
Shake well with ice and strain into glass.

Drink of the Week

Drink of the week will make it's valiant return tomorrow, just in time for the work week. Oh, and it's a good one.

a lonely place

As of late, our dining room has been a very lonely place. The table is covered with paperwork and junk mail and the floor is invisible. Instead all you can see is shopping bags filled with props from my last few jobs. It’s just not right. I miss sitting down to dinner, tasting a new recipe and making note of every experience so that I can recount it to you.

I’ll be back, dining room. I’ll be back.

PS. I just got this book in the mail. Can't wait to read about half of it and then put it in the pile of books i didn't finish.

i should be asleep right now

It's 11:00 and I should be asleep right now. Instead I am in bed, under the covers, with my laptop, trying to come up with something clever to say. Nothing is coming to mind. I didn't perfect the drink of the week. I went to tap dancing class instead. Now it's just too late for drink perfecting. It's too late for blogging, too. I have to be up at 5 am for another photo shoot. Please don't make me go. I want to stay here with you and chat. I can't, can I? I have to go to work again, huh? This is getting ridiculous. I think I have to go to sleep. My mind is wandering. Things are going to go downhill very fast, and I'm just not ready to expose you to that yet. There's always tomorrow. Goodnight.

work, work, work

something i have to stop doing if i want to become a successful blogger. how am i supposed to perfect the drink of the week if i don't have time to drink? this is terrible, absolutely terrible.

go here today.

if you don't come back, i totally understand. she is a much better writer than i am.

i'll miss you.

something so wrong/something so right

Have I gained your trust yet? Do you like me? Think I'm smart? Well, I've got to tell you something, and you probably aren't going to like it.

I love Velveeta.
I love it so much that I want to shout it from the rooftops.
I love it so much that I severely burnt my tongue on hot Velveeta dip, because I just couldn’t wait for it to cool. I finally understand the saying “hurt so good.”

I am trying to become a foodie, but sometimes my roots get the better of me. It’s not that I don’t love a good cave aged gruyere, it’s just that there is something about Velveeta that is so comforting about, so restrained. It’s what I thought cheese tasted like until I was about 25. Now, of course, I know better. I know that I should turn my nose up at Velveeta, cast it aside. But I just can’t. I am willing to let in all kinds of new food experiences, but I refuse to turn my back on an old friend. It’s you and me, Velveeta.

Friends forever.