About Us

Baker's Dozen #5: Cousin Brett (and the Commons!)

noreply@blogger.com (The Mouse) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 12:54:00 +0000

The CommonFolk: From left to right, Matt, Sarah, Sam, and Brett.
HALF of this staff is related to us.

Dear Boo,

This latest installment of our ever-popular Baker's Dozen series (well, I'm a fan, at least), brings us back yet again to our very own family. Naturally, two sisters don't become as obsessed with food and cooking as we are simply by accident. No, the rivulets of butter run deep, and so its no surprise that today's guest - our cousin Brett! - is himself a tad bit, shall we say, enthusiastic. Some might say that opening a cafe dangerously close to where I and other family members live, designed by our cousin Bill, with baked goods homemade by his mother (our oft-referenced Auntie), and managed by his brother (our cousin Sam!), is taking it a little far. I will forgive him the proximity of so many butter-laden treats (not to mention the TO DIE FOR pork sandwich) because I am absolutely thrilled that The Commons was born this year. There is something ever so comforting in the fact that, anxious, sleep deprived, and chilled to the bone on the way to my new job, I can walk into the cozy little cafe and be greeted like family with a nice hot, perfectly brewed cup of coffee. After that, everything goes down a little easier. Now if only they would deliver lunch to my office...

Slow Roasted Pork Sandwich with broiled tomatoes, pickled carrots and habanero mayo on brioche. Holy Crap.

Moving on. I give you, a Baker's Dozen with our cousin Brett, with contributions by Sam and the whole cast of Commons Characters!

1) Where'd you get the name for the Commons? And for that matter, where the heck did you get the idea to open a cafe in the first place?
My partners Sarah Wallace, Matthew Mogil and I all grew up together and went to the same high school. The Commons was the name of our cafeteria and was were we ate lunch and hung out together. The three of us operated Organicoa, a seasonal cafe in the Hudson River Park for two summers. The food, vibe and service was so well received, we knew we would be successful bringing a more fine-tuned version to Chelsea. Once we signed our lease, the brainstorming for a new name began but was short lived. When Matt suggested The Commons.....it felt so right!

2) I can only imagine the kind of hilarious and disastrous antics which would occur if my sister and ran a restaurant. You and your brother are in this venture together. How's that workin out? Honest. I won't tell him.
Honestly, its great. He's taken charge of this gig and is our star GM. He's passionate about the operation, and more importantly, our customers. Thats what I love about him! We fight - cause I'm older and always right :) but really, The Commons wins out because we both contribute important, but different perspectives on what is necessary.

3) The Boo and I are slightly obsessed with placing the perfect order at a restaurant. What's the perfect order at the Commons?
The perfect order at The Commons? Breakfast must involve a latte from our amazing baristas (coffee from La Colombe) and a slice of Tortilla Espanola. For lunch, the pork sandwich and a blood orange iced tea. Dessert is an easy one--grab a cup of Organicoa hot cocoa and a chocolate chip cookie from our own Arlene's Bakery.

4) The Husband loves him some Fro-coa, your frozen hot chocolate. What's the secret to its deliciousness?
The Frocoa began during the summer in the park at Organicoa. It is made with the best dairy money can buy (Battenkill Valley Creamery, we love you!) and organic cocoa syrup. We will sell Organicoa Frocoa in The Commons, Summer 2012 - we are currently selling the equally delicious Organicoa Hot Cocoa here at The Commons - come grab a cup!

5) What's your favorite meal your mom, of Arlene's Bakery fame, makes for you?
Besides her dessert skills, she is really an all around amazing cook! Her brisket is top notch...carrot ring on the side and homemade applesauce is hard to beat for a holiday dinner. Spaghetti and Meatballs are perfect too.
What about dessert? As you know, our holiday dinners end with at least 3-4 desserts. All of them are soooo good. I love her Key lime pie and chocolate chip cookies

6) What are your earliest food memories?
Well our grandmother was the greatest cook, so definitely my first memories were of her cooking. A Polish immigrant who first lived in Atlanta, GA, she cooked Jewish food to perfection but also made southern fried chicken, corn fritters w maple syrup and incredible desserts. Honestly everything she made was the best thing I've ever eaten.

7) What was the first meal you remember making on your own?
Really hard to say. I love to cook and have been doing so for a long time. I studied abroad in Italy so I have a soft spot for Italian. Pasta is my favorite, and usually the true test of a great Italian restaurant. It's probably what I tried my hand at first. I actually think I learned a lot of what I know from watching Molto Mario! My eggplant parm is pretty damn good too.

8) Why do you think our family is so obsessed with food?
It goes back to Baba, our grandma - we always ate together as a family and it has still stayed true. It has gone from family holiday meals, to food blogs, restaurants and cafes.....I love it and can't wait to see more of it!

9) You are a real estate magnate by day and restauranteur by night. I'm guessing you squeeze in dinner somewhere around 12am. What's your favorite late night snack?
We are all busy here at The Commons and have built this biz mostly around the cafe and have some local favorites. Sammy's Noodle Shop runs about the best delivery service on this planet - their chow fun, lo mein and moo shoo are pretty damn good. The Dirty Bird to-go recognizes our phone number when we call, lets just say that... Best fried chicken out!

10) Favorite pizza topping?
I have to stick to plain. Sal and Carmines on 101st and Broadway is by far, the best slice in the city

11) Top three places to eat in NYC.
Ellabess in the Nolitan Hotel is run by Epicurean MGT of L'artusi and Dell'Anima fame and is a must try. Sarah introduced me to Diner in Williamsburg and I think its a perfect restaurant. Lupa is an old favorite. We are huge fans of Mario and Lupa is spot on.

12) I'm having this internal debate and I want you to weigh in. Where do you stand on cake pops and sliders? Delicious trend, or annoyingly twee?
Can't say I've ever heard of cake pops! But in general I'm not high on gimmicky food. But I have to admit, sliders are hard to pass up. Locanda Verde does an amazing lamb slider and Joey Campanaro's meatball sliders are perfect.

13) You know real estate and now you know the NYC food world. It seems like the trend is towards smaller, more casual restaurants with no a no reservations policy and amazing food (like your tenants, Torrisi). With rents like the space down the street from us which was reportedly asking 40K a month of its restaurant tenants, I can't help but think real estate prices have a lot to do with this. What do you think?
I love real estate and have had a great time at Veracity Development. We have seen Nolita boom and rents follow suit. Now that rent is such a thorn in my side with the cafe, its easy to understand the struggle of restaurants to keep up with escalating rents. While I play both sides, representing landlords and operating a cafe, I can't help but know that the market moves in a circle. The rents are up, the rents are down. There will always be side streets, new neighborhoods and the occasional great deal. Great operators know the right concept, for the right space in the right time. I like the variety - Torrisi is a special place and they hit a home run with concept/space/time - its a model to follow but it doesn't work everywhere. The best thing about NYC is that we have somewhere to eat for every occasion.

Amen, Coz. And welcome to the 'hood. See you tomorrow morning.

This chicken sandwich has a poached egg, bacon and frisee. Yeah, you heard me.

Love,

The Mouse

Om Shanti, KC

noreply@blogger.com (The Boo) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 23:03:00 +0000

Dear Mouse,

It's that time again.

a play and media project about our environmental challenges

Runs Feb 17 - March 19 at Kansas City Rep

Hello hello from Kansas City MO, where I'll be living and blogging for the next two months. I still can't quite believe that this is the fourth year in a row I'm working out of town Jan-March; I'm starting to think of it as my annual pilgrimage to... America. You know I've had a love affair with Going Away in general ever since my sandal-wearing, patchouly-scented, guitar-strumming Summer Camp days. But I especially dig the, say, liminal nature of the first night in town, before rehearsals start, when you have no idea what lies ahead. You land in a strange new world, navigate a new grocery store, unpack your clothes, listen to the SILENCE around you, breathe maybe a little differently, and ponder upcoming challenges. And when I speak of challenges, I mean figuring out how I am going to approach playing twin sisters (!!!), and also I mean things like this:

Hi, my name's Steve, I'll be your Fork for the next two months. Not kidding.

Yes, the lay of the land here in Kitchen Stadium is interesting.

No oven. Like the song says, I got two electric burners and a microwave...

Stay tuned. I think it'll be like camping. (Really, really nice camping). It'll bring me back to that herb-scented, celestially-seasoned self of yesteryear. Which already seems kind of appropriate. Because I've never been here before and really know nothing about this town, but if my first five hours are anything to go by...

... Kansas City is full of hippies!!

(Shh, don't scare them off.)

Evidence collected thus far:

* company manager picks Boo up at airport, beaming in the 65-degree sunshine (speaking of environmental challenges) and sporting a pair of sunglasses that say "love" on both sides

* Nature's Own, the organic grocery store two blocks away!! where I foraged this afternoon. The checkout girl told me she liked my hair. As I floated home with my arms full of turkish apricots, self-churned peanut butter, and Amy's organic frozen dinners, I stopped to gawk atPhoenix Herb, the homeopathic place next door with its rows and rows of mysterious leaves in glass jars.

* welcome packet at the hotel is definitely the best of its kind I have ever seen and includes the following:
-a bag of Zum products (all-natural frankincense/lavender/lemon bar soap, hand sanitizer, and aromatherapy spray, as well as eucalytpus-scented "laundry soap")
-'seventh-generation' natural dish soap
-reusable grocery shopping bag
-plastic baggies of raw cashews and almonds
-and this

Relax, relax, they're tea bags, they're tea bags.

But it took me a second too.

I went 'home', rolled out my yoga mat, sprayed my pillows with lavender/lemon, and fired up some quinoa and raw kale for dinner. I kid you not. And if last week I was wondering why this highly anticipated new show about climate change, planetary stewardship, and environmental responsibility was premiering so far 'out of town'... it is starting to make sense. Om shanti, KC, I think I'm gonna like it here.

Love,

The Boo

PS. Lest I give a totally skewed perspective, rest assured that this glossary of "BBQ Terms" was part of our welcome packet too.

Alright, 2012. I get it.

noreply@blogger.com (The Mouse) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 03:45:00 +0000

Dear Boo,

New York strip. $24 per pound. Local, organic, well-loved cows. Carried home like a sack of gold bricks. Rubbed with half a garlic clove and a little butter. Sprinkled---no, showered--with lots of coarse salt. Brought to room temperature before dropping with that unmistakeable SSSZZZZ in a cast iron pan. Pink and running with juices, coated in a salty, charred crust. Given time to rest. Served with smashed potatoes and a pile of peppery watercress, tossed with olive oil and lemon. Dollop of horseradish cream. Glass of nice wine. Quiet apartment, faint sounds of revelry from the street. Candles. Roses bought on the way home from an early cocktail at the tiny secret bar around the corner. Husband's sweet face. The countdown. The kiss. My last meal of 2011.

sigh.

I don't know if it's the full moon, or the dawning of the Age of Aquarius, or the whole Mayan Calendar/end of the world thing, but 2012 is kind of kicking my ass. Not necessarily in a bad way, mind you (at least, not entirely), but in a galvanizing, take action, I will not be ignored no matter how hard you try, kind of way. It appears 2012 has some lessons in store for us.

It's funny how we finish out each year with the decadent, overblown extravagance of the holidays--the food, the decorations, the incessant music, the ads, the flitting to and fro, the calories, the guilt, the consumption, the kissing under the mistletoe and at the stroke of midnight, the parties, the gifts, the promise of magic--only to wake up on January 1st a little hungover, a little softer around the middle than we were a month ago and resolve with fervor to undo all of it, to buckle down and face the reality of the coming year with grim determination and a aescetic's commitment to moderation. January has always felt a little cheerless to me. It's another whole year before we get to indulge with the same childish abandon, and its at least another couple of months before any real national holiday swings around to give us a break. And this year it's hit me particularly hard. I just want to hit snooze and get 5 more minutes in bed with 2011. But after those five minutes I promise--I PROMISE--I'll get right up and wash my face and eat a sensible breakfast and get to work. There's a lot to be done, and I'm ready for it.
Bring it, 2012.

Love,

The Mouse

The inspiration for our New Year's meal, Jamie Oliver's Griddled Steak with Horseradish Sauce can be found here.

Cheez-Its Of the Future (Happy 2012!)

noreply@blogger.com (The Boo) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 01:11:00 +0000

Dear Mouse,

Happy New Year!

Get these out of my house!

Why not double the recipe, I said to myself.

I may not know much, but I know some things. To wit: On New Year's Eve, it is permissible - nay, imperative!! - to do certain things. One may - nay, must! (I dont know what's going on here either) - cover oneself in glitter, feathers, white vinyl, and a tiny hat (aka, a 'fascinator').

One may/must fling glitter from the balcony upon people in the drinks line below (they didn't mind.) One must refuse the offer of an absinthe cocktail, if one knows what is good for one. One must, on the other hand, accept the offer of champagne pretty much every time it comes around. And, if at all possible, one must have these cheese crackers on hand to eat with said champagne, because they will make you feel like this:

Gemini & Scorpio's "Glitter Ball" @Irondale Arts Center in Brooklyn

After two New Years Eves in the kitchen, I decided to get out of the house.Photo by Mrs. Mighty Hunter.

For xmas this year, Mrs. Lawyer (who, as predicted, was horrified by this handle and made me promise to change it) gave me this beautiful, excitingly user-friendly Dorie Greenspan cookbook.

Cheez-Its on Page 10

So, ok, full disclosure: I actually made these, as you know, for our multi-apartment Moveable Feast on New Year's Day (we really must do that again), so I didn't actually get to have them with my official 2012 toast. But if I could have found a way to smuggle these treats into the Glitter Ball you betcha I would have. They are crisp yet buttery, sharp with cheese but not greasy, and delicate despite said butter and cheese. They are a perfect foil for dry champagne, if that's what a foil is. Oh, how delightful. Seriously, get them out of my house.

You will need a food processor. I know, I'm always all "fight the power! who needs machines!" but I kind of feel like you dont' want to try these without one. It is 2012, though, and that means in a few short years robots will do all of this for us anyway.

Happy New Year!

Love,

The Boo

Dorie Greenspan's "Cheez-It-Ish Crackers"

Ingredients

8 tbsp (1 stick) cold unsalted butter cut into 16 pieces

1/4 lb (about a cup) grated cheese (Dorie says gruyere, comte, or emmenthal... I went black pepper parmesan)

1/2 tsp salt

1/8 tsp white pepper

pinch of cayenne (optional - but come on. put it in.)

1 C plus 2 tbsp flour

Butter, cheese, salt, and pepper(s) into food processor. Pulse until butter breaks up and mixture forms small curds (mine didn't, dont worry, just get it all broken up.) Add flour and pulse again until you see large curds (this does happen and it's kind of neat.) Turn dough out onto work surface and gently knead til it comes together. Divide in two balls, pat into disks, wrap in plastic wrap and chill at least 1 hour or up to 3 days. (3 days???)

Center rack in oven, preheat to 350. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Working 1 disk at a time, roll dough out between sheets of plastic wrap/wax paper to a scant 1/4 in thick. (You will want to let it soften up a little before you try this, I found). Using a small cookie cutter (or a vitamin bottle cap, if you're me), cut the dough into circles. (gather scraps together and make them into more circles.) Dorie says you can also make it easier by shaping the dough into logs and doing a 'slice and bake' thing. Place the rounds on the baking sheet and bake for 14-17 minutes, til lightly golden and firm to touch. (In my oven, 15 min was perfect.) Serve warm or room temp, and invite some people over for the love of god.

Not a Creature Was Stirring...

noreply@blogger.com (The Boo) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 03:32:00 +0000

Dear Mouse,

**unintelligible mumbling sound mouth full of cookies**

It's Xmas Eve!

"Santa Baby" last night at Joe's Pub. The Mayor as Santa Claus, The Boo as

Person Pretending Not To Know Santa Claus is really The Mayor.

(He took his pants off right after this.)

Hope you and The Husband are having a beautiful green Christmas down in sunny Florida - !! I'm writing to you from the suddenly Arctic realm of NJ, which is suiting me fine. After days of unseasonable balminess and coatless xmas shopping, December suddenly woke up and, well, made it possible/necessary for me to once again wear this hat:

Wolf Hat. The Gift that keeps on giving.

This will be a short one as it's nearly midnight on Xmas Eve and I have Visiting Faux-Aunt/Fairy Godmother-Style Preparations to attend to. I'm in our home state for Xmas Eve to visit my dear friends Mr. and Mrs. Lawyer (who are never going to speak to me again for giving them that handle which does not at all express their fabulous, creative, artsy personas and culinary prowess(es?)), and their adorable, hilarious 2.5 and 4 year old kids. Witness this exchange between Mom and Son during my last visit:

Mrs. Lawyer: Eli, {The Boo} is a professional actor. Would you like to be an actor someday?

Eli: (thoughtful pause) No. I want to look for god in my spaceship.

Wouldn't you jump at the chance to spend a winter's holiday with that guy?

(I bought him a Wolf Hat.) Not to mention the fact that Mrs. L has been cooking delicious things for me since almost the minute we met, and I'm talking an era in which I myself would not so much as scramble an egg for another person. At least unsupervised. Whatever she brings to the table, I will eat. It has always been this way.

So I thought I'd jump on here briefly to share the recipe which is being mixed up behind me right now! for Xmas Morning Breakfast. As per tradition, she is busy whipping up something wonderful, and I'm standing here running my mouth off.

God bless us, every one.

Love,

The Boo

Titusville, NJ Christmas Morning Bread Pudding

(adapted from Bon Appetit)

Ingredients

24 1/4 in. thick challah slices

1 cup half and half

1 cup heavy cream

2 cups lowfat milk

8 eggs

1/4 rum (optional; we're not using it here)

2 tbsp vanilla extract

2 pomegranate's worth of seeds

to finish: confectioner's sugar, rosemary - !

Preheat oven to 400°F. Using 3-inch-diameter round cookie cutter, cut round from each bread slice and arrange on baking sheet. Toast bread rounds in oven until golden brown, about 5 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 350°F.
Bring cream, milk, and sugar to simmer in heavy large saucepan, stirring to dissolve sugar. Whisk eggs in large bowl to blend. Gradually whisk hot cream mixture into eggs. Whisk in rum and vanilla.
Butter 9-in round pan. Place some slices of bread in a wreath in the buttered pan and top with some pomegranate seeds. Layer bread and seeds until it's all in there and then pour the custard over the top of it all. Let stand 30 minutes, pressing down on bread occasionally. (Can be made 4 hours ahead. Cover and refrigerate.)
Bake bread puddings until tops are puffed and brown, about 35 minutes. Remove from oven; cool 10 minutes.

Sacral Chakra Sunshine Soup (say that 3x fast)

noreply@blogger.com (The Boo) — Tue, 13 Dec 2011 19:32:00 +0000

Dear Mouse,

** Warning: New Age Discourse Ahead**

What do you get when you take one Boo and add the following:

one aggressively renewed yoga practice with teacher given to standing on people

one bedtime-use mp3 of Deepak Chopra intoning chakra meditations over sitar music

several minor health issues that all seem to be localized in the, say, 'hips' area

a broken toilet

financial woes

...and a personal life that is beginning to resemble an Advanced Douchebaggery Obstacle Course?

This sentence:

"I think it's time to admit that I'm having some Second Chakra Issues."

(OK does anyone not know what that means? Pause for wikipedia visual aid...)

They have the numbers backward! Sigh. But I like this diagram.

The second, sacral, or svadisthana (thank you Deepak) chakra, is associated with the color orange, the huh come to think of it sense of taste, the mantra VAM, issues of creativity/sex/power/control/blame/guilt/finance, and is pretty much what it looks like as far as the physical body is concerned (hips, lower back, unmentionables, kidneys).

Since as usual my aim here is not to teach everyone about something esoteric and fascinating, but instead to talk some more about myself, I'll stop there. (Recipe below! Read on.)

I heard myself say the aforementioned sentence last week to visiting poet friend MM, while pensively chomping on one of her sugary, gummy-bear prenatal vitamins (what? she has a whole bag.) That night, I had a dream. In it, I was sitting by the Hudson River watching a fleet of fast-moving boats, all jetting out to (somehow) the open sea, one after another. The soundtrack (because there was one) sounded very Bollywood and synthesizer-heavy, with a female voice singing a chorus that went "Go find your water.... Go find your water", over and over. I remembered those words upon waking, and mulled them over constantly, until the day after THAT, when, an hour into yoga class, deep in pigeon pose, I heard the teacher say, "This is for your kidneys. Your kidneys are your water."

I went home, consulted google, found out that the kidneys are associated with the sacral chakra, and thought "It's on." The cure would begin with... food. (Natch.) Apparently Svadisthana responds well to liquids, sweet fruits, nuts, and of course anything orange.

Today, I made this soup and I heartily recommend it no matter the status of your Second Wheel. It's spicy, sweet, hearty, delicious, and looks like a bowl of sunshine. Loosely based on Ina Garten's "Roasted Butternut Squash Soup", it's a great way to spend a winter's lunch hour. I'd say add a loaf of crusty bread, but I'm pretty sure that's for your solar plexus.

VAM.

Love,

The Boo

The Boo's 2nd Chakra Sunshine Soup

Ingredients

1 pckg (1.5lbs?) butternut squash cubes

1 bag (1lb? I think) baby carrots (or 1-in carrot pieces)

2 Macintosh apples

2-4 C chicken broth

1/2 tsp curry powder

1 onion

olive oil (2-3 tbsp)

salt, pepper

orange juice (to taste)

Preheat oven to 425. Chop onion and apples to one-in pieces. You can also chop the squash/carrots if they're looking too big. Put apples, squash, carrots, onions on a baking sheet (you may need two) in a single layer. Toss with olive oil. Roast for 35-45 min. Bring chicken stock to a simmer in a soup pot on the stove. When the veggies are done roasting and are very soft, puree some or all (I like a mix) in a food processor with some of the broth, then add it back to the soup pot. Add curry powder, salt, and pepper. Then add a splash of orange juice, taste, see if it needs more salt/pepper. Add more chicken broth if you want, more orange juice, whatever, to desired volume/consistency. I would caution only against adding more curry powder as it will be too much of a muchness. I also recommend a few drops of sriracha just before serving, to heat up your bowl of sunshine even more.

Chick-fil-OY (see what I did there?)

noreply@blogger.com (The Mouse) — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 16:29:00 +0000

Dear Boo,

You know how when you learn a new word, or first meet someone, all of a sudden you start hearing that word or name everywhere you go? This is what happened to me back in November of 2008 when I was introduced for the first time to Chick-Fil-A. Let me preface this by saying that if you are from the southern or midwestern part of our fair country, you most likely just gasped with horror that I lived twenty-something years of a life devoid of this pleasure. All it takes is an utterance of the (ridiculous) restaurant name to see that wistful, hungry-eyed, salivating look come over the face of the devoted Chick-fil-A fan in your midst. And man, are they devoted. Chick-Fil-A was recently voted the third most beloved restaurant chain in the country, and a quick visit to their facebook page shows close to 5 million likes, just a few more than A Mouse Bouche has. While on their page I was tempted to click the "like" button, myself. Heck, their sandwiches are some of the best chicken sandwiches I've tasted. Anywhere. I was not immune to the Chick-fil-A magic, and fell in love the first time I took a bite. But I just couldn't do it. I couldn't click it. Why? Well, I'm glad you asked.

Back to 2008. I was on my way with the then Boyfriend to celebrate Thanksgiving at his sister's home in Virginia. We had decided to fly to D.C., where we met his other sister and her family, spent the day doing some sight-seeing with their kids, and then all piled into the car to drive the two hours (holiday traffic translation: 4 hours) to our final destination. After hours on the road following a long, wet, and freezing afternoon trekking around the Capitol, despite the fact that we knew there would be a feast waiting for us upon our arrival, we just had to stop for sustenance. Off the highway, somewhere in Virginia, I took a bite of my first Chick-fil-a sandwich. It was heavenly, though I couldn't quite explain why. The chicken was moist and perfectly crunchy, the bun pillowy and toasted with--was that a touch of butter? The pickles gave it a sweet and sour crunch and even without the added assorted sauces, it was flavorful, salty and dare I say, complex. Despite my disdain for fast food, I was an instant convert. I dreamed about that sandwich until that Christmas when, back in Tampa, I had the chance to indulge in another one, this time with waffle fries and a surprisingly delicious salad.

Between bites, the Boyfriend gave me some history on the brand. Founded by S. Truett Cathy in Georgia in 1967, the company is known not only for its delicious chicken sandwiches, but for its devotion to Christian values. The restaurant and all of its franchises are closed on Sundays. Their corporate purpose statement indicates that the company exists "That we might glorify God by being a faithful steward in all that is entrusted to our care, and that we might have a positive influence on all the people that we might come in contact with." They have an extensive scholarship program, a foundation, and even foster homes. They have basketball tournaments for kids. I could get behind all this. No one was prostelytizing while I ate my sandwich. The napkins were devoid of lines of scripture. And who doesn't want Sundays off? I returned to NYC with a heavy heart, knowing it might be a full year before I could have another taste.

Back in the city, all of a sudden Chick-fil-A was everywhere (and you thought I wouldn't bring this back around). A girl I was doing a show with happened to mention that her husband (from Texas) had founded a movement to bring Chick-fil-A to NYC, even creating a facebook page to garner support for the effort. Historically, Mr. Cathy has refused any bid to open a store in New York (too many heathens? Jews?). Later that week, a friend dropped that there is a "secret" Chick-fil-A in Manhattan, inside an NYU cafeteria, which low and behold, was located across the street from the Social Work building where I had just begun school. And then, a day later, as though God was sending me a message, I was walking down the street near my apartment, minding my own business when a woman approached me out of nowhere to ask where she could find this magical Chick-fil-A location. I kept meaning to go for lunch between classes, but something kept stopping me. Was it the calorie count? Or something more sinister?

Fast forward a bit. Chick-fil-A is appearing everywhere yet again. There's a flurry of online news articles about the the company's support of anti-gay groups, totaling $2 million in 2009 alone. I spot a flyer in the student lounge at NYU inviting me to a forum to find out "the truth" of Chick-fil-A's politics and practices. Then I learn about a 2002 lawsuit involving a Muslim franchise owner who sued when he says he was fired after he refused to join in a company prayer because of his religious beliefs (I don't claim to know the full story, and the terms of the settlement are undisclosed). Then I hear that potential franchise owners of Chick-fil-A stores have to disclose their marital status, dependents, and involvement in community organizations, including churches, and that the company prefers to hire married workers since they tend to be happier and more hard-working (in case you're not sure, married=heterosexual, though either way, the bias is pretty clear). Then I read that one of Chick-fil-A's charitable arms, Winshape, who runs a retreat center where they often host marriage conferences involving anti-gay, "pro-family" groups, has blantantly said they do not welcome homosexual couples at the retreat. And then, to top it off, this story comes out! I mean, you're going to attack KALE? in VERMONT? Good luck with that, buddy.

And so it was, that my love affair with the Chicken Classic came to an abrupt end. For a few blissfully ignorant months, I was one of the fanatic few, who jonesed for a location in NYC, spoke longingly of the sandwich I ate six months ago, and agreed to a layover in the Atlanta airport just so I could have lunch there.

Here's the thing. I have nothing against the company's Christian message. If your devotion to your spirituality means you feel it should guide every aspect of your life, then why not let it guide your work life as well? And if the principles of those beliefs are "being a positive influence" on those around you, then great! I wish more corporations took that to heart (since, as people, they must have hearts, right?). And I'm all for scholarships! And basketball tournaments! And foster homes (well, that depends...)! But I'm having a hard time reconciling a positive influence on others, with supporting groups who promote hate towards any of god's children, like the Family Research Council, who has actually been labeled a hate group by the Southern Poverty Law Center (great organization--check them out) because of their aggressive anti-LGBT stance. Chick-fil-A is well within their legal rights to give money to whomever they choose (though not to discriminate in their employment practices, AHEM), no matter how despicable, hateful, or ignorant. And I am happy to exercise my legal right to spend my money elsewhere.

Like on this sandwich, which may just put the Chick-fil-A to shame.

From Tebaya, a local restaurant around the corner of my apartment, it is the perfect Asian take on the gloriousness of the CFA sandwich. The chicken katsu sandwich is two (TWO!) breaded fried chicken patties slathered with a special sweet miso sauce, a bit of wasabi dressing, and a layer of crunchy cole slaw on a buttery fluffy bun. It's ridiculously delicious, and a great alternative to Chick-fil-A, which frankly, even if you support their politics, you'd be hard-pressed to find in NYC (minus that secret location, though you'll have to pose as an NYU student).

You know that for me, tasty food is a priority. I will compromise on a lot of things for a good snack. But in this case, I just can't stomach it.

I'll miss you, Chick-fil-A. Change your ways and I'll be the first new 'like' you'll get on facebook.

Love,

The Mouse

MouseBouche on TV: TOMORROW!!! 12/1

noreply@blogger.com (The Boo) — Wed, 30 Nov 2011 19:46:00 +0000

Dear Mouse,

It's here. Our moment. TOMORROW, December 1, 2011, 11AM on the Hallmark Channel.

Let's recap, shall we?

THIS GUY!!!!!!!!!!!!

... AND THESE GIRLS!!!!

(So, these shorts never again. Live and learn. I was like 10lbs heavier. But not from Emeril!)

I saw an old friend for drinks the other night. He had just come from his costume fitting for his first Law & Order and was sort of bemusedly reflecting on the fact that finally, finally, he was working in TV!! which he'd been working toward forever! and making a little bit of money!! and yet ...

"I'm not really acting," he said. "Like, at all." Pause. "They have me wearing pasties."

And, scene.

The grass is always greener. I mean, I get it. MY FIRST MOVIE (don't blink or you'll miss me) is coming out in about a week. The two-day shoot last fall was very exciting, I ate a ton of snacks, met famous people, made a small pile of money ... and spent most of the time on the set glancing around wildly trying to figure out where the camera was and if I was supposed to be "doing something".

My point, and I do have one, is that maybe that's the deal on the small screen. Every commercial I go in for pleads for some variant of "less is more", "throw it away", or "don't act", whatever that means. And sometimes that's weird, and sometimes...

... LIKE ON EMERIL'S TABLE...!

..it's a pleasure. Sake, true chef starpower, fake eyelashes, and mounds and mounds of noodles for the slurping, set up for us before noon ... and our only job is to look interested and happy? DONE. Who needs to pretend?

Tune in tomorrow, 12/1, 11AM, Hallmark Channel, to see us Not Acting with the best of them. I'll bring the soy sauce.

Love,

The Boo

PS Anyone who misses it can make it up to me/us by attending the upcoming Winter Solstice Concert at the legendary Joe's Pub NYC. TICKETS HERE.

With thanks to the millions of green beans who will give their lives for Thanksgiving dinners everywhere

noreply@blogger.com (The Mouse) — Wed, 23 Nov 2011 20:53:00 +0000

Dear Boo,

Did you see this article in the Science section of the Times on Tuesday? It's all about how good an 'attitude of gratitude' is for our health. It's an age-old sentiment found in ancient texts and espoused by new-age gurus alike, and yet somehow I always feel I need to be reminded of just how essential gratitude is to our overall happiness. It's like going to the gym--I know it'll make me feel better, and I know it's good for me, but somehow, somehow, I'm pretty much always tempted to skip it. Sure, I give good lip service to gratitude, saying thank you probably hundreds of times a day, and often following a complaint with a quick disclaimer that I know, I know, this is a good problem to have, and I know, I know, I should be grateful for what I do have instead of focusing on what I don't. But how often do I actively practice gratitude? I'll be honest. Not very. The Husband and I tried to start a habit of silently naming three things we're thankful for, just before bed. It came out of an effort to sleep better, to put aside the worries of the day, and to reset our brains to focus on the good (and there's a lot of it). And it was great for a while, until, well, we forgot. But, rather than beat myself up for doing Life wrong or having the luxury of taking my blessings for granted, I'm taking a gentler approach. I'm going to take tomorrow as an opportunity not only to slip comfortably and guilt-free into a turkey/sweet potato/gratin/pumpkin flan/pecan pie coma, but to reintroduce conscious gratitude into my life. It doesn't have to be the major things always--sometimes being consciously grateful for Health and Privilege and Freedom feels to immense or too abstract to be genuine. I have a lot of big things to be thankful for this year: love, a new family, a new marriage, a new job, my education, my artistic community. But all those big things are made up of lots of tiny bits of grace, and they all deserve some acknowledgement. So I'm starting small. Because isn't life, and gratitude, really in the details? And maybe being grateful for the small things will help me keep the big stuff, good and bad, in perspective.

So, here we go. Today's Moment of Gratitude:

yes, really, I'm talking THAT small.

This green bean recipe, which is so, so much yummier, and healthier, and more interesting than the traditional casserole, and which as a bonus, can be made ahead and served at room temperature. With tiny bits of minced garlic, lemon, parsley, and parmesan mingling together over slowly sauteed silky beans, there's a lot of things to be thankful for in this one simple dish. You're welcome.
I mean, Thank you!!
(still learning)

Happy Thanksgiving!

Love,

The Mouse

Green Beans with Lemon, Garlic, and Parmesan Gremolata
Thanks to the Splendid Table

Serves 10 to 14 as part of a large meal (like the one we'll be having tomorrow).

extra-virgin olive oil
3 pounds green beans, stem ends trimmed
Salt and fresh-ground black pepper
1 cup water
5 large garlic cloves, crushed
1/3 cup water
Shredded zest of 2 large lemons (organic preferred; after all, you are eating the entire rind)
1 tight-packed cup Italian parsley leaves
1-1/2 cups coarsely-grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

Lightly film the bottom of 2 straight-sided 12-inch sauté pans with oil. Heat them over medium-high heat. Add the beans and generous sprinklings of salt and pepper, and sauté for 2 minutes, or until the beans begin to brown. Add 1/2 cup of water to each pan and immediately cover it. Turn the heat to medium-low. Cook the beans for 15 to 20 minutes, checking them often for burning and adding a little water if necessary. You want the beans very tender.
As the beans cook, make the gremolata. Put the garlic and 1/3 cup water in a coffee mug and microwave 1 minute, or simmer in a small saucepan to 1 to 2 minutes (this mellows the garlic just a little). Then, in a food processor, mince together the garlic (with its liquid), lemon zest, and parsley. Salt and pepper the mixture to taste.
When the beans are tender, uncover them, cook off any liquid in the pan, and turn them into a serving bowl. Toss the beans with the gremolata and the grated cheese.

All Hallows Risotto

noreply@blogger.com (The Boo) — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 19:33:00 +0000

Dear Mouse,

Happy (Belated) New Year!

Halloween 2011. Myself as an obscure character from Game of Thrones, and a bottle of The Kraken rum, which is the only thing to put in your mulled cider, and which coincidentally also makes an appearance in Game of Thrones (though I think they mean the actual kraken).

Anyone who knows me knows that in some circles, Hallowe'en is seen as a New Year's Eve of sorts, and that's the way we do it Chez Boo. The season changes, the sun recedes, the Dark Half of the year begins. Out with the old, in with the new. Winter is Coming. (Ok I'm done.)

For I think seven years now??? I've made the same dinner for you all: Chase's Vegetable Tian --for some unknown, completely unseasonal reason-- and, to make up for that, the sensational Pumpkin Raviolis from Russo's on the Lower East Side. Served up with melted butter, torn sage leaves, and toasted hazelnuts, they always seemed to be the perfect tribute to Fall.

"Halloweenies" (mini pigs-in-blankets) at Mr. and Mrs. Mighty Hunter's Party.

Pictured here for no reason at all except come on, that's hilarious.

This year, in the spirit of "in with the new", I went in a different direction. My lovely friend KG had just given me The New York Times Cookbook as a very belated birthday gift and it is full of gems. Mouse, I see your pumpkin bread (which I have now baked THREE times since your post) and I raise you:

Jamie Oliver's "Pumpkin, Sage, Chestnut, and Bacon Risotto". Yeah that's right.

This was my first risotto! and I'd like to report two things: One, it is NOT as difficult as you think it is at ALL. It's simple, just a bit labor-intensive. Two, that there is almost nothing more halloweeny than having to stand over a simmering cauldron, repeatedly pouring in cups of steaming broth and stirring, stirring, stirring. I tried to get in a good menacing cackle to go along with the whole scene but I was just too happy about making this.

A few tips: 1. You can use butternut squash in place of pumpkin. It's easier to find and tastes almost the same. 2. Dont bother with fresh chestnuts. 3. I cut the amount of butter in this recipe by half and it was still oh-so-rich and fabulous. I know it's unorthodox, but it happened. 4. I dont think you need the mascarpone, but it is nice. 5. Get your sister, if you have one, to share the labor of stirring. Your arms will thank you.

All photos in this post taken by Mr. Mighty Hunter, who didn't want me to include the one of the risotto but I did anyway.

Jamie Oliver's Pumpkin, Sage, Chestnut and Bacon Risotto

Ingredients:
1 small sweet cooking pumpkin or butternut squash, peeled, about 2 1/2 pounds

(Or just buy it cut up already.-The Boo)
Olive oil
1 tablespoon coriander seeds
Sea salt and ground black pepper
12 slices bacon or pancetta
2 ounces shelled chestnuts (vacuum packed are fine)
15 fresh sage leaves
4 cups chicken stock or canned broth
3 shallots, peeled and finely chopped
5 small stalks celery, finely chopped
1 cup arborio rice
1/2 cup dry white wine or dry white vermouth
4 tablespoons butter
3/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving
About 1 cup mascarpone, optional.

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees. Halve pumpkin lengthwise, and remove seeds; rinse seeds, drain, and reserve. Cut pumpkin lengthwise into thick slices, and spread in a layer across a large baking sheet. (If using squash, cut into quarters.)Again, you could just buy in already cut up. Sprinkle pumpkin with olive oil, and set aside. Using a mortar and pestle, pound the coriander seeds until crushed. Sprinkle over pumpkin along with salt and pepper, and bake until soft, about 40 minutes.

2. Remove pumpkin from oven (leave oven on), and spread bacon over it. In a small bowl, combine reserved seeds, chestnuts, sage and salt and pepper to taste. Add tablespoon olive oil, and mix well. Sprinkle over pumpkin and bacon. Place back in oven until bacon is crisp, 10 to 15 minutes.

3. Remove pumpkin from oven. Scrape bacon, chestnuts, sage and pumpkin seeds onto a small plate; reserve. Finely chop about half the pumpkin. Chop other half so that it is slightly chunky; reserve.

4. Place chicken stock in a small pan over medium-low heat. Bring to a simmer, then reduce heat to very low to keep warm. Place a large saucepan over medium heat, and add tablespoon olive oil, shallots, celery and a pinch of salt. Stir, cover, and cook for 3 minutes. Increase heat to medium-high, and add rice. Stir constantly until rice is translucent, 2 to 3 minutes. Stir in wine until it is absorbed, 1 to 2 minutes.

5. Begin adding broth to rice, a ladleful at a time, stirring constantly. Allow each ladleful to be absorbed before adding next; process will take about 20 minutes. When ready, rice will be soft with a slight bite. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

6. Remove rice from heat. Add chopped pumpkin, and stir vigorously until mixed; fold in pumpkin chunks. Mix in butter and Parmesan. Place a lid over the saucepan, and let sit for 2 minutes. To serve, place a portion on each of 6 serving plates. Top each portion with crumbled bacon, and sprinkle with mixture of chestnuts, sage and pumpkin seeds. Add a dash more cheese. Garnish each plate with a dollop of mascarpone if desired, and serve immediately.

Long Overdue

noreply@blogger.com (The Mouse) — Mon, 07 Nov 2011 16:48:00 +0000

Dear Boo,

I cannot believe how many times on this blog we have mentioned the unbelievably good pumpkin bread which is a staple of fall in our family, without giving the recipe. It's positively criminal.

I can't remember a time before this autumnal treat graced our Thanksgiving table, and how many countless years did we set off to school with loaf upon loaf wrapped in colorful cellophane and tied with a bow to be bestowed upon our teachers before the holidays? It's truly the perfect baked gift--it travels well, freezes well, and doubles or triples well. I brought six loaves of these, carrying them on the plane, through a day of sightseeing in DC, and in the car, to the very first Thanksgiving I spent with the Husband's (then, Boyfriend) family, winning me instant cred and a repeat invitation (now they're stuck with me, loaves or no. mmwwahahaha!)

This recipe comes from our beloved Aunt, an incredible baker and cook, of Arlene's Bakery soon-to-be-fame. And we're in luck! Since re-creating anything you grew up eating and loving, never quite works out as perfectly as you remember it, we can get the actual real deal from the source at our cousin's super exciting and unbelievably tasty new spot for a perfect sandwich or cookie, The Commons in Chelsea! More to come on this, for sure. I can't wait to plant myself at their adorable counter and eat my way through the menu. If you happened to stop by their Organicoa concession stand at the Hudson River Park this year, you've gotten a delicious taste of what we're in for at The Commons.

Also available at The Commons (though pictured here at home), are Arlene's Bakery's massive and perfect chocolate chip cookies. Get thee to The Commons.
You know what I'm talking about.

As our auntie pointed out recently, the beauty of this recipe is its simplicity. It's got few ingredients, and sure, it's sweet, but not overly so; rather, the pumpkin flavor itself is front and center, with just a hint of warmth and spice from the cinnamon. I would have to agree its virtually perfect on its own, with one exception. I happen to love the combination of pumpkin and chocolate, and in past years I have taken to adding a handful of chocolate chips to one of the loaves for a more decadent version which is often the first to be polished off. I also like adding some cranberries to one of the loaves for a tart little kick. I remember mom used to do this with cranberries and walnuts, but I'm not a huge nut fan so I just do the berries.

Here's how I see it:

cranberry loaf = to be eaten for breakfast
plain loaf = to be eaten with dinner
chocolate loaf= to be eaten for dessert

In my book, this bests over-rated pumpkin pie any day of the week. (I'm willing to go head-to-head on this in the comments. Bring it.)

Stay tuned for more news from The Commons in the coming weeks! Wanna go with me for lunch on opening day?

Love,
The Mouse

Pumpkin Bread
Courtesy Arlene's Bakery for The Commons

Makes 3 loaves

3-1/2 cups flour
2 tsp baking soda
1-1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
3 cups sugar
1 cup oil (corn or vegetable)
2 cups pumpkin puree
2/3 cup water
4 eggs
Optional: chocolate chips, frozen cranberries

Preheat the oven to 350° Combine first 5 (dry) ingredients in a large bowl. Add last 4 (wet) ingredients and mix until smooth. Divide into 3 well greased & floured loaf pans (disposable aluminum foil ones work great, as do the paper loaf liners you can find at specialty baking stores). Mix in chocolate chips or cranberries to your liking. Bake for 55-60 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean.

*And if you've got leftover pumpkin puree after making this, here are some great ideas for how to use it (other than making some more loaves and bringing them to me.)

The Honeymooners

noreply@blogger.com (The Mouse) — Sat, 29 Oct 2011 14:40:00 +0000

Not my apartment.

Dear Boo,

This morning I woke up to the hissing of my radiator for the first time this season, and I don't know if you've heard, but there's supposed to be snow tomorrow. SNOW. 8-14 inches in parts of New Jersey! It's hard to imagine that only a couple of weeks ago I was sweating in 95 degree heat, baking in the sun with my toes in the sand, a michelada* within arms-reach, and my delicious husband (!) by my side. Sigh. Some days or weeks are almost too magical for their own good. Once they've passed it becomes harder and harder to hold onto the reality that they actually did for real, in the flesh, with witnesses to prove it, happen. I'd say a good portion of this month (the beginning and most significant part of which you've so beautifully chronicled) falls into that category. So forgive me if some details are fuzzy and you find it hard to grasp the chronology or geography of this narrative. I'll do my best.

A walk along the virgin beach we stayed on during the second half of our trip. One day we walked for 30 minutes and saw 2 people and a herd of cows.

Our requirements for a honeymoon were pretty simple: we wanted to do it as close to our wedding as possible, since we knew we would be in desperate need of rest, quiet, and alone time following the most intense and overwhelmingly beautiful and meaningful day of our joint life. We also wanted to be somewhere warm, on a beach. We could not go somewhere where we would feel pressure to do intensive sightseeing (no Hart girl style Paris circa 1999), or be forced to interact with other honeymooning couples. There had to be good food and plentiful cocktails. And time. Lots of unplanned, unscheduled time.

Working on my to-do list.

While we succeeded on all of this, and then some, it turns out it's hard for the Mouse to not plan or obsess over things like meals. No big surprise there. But I tried my best to turn off the foodie/crazy part of my psyche and remember, as I did with our wedding menu (which rocked, thank you very much), what the real point of this trip was. If we wanted to eat lunch or dinner at our (awesome) hotel, something I would scoff at on any other trip, well, so be it. Also, this wasn't such a bad spot for a bite:Yeah, that's a bed.

And if we wanted to go back to the restaurant we went to two days ago because their tacos al pastor were the best we'd ever had and we hadn't had a chance to try what looked like incredible fish tacos, well then I would have to quit it with the "every meal should be a different thrilling adventure!" neuroses and go eat the best fish tacos of my life.

The Husband still claims mine are his favorite, but I think that's just because
he has a crush on me.

Oh, and here are those tacos al pastor. Did I mention they were the best I've ever had?

And this, it turns out, aside from being recently married to the love of your life and having an amazing party with all your favorite people and then going on vacation, is what's awesome about a honeymoon: there are no rules. Except that you should have no rules. That means, no 'I really shouldn't have another taco.' and no 'Should we feel bad about not going to check out that historic site in town?', and no 'We should take a run on the beach to make up for that dinner last night,' and no 'We really should save that money for something more practical than a massage." It's great. And it turns out, if one is honeymooning in Zihuatanejo, one can have no/break all foodie rules and still eat some incredible food. Here's a few tastes of our honeymoon in food. Our honeymoon in all other things will remain private. tee hee.

Coffee and pastry delivered to our balcony makes this Mouse happy.

So does fresh coconut water. Recipe: take one enormous coconut direct from the tree. hack off the top with a machete. Stick a straw in it.
And for lunch that day: fresh fish and vegetables steamed in a bag, with a side of ocean.

Sometimes tacos will show up on your plate and they might be fried.
And that might be just fine.

Especially when they're accompanied by the freshest, spiciest, tangiest pico de gallo with chips hot from the fryer and a cold local Victoria, and the ocean a mere shell's throw away.
Guess what shoes I was wearing when I ate this.
None. No shoes.

An appetizer of beans and rice with mexican crema and local Oaxacan cheese eaten at a roadside restaurant in the middle of nowhere after our taxi driver poo-pooed the restaurant we asked him to take us to and spotting fellow eating enthusiasts, took us to the place he goes to get local favorites like iguana.

The Husband opted for Javelina Barbacoa. Unbelievably good.

And I had this incredible shrimp soup with whole head-on, unpeeled shrimp so huge and so sweet I thought I might be eating lobster. I should also mention the restaurant had the family pet squirrel in a cage in the dining room.

If you go here, to Barra De Potosi, you will see the most beautiful place where a lagoon meets the ocean and fisherman walk on the water casting their nets.

Take a boat around the lagoon and you'll see all variety of birds and fish leaping out of the water, families fishing for their dinner, a place where they harvest sea salt, and this former shrimp farm:

Apparently when it was functioning, someone stayed here day and night to tend to the shrimp.

Afterwards you should pull up a hammock at one of the open-air fish restaurants
along the shore

and order these camarones alla diabla, or tiritas, the local specialty which consists of strips of fresh fish marinated in lime juice and tossed with shaved red onion and slivers of chile, and served with saltines, and which I did not eat nearly enough of.

You should probably also take the public transportation back from town, bouncing around in the back of the truck with a young couple on their way into town for date night, a grandma in her apron and slippers, and an old man in a wide brimmed hat and cowboy boots, carrying his guitar on his back.

No one could explain to me how to bring this view home with me as a souvenir. I'm still working on the technology that would allow me to replace the Verizon building next door
with this skyline.

Luckily I found a way to bring home the best souvenir of all.

This bartender I met at Senor Frog's!*

Just kidding.

And if you ever needed any proof, check out the Mouse tail I'm sporting above.

Love,

(Mrs.) Mouse

P.S. The Ministry of Tourism is planning a major development including a cruise ship pier which will greatly affect the complex ecosystem and way of life of Barra de Potosi, a fishing village where locals have been able to live in harmony with nature and make a living at the same time. This would endanger the wide variety of species that live here, cut directly through the beautiful and unspoiled lagoon, and according to the locals we talked to, bring in workers from other parts of Mexico with experience in the hospitality industry, leaving villagers there with less work, not more. This is a truly beautiful place and it would be tragic to see it demolished or spoiled in any way. You can click here for more information and to take action.

*Michelada: a mexican beer cocktail whose ingredients may vary depending on the region but most often involves beer (I like it with Modelo, corona, Pacifico, or Victoria), fresh lime juice, salt, and ice. Research tells me that it also usually includes a dash of worcestershire, and/or some form of tomato juice, but every time I got it in Zihua, it was primarily if not only, beer and lime juice with a salt rim.

*We did NOT go to Senor Frog's in nearby Ixtapa. Honeymoon or no, neither of us was interested in being subjected to a tourist mob scene in which waiters pour tequila down your throat. We might have eaten at our hotel, but we do have our dignity.

*Also, I should note that this is a terrible picture of both of us, that I am swallowing my pride and sharing because the tail was too good.

Apples to Apples

noreply@blogger.com (The Boo) — Wed, 26 Oct 2011 01:15:00 +0000

Dear Mouse,

OK this is totally my third post in a row but A) this gives you more time to prepare The Honeymoon Post (!!) and B) I'll just be a second. Consider this a Breaking (or, Baking) News Flash.

Every once in a while I am lucky enough to discover/assemble/fall into something in the kitchen that sends me literally scurrying to the laptop like one of your kind to share it with the world.

It's the thick of autumn, and that means apples. And if you're lucky: apple picking.

Hard-Won Macouns.

This was a remarkable two-time orchard excursion week for me, with visits to Solebury Orchard in NJ and I-can't-remember-its-name in NY on Sunday and Monday. To pace myself, I decided to leave all the beautiful Solesbury winesaps and topazes with my friends in NJ... and then found myself cursing this restraint while shaking and climbing the nearly-bare NY trees for the paltry few Golden Delicious and Macouns still hanging on. (At least I know I can still climb a little, with the right incentive.) So.. the moral I guess is... gather ye winesaps while ye may.

Synchronized Fujis

I still brought home probably a good five pounds of rosy speckled globes. And the very first thing I made with them is, quite simply, the best apple-related dessert that I, personally, have made...

Rosemary-Apple Crostata. You heard me.

.. and made UP! On the fly!

Ok I am certainly not the first person to think of this flavor melange. However, while it there is nothing new under the sun and it turned out there was already in fact a recipe for 'Rosemary Apple Tart' on the very splendid Splendid Table web site, I didn't yet KNOW that when the thought of rosemary flitted across my brain. So I still feel a kind of proud ownership.

In the end, I conflated two recipes: the Splendid Table Tart with its bewitching rosemary-lemon-rubbed sugar, and the simple, rustic form of the Apple Crostata from Ye Olde Ina Garten. And let me tell you ... it works. Not only does it work, it makes me never want to eat apples baked without rosemary again. It's homey, sweet, classic, appley . It's woodsy, perfumed, autumnal, intoxicating.

And now I just need to do something with the other 4lbs.

Love,

The Boo

The Boo's Rosemary-Lemon Apple Crostata

(with love to Lynn Rossetto Kasper and Ina G.)

CRUST

Ina's recipe sets you up with a crostata's worth of extra dough in your freezer! I rolled it out quite thin and wound up cutting away some of it, which I liked a lot ... but I'm not really a thick-crust kind of girl.

2 C all-purpose flour
1/4 C sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 pound very cold unsalted butter, diced

1/4 C ice water

Place the flour, sugar, and salt in the bowl of a food processor fitted with a steel blade. **Note: I approximated this by hand as I don't have a food processor.** Pulse a few times to combine. Add the butter and pulse 12 to 15 times, or until the butter is the size of peas. With the motor running, add the ice water all at once through the feed tube. Keep hitting the pulse button to combine, but stop the machine just before the dough becomes a solid mass. Turn the dough onto a well-floured board and form into 2 discs. Wrap with plastic and refrigerate one of the discs for at least 1 hour. Freeze the rest.

FILLING

1 lb (ie, 3 med apples or 2 large), peeled, cored, chunked

TOPPING

1/3 C sugar

2 tsp loosely-packed fresh rosemary leaves

zest from about a third of a lemon? Maybe a half, up to you

1 tsp cinnamon

somewhere between 1/4 and 1/2 C flour

5 tbsp (a little more than a half a stick) cold unsalted butter, diced

Preheat oven to 450. Roll out crust to an 11 in circle and lay it on a parchment-lined baking sheet or in a sprayed/floured pie pan (I liked the pan). Arrange the apples in the center of the circle leaving a 1.5-in border.

Put the sugar in a small mixing bowl. Grate the lemon zest directly into it and rub it in with your hands a bit (it will smell fantastic). Add the rosemary leaves and maybe squnch again (again with the fantastic). Add the butter and flour and rub in with your fingertips til it starts holding together. Sprinkle/distribute it evenly over the apples.

Fold in the edges of the dough in a circle, all around the apples, leaving it open in the middle a la the picture above.

Put it in the oven and bake for 20-25 minutes until crust is golden and apples are tender.

Let it stand for 5 minutes after you take it out. And then I suggest pouring a bit of cream over

the slice you cut for yourself directly afterwards.

Mrs. Mouse!

noreply@blogger.com (The Boo) — Wed, 12 Oct 2011 03:20:00 +0000

Dear Mouse,

"OMG We are totally at your wedding right now!" (sophisticated opening line of The Boo's wedding toast)

Sigh.

It's really so miraculous, isn't it? One minute there you are, trudging along your daily existence, resigning yourself to the humdrum and the mundane and thinking "well, I guess this IS all there is"... and then, in a heartbeat, everything changes. Suddenly, there's the One. The Game Changer. An addition to your life that changes it so profoundly, in a thousand small ways, that you can't imagine living without it. Just to behold it is a joy:

I got a coffee maker!!

(...why, what did you think I was talking about?)

All kidding aside, what a freakin' gorge-tasti-fabu-rific WEDDING!!!

Congrats to The Mouse ... AND to The Husband!!!!

(flowers, streamers, confetti, trumpets)

It really was one for the history books. I've been putting off writing this post because I'm totally intimidated. I'm aware that, unless I have a very specific angle, it could be the very War and Peace of blog posts... or leave out significant things and get me scolded in the Comments section. And, although a picture is worth a thousand words, there are at least a thousand pictures-- and we haven't actually even gotten the photographer's shots back yet! So I'll only be able to really report on a small, personal slice of delicious coconut wedding cake ... um, er, I mean, of the Event itself. (Anyone who's' reading please feel free to leave your favorite memory in the Comments section!)

Hair and makeup with The Mother & friends. Andaz Hotel NYC.

Everyone is going to have their favorite, definitive moment from your wedding. It's hard to pick one. I'm going to say that mine, for obvious reasons, is going to have to be the night before in the hotel room, when a Very Agitated Mouse could not find the Food Network on TV, and only calmed down enough to sleep when her sister read her the entire Room Service menu aloud.

Drenched Mouse on the bus en route to Rehearsal Dinner, clutching Boo-Assembled Ribbon Bouquet. It was pouring. We couldn't get a cab.

But there's so much more! The CEREMONY, beautifully located on the grounds of Lyndhurst Castle in Tarrytown NY. (Anyone who has great location shots or comments let us know, as of course we were cloistered in the Bridal Holding Pen right up until showtime.) The Bride's gorgeous, dramatic entrance from between the tall iron doors of the mansion, glimpsed from a distance, was breathtaking. The Groom's love-drunk, tear-filled eyes as he spoke his vows. The eleven adorable flower girls who all, in unison, miraculously failed to drop a single flower petal from their tightly clutched paper cones. The way the officiant said "now you shall feel no rain" as the wind picked up and just a few drops started. And, oh yeah, probably the part where I got up to sing, made it three lines into what was supposed to be a beautiful Irish ballad, burst into tears and yelled, "I TOLD you this would happen!". During the ceremony. Well, at least it got a laugh. And at least it isn't captured on videotape. Oh, wait.

The PARTY. DANCE Party, that is. I think I actually did see some cows coming home as the last person teetered off the dance floor. The photobooth, which was hijacked by small children enacting complex narratives and adults in delightfully obscene postures ... The speeches (laughter, tears, applause for all of them) ... The farm tables (!!), rose-gold-purply autumnal flowers, and japanese lanterns. The band, a delightful assemblage of horns and suspenders, who led us all down the hill from cocktail hour into the main hall. And who could forget the night's second-most passionate union:

Ladies and Gentlemen... in from Cleveland OH... the only other Hart Girl in existence, Isabel!!

Who we had never met (shame on us) and who is a Dance Machine.

Also, we looked awesome. I need another reason to wear that dress, stat. YOUR dress ... I can't even get into it or we might have another Irish Ballad Malfunction.

And, of course, who could forget the delightful last-minute thrill of the US COACHWAYS bus that simply never arrived in NYC to pick up half the guests and, like, BRING THEM to the wedding in Tarrytown. No phone call, nothing. Eventually The Fiance got through (who gave him a phone??) and the charming US COACHWAYS company rep SHOUTED and HUNG UP on him. The ceremony started 45 minutes late, the plucky guests in question had to walk to Grand Central and buy train tickets, and the one US COACHWAYS bus we had, I hear, treated folks to a white-knuckle Ride of Terror back to Manhattan. Oh and now they're offering a 20% refund. (!!!) That's US COACHWAYS, all you brides-to-be out there.

Ahem.

I realize, as this post natters on, that I have not said one word about the food. And that's probably because I barely ate. (I hear that happens. Again, go for it in the Comments!) So I feel I have a good excuse to talk briefly about The Bridal Shower and the Bachelorette Party! though they are not strictly on-topic. That was the first time I've ever been called upon to host, well, anything besides a dinner ... and it was such. a. good. time. First lesson of hosting: delegate. Without your beloved childhood friend CC's artistic talents, how could all the ladies of the Bachelorette have worn these T-Shirts ?

American Apparel Saga to come later.

And without The Mother and The Aunt's advisory, how could the Bridal Shower guests have snacked on these?

Personalized M&Ms: Possibly even tastier.

For a classically lovely, girly bridal shower, you could really do worse than the private 'Evelyn Nesbitt Room' at Lady Mendl's Tea Salon in Gramercy Park (finger sandwiches, clotted cream, champagne cocktails), and for a classy-but-still-risque bachelorette party, I highly recommend a Saturday night at the small, beautiful TriBeCa supper club Duane Park. The dinner/show combo ($60/person) features a really impressive prix-fixe menu (hon. mentions to shrimp & grits appetizer and pork loin with honey-plum-barebecue-I-ate-all-of-it sauce), a live smokin' jazz band, and an old-timey burlesque show hosted by downtown's beloved drag king Murray Hill ("Showbiz!"). Cocktails are additional but stellar, if it took a while to get them. (Oh, and an afternoon in the waterfalls and steam of Spa Castle in Queens won't hurt none either. I'll never forget lounging in the rooftop whirlpool bath with you, A-Mac, and CC, sharing a Pina Colada and watching the sun set. Good times.)

Were there two cameras? What am I looking at?

Since, as they say, Brevity is the Filet of Sole, I will stop there. (Cod! That's what I had at the wedding. Cod. It was tasty.) I would like to give two particular food-related wedding shout-outs. One is to Lady, your personal attendant provided by catering, whose timing ("I came to see if you need anything" right as we found out about the second bus) was flawless and who did not bat an eye when we requested 4 vodka shots at 4PM. They came ice cold and accompanied by a plate of the cocktail-hour latin-themed finger foods (mm tamales). Well done, Lady.

The other is to YOU for your wedding cake stroke of genius.

It's really second only to The Cat Lady's 22 -Cake wedding in my book.

After that last agonizing round of decisions, where you, The Fiance, The Mother, and I sat half-asleep trying to decide whether to go with "white sponge" or "yellow cake", and grumbling that no one was going to eat it anyway, you finally just called the caterer and asked if they'd be willing to make the below recipe. The Aunt makes it at least once a year for us and it's always a showstopper. This time was no different, and like everything else in this wedding, was joyful, delicious, and unforgettable.

The Mouse's Ingenious Wedding Cake, nee Ina Garten's Coconut Cake

Ingredients

3/4 pound (3 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature, plus more for greasing the pans

2 cups sugar

5 extra-large eggs, at room temperature

1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

1 1/2 teaspoons pure almond extract

3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting the pans

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1 cup milk

4 ounces sweetened shredded coconut

For the frosting:

1 pound cream cheese, at room temperature

1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature

3/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon pure almond extract

1 pound confectioners' sugar, sifted

6 ounces sweetened shredded coconut

Directions: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease 2 (9-inch) round cake pans, then line them parchment paper. Grease them again and dust lightly with flour.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar on medium-high speed for 3 to 5 minutes, until light yellow and fluffy. Crack the eggs into a small bowl. With the mixer on medium speed, add the eggs 1 at a time, scraping down the bowl once during mixing. Add the vanilla and almond extracts and mix well. The mixture might look curdled; don't be concerned.

In a separate bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt.

With the mixer on low speed, alternately add the dry ingredients and the milk to the batter in 3 parts, beginning and ending with dry ingredients. Mix until just combined.

Fold in the 4 ounces of coconut with a rubber spatula.

Pour the batter evenly into the 2 pans and smooth the top with a knife.

Bake in the center of the oven for 45 to 55 minutes, until the tops are browned and a cake tester comes out clean. Cool on a baking rack for 30 minutes, then turn the cakes out onto a baking rack to finish cooling.

For the frosting, in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, combine the cream cheese, butter, vanilla and almond extract on low speed. Add the confectioners' sugar and mix until just smooth (don't whip!). To assemble, place 1 layer on a flat serving plate, top side down, and spread with frosting. Place the second layer on top, top side up, and frost the top and sides. To decorate the cake, sprinkle the top with coconut and lightly press more coconut onto the sides. Serve at room temperature.

Whine Cake (Fall Equinox '11)

noreply@blogger.com (The Boo) — Thu, 22 Sep 2011 02:58:00 +0000

Dear Mouse,

There's almost nothing that makes me feel more at peace than the almost visible glow that pervades my home after people come over and allow me to feed them. I'm glad you could take a short break from seating charts to join the annual Fall Equinox dinner Chez Boo.

Of course, given everyone's wild schedules at the moment, there wasn't time for a big feast. This year's table sported black plums, chevre, hummus, crackers, and glasses of prosecco. But I still

wanted to make something particular to the occasion.

Wine Harvest Floor Picnic Setup, Urban Pagan Style.

Right up front I want to say that the cake was not my idea. This year, I chose to celebrate the Fall Equinox, also known as the Wine Harvest, by stealing a recipe from a food blog we love. I feel ok about it because the author admits to taking the recipe from a reader, and after all Pete Seeger called stealing the "Folk Process", and, whatever, this cake is really special.

At the wine harvest, we honor the notion of fermentation... the last stage before decay, before out with the old and in with the new. We drink in the lessons learned from the old year before the new is quite upon us, blah, blah, spiritual justification for booze in your dessert.

The truth is that Wine Cake has been on my mind since the summer, when our friend Titania (aka Mrs.Mighty Hunter) brought her sensational, signature "Aunt Marilyn's Wine Cake" to our waterfront picnic and I pretty much consumed the whole thing over the course of the afternoon.

Aunt Marilyn, you saucy minx. Trust me, there is no one who would not love this if you brought it over to their house; I dont care if they plant-sit for Michael Pollan.

Dangerously light AND moist AND crumby AND not too sweet AND kind of boozy but just a little, like maybe there was a glass of wine sitting near your cake. We're not talking tiramisu here. You're not going to get tipsy - - but it's there to lend an innocent, retro confection a kind of adult wink. It was everything I felt that summer day - sunshiny, casual, laid-back and just a little bit up to no good.

Although I had to respect Mrs. MH's wish to not betray Aunt Marilyn's recipe, I did pester her for some key ingredients and then googled recipes to match. (It's the FOLK PROCESS.) It seems that the traditional 'wine cake' involves yellow or white cake mix (MIX), instant vanilla pudding (INSTANT PUDDING), eggs, vegetable oil, and white wine. Delicious. Believe it. Resist the urge to fancy it up in any way as I believe it would ruin the charming, wonderfully unpretentious end result. I think this recipe would probably come close.

Fast-forward to this week, when I see this recipe online and find that I cannot get myself to the store fast enough for red wine and cocoa powder. Because if Aunt Marilyn totally nailed my summer afternoon, devil-may-care, I'm-0ff-to-the-O'Neill-conference mindset in July, only this deep, dark, For-Serious

Red Wine Chocolate Cake

-!!!! -

- could capture where I'm at now as we slide into Fall.

Sparing the details, it's been a rough week. Disappointment. Loss. Heartbreak. Chagrin. Nouns like that.

There are times when you really learn the meaning of powerlessness. As in, sometimes s*t really does just happen and there's nothing you can do about it. Bad things happen to good people. Bad news comes without warning. You can't always get what you want, and you can't always keep what you think you have. One minute everyone's basking in the beautiful summer; the next minute it's, well, over.

At times like this, it's possible to go to a really dark place.

If you're lucky, it'll look like this:

Fall Equinox Red Wine Chocolate Cake via Smitten Kitchen

This dark, refined (yet fluffy!) chocolate cake does not involve mix or pudding (remember, we're going for beautiful gothic melancholy here). However, it is still an EASY one-bowl affair that takes only 25 minutes in the oven. You have GOT to make this, heartbreak or no. (You'll see that Smitten Kitchen's version calls for a mascarpone cream topping; I prefer without. To each her own.)

6 tbsp butter

3/4 C packed dark brown sugar

1/4 C white sugar

1 egg + 1 yolk (I only had one egg and it was still delicious)

3/4 C red wine (I used Cupcake Vineyards' "Red Velvet"... pretty much because of the name)

1 tsp vanilla extract

1 C + 1 tbsp all-purpose flour

1/2 C dutch cocoa powder (I went with Hershey's Unsweetened)

1/8 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp table salt

1/4 tsp cinnamon (I might actually have liked less)

Preheat to 325. Spray 9-in. round cake pan with baking spray (or line with parchment... ? I used Pam...) In a large bowl, cream the butter. Add the sugars and beat til fluffy. Add egg and yolk and beat well, then red wine and vanilla. Add all dry ingredients right in the same bowl (you can sift them if you're more patient than me, or have a sifter). Mix til 3/4 combined then fold the rest in gently. Pour into prepared pan and bake for 25-30 min or until a cake tester comes out clean. "The top of the cake should be shiny and smooth, like a puddle of chocolate."(SK). (If you're making the topping, do it while the cake is baking.) Let cool 10 min. Eat. It looks very pretty dusted with confectioner's sugar.

This cake, like the human spirit, is very resilient. Like, say, if you forget to add the chocolate, and have to stir it in at the last minute. Still good!

Welcome Fall.

Love,

The Boo

Food Block, Part II

noreply@blogger.com (The Boo) — Sat, 17 Sep 2011 20:22:00 +0000

Dear Mouse,

I just put a chocolate cake in the oven

WITHOUT ANY CHOCOLATE IN IT

OH THE HUMANITY

WHEN WILL THIS END

Love,

The Boo

PS. Fetched it out after only seconds and madly stirred it in (oh, and the EGG that I forgot also). Hoping for the best. I'll keep you posted.

A Last Bite of Summer

noreply@blogger.com (The Mouse) — Wed, 14 Sep 2011 22:12:00 +0000

Dear Boo,

Here's how it went. All of a sudden it was labor day and I had eaten nary a lobster roll nor ripe peach nor heirloom tomato salad, and I was in a panic. So, I sent this email:

date		Thu, Sep 1, 2011 at 1:52 PM
subject		holy crap, it's already labor day!

Hi friends!

are you in town this weekend? do you have plans? do you feel the way I
do, that summer has gone by entirely too quickly and we must cram in
every second with fun and seasonal experiences? Well, great!

We're thinking of doing a potluck picnic (or just potluck, if our
apartment is easier) to declare our need to hang on to summer, and
take a break from godforsaken wedding planning to see our wonderful
friends. Here's what I'm thinking: bring anything (a dish, an item, a
beverage) that embodies the essence of summer for you. Something that
when you take a bite or a sip, places you smack in the middle of a
warm summer afternoon, feeling lazy and relaxed, and altogether happy.
It can be a raw tomato, or a whole clambake--your choice. if there's a
story that goes along with it, even better.

Are you in?

xoxo The Mouse*

And because my friends are awesome and funny, I got emails back saying they were (mostly) all in, and making snarky comments about gazpacho and fantasy football drafts.

Then, they came. Bearing the loveliest, most abundant armfuls of summer tastes of all shapes and sizes. And I thought, WHY DON'T WE DO THIS ALL THE TIME? Potlucks get a bad rap in our apartment, with thoughts of casserole pans accidentally smashed on a subway platform, six potato-based dishes, and 12 items that need heating up all at different temperatures, all in our tiny oven. But this was heaven. I couldn't have planned the menu better myself--there was plenty of food, enough for everyone to take leftovers home, plenty of variety, and fewer dishes for us to clean. People even had the good manners to come color-coordinated!

This was not planned. And makes me look like I belong to some kind cult (see: baby doll in picture)

Jeff came early, bearing our wedding gift, my newest babe, A VITAMIX! For those of you who don't know what this is, I have two words for you: Two. Horsepower. Jeff set to work making frozen margaritas to greet our guests. Summer in a plastic cup, I tell you.

David brought creamy, unctuous, zingy gazpacho, which we gobbled up as our appetizer. He took some heat for omitting the avocado garnish, but there was an elaborate story about getting locked inside his apartment and having to call a locksmith who, with a captive audience (forgive the pun), charged him an arm and a leg to let him out of his apartment so that he could buy groceries for the gazpacho oh and CONTINUE TO LIVE HIS LIFE AS A FREE MAN for lord's sake, so we all forgave him. Also it was yummy.

Emily brought delicious corn salsa and tortilla chips which was a relief, as I had sent her an urgent ESP message that we had neglected to buy more than one bag.

I used email instead of ESP to communicate to Abby and Jeremy that we needed some ice cream to go with the cobbler I made, and they brought that, along with a decadent heirloom tomato caprese salad (thank the lord I could check that off my summer to-eat list), beer (for what is a summer afternoon gathering without it), and watermelon.

Abby told us about how her mom always used to buy a whole watermelon, made a horizontal cut along the top to remove the lid, and then carved that lid into a tail which came spouting out of the center of the melon, with an etched grinning face and eyes to complete the watermelon whale. How terrifyingly adorable is that? Then there were stories about other abominations done to watermelons in the name of college summer drunkenness and the finer points of melon carving were discussed.
There was a summer squash salad from Kerri and Matt who did us the honor of re-creating the recipe off our blog! It was very thrilling, and very tasty, and turns out to be perfect for potlucks as I inexplicably wrote the recipe to feed about 10. oops.

There it is, on the left. Okay, so we've got some things to work out in the
setting-of-the-potluck-table department. Nobody's perfect. But that salad was.

There was a watermelon salad made by Kate, with mint and feta and a light dressing that made me eat any words I've uttered in the past against fruit in salads. I lied.

There was a sort of Fideua-esque dish that Grill a Chef Josh "threw together" and brought over and which was positively addictive with chicken and sausage and noodles slick with oil and spice.

Josh was exhausted from working five days straight prior to our get-together, but is absolutely incapable of showing up at a dinner without some sort of offering. Also, it turned out, he mis-read my email and thought we didn't have any starch or protein on the menu, when in fact, I had made Red Beans and Rice after having my arm twisted by the Fiance, that despite the fact that it was out of keeping with the theme of the party, we really needed to make something with the andouille sausage brought to us by Chef Josh and Kate direct from New Orleans which has been languishing in our freezer for oh--I don't even want to say how long.

Did I worry I might be poisoning my friends? Was this trepidation met with a dramatic eyeroll by the Fiance? Did we serve it anyway? Was it freaking DELICIOUS? Yes, yes, yes, and yes. The recipe is below, and you should make it just as soon as the weather cools off and all those delicious summer items that you'll find elsewhere in this post are off the farmstand shelves. Really. It's so good. And so easy.

I also made (or, rather, assembled) a corn on the cob bar with fixing including: butter, sour cream, mayonaisse, cayenne, limes, queso fresco, green tabasco sauce, salt and pepper.

I made some face-meltingly hot pickled peppers, which I should probably have made with jalapenos, but instead was seduced by the colorful and shapely medley I found at the market. I also made some pickled onions, which together with your standard toppings, constituted the Hot Dog bar. Dogs off a George Forman Lean, Mean, Grilling Machine is not quite the same as dogs off a charcoal pit, but what can I say. We live in Manhattan.

And there was dessert: this mixed berry cobbler from Bon Appetit, which for me, is summer incarnate, and a surprise addition from Josh D., of a key lime cheesecake. It just so happens that my favorite pie is key lime, the only time I like to eat it is in the summer, and as it turns out, when combined with cheese is even better.

Then there was storytelling, and even a dramatic reading:

Sam shared her summertime food memory which involved a blueberry pie eating contest, vomit, and that moment when you suddenly realize sometimes your parents really DO know best, and that they don't actually make arbitrary rules just to torture you. And then, she told us about the sometimes shorter-lived moment when you suddenly realize your parents might actually be the coolest people ever, which for her came when she realized that while her mom let her pull the guts out of the inside of the pumpkin with her hands, because who can be denied that delicious feeling of being elbow deep in slime and tendons?, her friend's mother made her use a SPOON. For shame.

And then Josh D. congratulated her for bringing things full circle right into fall, and we started talking about what we'd miss about the summer but what we love about fall and then everyone got another plateful and some of us maybe took a nap.

So that's it, I suppose. The last of the summertime hurrahs (and what a hurrah it was). Sure, there'll be corn in abundance for the next few weeks, and it was, after all, in the upper 80s today. But you can already feel the change in the air, the cooler breeze that comes through in the late evening hours, the rain that when it comes, leaves you more chilled than refreshed. So, I didn't eat all the tomatoes I would have liked, and maybe I missed out on the pleasure of a lobster roll and fries on a sunny afternoon with a glass of rose, and maybe my summer saw not one single cherry pass these lips. Next year. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to cozying up on a cloudy fall day with a pot of red beans and rice on the stove. Apple pie ain't so bad either.

Love,

The Mouse

*Okay, I didn't sign it that way, as you and our parents are the only people on this planet that actually call me that IN PUBLIC AHEM

(Our BFF) Emeril's Red Beans and Rice

Serves:
8 servings

Ingredients

1 pound dried red beans, rinsed and sorted over
3 tablespoons bacon grease
1/4 cup chopped tasso, or chopped ham
1 1/2 cups chopped yellow onions
3/4 cup chopped celery
3/4 cup chopped green bell peppers
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Pinch cayenne
3 bay leaves
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
2 teaspoons fresh thyme
1/2 pound smoked sausage, split in half lengthwise and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 pound smoked ham hocks
3 tablespoons chopped garlic
10 cups chicken stock, or water--I would use less than this, as it turned out rather soupy.
4 cups cooked white rice
1/4 cup chopped green onions, garnish

Directions

Place the beans in a large bowl or pot and cover with water by 2 inches. Let soak for 8 hours or overnight. Drain and set aside. Or, if you're me, and never think to do this ahead of time, quick soak them. Instructions here.

In a large pot, heat the bacon grease over medium-high heat. Add the ham and cook, stirring, for 1 minute. Add the onions, celery and bell peppers to the grease in the pot. Season with the salt, pepper, and cayenne, and cook, stirring, until the vegetables are soft, about 4 minutes. Add the bay leaves, parsley, thyme, sausage, and ham hocks, and cook, stirring, to brown the sausage and ham hocks, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 1 minute. Add the beans and stock or water, stir well, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until the beans are tender and starting to thicken, about 2 hours.

Using an immersion blender, or by removing about 1/5 of the contents of the pot and blending in a processor, puree some of the beans until desired consistency, which should be thick and creamy, with lots of bean and sausage chunks. Continue to cook until the beans are tender and creamy, 15 to 20 minutes. Remove from the heat and remove the bay leaves.

Serve over rice and garnish with green onions.

Food Block (Help me, Julia Cameron)

noreply@blogger.com (The Boo) — Tue, 06 Sep 2011 22:00:00 +0000

Dear Mouse,

I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mojo.

Cookingwise, that is.

Wild stinging nettles picked by my friend KG for a delicious pasta. She recommends gloves.
(All pix in this post will, of necessity, be of other people's food.)

I dont know how it happened but it's no longer possible to ignore. It started, I think, this past spring with the Great Coffee Collapse of 2011 , where I realized that I had completely lost the ability to make a decent cup of joe. I tried everything. Different makers (drip and french), different brands, even the $16 Illy Coffee our cousin J swears you can't ruin. I consulted experts and applied all techniques faithfully. I poured the hot water in a circular motion. I waited for the "bloom". I timed everything to the minute. I measured. Blech. Dark, bitter, weirdly consistent sludge. In the end, I threw out my press in despair and have been shamefacedly stockpiling Via Instant Coffee packets from Starbucks. At the moment I see no end in sight.

Flooding in NJ, post-Irene. ie, An actual disaster, just so we can all keep perspective here.

That was just the beginning. The downward spiral has involved ordering in, storebought sandwiches, pre-grilled chicken breasts, 'heat and serve' london broil in a packet (yech-who am I??), and indian masala "simmer sauce" in a jar. A simple beans-and-rice dish? Ruined by failing to, oh, COOK the beans after soaking and before "simmer sauce". (Crunchy lentils anyone? I have two containers full.) A beautiful blueberry/spinach salad? Ruined as I artfully dumped in kalamata olives' marinade before remembering about the blueberries. Even my tried and true, go-to stuff is failing me. Muffins? Come on! My bread and butter (and sugar and chocolate chips)? The foolproof, perfect recipe of summers past? Black bottoms. Failure to fluff. Whole batches left out overnight to become gummy and stale.

Pizza made (for me!) by a guy who makes pizza, dough and all. Mushrooms and red onion.

Cracked egg and truffle oil to finish. Yes.

It's gotten to the point where even the idea of chocolate chip cookies fills me with fear. I'm eating buttered saltines, brown rice cakes with peanut butter, carrots with hummus, raw kale, fake parmesan straight from the can (the can!), anything I dont have to prepare or think about. It's not good.

Still Life with His and Her whiskey bottles: possibly part of the problem.

Whatever. It was a gift. Also, I admit nothing.

The worst part, though, is the total lack of ideas. I think to myself, come on, Boo, now's the time. You're between gigs. Let's make ...

...

I have Food Block.

Time to bring in Julia Cameron.

You might recall this exercise from the Creativity tome The Artists' Way. I use it all the time for, you know, Art, and I see no reason why it can't get me (literally) cookin' again. I give you:

Blasting Through (Food)Blocks

The Boo, via Julia Cameron (author, The Artists' Way)

1. Write down any and all FEARS you have associated with the project.

OK. I'm afraid I never really was good at cooking anyway, just eating. I'm afraid that my new gentleman friend is a better cook than me. Ok, he is, and I'm afraid when he finds out he will leave me for a saucier. (A saucier what? Haha, ok focus.) I've been losing my balance a lot as well as my ability to balance flavors, and what if it's an inner ear thing. I haven't worked since early July and I'm afraid that I'll never get another acting job.

Ohhhh.

2. Write down any and all ANGER, or resentment, you have associated with the project.

I'm angry that I totally wasted a stick of butter on that batch of muffins. I resent that bag of beans for not having more explicit instructions on it. I'm mad at that agency for rejecting me after I totally thought they would sign.

Ohhh.

3. Is that it? Write down anything you haven't said.

I think that's it.

Oh, also there was that giant roach. I'm afraid of attracting another one to the kitchen.

Let's not even get into the THREE FOOT RATS in Brooklyn.

4. Make your deal. 'OK, Creative Force, I'll take care of the QUANTITY of this endeavor. You take care of its QUALITY." Date and sign it.

So I'm getting back in with my most go-to recipe of all which I can't believe I haven't posted yet ever. Make this before summer is completely gone. (I often halve the recipe).

Love,

The Boo

Chase's Tian of Just Picked Vegetables

3 medium zucchini, sliced ¼-inch thick
3 medium summer squash, sliced
¼-inch thick
1 large eggplant, sliced ¼-inch thick
5 ripe medium tomatoes, sliced
¼-inch thick
Salt
¾ cup olive oil
2 large yellow onions, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced

Topping: 1 bunch fresh parsley, minced, chopped zest of 1 lemon, 1 C grated Parmesan
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place the zucchini and summer squash in a bowl, sprinkle lightly with salt, and toss to combine. Let stand 1 hour. Repeat the process with the eggplant and tomatoes in separate bowls. Meanwhile, heat ¼ cup of the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the onions and sauté, stirring frequently, for 5 minutes.

Stir in the garlic, reduce heat to medium, and cook, stirring occasionally, 10 minutes longer. Remove the onion mixture from the heat. Stir in the breadcrumbs. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Sprinkle half the mixture over the bottom of a 12-inch round or oval grain dish. Drain the zucchini and summer squash and pat dry with paper towels. Repeat with the eggplant and tomatoes. Alternately layer the vegetables over the bread mixture in the dish. Sprinkle each layer with salt and pepper and drizzle with the remaining oil. Top with the remaining bread mixture. Cover the dish tightly with aluminum foil and bake for 30 minutes. Combine the parsley, lemon zest and Parmesan cheese. Remove the foil from the dish and sprinkle the parsley mixture evenly over the top. Bake uncovered until the top is nicely browned and the vegetables are tender, 20-25 minutes.

Let stand several minutes, and then serve. Serves 8-10.

On Choosing the Menu

noreply@blogger.com (The Mouse) — Fri, 19 Aug 2011 13:57:00 +0000

Dear Boo,

I just got an email informing me that this is possibly my last chance to order those personalized napkins I absolutely MUST have. YES! I thought, That's exactly what I need! Here you go, loved ones, please wipe your faces and clean your fingernails on the names of me and my betrothed!
I am officially over the wedding industry.

(And have officially been driven slightly insane by it.)

Episode #1:
Everyone's favorite bride sits on the couch, sobbing, midst meltdown over some decision that had to be made yesterday. The Fiance, a pillar of patience, strokes her hand and coos, "It's fine. We don't have to decide. We just won't have a ceremony." More crying.

Episode #2 (a short play):
The Mouse and The Fiance are leaving a visit to a jewelry store at which they have just found out that they can add ring shopping to the list of things "You really should have started months ago."

Fiance: So if they tell us it might take 4 weeks, and then it's not ready by the time our wedding day comes around, what are we going to do? Are you going to be okay with a place-holder ring?

Mouse: (striding energetically/crazily down the block) Well, if they say 4 weeks and something happens on their end and its not ready, then it's their problem and they better find a way to FIX IT and get it to us before our WEDDING DAY.

(silence)

Fiance: I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to start a fight between you and our IMAGINARY JEWELER.

(and, scene.)

Episode #3:
The Blushing Bride and her Groom sit, oh, anywhere. On the couch. In bed. At a table in a restaurant. On the subway. Talking about the latest in a string of decisions that MUST be made or else.

Fiance: So what do you want to do about _______?

The Mouse: I don't know.

Change locale. Repeat an infinite number of times.

I recently said to the Fiance that I felt my decision-making muscle was exhausted and unable to function at its full capacity anymore. Never a great one for making choices to begin with, the near-daily workout of being faced with utterly absurd and unnecessary decisions like choosing between this linen and that one, this non-stick skillet or that one (pick this one--America's Test Kitchen does), to veil or not to veil, what friggin song best represents us as a couple, and are we really missing out by not getting our invitations hand-cancelled at the post office (NO, and who has ever heard of such a thing?), my capacity for differentiating between choices and making a decision based on sound information and good judgment, is severely impaired.

Turns out the science world has my back on this one. In this New York Times article, they discuss Decision Fatigue as a very real thing with very real, sometimes devastating consequences (judges who hear multiple cases in a day are more likely to deny parole to those later in the day, and this phenomenon takes a particular toll on the poor, who are constantly being depleted by the continual trade-offs and sacrifices of poverty). It goes on to explain how, like will power, our capacity to weigh options and make decisions can get maxed out if we're calling upon it too often. That dieting phenomenon of waking up with the best intentions for eating well, sitting down to a breakfast of grapfruit and egg whites, and then pigging out at 9pm on nachos and beer, is actually that the will power muscle, the power to make a decision based on long vision and practicality, is just plain worn out after a day of work. AND, the article specifically talks about the process of wedding planning as a virtual marathon for this part of the psyche--the article actually calls it "The decision fatigue equivalent of Hell Week"! I couldn't agree more. This also sort of hit upon the irony of the "wedding diet" I keep talking about starting. If I'm totally depleted in the decision-making department, and have virtually no judgment or good sense left by the end of a day of phone calls with vendors, isn't the deck sort of stacked against me getting my butt to bikini bootcamp and forgoing alcohol and chips for steamed kale? The answer is yes.

Which brings me to our next set of decisions: The Menu.

As a food person (and writer of a food blog!), our food was pretty high on my list of priorities. Not to mention, after the dress, it's pretty much the first thing anyone who knows me asks about. As in, "I can't wait to hear about the menu! It must be amazing, since you're such a foodie!" So I sat down to look at hors d'eouvres options with some trepidation. Should we go with the Anise Scented Duck and Foie Gras Empanadas? Or the Smoked Duck and Scallion Crepe Roulade? Too fussy? Overdone? Not US? And how does one determine if one preparation of duck or another best REPRESENTS US AS A COUPLE?

And then it hit me. When I woke up this morning--the best time to make decisions, according to the article--I thought about this whole to-do, these months of 'this or that', 'for a small upgrade you can get this' and 'well if we invite HIM then we have to invite HER'. And I realized that the hardest decision of all--or I should say, the most significant one--has already been made. I picked him, and low and behold! he picked me. The rest, if you ask me, decision fatigue and all, is small potatoes. Fried or mashed--don't ask me--they both sound great.

And so I sat down with our long list of menu choices and asked, do I want people to leave this wedding saying, "Wow. That food was INCREDIBLE, and INVENTIVE and ORIGINAL!"?

Or do I want them to leave saying, "Wow. Those two people sure do love each other."

And it turns out that decision wasn't so hard after all.

Love,

The Mouse

P.S. I can't include a recipe here because I appear to be unable to tackle the myriad tiny decisions that go into making dinner, and so I've been doing a lot of ordering in. So tell me, what are you making for dinner tonight? I'll just have what you're having. (seriously. please respond in comments below.)

A Week in the (Mostly) Raw

noreply@blogger.com (The Boo) — Tue, 09 Aug 2011 20:13:00 +0000

Dear Mouse,

What is this?

Me neither.

It came in The Box.

The box, that is, of neatly packaged, strenuously prepared, vita-licious, week's worth of gourmet live raw food dishes that I ordered this week from RawVolution as an experiment. For $120/box, which is honestly cheaper than any raw food joint I've known, you get a week's worth of entrees, soups, sides, and a couple of desserts delivered to your home. Everything is labeled except, for some reason, the soups. I honestly have no idea what I'm putting into my mouth; it's a very odd sensation. (I"m gonna say garlic and cilantro for sure).

Rawvolution, a celebrated outpost (outpost? Is that the word? I dont know, I'm ingesting so few calories) of the Raw Food lifestyle in Los Angeles, has just opened up a NYC outpost (now I'm repeating!), which I heard about from my lovely, in-the-know hair stylist on the LES. On her recommendation, I wandered into the cafe and timidly ordered a bowl of squash ribbon "spaghetti" and a ball of "chocolate chip cookie dough" that tasted pretty much like a sweet stick of butter (and isn't). Charmed by the obvious talent of the chef, and the intense cheeriness of the staff (maybe this food will make me as happy as they are!!), I thought maybe there's something to this. (Raw Food: the Scientology of the culinary world?)

I went back the next day for a Big Matt with Cheese and a brochure, and when got home I ordered The Box.

Big Matt.

Anyone who knows me (for example, you) knows that I am not big on following rules and restrictions, especially when it comes to food. You will recall the time I tried the Master Cleanse, a ten-day liquid fast in which you're supposed to ingest only this water/lemon/cayenne/maple syrup concoction. People swear by it. I lasted four hours and then had lunch.

Yet at the same time I am strangely drawn to these various regimens, lord knows why. I am (almost) always ready to hop on the latest bandwagon (within reason). It isn't entirely out of vanity. It's more like a "Jackass" - style curiosity; ie, what will HAPPEN to me on atkins/south beach/elimination diet/raw food for a week? I always, ALWAYS 'cheat'. I guess you could say I only commit to these things as a way of definitely getting myself halfway there. Like, in order for me to significantly cut down on bread, I have to declare "no more bread!" and then like, only have it at breakfast.

So the idea was to maybe do a cleanse... without really doing a cleanse. Like, a fast while still eating.

Quick review for those who have never lived in LA and do not currently go to a vegan hair salon: Raw Food = nothing heated above 118 degrees, ever. No grains. No dairy. No soy. No animals. "Milk" and "butter" is made from nuts, "Bread" and "Crackers" from dehydrated vegetables and also probably some nuts. Desserts are all about agave nectar and coconut.. I think that's all you need to know for now.

Anyway, it's been three days since the box arrived, not a week, and I'm already blogging about it, which should tell you something. I'm pretty sure I'm done. For one thing, I already had some bread today after a chocolate chip ball for "breakfast" made me "nauseous" * , and I've been nursing a coke (a real coke!! which i NEVER drink) for hours to settle my stomach? cope with sugar withdrawal? Probably both.

* The brochure says some people eat the desserts for breakfast. Some may. I shouldn't have.

Before I go further, YES there are reasons to do this. Number one: The entire Box contains less than 6,000 calories, and I. Am. Not. Hungry. I'm not. I feel fine. It's kind of amazing ... but also .. um, is that good? And I feel a little dopey. I'm sure that is largely sugar withdrawal and detoxing. Still ....

I get it. We all - generally, in this culture - eat too much. What we think is normal is not. If we were eating the same amount of vegetables, fruit and nuts as we do of simple carbs, sugar, and meat ... well, we wouldn't! We would get our fill of necessary nutrients WAY faster. And I'm sure there is something to the idea that we kill off a lot of nutrients and dehydrate ourselves by cooking everything. Raw, living plants are certainly just as nutritious as you can get. Eat them.

And let me say before I go any further that Matt Amsden's creations at Rawvolution are really works of art. They look pretty, they are incredibly inventive to the point of being magical, and they taste really good ... at the cafe. Because (here's the thing) what is becoming painfully clear to me is that while "Greek Pizza", "Indonesian Noodle Affair" and "Veggie Patties with Dill Sauce" are probably miraculous the day they are made, the same is just not true after they have sat in your fridge for a while. Like, the "bread" which was a marvel on the Big Matt (chewy! interesting! dry!) but was soggy on the greek pizza by the time it got to me, despite wax paper carefully placed between it and its topping.

Maybe it's just me. The brochure hastens to reassure you that the food "will keep" ... which it does!! in terms of health and safety. For sure. But right now it mostly just tastes ... cold. And confusing. And needs salt.

So, no lifestyle change imminent. As you know, I really, really like COOKING. I don't think I'm going to buy a dehydrator anytime soon. Also, I'm not sure I feel so good. Also, I have a Dinner Out on Friday and I'm actually scared to think what might happen if I suddenly have cocktails and restaurant food after a week of Noodle Affair. For everyone's sake, I'd better go eat a slice of this:

FRESH APRICOT CLAFOUTIS

Which I made the night before the box arrived

and which came to us via our fan leolennon on Twitter - thanks for this!

APRICOT CLAFOUTIS

from the blog Chez Loulou

12 oz fresh apricots, pitted and halved

1 C minus 2 tbsp flour

1/4 tsp salt

2 C whole milk

3 large eggs

1/2 C vanilla sugar (I used plain but you can make vanilla sugar by keeping half a bean in your sugar bowl)

1/2 tsp vanilla extract

2 tbsp butter cut into 6 pieces

Pre-heat oven to 450. Butter/lightly flour a 9 inch round baking pan with deep sides.

Place apricots cut side down in pan.

Combine flour and salt in bowl, whisk.

Add 1 C milk and whisk til smooth. Add eggs one by one whisking briefly after each.

Whisk in sugar, vanilla extract, and remaining 1 C milk.

Pour batter over fruit and dot with butter pieces.

Place in center of oven and bake for 25 or so minutes until puffed and golden brown.

Let cool completely before serving (also it's good cold the next day).

Here's to health and deliciousness, served hot or cold.

Love,

The Boo

Distraction Soup

noreply@blogger.com (The Boo) — Mon, 25 Jul 2011 01:48:00 +0000

Dear Mouse,

There is a roach in my kitchen. (or, ok, was when I started this post. Sigh.)

There was also roach in my kitchen last week, as you know because I fled to your place seeking help. Your Fiance killed what was probably its cousin in the hallway, but the original beast got away from us. It was enormous and it had WINGS. Dear God.

I put down many traps and had the exterminator in.

And then, the next night, while peacefully making some peacefully quick-roasted veggies for dinner (I know, in the heat, but it only takes like 10 min), I noticed Moth-Ra had returned. I found him? her? on his/her back inside the big soup pot that lives on the stove, very very dead, perhaps roasted from the heat coming from the veggies below. Perhaps. Perhaps it had eaten some poison and crawled in there to die as a last F-You. Either way, it was very upsetting.

As you know, my phobia concerning these creatures is legend in some circles. I've been known to build forts and barricades, stuff towels in front of doors, sleep upright in arm chairs, consider leaving the house without pants, actually leave the house without pants, and, of course, scream bloody murder.

I put on gloves, and threw the whole thing out (the soup pot plus an innocent teakettle that happened to be inside, oh well), and ended the evening with an amplifier blocking the kitchen (as if to ... what?), a big glass of pink prosecco and some dark chocolate. And two NyQuil. Goodnight world, I thought. Let's try this again tomorrow.

You know you're watching your figure when this is dessert.

Green & Black's Dark Chocolate w/crystallized ginger, Trader Joe's dried berry medley. Actually, delicious.

And I did. A week later, after having my apartment cleaned professionally (first time; amazeballs), I got up the guts to cook something (read: enter the kitchen) again.

And I can only blame insect-related PTSD for the fact that honestly, I have never so thorougly botched a recipe in my life. I truly can't believe the number of things I did wrong. I'm including my version of the recipe. Why? Because it was delicious.

Let's review, shall we?

For one thing, I decided to make soup.

Discerning readers will recall that I have thrown out my only real soup pot.

Soup? In this heat? Well, as I so often do when trying not to think about bugs, I was flipping through my trusty Chase Summer cookbook and came upon "Minestrone Freddo" (or, "Cold Minestrone") which sounded perfect in above-90 weather. (Note: actual process of making soup = not cooling.)

Read On.

The Boo's Hot Weather 'Cold' Minestrone

(Adapted Only Partly On Purpose from Sarah Leah Chase)

INGREDIENTS
12 cups chicken broth
3 Tbsp olive oil
1 onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
5 tomatoes, seeded and cut into 1/2-in chunks
1 zucchini, chopped
1 summer squash, chopped
2 potatoes, diced
1 bag (8 oz) baby spinach
1/2 Cup basil, chopped
2 Cups cooked rice*
*I reccommend Trader Joe's "Brown Rice Medley" which involves long grain brown rice, black barley, and daikon radish seeds)
8 oz (1 package) bacon, chopped (supposed to be half proscuitto and half pancetta, you can do that if you're fancy.)
1 Cup white wine
1 can cannellini (white) beans
Grated parmesan (I'm into Trader Joe's "Creamy Black Pepper Parm" right now)

Side by Side by Side: Brown Rice Medley (L) duet with Chopped Veggies in Bacon Fat (R) (Still healthy!)

1. Right off the bat, forget two ingredients, the carrots (2, diced) and the small green cabbage (sliced). (I didn't miss them but can't hurt.)

2. Heat oil in soup pot over med high heat. Enter bacon. (I like that, I'm gonna start doing stage directions in recipes.) Cook until lightly brown/crispy, 7-10 minutes.

3. Enter squash, zucchini, potatoes, onion, garlic (and carrots if using). (Recommended: chop everything the day before and store in fridge. Makes life easier.) Cook, stirring occasionally, 10 minutes.

4. Realize you have completely forgotten the onions. Hastily chop and saute them separately, then throw in. This step not recommended.

5. Enter tomatoes, cook 5 minutes longer.

6. Pour in chicken broth! Pour in wine! Realize your Le Creuset is barely large enough to hold everything. Thank the gods that it didn't overflow. (Use a soup pot.)

7. Add spinach (and cabbage if using). Simmer uncovered for 45 min, hoping it cooks down. (It does, but only a little.) Stir/check occasionally.

8. Add rice, beans, and basil. Salt and pepper to taste.

9. Impulsively throw in a bay leaf. Panic, read everything online about whether or not bay works in minestrone, fish out bay leaf and throw away. (Exit Bay Leaf, Stage Left.) (You don't need to do this either.)

10. Simmer 10 more minutes.

11. Let cool off completely and then put in fridge to chill.

12. Get hungry and eat it warm, with grated parmesan on top. (Recommended: I've now had it both ways and I think it's better warm than cold. Go figure.)

So there you have it. Healthy, whole grain, summer deliciousness. If this soup is wrong, I don't wanna be right.

Love,

The Boo

This post is stupid. Don't even bother reading it.

noreply@blogger.com (The Mouse) — Thu, 21 Jul 2011 19:05:00 +0000

Dear Boo,

Let me say right up front that I am in the midst of an intense crankfest. I blame this unbearable, unbelievable, unacceptable weather, which even now, has me sweating profusely while sitting directly in front of the A/C. Well, that, and some other things, namely a lack of job, lack of money, and lack of general purpose. Oh, and this play that really needs rewriting but seems intent on torturing me instead. Suffice it to say, world, watch out. This girl is PISSED.

I answered a call from a friend the other day, with "Hiiiiiieeeee! How was your birrrrrthday!" He proceeded to, in strained tones, attempt enthusiasm at telling me how he'd spent the day. He got about 15 seconds in before he interrupted himself to say, "You know, I'm actually in a horrible, horrible mood right now, so I'm sure it was a lovely birthday but I just can't give the world the satisfaction of actually saying that, because I'm too determined right now that everything just SUCKS." I wished him good luck in finding a puppy to kick, and got off the phone.

And now here I am. Sitting in my hot apartment, feeling as though the world is just one terrible injustice and humiliating insult after another, and absolutely determined to continue to feel this way.

But I'm having this dilemma. Because I've been meaning to tell you about these cookies.
But if I told you about these cookies, I'd have to acknowledge that they were really quite intensely delicious. And that they came out of a fantastic cookie book with recipes from every year of Gourmet's existence, given to me by our lovely Auntie. And I'd have to tell you that I made them to take to a fantastic backyard barbeque at Chef Josh and Lady Kate's Brooklyn home, and that I got to hang out with great friends there, and eat possibly the best cheeseburger I've had in years (apparently we should all get our ground meat from here), and laughed and played with an adorable child, and sat in the balmy summer air and drank cold beer and then, lucky girl, went home with my gorgeous and smart and funny fiance. And I'd have to tell you these cookies were the very first recipe made using my new baby*, a cornflower blue behemoth that I gaze at with googly eyes and received as a wedding gift from my bestest friend, AMac and her amazing parents, who might possibly be the best people ever to spend a July 4th weekend with, and are hilarious and warm and wonderful and who I am forever indebted to for bringing their fantastic daughter into the world.

And all of those facts just fly directly in the face of my firm belief that everything SUCKS and anyone who thinks otherwise is just an IDIOT.

So you see my dilemma.

Sigh.

Fine.

Here's the stupid recipe.

Love,
The Mouse

Mocha Cookies, from the Gourmet Cookie Book
Makes about 3 dozen

4 oz unsweetened chocolate, chopped
3 cups semisweet chocolate chips
1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, cut into bits
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon double-acting baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 large eggs, at room temp
1.5 cups sugar
1.5 tablespoons instant espresso powder
2 teaspoons vanilla

In a metal bowl set over a saucepan of simmering water, melt the unsweetened chocolate, 1.5 cups of the chocolate chips, and the butter, stirring until the mixture is smooth, and remove the bowl from the heat. In a small bowl, stir together the flour, the baking powder, and the salt. In a bowl, beat the eggs with the sugar until the mixture is thick and pale, and beat in the espresso powder and the vanilla. Fold the chocolate mixture into the egg mixture, fold in the flour mixture, and stir in the remaining 1.5 cups of chocolate chips. Let the batter stand for 15 minutes. Drop the batter by heaping tablespoons onto baking sheets lined with parchment paper and bake the cookies in the middle of a preheated 350 degree oven for 8 to 10 minutes, or until they are puffed and shiny and cracked on top. Let the cookies cool on the baking sheets, transfer them to racks, and let them cool completely. Notes: Make sure to let the batter stand--don't skip that step. Err on the side of underbaking these. Cool for 1 minute on the bakign sheet before transferring the cookies to racks.

*Ain't she purdy?

Trick & Fancy: Appalachia CT

noreply@blogger.com (The Boo) — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 13:11:00 +0000

Dear Mouse,

I think this fictional Appalachian Family Band might be on to something:

Yes that is me, up left. Objects on the warped left side of this picture are thinner than they appear.

"Oh, Hotcake, Flapjack, put 'em on a griddle

Hotcake, Flapjack, play a little fiddle

Put 'em on a griddle and you play a little fiddle and you

Have yourself a real good time

Oh have yourself a real good time

Don't pay your troubles any mind

Have yourself a real good time!"

- Don Chaffer, "Son of a Gun" (winner: 2011 O'Neill Lyricist Award)

Besides being amazacrazily catchy, this foot-stompin' tune hones in on the two basic ingredients of Bliss (aka Real Good Time):

1.Music (including but not necessarily limited to the fiddle)

2.Food (including but not necessarily limited to hotcakes and/or flapjacks.)

Ok there's at least one other important element I can think of, but this is a family blog after all.

So it's my birthday!! Again! Or was when I started this post! And I am so pleased and thankful to havve spent it where I did: back up at this idyllic oasis in CT, surrounded by emerging illuminati of american Music Theatre (I'll miss the Playwrights Conference this time; sniff) and some truly bad-ass folk/country/rock musicians out of Nashville and NYC, putting up a glorious show in (wait for it) "The Barn".

These people are rehearsing. AND relaxing. "Hearslaxing"? I'll come back to this.

Yes, Real Good Times were abundant both onstage and off. My birthday started with a return to this legendary joint for brunch (GET the corned beef hash even if you think you don't like it, and be warned that Doreen has ditched the guns in favor of making customers wait tables). In the evening we had a performance of the show followed by an epic jam session that ended with me picking shards of glass out of the smiling drummer's forearm as he continued to play). THAT's a birthday.

The title of this post comes from a conversation I had with this guy about his life as a fiddle player:

Obviously he's already past the flapjacks.

Turns out that in competitive fiddling (hee hee), there's often a division called "Trick & Fancy" in which competitors don't just play tunes, they, well, do tricks. Fancy ones. Like fiddling behind your head, or using an unorthodox bowing style, or showing off other unexpected feats of bravado and strength. I fell in love with this expression and immediately tried to think of a way to use it when talking about food (natch).

Gratuitous Clambake shot. July 4: chilled rose and free lobster. Not pictured: plastic bib, foolish grin, steamers, corn, the fact that I had already eaten an entire dinner before this.

You see, folks, when you're on the road, not every meal is a clambake. (Segue!) And even at the best of all Summer Theatre Camps, when it comes to cafeteria food it's generally agreed that the price you pay for - well, paying no price at all - is food that is barely digestible.

(Not true this year, I hasten to say. Apparently they brought in a guy from Whole Foods and it really worked wonders. However, three words to the wise: Instant. Starbucks. Packets. Put 'em in Yer Suitcase, Nothing Rhymes with Suitcase, Have Yerself a Real Good Time.)

I started thinking about the many Trick & Fancy tips I've heard from fellow performers over the years re dealing with Food on the Road. There's my friend MS, who swears she lived on instant oatmeal with peanut butter packets for many's a hotel room buffet breakfast on tour. (I now do that as well.) I remembered Dennis' neverending bags of nuts and dried fruit secreted in rehearsal room cupboards in Louisville. At the O'Neill, my new friend Elmadora would eschew the mysterious bins of salad dressing to concoct her own from honey, olive oil, balsamic, and lemon juice packets.

My goal was to have a blog post full of cafeteria survival recipes but I only got one, which came to me by way of the Khrusty Family Band's Drummer:

Would you drink something he made? Course you would.

This Nashville resident sports a keen sense of rhythm, a Zeppelin tattoo, and a love of iced tea strong enough to wake entrepreneurial instincts when he discovered there was no sweet tea for the non-coffee drinkers. I'm using his real name (a first) because I couldn't bear to change it. Weary travelers, I give you -

Billy Brimblecom, Jr.'s Cafeteria Iced Tea

Get a glass (big cup?) of hot water and a tea bag.

Steep tea bag in water to desired strength.

Get another glass (big cup?) full of ice.

Wait and watch.

Pour steeped hot tea into glass of ice.

Shake or stir.

Boom! Iced tea in the cafeteria!

So there you have it. What a summer so far! Oh, and speaking of Trick & Fancy, our whole cast received cups of this as a parting gift from one of the guys on the tech staff:

Bourbon Slush. I kid you not. Hold on, I will get that recipe if it's the last thing I do.

Thanks, CT. It was a Real Good Time.

Love,

The Boo

Movies for Dinner (The Trip, and Pressure Cooker)

noreply@blogger.com (The Mouse) — Wed, 22 Jun 2011 14:47:00 +0000

Dear Boo,

There's almost nothing I like better than a good meal. Except, maybe, a good movie. (after I've eaten a good meal. Or before I'm about to. Or while snacking on something delicious.) So, when there's the possibility of combining the two, I will naturally jump at it. Sure, dinner and a movie is a classic combo, but dinner IN a movie? Now that's what I'm talking about. What am I talking about? Right. This week, I saw two fabulous food movies that I need you to go see. Though, to call them food movies is really a misnomer as the story being told is so much more about the people in the film, their own trials and tribulations and hilarious humiliations and struggles and heart, than it is about what they eat (or cook). But in both, the stories themselves are driven by food. It is at the dinner table, over the stove, at the kitchen counter, in the car on the way to the next meal, that life happens, and changes. And these are lives I was more than happy to spend an hour and a half with.

The first was an excursion on one of the hot, humid, sticky, drizzly evenings we've been having lately, with our favorite AMac to see the British film adapted from the BBC series called, The Trip, directed by Michael Winterbottom and starring Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon. Mom and I had gone to see Midnight in Paris (one thumb down) and caught a preview for The Trip, which instantly had us shrieking with laughter. Steve Coogan, an English actor who you will recognize from such films at Tristam Shandy and A Cock and Bull Story, and Rob Brydon, another English actor/comedian who is less well known on this side of the pond, but quite beloved over there, play sort of heightened versions of themselves. Coogan is that particular actorly mix of arrogance, insecurity, self-loathing, inflated ego and perpetual dissatisfaction that he doesn't have THAT GUY's career. Brydon is the slightly irritating but loveable mensch who, like a puppy dog, is unshakably enthusiastic even in the face of his friend's jabs and backhanded compliments. The result is the somewhat unsettling combination of reality tv, travelogue, satire, and meditation on fame and success.

And then there's the food. In the film, Coogan has been hired to write a piece for The Observer about some of the best restaurants in the North of England and finds himself without a partner when his American girlfriend (the only foodie of the bunch) returns to the States and the two go on "hiatus." As a last resort, he calls his friend Brydon with the tantalizing offer that after trying 4 or 5 other people, he's now invited to join him on the trip. The film follows them as they eat their way across the gorgeous countryside, and between scenes of their dueling Michael Caine and Woody Allen impressions there are incredible shots of kitchens at work, lamb searing in a pan, terrines and foam, and plate after plate of scallops (Brydon, a man after my own heart, seems to order them everywhere they stop.). Neither one a food critic, or particularly interested, Coogan describes a bowl of tomato soup as "tomato-y" and some sort of foamy aperitif as "it has the consistency of snot, but it tastes great." And both did what I find myself doing every time I'm in a fine dining establishment--that is, treating the waiter like my 8th grade teacher, inexplicably concerned that I might do something horribly inappropriate or rude, giving myself away as the neophyte imposter I really am. Watching Brydon suppress a boyish grin when the waiter places a dish in front of them, reverently announcing it as "tiny sacks" was priceless, and all too familiar.

While I sat salivating over each close-up of perfectly cooked venison and ladles of velvety sauce, and could have stood to linger a bit more with the kitchen footage, the film isn't really about that. And if it means giving up any time watching the two of them volley the comedy ball back and forth, I wouldn't change a thing. Go see it. Bring a tissue--you might drool a bit, but you'll definitely laugh til you cry.

The other foodie film I saw will require tissues as well, but for a different kind of tears.

Before we go any further, I'd be remiss to not introduce you to my new friend, Roku. Despite what you may hear from the Fiance, she is not a tiny chambermaid living in our closet. She is, rather, a birthday/engagement gift from our lovely friend Jeff, a small (that part is true) device which sits on top of our DVD player and makes it possible to stream netflix, hulu, and movies from amazon to our TV. In short, she is a life-changing piece of metal. Roku has allowed me to avoid leaving my house more often than absolutely necessary, and to indulge in all my latest guilty pleasures, including Say Yes to the Dress, No Reservations, Man vs Food, and Oliver's Twist. I'm sensing a theme. Anyway, last night after my class, alone in the apartment while the Fiance was off playing basketball and eating grilled by none other than Grill-A-Chef himself, I decided to take a chance on a film that had been languishing in my netflix queue for far too long.

Pressure Cooker is a documentary about the students in Mrs. Stephenson's Culinary Arts class at Frankford High, in inner-city Philadelphia. Mrs. Stephenson is a fire-cracker, that kind of teacher who chases kids down the hall calling them low-lifes until they cave and pull off their headphones. The kind of teacher who throws someone out of class if they so much as glance at the clock above the door. But she's also, as so many of them are, the kind of teacher who demands excellence from her students because she respects how capable and talented they are, and how many odds are already stacked against them. The kind who goes prom dress shopping with her students if they don't have a mom around to do it with them, who cheers in the stands at football games, and lashes out at any man, woman, or child, who shows her kids anything less than respect and kindness. Every year, her class trains for a city-wide culinary arts competition (judged by the likes of Iron Chef Morimoto) the results of which come in the form of full or part scholarships to college. By the end of the film, when the competition is in its finals, the tension is thicker than the pastry cream each student is required to make (sorry). These kids are quite literally, cooking for their lives. A perfectly peeled, diced and seeded tomato can mean getting out from under the thumb of an oppressive father, or pursuing a personal dream instead of being the head of a household at 17. Of course, these are the big stakes. Then there are the smaller ones, all the myriad benefits of learning a craft, an art (after all there's a reason it's called Culinary ARTS), and the reason it is mind-boggling to me that anyone can justify cutting funding for the arts in schools (if you want to support these kind of scholarship programs, go here). There's the discipline, the self-esteem, the self-expression, the pure joy, that comes with dedication to a craft. Watching the students discover this, and how hard they work towards this goal, is not only heart-warming, it's delicious.

I know you're opening a show tonight (Break a Leg!!!) and will be busy with that through Saturday, but when you find yourself with a rare free night, having forgotten what one does when one is not due at rehearsal or a performance, I encourage you to watch these films. Like a great meal, I'd venture to say they're both good for the soul.

Love,

The Mouse

And because no movie watching is complete without popcorn, here's my favorite way to dress up a batch at home (you can always pack it into zip-loc bags and stash it in your coat when you go out to the movie theater.)

The Mouse's favorite Movie-Night Popcorn

This is a riff on the mexican corn on the cob (or elote), which I often see at latin restaurants in the city, or better yet at street fairs, grilled until slightly charred, and then slathered with butter, either mayonnaise or sour cream, chile powder, and grated cheese. I like it with a squeeze of lime as well.

What You'll Need:
Popcorn
Butter
Chile powder or Cayenne Pepper
Limes
Grated parmesan or cotija cheese
Salt
Napkins
Optional: mayonnaise and/or mexican crema

Make your batch of popcorn in whatever method you choose (I do stove-top). Make more than you think you'll want. Melt some butter. Drizzle it over the top of the popcorn and toss. (If you're feeling crazy, you could try whisking the melted butter with some mayonnaise before pouring it over the popcorn.) Season with salt (don't use kosher--it'll fall right off) and chile powder or cayenne (or both) to taste. Sprinkle with a good amount of the grated cheese. Squeeze some fresh lime juice over the top. Enjoy. (I've never tried this, but you could also drizzle with a little mexican crema before serving. Might be delish, or it could make the popcorn soggy. If you try it, let me know.)

Another favorite variation on this theme: Make popcorn. Toss with green tabasco sauce, squeeze of lime, Lawry's Season Salt, and grated parmesan.

A Lasting Lagasse: A Mouse Bouche on TV!!

noreply@blogger.com (The Mouse) — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 23:06:00 +0000

Dear Mouse,

BAM!!!!

Whew. I've been holding that in for a while.

It was after all the one word we were told not to utter ... during our taping of "Emeril's Table" for the Hallmark Channel!!!!!!!! last week (ok, two weeks ago. Mea culpa).

Yes, A Mouse Bouche has 'kicked it up a notch' with its first television appearance. It won't air until the fall/winter so hang in there. Also you'll notice that this post is lacking in actual culinary details; we aren't allowed to spill the beans on the menu yet.

As I sat in the makeup chair opposite yours at 9AM, having fake eyelashes applied singly to my lids and learning various beauty secrets (flesh-colored eye pencil on the inner eye rim makes your eyes "pop"! and not in a bad way!), I thought about how I would never have predicted this as my first foray into TV Land. But it makes sense on so many levels.

And of course I'm so glad we did it together. Partly because I think no one would believe me when I described finding ourselves, new lashes and all, seated in a neat row along a wooden kitchen countertop, alongside three other ladies who looked exactly like us (hmmm), across from a fake window through which shone fake daylight across some fake patio furniture, surrounded by giant cameras, breathing in the not-fake aroma of lemongrass and hoisin and soy sauce and boiling noodles and throwing back very real cups of cold sake before noon ... with Emeril Lagasse.

"Kampai!" he shouted, clinking glasses with us while a producer shuffled him into new chef's whites. "We're gonna have a good time in here today!" I didn't have to look at you to know you were thinking the same thing I was: How on earth was this man so cheerful? After all, we had JUST seen him on TV that morning. While we were drinking freshly brewed Emeril's Coffee in the green room and blinking blearily, the man had been up for hours shooting a live episode of Good Morning America. While we scooped up the greek yogurt and blueberries that Martha's people provided for us (good one) and tried to think up questions for "Chef" about Asian cooking, Chef was teaching the GMA staff to grill beef and slice onions, all within a chopstick's throw of a throng of rabid fans. While we got our hair curled (and our bangs trimmed - nice one Mouse!), we watched him, live, doing his thing on the screen, handling the simultaneous tasks of cooking, coaching, hosting, and charming an audience on LIVE TV with complete grace. My respect for the King of Essence, which, to be honest, I wasn't compLETEly in touch with before this gig, made itself felt. The man works hard.

No stale doughnuts and sad corn muffins here. The Mouse serves herself greek yogurt and blueberries, forsaking the granola.

Also the decor was pretty special.

I brought mine from home

Here's where I pause briefly to address the reason it took so freakin' long to post this at all, and why you had to basically bribe me with an omelet and two grapefruits to get me to put it up.

Oops. A second, unplanned pause as The Boo realizes she never sent the list of music cues to the band, and is going to be late for her 5 hour rehearsal in a warehouse in brooklyn if she doesn't leave now because the G train isn't running. I am so not even kidding. Excuse me, I'll be right back in ten hours.

... or FIVE DAYS. Again, not even kidding. But that fact - that I find myself at this time unable to get through even such a simple task as this without being distracted - speaks volumes, and kind of makes the point I’m gonna make in this blog post without me even actually having to write it! (No? Ok ok yes I will still actually write it.)

I was in midtown last night with our friend Orestes playing some Big Buck Hunter when It occurred to me. IT. By which I mean The Thought, the one that has been trying to get to me for some time now. And by ‘some time’ I could mean the last several weeks (the time period in which I have been madly rehearsing/memorizing/composing/co-writing/band wrangling/assistant music directing/semi-assistant producing the first show in THIS FESTIVAL which goes up WEDNESDAY thru SATURDAY), or really, several years of doing what it is we do --- a life made up of constant uncertainty, constant making and unmaking of plans, scheduling and rescheduling, neverending job hunting that leads often to working many jobs at once; packing and unpacking and and the constant up and down of relationships formed at the center of a storm, some of which last forever and some which are gone in the blink of an eye.

So like I said I’m there with Orestes and we’re discussing various life choices while shooting digital wildebeest. As I do every time, I lift that plastic orange gun to my shoulder and silently chant the mantra I learned in the army (ok, from a guy who was in the army):

“Slow is smooth, and smooth is Fast.”

(ie, no matter what the situation, panic and rushing will do you no favors. it will only cause you to lose your focus and your footing, and actually slow everything down if not stop it completely. In fact, the faster the game is going and the more things that you have to do at one time, the more important this is to remember. It’s the difference between a Perfect Streak Bonus while still nailing all the baboons and losing your whole turn because you shot a cow right out of the gate. Where was I? Oh yes.)

And then, right then, this thought:

Even if you’re juggling many balls, you still can only hold one at a time.
(Please refrain from shouting any response resembling “That’s what she said”. I already thought of it and let’s move on.)

I recently had a conversation with someone in which they were telling me they read an article about how “multitasking makes you stupid”. (Was it you?) And I totally get that... IF it’s the kind of multitasking where you erroneously believe it’s possible to actually do more than one thing at once. You try to focus your mind in several places simultaneously, thereby ensuring that you are not actually focused on anything at all. Then you’re bringing a foggy, insufficient level of attention to several projects that all get done badly because there’s simply less of you, of your brain, to go around.

please forgive me, I’m working on a rock musical about neuroscience. WHICH GOES UP THIS WEEK AND EVERYONE NEEDS TO GO.

BUT if it’s the “one ball in the air” kind of juggling where you instead cultivate the ability to rapidly change focus; toggling between several activities with full attention to each one in turn, then you’ve got something. And I would venture to say (with absolutely no expertise to back this up, much like my rock musical about neuroscience that goes up WEDNESDAY-SATURDAY) it probably makes you smarter in the long run. Strengthens, not weakens, your mind. I’m thinking here of fitness experts who encourage people to vary their workout routines, saying that mixing it up gives your muscles more to work with and speeds up their development. But no one would endorse trying to run and lift weights at the same time. (I think, anyway. I haven’t been to the gym in ...)

Anyway my point (and I do have one, and it’s about food) is that Chef Emeril was one of the best living, breathing examples of a professional juggler I’ve seen recently. I mean, the food was good for sure but a) we’re not allowed to talk about the menu yet and b) frankly, that wasn’t what most stayed with me. What I got out of that experience - of being ten feet away from a professional chef/seasoned performer! was the importance of doing. one. thing. at. a time. and doing it well, with ease and grace and awareness of the people around you who are also juggling. The faster the game, the more things to think about and do, the tighter your focus on each thing in turn must be. When Chef E came into the green room before the gig to shake hands with each of us, he was not somewhere else. He had ten seconds to say hello to each person and inside those ten seconds that’s all he was doing. When the man was reading his cue cards, he was reading them and talking to his audience. When he was answering one of our questions, he was really answering it, when he was taking notes from the producer, he was listening, and when he was mixing up sauce he was mixing up sauce. It only looked like he was doing all these things at the same time.

Well, that’s my Deep Thoughts for the day. To sum up: Chef Emeril juggles, Martha Stewart gives good breakfast, flesh-colored pencil on the inner eye rim, Good Morning America films really early, and there are definitely a lot of women out there who could pass for our sisters. (But there’s only one Mouse Bouche.) When we can actually talk about the menu, we’ll revisit this. In the meantime, I have to plan music rehearsal, re-string my guitar, send out a few invitations to the show, and assemble a vegetable tian for dinner. One thing at a time.

Love,

The Boo