Bittersweettoast

G'Day, Mates

2018-04-29T15:23:00.001-07:00

Years ago my husband and I went on a ski trip, visiting some of the less glamorous but fabulous ski areas that populate interior British Columbia. We booked accommodations by studying the brochures that were sent to us in the mail (remember those prehistoric days before the digital era?) and settled on rooms with kitchenettes. These towns were not exactly swarming with apres-ski options, so it seemed to make sense to bring our own soups and stews to reheat at the end of the day. Imagine our surprise when we arrived at the first motel to find no kitchen in sight, not even a miniature coffee maker. Nothing but a bed, a bathroom, and a Gideon's bible.

At this point most people would have gone into town to find the local greasy spoon diner, but my husband is not most people. Using his creative brain, he whipped up a makeshift hot plate by combining the clothes iron he packed to wax our skis, the trusty Gideon's bible, and a little duct tape. By wedging the iron upside down in the nightstand drawer with the help of the bible and tape, he created the tiniest of motel kitchenettes. Thankfully I had brought along a pot, which allowed me to simmer my homemade soup. In case you want to try this at home, simmering can successfully be accomplished on the linen setting.

I am reminded of this story because we are currently in the midst of a kitchen remodel, and so I am forced to get creative about food preparation. I've done enough camping and backpacking over the years that I don't find it too onerous to have the contents of my kitchen strewn about the house. At least I have a roof and running water. But I will say that my inspiration to cook has flown out the door and into the dumpster along with our old cabinets. These are first world problems, to be sure. Just look at the little cafe I have in my own laundry room. Who doesn't love the idea of making a pot of coffee AND washing a load of laundry at the same time? It's glorious. Really. We have a toaster oven, a microwave, a hot plate, and of course a ski waxing iron, but the head chef is seriously lacking initiative to do anything with those useful appliances.

So what's an uninspired chef to do? Seek out new options. I was reminded recently of our trip to NYC last summer and, in particular, a lunch we had at Bluestone Lane, a hip little cafe next to the Guggenheim. Despite a certain lack of laundry machines, it did have a menu complete with Australian toast, a culinary trend that I had heard about but never experienced. Not surprisingly, it was my always knowledgeable sister who was ready to introduce us. The basic recipe is just that: good, crunchy, rustic bread topped with mashed up avocado, feta cheese, cut up tomatoes, and a little salt and pepper. According to an article in BBC News, you can pay upwards of $22 to have this simple concoction at your favorite Sydney brunch spot, but you can also make it in a makeshift kitchen for about a buck fifty. Ok, I'm a sucker for ambiance. The Australian toast I had at Bluestone Lane was really delicious; the one I made at home was good, but being surrounded by plastic tarp and noticing a thin film of sawdust on every surface around me made it just a little less appealing. I also didn't have the best bread available, and this does make a difference.

But I am going to trust that most of you have a working kitchen and a dining space that will help your food taste better. This is a great option when you're feeling less than energetic to cook. Or just check out Bluestone Lane's menu -- I guarantee you'll find some inspiration there when you check out all the ingredients you can add to the basic Australian toast recipe. When I'm back to a fully functioning kitchen, I look forward to experimenting once again . Good on ya, as they say Down Under.

Sugar and Spice

2018-03-23T14:41:00.000-07:00

You know the story. A mom teaches her daughter how to roast a ham and cuts off one end before placing the meat in a pan. The daughter asks why it's necessary to cut off the end, and mom explains that this is how grandma always did it. An inquiry into grandma's method reveals that grandma always snipped the end 'cause her pan wasn't big enough! Not exactly a tradition worth passing along after all.

Sometimes patterns need re-assessing. Just a few blog posts ago, I described the zen-like state I acquire when creaming butter and sugar to create certain sweet masterpieces like chocolate chip cookies. I've been baking since high school and basically drool at the prospect of tasting the warm gooey mess of a freshly baked cookie.

Enter a very strange illness a few weeks back that had my doctor and two of her colleagues stumped. Two different rashes and nausea had me thinking for a moment that I might get to be the subject of the New York Time's Sunday magazine section called Diagnosis. For Grey's Anatomy wannabees, this is the opportunity each week to piece together a string of symptoms so that you can help cure what are often very debilitating illnesses. Only at the end of each article is the true diagnosis revealed and normalcy returned to the patient.

Honestly, my symptoms were way too wimpy to be written up, but in trying to figure out what was going on, my doctor ordered a blood draw to make sure I had neither MRSA nor shingles among other potential diagnoses. In the end, every test that was run came up empty. The nausea went away and the rashes are slowly fading. But the blood test did reveal one thing: my glucose levels are higher than they should be. I had received the same results a year ago after my annual check-up, and my doctor sent a note saying, "Everything looks great. Just make sure you get regular exercise and eat healthy foods." Check and check.

For the past six months I have truly double-checked the exercise box, so why are my levels still high? Perhaps I needed to really look at this sugar thing in my diet. According to the American Health Association, most females should consume no more than 20 to 25 grams of sugar a day. Men get a bonus 10 added to their total. Moments after reading that fact, I went to make a sandwich and learned that two slices of the bread in our pantry (the whole grain kind that LOOKS really healthy) would already use up 10 of those grams! Whoa, maybe I really do need to look at this sugar thing because those little "-ose" molecules (think sucrose, glucose, fructose) are EVERYWHERE. That innocent freshly-baked cookie I drooled over a few moments ago? 10 grams. And does any baker truly just eat one? No need to answer that one.

So right now I am on a self-imposed very low sugar binge. Notice I didn't say NO sugar. I am not that much of a glutton for punishment. For the first time ever, I baked a small batch of cookies (for my husband -- I hope he recognizes the extreme sacrifice) without eating a single one. I have never done that. And I have lived to tell the tale. I have to say that my metabolism is a lot more stable these days. My 11am/4pm hunger crash is just a mere dip, and I have shed a few pounds. More surprisingly, though, I really don't crave sugar as I used to. This was a rumor I thought could not possibly be true, but it is. Now I admit that after a particularly hard workout the other day, I had visions of blueberry muffins dancing around my head, but I resisted. How virtuous art I. In truth, it's just curiosity about my one-subject study that makes it much easier to resist. I have my annual physical in a few weeks, and I am so curious to see how my glucose levels are fairing in my taste buds' new environment.

As a result of this dietary shift, I can't exactly offer much in the way of new cocktails or baking feats. No, I must stick to a healthier path at the moment. But I can share a tasty egg muffin recipe that has not an ounce of "-ose". The recipe makes 12 eggy muffins but could easily be doubled for a crowd. The best part, honestly, is that the leftovers can easily sit in the refrigerator for up to a week. Microwaved for roughly a minute, they are a tasty breakfast or mid-morning snack. Enjoy!

Green Chili Egg Muffins
Makes one dozen

8 eggs
1 can (4 oz.) diced green chiles, drained
3/4 cup grated pepper jack cheese
1/2 t. thyme
1/2 t. salt
1/2 t. ground pepper
1 cup cooked sausage or bacon, broken into small bits ( meat is optional, of course, but spicy Italian sausage is a delicious addition)
1/2 diced green onion

Preheat oven to 375.
If your muffin tins are on the older side, spray or butter them lightly so the muffins don't stick.
In each muffin tin, add the green chiles (about 1 t in each) and then sprinkle the cheese and green onion evenly among the muffin cups.
In a large bowl (preferably one you can easily pour from) combine the eggs, thyme, salt, pepper, and cooked sausage or bacon. Mix well and then pour this mixture into the muffin cups, filling them about 3/4 full.
Bake for 25 minutes (until lightly browned on top) and then allow them to cool for 5 minutes or so before serving.

As I mentioned, you can save the extra in the refrigerator for up to a week for a tasty treat sans sucre.

Getting To the Root of the Matter

2018-02-20T11:30:00.001-08:00

Curcuma longa is the botanical name for a plant whose rhizome harnesses incredible healing power. We know it as turmeric, the bright orange spice that is produced from the plant's root, and it has been used for over 4,500 years as an important part of Ayurveda, one of the world's oldest forms of medicine. Like snow to the native people of Alaska, turmeric has over a hundred different terms in the Ayurvedic world. Jayanti, one victorious over diseases, relates to the lengthy list of health maladies this powerful spice has been used to fight: inflammation, cholesterol, heart disease, rheumatoid arthritis, digestion, gallstones, cuts and burns, colds and sore throats, and (my favorite) leech bites.

Matrimanika, beautiful as moonlight, is another name for the versatile spice and refers to its historical use in Indian wedding ceremonies where the bride and groom rub a paste with turmeric all over their bodies, providing them each with a special glow and promise of matrimonial prosperity.

Curcumin, the magical substance within turmeric that supplies its vibrant color and gives it significant anti-inflammatory properties, is a detox giant that has been know to balance blood sugar and lower the overall risk of cancer. However you look at it, turmeric is a beast. Which is probably why when I recently had my first cup of Golden Milk, also known as Turmeric Tea, I instantly felt ready to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Well, maybe not tall buildings, but there seems to be enough evidence to suggest that this special elixir is not only tasty but healthy as well. Enjoy it at any time of day, but I am particularly fond of a cup after dinner to help my mind and body unwind. Turmeric, not surprisingly, has also been know to aid with sleep.

To get the most out of this powerful phytonutrient, it's important to combine it with two things: fat and black pepper. A dollop of coconut oil and a pinch of black pepper will help your body absorb the mighty spice so that it can provide you with all its healing powers. There are many different recipes out there for Turmeric Tea that use a base of water or broth, but I prefer coconut milk because the flavors just seem to blend really well. You can easily double or triple this recipe and save the extra in the refrigerator for another day.

Golden Milk
2 cups unsweetened coconut milk (I use Silk, but you can experiment with others or use a different type of milk, such as almond or hemp)
1 t turmeric
1/2 t cinnamon
1/4 t ginger
pinch of nutmeg, cloves, and black pepper
1 t honey
1 t coconut oil

Blend everything except the coconut oil in a blender until smooth. Transfer to a small saucepan and heat over medium heat until hot but not boiling. Add the coconut oil at the end and stir. Serve immediately. If you're making a large batch, go through the blending step and then store it in the fridge until you are ready to indulge.

Beware: turmeric stains easily, so be careful with your counter tops and clothes.

Reinventing The Wheel

2018-01-30T15:11:00.000-08:00

When I led bike tours, one aspect of this multi-faceted job was to give route descriptions each
morning before setting out on the day's ride. Generally speaking this was pretty straight forward because even if it was a new trip we had never been on before, the company always supplied leaders with plenty of information about each route. But one particular trip presented very unusual circumstances --Yellowstone National Park during the summer of the big fires. Our first trip there had gone without a hitch as the fires circled the periphery of the park's most popular destinations. But by the time we started our second trip, roads were closing everywhere throughout the park, forcing us to adjust our routes to roads we had never seen.

Co-leaders always took turns doing the daily route talk, and on our first day through this uncharted territory, I listened while one of the other leaders gave the day's talk. Instead of saying to all our guests that we had absolutely no idea what the terrain would actually be, he noticed that the day started and ended at about the same elevation and so thought it would be safe to describe the ride as being one of "gently rolling hills". My role that day was sag wagon driver, so after everyone was off and happily pedaling down the road, I set off in the van to prep food at our designated lunch spot. Ten miles into the route I came upon the first of many very large and steep climbs. With each subsequent hill, I knew I would be greeted at lunch with very exhausted and unhappy guests. There was nothing gentle about these hills.

Honesty. Such a simple virtue but one we sometimes choose to ignore, especially when we don't want to make ourselves look like unknowing fools. My co-leader paid a heavy price that day because he thought it was more important to come across as the expert. Speaking honestly, he thought, would illustrate weakness in his role as tour leader, even despite the very unusual conditions we were working under.

I've thought about that day many times over the years. I have laughed about the incident in re-telling the story, but we have all been in my co-leader's shoes, wanting to look as though we have everything all put together when in reality we may be far from the zen state of complete competence. I struggle when people ask what I'm doing these days because I don't have knowledge of the route I'm on and would rather just say I'm on some gently rolling hills when, in fact, the route doesn't always feel very gentle. Work often defines a large part of who we are, so I feel as though I'm in this cheating zone. I'm not working and I'm not retired. What am I? I wasn't laid off; I chose this course, so surely I have plotted a new course. Well, not exactly, to be honest.

I can look back at previous decades in my life and ponder: what if I'd kept working full-time as a tour leader, what if I had taken that publishing job that came with a horrible commute when my kids were young, what if, what if? But I have a lot to be thankful for, so I don't think it makes much sense to beat myself over the head for answers I don't have or goals that haven't yet come to fruition. We're all a work in progress, and we all screw up from time to time. The educator in me knows that's just the way the learning curve goes when reinvention is the goal.

This blog started with an emphasis on alcohol, but honestly, I don't really drink enough to keep this the sole focus. Going forward, I think you'll see me leaning more towards food recipes because, well, we all gotta eat. And one thing I have realized in the last six months is how much I miss striving for a fit and healthy me. In second grade we were asked to predict what we would be doing in the year 2000, a number that sounded light years away.

There I am two-thirds of the way down, wanting to be an artist and an athlete. That was really quite prophetic. I've never been terribly skilled at drawing, but I do think creativity comes out in other ways. And sports have always been an important part of me. Ironically, here is own my teacher's prediction for me:

Who knew Mrs. Netherby moonlighted as Madame Netherby. My friend Lisa (#14) really IS a very funny woman. I'm not sure I always gave out friendly smiles as a teacher, but I tried.

If you have stayed this far with me, let me end with a really great recipe for those of you resolving to eat more healthfully. Even if you have strayed a wee bit, this is guaranteed to make you feel as though you're back on track. It comes from, you guessed it, Melissa Clark. There are many ways to vary the ingredients, but here's my take.

Lentil Salad With Roasted Vegetables
Serves 4 to 5
1 small squash (butternut, acorn, or delicata), peeled if desired, halved, seeded, and diced into 1/2" pieces
1 medium carrot, diced into 1/2-inch pieces
1 medium celery root (celeriac)*, peeled and diced into 1/2-inch pieces
3 beets, peeled and diced into 1/2-inch pieces
1 tablespoon olive oil
sprig of thyme and rosemary (or about 1 teas. dried)
4 slices bacon, cut into 1-inch pieces (this is optional if you want to go meatless)
1 cup french lentils**
2 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed
1 bay leaf
1 teas. kosher salt
1/2 teas. pepper
5 ounces spinach

Vinaigrette:
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
2 teas. Dijon mustard
1/2 teas. salt
1/2 cup olive oil
zest of half an orange

1 tangerine or cara cara orange (for squeezing over finished salad)

1) Heat oven to 400 degrees. Put vegetables in one layer on a baking pan and drizzle with olive oil and salt. Place (or sprinkle) herbs on top, cover pan with foil and roast for 25 minutes. Remove the foil, scatter the bacon around the vegetables, and bake for 30 to 40 minutes longer, until the bacon is cooked and the vegetables are tender.

2) In a pot, combine the lentils, 3 cups of water, garlic, bay leaf, salt and pepper. Bring to a boil then reduce the heat to low and simmer for 20 to 25 minutes, until lentils are tender.

3) In a small bowl, whisk together the vinaigrette ingredients and let sit so the flavors can mix.

4) Drain the lentils and discard the bay leaf and garlic. Toss the warm lentils with some of the vinaigrette. I'm going to be vague here with the amount because tastes vary, but about 2 tablespoons should coat the lentils without leaving them dripping with vinaigrette. If you add too much, just use less when you put the whole salad together.

5) Toss the spinach with enough of the remaining vinaigrette to lightly coat and place on plates. Combine the lentils and vegetables, adding more vinaigrette to your own liking, then spoon on top of the spinach. Squeeze the tangerine or orange juice over the salad.

A few notes:
*Celeriac, as you can see in the picture, is celery root. I'm not a big celery eater and have questioned its worth in soups, but I'm beginning to think the celery family is a kind of the zen master of the vegetable world. They have a quiet presence, but their subtle taste adds a lot to the recipe as a whole.

**French lentils are those little green ones, and they are my go-to lentil because they cook faster and don't get that mealy texture that other lentils are prone to after simmering in the a pot for a while.

***One more, then I'll let you go. Just a plug for the fig balsamic vinegar and clementine olive oil from Olive Press. If you can't find them in a store, they are available on the web. Great for this salad, but just great in general. Ok, all done. Really.

State of Mind, State of Body

2018-01-10T13:03:00.000-08:00

Many years ago I competed in triathlons, and one race always sticks out in my mind. Actually, it's one moment from one race. I was on the bike leg, which for me was always my strongest. As I was riding along and happily gaining ground on all the folks who were stronger swimmers, another woman came up alongside and said, "Hey, nice bike." We chatted for half a minute about the finer points of Cannondale bikes, and then she sped off. When I looked down at her calf muscle and saw the permanent pen markings that indicated her age, I read five zero, fifteen years my senior! Humbled? Yes. Impressed? Very much so.

I have long been drawn to older, fit folks. If you've been a longtime reader of my blog, you might remember when I wrote about George Garside and the Auckland Cycle Touring Association. This was a group of incredibly fit 60, 70, and 80 year old men I was privileged to ride with once, and the experience definitely left its mark. These men took their fitness seriously, and their youthful faces illustrated the benefits.

This past fall I came back to the sport of rowing. I learned it in college, pursued it for one short season right before getting pregnant with our daughter, and then struggled to find a way to raise kids, work, and fit in time on the water. Rowing requires a lot of time, something that the empty nest and unemployment has afforded me. By luck, I stumbled into a group of mostly women who have been rowing together for years. These are some incredibly fit women. When I first met them, I had no idea just how wide the age range was, but as I started to get to know them and began hearing some talk of their grand kids -- well, the math indicated that once again I was being schooled by women who had a good fifteen years on me. And once again, I was both humbled and impressed. These women have an inspiring youthfulness that is both external and internal. And while I think of myself as always doing the looking up, perhaps, just maybe, one day someone will do the looking up to me. That would be nice.

It's January, and this always seems to bring an uptick in people's desire to eat and drink healthfully, so I will bypass sweet baked goods and alcoholic beverages and pass along a granola recipe I recently came to love. Let me just say that oats and I have not always gotten along. When I was a kid at camp in Vermont, I always detested the mornings when I came down to the dining hall to discover hot oatmeal in our breakfast bowls. Oatmeal cookies? A waste of time and good sugar. In its crunchier form, granola was a little more appealing, but just a little. Then I started backpacking with my husband, and one morning I was just hungry enough to start to see an ounce of good in my cup of instant oatmeal. The progression was slow, but eventually mornings came when I actually reached for oatmeal at home. And I learned that when you add chocolate chips to oatmeal cookies, they can be quite delicious. Liking granola extended from the discovery that I love muesli, and for years I was quite content to make a recipe from a well-worn Jane Brody cookbook. Then came the New York Times Cooking website.

Some days I just open it up to look at the pictures and gain inspiration. It was on such an occasion that I learned about a restaurant in Manhattan called Eleven Madison Park where diners receive a little container of homemade granola after their dinner for the next morning's breakfast. Ingenious! The recipe, adapted from the restaurant's, was a dismal failure. But the bones of the recipe seemed sound, so I did some tweaking and came up with one that I find delicious -- with milk, on yogurt, or however one chooses to eat granola. Happy New Year. Enjoy!

Granola (adapted from The New York Times who adapted from Eleven Madison Park)
3 cups old fashioned oats
1 cup unsweetened flaked coconut (I use Bob's Red Mill)
1 cup slivered almonds
1/3 cup pistachios (lightly salted are fine)
1/3 cup unsalted pumpkin seeds
1/4 cup each: olive oil, brown sugar, and maple syrup
1 cup dried sour cherries

Preheat oven to 300.
In a mixing bowl combine the oats, coconut, almonds, pistachios, and pumpkin seeds. Do NOT add the cherries yet!
On the stove, heat up the olive oil, brown sugar, and maple sugar in a small pan until the brown sugar dissolves. This doesn't take long. Slowly pour this mixture over the oats mixture and mix well.
Spread the oats on a sheet pan and bake for about 25 minutes. I typically leave it untouched for the first half, and then check regularly during the second half so that it doesn't get too browned. I also mix up the granola every 5 minutes or so during the second half.
Once cooked, put the granola in a bowl and add the cherries. Mix well. The heat of the granola will soften the cherries just a bit but won't turn them into filling pullers for your teeth!

'Tis the gift to be simple

2017-12-17T13:47:00.000-08:00

I am not sure what it is about the Sunday New York Times. Perhaps it's just the leisurely tone that tends to describe the last day of the week. Perhaps it's because the Sunday edition gives my mind and eyes a rest from the often depressing daily news. Whatever the reason, Sunday's paper often gives me inspiration. Anne Patchett is my muse today. She has long been a favorite author, so when I saw her name below an editorial titled, "My Year of No Shopping", I delved in. This topic has been on my mind a lot this holiday season because of my kids. When I asked them a month ago about Christmas ideas, their lists were scant. I didn't think much about it until decorating our tree last weekend and realized how little would go under its limbs this year. I'm okay with this. I am happy that many younger generations seem genuinely interested in our planet's health and welfare and our need to stop over-indulging. Anne Patchett's essay is a reminder that us older dogs can also embrace what we already own in lieu of the latest and greatest.

Resolutions. They come in many forms and help direct us in many different ways, sometimes in reference to our spending habits but often in relation to our health. So while you consider how best to better yourself come January 1st, let me help you indulge while the indulging's still good. My friend Nancy has a way with clever gifts, and a few years ago we received a little biscotti baking kit, complete with several recipes. I made some of them, but then the kit ended up in the back of a cupboard only to be replaced with store-bought replicas. She recently served us the one recipe I had never tried, and I found myself in hazelnut orange biscotti heaven. It was time to get re-acquainted with the kit. My first batch, while delicious, was not pretty. Now, several batches later, we are swimming in biscotti, and I can confidently share the recipe. Go and splurge. You still have several weeks to pamper your taste buds.

Hazelnut Orange Biscotti
(Makes about 2 dozen)
4 cups unbleached flour
1 T baking powder
1/2 t salt
1 cup unsalted butter
zest of 1 1/2 oranges
2 eggs
2 T brandy
1 T Grand Marnier
1 1/2 cups toasted hazelnuts, chopped
About 8 oz. good quality bittersweet chocolate for icing (great time to splurge on Scharffen Berger chocolate)
About 5 oz. white chocolate for drizzling

Preheat oven to 350.
Put the hazelnuts on a rimmed baking sheet and roast for 8 to 10 minutes. Transfer them to a kitchen towel and roll the nuts around inside the towel to remove the thin brown skins. You'll notice from the picture that it's difficult to get all of it off -- that's okay. Do the best you can and then carefully shake the skins into the sink and chop up the nuts. Set aside.

Sift together flour, baking powder, and salt. Set aside. Cream the butter, sugar, and orange zest. Add the eggs and beat well. Add the brandy and Grand Marnier and blend well. Stir in the dry ingredients until combined and then add the nuts.

Transfer batter to a lightly floured surface and gather together in a ball. Divide into 4 smaller balls. Roll each one into a rectangular log that is approximately 10 inches long, 3 inches wide and 3/4 inch high. When these bake, they tend to spread out, not up, so you need to think about how long you want each individual piece to be. Transfer to two cookie sheets lined with parchment paper or silicone mats. Bake until firm to touch, about 25 minutes. Cool completely.

Change the oven temperature to 275. Using a serrated knife, cut the logs on the diagonal into 1/2 inch thick slices. Place cut-side down on a pizza screen and bake about 20 minutes, until brown. If you haven't received a pizza screen as part of a clever biscotti-making package, I think a cooling rack would also work.

Transfer the biscotti to wire racks to cool. Melt dark chocolate in a double boiler and then dip each piece in the chocolate and let dry. Melt the white chocolate in the same manner and drizzle over the dark chocolate. I used a fork to do the drizzling, although my method is by no means perfect. If you have a better method, by all means use it and then share your secret! Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to two weeks. If they last that long. Come January you might have more luck keeping them around.

Teaching Old Dogs New Tricks

2017-12-03T13:33:00.000-08:00

During my second year of teaching I had a parent who prefaced every conversation by saying, "Well, you know, I AM a psychologist..." Code speak for, "You are a young, lowly teacher who knows nothing, so let me enlighten you." I WAS young and new at the profession, not wise to the realities of parenting, but I wasn't stupid. Midway through October, I did what most every teacher I know does when group dynamics call for a disruption -- I changed the seating order in my classroom. Now, had I been a psychologist, I would have known that this was a dangerous thing to do to kids. My psychologist parent helped me see the light. "I AM a psychologist," the conversation once again began, "and humans are creatures of habit. In a large lecture hall, students will naturally gravitate to the same seat, day after day. Your students are being harmed by this new seating arrangement." Now back in the day I had to go up to the school office to take phone calls because we were still in the world of ditto machines and film strips. Modern technology was slow to reach American classrooms. This was probably a good thing because while I wanted to scream bloody murder at this woman, I calmly explained my own point of view and the realities of maintaining order among twenty-five students. I knew my words were falling on deaf ears. For the remainder of that school year, I regularly moved every student's desk but one. This solution seemed rather silly, but it appeased the psychologist and helped maintain order in my classroom.

I've thought many times about this creature of habit idea. Humans may in fact be drawn to following a set pattern, but that doesn't mean it's a good thing to do so. This morning I read an interesting essay by Harvard economist Sendhil Mullainathan titled, "Why Trying New Things Is So Hard to Do." One paragraph, in particular, really caught my eye: "Habits are powerful. We persist with many of them because we tend to give undue emphasis to the present. Trying something new can be painful: I might not like what I get and must forgo something I already enjoy. That cost is immediate, while any benefits -- even if they are large -- will be enjoyed in a future that feels abstract and distant." Why couldn't I have come up with those brilliant thoughts twenty-five years ago while on the phone with my psychologist friend?

I see and feel the ease of creature-like habits all the time. When I go on a bike ride, I often choose the same tried and true routes. When I choose a new book to read, I often veer towards the same genres. When I cook and bake, my favorite recipes never let me down. They're easy and dependable. And sometimes a little boring. This is why I wholeheartedly disagree with the psychologist. Humans may in fact be creatures of habit, but I think that comes at a cost. As the wise professor said, sometimes it helps to be more forward thinking. Will it really help me down the road to keep doing the same thing I've always done? It's been a year since I decided to stop teaching and almost six months since my last day in the classroom. This is definitely a new course and has come with some discomfort. I don't know what the future holds, and that uncertainty is messy. But as the wisest one of all once said, "Do. Or do not. There is no try." Yoda always trumps the psychologist.

I recently had a new baking success that was particularly thrilling. You see, I love all things coconut, and I have searched high and low for the perfect coconut cake recipe. Let me tell you, these things come in many shapes and sizes, with every form of coconut imaginable. I've had a lot of coconut cake failures in my life. Until now. As I searched for a cake to bake for my husband's birthday, hoping to veer away from the same ol', same ol', I stumbled upon a Melissa Clark coconut cake recipe. I am definitely a creature of habit when it comes to trying her recipes because she rarely lets me down. Could it be that I had finally found my coconut cake masterpiece? As my mom would say, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

I had my sous baker, aka my sister, to help in the creation of this masterpiece, and it's always helpful to have someone you trust when venturing into unknown territory. The recipe calls for three 8" cake pans, and I only own two. What's a baker to do? We chose to stick with the two and put the remaining batter in a little 5" cake pan that I acquired when I attempted my Miette cake disaster. See this post for a reminder of that sad day. The hidden beauty in this decision was that it left us with our own little Easy Bake Oven sample cake which we were able to taste in advance to make sure the cake was edible. I'm not going to type out the entire recipe here but send you instead to Melissa's actual recipe at New York Times Cooking. If you've never been to this site, you're in for a treat. Melissa's cake does not disappoint. The rum and the orange juice create fabulous flavors, and we all decided this was the first cake we had ever eaten that is just as tasty without ice cream. Coming from my husband, whose main concern when eating cake is the cake-to-ice cream-ratio, this was a big deal. I may not be a psychologist, but I do know a good cake when I eat it. Enjoy!

PS. I was just testing out my links to this post, and it appears as though the New York Times is requiring folks to have a subscription in order to view recipes at New York Times Cooking. As I said, this is a great site, but for those who don't want to subscribe, here's my rendition of the recipe:

Cake Ingredients:
2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teas. salt
2 teas. baking powder
3/4 cup sugar
3 eggs separated, plus 3 whites
1 1/2 cups sweetened cream of coconut, such as Coco Lopez (which I found in the grocery aisle with cocktail mixers)
1 1/4 cup unsweetened coconut milk (often in the international section of grocery stores)
2 T dark rum
7 T freshly squeezed orange juice
3 cups unsweetened shredded coconut (I used Bob's Red Mill)

Frosting Ingredients:
2 sticks unsalted butter, softened
2 cups cream cheese, at room temp
2 teas. vanilla extract
6 cups confectioners' sugar (crazy amount, I know, but it helps to put thick layers of icing on the cake -- trust me on this)
2 cups unsweetened shredded coconut, toasted

Preheat oven to 350 degrees
1) Grease 3 8-inch cake pans, dust with flour.
2) Mix together flour, salt, and baking powder in a bowl and set aside. In a large mixing bowl, cream butter and sugar and beat until fluffy, about 2 to 3 minutes. Add 3 egg yolks, one at a time, beating after each one. Lower speed and gradually add flour mixture. The batter will be thick and pasty.
3)In a separate bowl whisk together cream of coconut, coconut milk, rum and orange juice. Alternately add shredded coconut and the orange juice mixture to the batter.
4) In another clean bowl, whip 6 egg whites until soft peaks form. Gently fold into batter. Divide batter evenly among the pans. Bake for 45 to 60 minutes (mine were done closer to 45). Cool in pans on wire rack and unmold once they are cool.

Frosting:
1)Cream the butter and cream cheese, add the vanilla. Gradually add confectioners' sugar. Sifting the sugar in advance is a good idea and cuts down on clumping. Mix until fluffy.
2) Spread a healthy 1/4-inch layer of frosting on each layer, sprinkling each one with toasted coconut. Frost the sides.

Kneading Authenticity

2017-10-29T13:02:00.000-07:00

Those who know me well know of my love for The Great British Baking Show. Unlike every American baking or cooking show, this is a kinder and gentler approach to competition where the contestants, vying for a lovely glass plate in lieu of a million dollars, actually help one another and are genuinely empathetic about fellow bakers' mishaps. The show's hosts don't cream puff their comments, but they're never mean or condescending. When octogenarian Mary Berry gives them advice, they listen wholeheartedly. And each season's group of bakers always has a refreshing diversity of ages. These are real people who spend several long and exhausting weekends under a white tent on the grounds of a beautiful English estate. Not because they seek fame and fortune, but because they simply love to bake in their own modest home kitchens. Period.

I thought about The Great British Baking Show this morning as I read the Sunday edition of The New York Times. Bear with me; there is a connection. If truth be told, one of my favorite sections is the Styles section, particularly the Modern Love column and the Vows section. I typically save this section for last, after I make my way through the more "serious" parts of the paper. Then I pour another cup of coffee and delve into other people's love lives. The first time I read Modern Love and pondered the stick figure drawing that accompanied someone's tale of relationship woes, I was struck by how honest the writer was about her struggles. She was laying it all out for the world to read, share, and learn. There wasn't an ounce of sugar coating. From Modern Love I jump to all the marriage announcements. Now, not just anyone is going to get their announcement placed in The New York Times. These folks are well-educated, highly employed, and come from impressive lineages. By all appearances they are setting out on wedded bliss. The game for me is wondering how many of them will eventually be penning a column of Modern Love and sharing a tale of woe somewhere down the road. I don't mean to be Debbie Downer, but marriage IS hard. Relationships are real, and partners don't always smile at one another.

Today after deciding which couples would have a long, happy marriage together, I turned the page to find a new column: It's No Secret. This column seeks to interview couples who have somehow managed longevity and happiness together, and the inaugural column was about a couple celebrating their 40th anniversary. Having both graduated from The Wharton School of Business, they may very easily have been in The Vows section forty years ago, and who knows if their picture and write-up would have suggested a long, happy marriage. But after reading their thoughts on relationships, I realized that these folks seemed like pretty ordinary people. The husband talked about coming home from work one night early in their marriage and, looking into the kitchen window, he saw his wife cooking and their daughter banging on a pot on the floor. He loved this picture of home and all its ordinary-ness. Even the picture that went with the column depicted an understated contentedness on the part of both husband and wife. The picture was not of a love-struck pair but of a couple who have come to realize over the years that they just really enjoy one another.

Life is made up of a lot of little ordinary events, which (thank you for waiting for me to come back 'round) is why I love The Great British Baking Show. These are regular people who look like you and me, and they just happen to be really talented bakers. They appreciate the little things, and I imagine they would be really lovely people to have a cup of tea with. I wish we highlighted folks like this more often. It's hard to come by in American media, especially in the Land of Social Media where we feel compelled to present a perfect world instead of a real world. I honestly worry about this phenomenon, which is probably why I let out a little sigh of relief each time I watch The Great British Baking Show or open up the Styles section. I guess authentic voices just do that to me.

Given that I'm talking about engagements and long lasting love, you might expect a celebratory drink to match this post's theme. Instead, I share with you a baking triumph I recently had that was entirely inspired by my televised baking friends across the pond. I'm always impressed by their bread baking powers, especially when it comes to intricately weaving and braiding strands of dough, so I decided to attempt my own bit of baking glory. Much to my surprise and astonishment, it worked! The recipe comes from King Arthur Flour, and even if you are new to the mysteries of yeast and proofing, give this recipe a try. It's really very doable, and your friends and family will be ready to sign you up for a baking competition.

Pane Bianco
(from King Arthur Flour)
Dough:
3 cups King Arthur Bread Flour
2 teaspoons instant yeast
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
1 large egg
1/2 cup lukewarm milk
1/3 cup lukewarm water
2 T olive oil
Filling:
3/4 cup shredded Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup oil-packed sun-dried tomatoes
4 large cloves garlic, minced
1/3 cup fresh basil

1.To make the dough, start by combining all the dough ingredients in a bowl. You can do the kneading by hand, but if you have a mixer with a dough handle, this is the way to go. Mix the ingredients until you have a very soft dough, and if you're using a mixer, it should stick a bit to the bottom of the bowl. Keep the mixer on low while it is doing the kneading for you.
2. Place the dough in a lightly greased bowl and cover tightly with plastic wrap. Let it rise for about 45 to 60 minutes, or until it's doubled in size (that's important). In the winter, I usually turn my oven to warm for a few minutes, then turn it off and add a bowl of boiling water before adding my dough. This helps create a warm, humid atmosphere that makes the yeast very happy.
3. While the dough rises, drain the tomatoes and pat them dry. Cut them into small pieces.
4. Once the dough has doubled in size, gently punch it down, flatten it and coerce it into becoming a 22" by 81/2" rectangle. Spread the tomatoes, cheese, garlic, and basil over the dough.
5. Starting with one of the long edges, roll the dough up into a log. Pinch the edges to seal and place the dough seam side down on a lightly-greased or parchment-lined baking sheet.
6. Using kitchen shears or a sharp knife, start 1/2" from one end of the roll and cut the log lengthwise down the center about 1" deep. Cut to within 1/2" from the other end.
7. Keeping this cut side up, form an "S" shape, tucking the ends under the center of the figure 8 you've just created. Pinch those two ends together.
8. Cover with plastic wrap and let rise until it doubles again in size, 45 to 60 minutes.
9. If you are letting the dough rise again in the oven, take it out and then preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Uncover the bread and bake for 35 to 40 minutes. Tent it with foil midway through to prevent the top from browning too much.
10. Once cooked, let it cool on a rack and resist the temptation to immediately cut into it. The wait will be worth it!

Historically Speaking

2017-10-05T15:07:00.000-07:00

My husband and I recently went to Chicago to visit our daughter who has been living and working there now for over a year. I had never stepped foot in the Windy City and was excited to get to know this place our daughter calls home. Spending time with her was a huge bonus. We live in a suburb of Seattle where our greatest fear tends to come in the form of four-legged creatures that roam through our backyard looking for a den or their next meal in an ever-diminishing habitat. We don't own any small pets, so their presence doesn't tend to affect us much. Life is pretty quiet and safe in our neck of the woods. So when our daughter landed this job in Chicago, I wondered how her transition would go. She has always loved the outdoors; would city life suit her? Our eighteen years of suburban parenting didn't exactly prepare her well for an urban adventure.

Thrive she has. More comfortable than me in a big city she is. I had nothing to do with this, and yet it made me proud to see my offspring enjoying all the vibrancy that Chicago offers and finding her way as an adult all by herself. As a parent you spend many years as the teacher, so the realization that these tables are turning was certainly not lost on me. My one moment of concern came when she returned back to her apartment after joining us for dinner. "Am I worrying too much?" I asked my husband. "Yes. She does this all the time." True. But now I had a view in my head of the subway line and the bus route she would follow. In the dark. By herself. The Mama Bear in me was just doing what Mama Bears do, looking out for the welfare of her cubs. Those fears for my kids subside when I'm thousands of miles away and unaware of their comings and goings, but when they are near me and I know their itinerary, something instinctual kicks in. I just can't help it.

Since my role as parent and teacher is currently diminishing, let me make a slight detour here to teach you about a piece of Chicago history that is surprisingly unknown to most. What did I know about Chicago before this weekend? It sits on Lake Michigan, had a big fire once, has had some issues with political corruption, was once home to a guy named Capone, and they love their baseball team. Not exactly a wealth of information. Then I spent time with a docent from the Chicago History Museum.We all know about Al Capone -- even many elementary students know about the famed Chicago gangster thanks to the successful children's book "Al Capone Does My Shirts". But the name of the SS Eastland is not one that rings many bells. The Eastland was a steamship built in Michigan at the turn of the 20th century. Flawed from the beginning, it was a ship with issues of listing. The dang ship couldn't float upright. Despite its top-heavy design and several complaints about this after initial sailings, the Eastland somehow avoided dry dock and was chartered by the Western Electric Company to take its workers on a trip across Lake Michigan for a picnic. This was a big deal for these workers who rarely received time off from their jobs. Dressed in their Sunday best, 2,572 passengers boarded the boat on July 24, 1915 and within fifteen minutes the boat rolled sharply to the port side while still tied to the dock that was just 20 feet away. The boat instantly capsized, trapping many of the women and children who had gone below decks to warm up from the cool damp morning air. 848 people died.

Even more shocking than the sad tale itself is that no one was ever punished for operating a boat with known design flaws. With the help of Clarence Darrow and a favorable Michigan judge, the six indicted men from the steamship company were found not guilty of any crimes and could not be extradited to Illinois to stand trial where the incident occurred. Al Capone is someone we all know, but the SS Eastland left a far more damaging legacy.

So on that cheery note, let us drown our sorrows in a drink called The Chicago Cocktail. Until recently Chicago's drinking history revolved around two staples, beer and whiskey. Ironically, the Chicago Cocktail has neither. The history of this drink is sketchy at best but was thought to have been created in the early 20th century. Recipes vary, but here is one I found quite tasty. Should the Cubs make it into the World Series again this year, you can toast 'em with a Chicago Cocktail.

Chicago Cocktail
2 oz. brandy
Dash of Cointreau
Dash of bitters
Prosecco
Rim a chilled champagne flute with lemon and then dip into extra fine sugar. Stir the brandy, Cointreau, and bitters in a mixing glass with ice, then strain into the flute. Top with Prosecco and garnish with a lemon peel.

Upsetting The Nest

2017-09-16T19:56:00.000-07:00

There is no large handbook that comes with the arrival of a child. That's fortunate because there truly are so many different ways to raise a child and live a life and unfortunate because there truly are so many different ways to raise a child and live a life. Sometimes it's overwhelming and you just want someone to swoop down and guide you. Children, however, grow slowly and if we watch and listen carefully, they often give us guidance. When my kids left the infant stage, they didn't suddenly wake up as terrible two-year-olds. When they rounded the corner into their teenage years, we didn't suddenly announce, "Oh, today you are a pubescent teenager who no longer listens and admires our every word." The pimples slowly started to appear, the body slowly developed, the attitude stealthily crept in. As our kids changed, we adapted.

That all sounds blissful, right? Well, it wasn't. Parenting is a messy profession that has provided me with some of my greatest lows as well as my greatest highs. By far the most abrupt change came a year ago when we sent our youngest off to college. One day he was eating dinner with us, the next he wasn't. For twenty-two years we had had at least one other mouth to feed most every night and now it was back to just two.

As sudden as I have made this change out to be, there really were transitions leading up to the empty nest. By the time they are seniors in high school, most kids are naturally pulling away and spending a large amount of time out of the house. As with all the previous developmental stages, this one did have a progression. But despite the slow evolution both our children took on their way to college and beyond, when my youngest left home, I did suddenly wake up and think, "Damn, I'm going to miss that towering young man who used up the last of the peanut butter right before he left and was way too happy when we said our goodbyes." Retiring from the day-to-day parenting life was not easy.

But I would be lying if I said I was suddenly miserable all the time. It took a while to settle in, but I suddenly began realizing how much free time I had and how many activities and hobbies I let slide when I became a parent. And my husband and I began to remember how we used to spend weekends before diapers, play dates, swim meets, tournaments, recitals, homework projects (that really WAS an amazing iguana our "daughter" made), etcetera, etcetera. It was nice to come home from work and know that the evening was mine, to be spent however I wished. I could be selfish again.

I've reflected over the year about stages that I have particularly enjoyed or found challenging. This current stage falls into both. I enjoy my newfound selfishness, but there is a part of me that just feels more whole when my kids are home. Unfortunately, an arrival always comes with a departure, and those stink. They remind me of the emptiness of the nest, but they also highlight the passage of time and how much I have learned and gained through this parenting gig. I can't think of anything that defines bitter and sweet more.

Baking has always been cathartic for me, going as far back as high school. There's something about creaming sugar and butter that allows me to escape whatever needs escaping from. As I settle into the chemistry of baking soda and ingredient ratios, or watch the magic that is inherent in yeast, my heart rate inevitably settles. I have to pace myself, however, with my baking endeavors so that my husband and I don't balloon out of all our clothes. A batch of cookies last a whole lot longer when there are only two enjoying them. I recently read an article about the evolution of the brownie.

Recipes of old tended to be full of flour and more cake-like, whereas the more current renditions typically pare down the flour to create a more chewy center. I've tried a lot of different recipes, but I always come back to this one that I found probably fifteen years ago on the side of a bag of King Arthur Flour. It sits somewhere in between the brownies of old and new, but it packs a powerful chocolate punch. And what can't help cure a case of empty nest syndrome more than chocolate. Bon Appetit!

The Best Fudge Brownie (King Arthur's title, and I wholeheartedly agree)

1 cup unsalted butter
2 1/4 cup sugar
1 1/4 Dutch-process cocoa (here I digress and use the amazing Scharffen Berger unsweetened natural cocoa powder)
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
4 large eggs
1 1/2 cup flour
2 cups chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350. Lightly grease a 9 x 13 plan (I use glass).

In a medium-sized saucepan melt the butter over low heat, then add the sugar and stir to combine. Heat this mixture a bit; you will notice it getting shiny. This apparently creates the shiny top crust on the finished product. Transfer this mixture to a mixing bowl.

Add the cocoa, salt, baking powder, and vanilla. Add the eggs and beat until smooth, then add the flour and chips. Spoon batter into the pan and bake for 28 to 30 minutes. Allow to cool for 5 minutes and then loosen the edges with a table knife to help prevent the brownies from sinking in the middle. I have actually never done this and realize I need to read my recipes more clearly from start to finish! Enjoy.

Two Roads Diverge

2017-09-06T12:21:00.000-07:00

Generally speaking, when I start a project I'm likely to see it through to its end. I'm naturally suspicious of people with grandiose plans and have sometimes scoffed at those individuals for spouting out ideas that seem questionable at best and nearly impossible to actually complete. It's taken me a long time to recognize that it's really just a matter of style and personality. I'm the winter stew, simmering forever before presenting itself with its finished flavors. I mull ideas in my head for a long time before sharing them with others. When I say I am going to do something, I want to be able to follow through. For better or for worse, that's just who I am.

I started this blog almost five years ago (pause. sigh. time does indeed fly). When I began I had every intention of getting through all 50 drinks because, well, that's just who I am. But then I started teaching full time, and the busy-ness of life, work, and parenthood stepped in to thwart this well-simmered plan. As one who feels a compelling need to finish what she starts, this did not sit well with me. Ideas of new blog entries would pop into my head, but the energy to follow through always fell by the wayside. Perhaps, I rationed, this was destined become a much longer project than initially intended.

But here we are two thirds of the way through 2017 and a few things have changed in my life. A year ago my husband and I became empty nesters, a life event that I could probably attach at least ten drinks to in the course of this blog. Then last winter I decided that I would stop teaching at the end of the school year, another large life-altering change to which I am sure I could attach at least another twenty drinks.

So instead of greeting a new class of students this week, I am sitting back down to my long lost blog. What comes next for me? I honestly wish I had an answer because I have been simmering this stew for a good nine months, but the flavors just haven't melded together yet. I pondered my future in teaching many times over the years and made a few detours along the way. It was a great gig as a working parent and my 3-mile commute couldn't be beat. But like my unfinished blog project, my career life feels like a work in progress that I need to address while there is time and energy to do so.

It's uncomfortable to step outside of one's comfort zone, that's for sure. I'm trying to unleash the dreamer in me, sharing and testing out new ideas before they are all simmered and complete, in hopes of embracing the process, which I am sure will be bumpy. I've had a drink in mind for about a month now, ever since my brother came for a visit and accompanied me on a tour of our local whiskey distillery. This is one of those drinks that initially may sound like an ill-fated pairing of flavors, but in reality it works. Quite well. Some creative soul threw caution to the wind and added wine to a whiskey sour. May I be so bold in my new adventure. Cheers.

New York Sour (with a history, ironically, that started in Chicago in the 1880s)

2 ounces rye whiskey (you could use bourbon, but I think rye's spicy flavors are best for sours)
3/4 to 1 ounce fresh lemon juice
3/4 to 1 ounce simple syrup
1/2 ounce red wine (Malbec, Syrah, or Rioja are commonly recommended)

I'm being wishy-washy with amounts because we all have our own palettes and should adjust accordingly. I tend to go with more lemon and less sugar. You will sometimes see the option of adding one egg white to get some additional froth. You'll have to make the call on that one. If you shake the drink enough, I personally think you get enough froth without the added egg white.

To make the drink:
Pour all the ingredients (except the wine) into a shaker filled with ice. Shake for a good 30 seconds, long enough for the shaker to get nice and cold. Strain into a cocktail glass filled with ice. Pour the wine over the back of a large spoon to get the float and impress your guests. I find this easier to do when pouring right from the bottle instead of a jigger. Just use your eyes to get a thin layer of wine. Right before I took this photo, the ice cubes moved and dispersed the wine deeper into the drink. Ultimately, that's how you want to drink it anyway so you get the mix of flavors. Garnish with a slice of orange if desired.

What's In A Name?

2015-01-01T20:27:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! I'm sorry if you gave up on me. I actually gave up on my ability to keep this blog going, and today's post doesn't exactly mean I'm back to writing regularly. When I started teaching full time in September, I knew life would get busy; what I didn't anticipate was having to get used to flying by the seat of my pants all the time. As a part-time teacher, I had lots of time to prepare my lessons. Granted, this meant that if I really calculated my hourly pay, I'd have had a hard time justifying working at all. Looking on the bright side, I don't work twice as much as before, mostly because there just aren't enough hours in the day. Looking on the dark side, I work an awful lot and most days I am planning right up to the moment my students walk in the door. I have had to get used to not always having a clear picture of what to do next, but I have learned that this is not always a bad thing. My students have become my guide far more, and we have had some amazing lessons together because of this spontaneity. I think I have learned to really embrace carpe diem.

I've been on vacation since December 21st. Twelve glorious days. No alarms at 5:45am, no rushing around the house to get out the door on time, no real substantial planning. Carpe diem, baby. Carpe diem. Shortly after Christmas, I invited a group of friends over for New Year's Eve. My daughter was heading back to school that morning, and so, I theorized, this would help me bypass that empty feeling every time she leaves. Now, the old me would have started planning days in advance, making sure I had all the details covered for our shindig. But this year, I vowed to enjoy every day I had with my family intact, and this meant putting my party planning on hold until the last minute because I would be returning from the airport only hours before all the guests would arrive. Suppressing the panic that comes from one who likes to plan in advance wasn't easy.

Lucky for you, spontaneity and panic brought out a great new drink recipe, and what's even more amazing is that I made the whole thing up myself! My friend LeaAnn gave me this bottle of gin for my birthday from a local Woodinville distillery. Building on a drink that's commonly known as the Pamplemmousse (the French word for grapefruit), I added some Prosecco and a sugar cube to intertwine the Pamplemmousse and a Champagne Cocktail. The combination is really tasty and unique. I'm sorry I didn't get this to you in time for your own New Year's Eve celebration, but 2015 is just beginning. You're bound to find a reason to be spontaneous and create this drink. The only problem is that I haven't been able to come up with a name, so please chime in if you have some ideas. Here's to a fabulous new year. May all your unplanned moments create some lasting memories.

The (as of yet) Un-Named Drink

1 oz. gin
1 oz. fresh squeezed grapefruit juice
1/2 oz. St.-Germain liqueur (see my recipe for G&T with St.-Germain)
1/2 oz. fresh squeezed lemon juice
Prosecco
sugar cube
lemon peel curl for garnish

Place gin, grapefruit juice, St. Germain, and lemon juice in a shaker with ice. Shake vigorously and then strain into a champagne glass (fluted or the Marie Antoinette style) that has a sugar cube in the bottom. Pour Prosecco on top. Garnish with a twisted lemon peel (click on the Marie Antoinette style link for a lesson on how to do this). Sip and savor.

Pure Summer

2014-07-28T15:00:00.000-07:00

When I was a senior in high school, I remember the buzz surrounding some of my classmates who were applying to Stanford. Unlike most application essay questions at the time, the Stanford question was always unique and interesting. That particular year's question was this: use one adjective to describe yourself and explain why that adjective best fits you. I never had to ponder the adjective question because I knew that this was a school beyond my reach, so I lived vicariously through friends more willing to test their mettle with Stanford's admissions staff. One friend, in particular, decided to write the most gutsy college essay ever and describe herself with just three words: I am succinct. End of essay. Not only did this friend graduate from Stanford, but she is now an English professor. I just love that story.

Now it's my turn to be succinct with you. Very simply, I want you to stop what you are doing and go out and buy some summer berries while they are still available because I have a delicious dessert for you to make. This dessert is based, yet again, on an Ina Garten recipe, and the best thing about this recipe is that it includes limoncello. Long ago I introduced you to this liqueur with a drink called the limoncello sparkle. The liqueur itself is another tasty concoction that comes only in large and expensive bottles -- clearly the way manufacturers of liqueurs stay in business -- and these bottles require you to constantly keep your eyes out for recipes that will allow you to feel better about dropping forty or fifty bucks on a single bottle. I have several of these bottles in my pantry now, which is probably why I get unusually giddy when I find a way to cure my buyer's remorse. So feast your eyes on this lovely fruit salad with limoncello:

Now I will admit that Ina's picture is better. She has her fruit in a beautiful glass bowl and everything looks perfect, but I'm pretty sure she used some food photography trickery like using mayonnaise instead of greek yogurt. I would never stoop to such foolery. My yogurt is real and sourced from a local dairy, so even though my presentation might not be as sophisticated as Ina's, I assure you the flavor is delicious. I adjusted her recipe so that you can alter it depending on how many you are serving. So really -- stop what you are doing so that you can make this dessert tonight. And know that I am always on the lookout for more limoncello recipes to fend off your buyers' remorse. Enjoy!

Fruit Salad with Limoncello
(adapted from Ina Garten's Back to Basics cookbook)

Collection of summer berries -- I used strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries
One banana

Mix the berries together in a bowl and then gently fold in the banana. I make roughly 1 cup per person. Add 1 teaspoon of sugar and 1 teaspoon of limoncello per serving. Allow the fruit to sit for about five minutes so that all those ingredients will macerate nicely. Such a harsh-sounding word for such a wonderful outcome.

Meanwhile, you can start putting the topping together in a separate bowl. This part of the recipe will be enough for four servings. If there are only two of you at the table, I guarantee you will find a way to use up the rest of the yogurt. Whisk together 4 ounces of plain Greek yogurt (Fage is my favorite when I cannot get the real stuff locally), 1 teaspoon of sugar and 1 teaspoon of lemon curd (I found mine at World Market but many grocery stores carry this), and a very small splash of vanilla. As always, feel free to adjust according to your own taste buds.

Serve the fruit in beautiful glass bowls if you own some and then add a dollop of the yogurt on top. Decorate with a sprig of fresh. This is pure summer.

Once Upon A Time

2014-07-20T15:56:00.000-07:00

I'm baaaaack! No, I have not given up on this blog. It just took a much appreciated summer break to help me find some down time to write and create. My sister recently asked me how far I was from my goal of 50 drinks. Well, let's just say I still have a ways to go, mais c'est la vie. If you'll be patient with me, I will get there. Hopefully before my next decade birthday.

I've done some important things since last sitting down to write. I went on a yoga retreat in the beautiful San Juan Islands and learned how to fence and throw a hatchet -- two activities that were way more fun than the yoga. Perhaps relaxation is just not my thing. My partner in this medieval fun, Debbie, has been a friend and adventure buddy since the day we met (long ago) while training to become bike trip leaders. The miles between our homes make our gatherings few and far between, but they are always filled with enough laughter to (almost) last until the next escapade.

When school let out, I traveled to the eastern seaboard with my son to play tourist and visit family and friends. We started out in D.C. and fell in love with the city and all it has to offer, but I think my most lasting memory will be the lunch we had with my best friend from fourth grade. You see, this was the first time I'd seen Lisa since fourth grade, way back during the age of American Bandstand, the Partridge Family, and Wild Kingdom. She found me via Facebook about a year ago, and after contacting her about getting together, I admit to being just a little nervous the morning of our rendezvous. After all, it wasn't as though she had just come over for a slumber party the week before. Forty years is a LONG time. But spending time together was effortless, and once in her presence, I kept thinking that I completely understood why she had been my friend way back when. May we meet again before another forty years go by so that we are still upright with a mouth full of real teeth.

From D.C. we took the train up to New York for a visit with that purveyor of all fine things, my sister. Highlights from this part of the trip? That's tough to say -- there were so many.

We walked across the Brooklyn Bridge one day in very steamy weather and then capped the day off with a Salty Pimp. That's a soft-serve ice cream creation that one can only get in Manhattan. But for those of you who can't exactly hop, skip, or jump into NYC, I suggest you put this on the top of your travel list. Yes, my sister truly is the purveyor of many fine things.

Our next stop was Little Compton, Rhode Island. By this point in the trip, I started to realize that time really has ticked on by and decades, not mere years, have passed since last stepping foot in this tiny state. My college roommate, Lawre, is one of those people whose friendship for me has not changed despite the distance between our homes and the vast amount of time between visits. Since enduring a less-than-compelling freshman seminar class together thirty-four years ago, conversations flow as freely as ever. Gray hair? Yes, we both have a little of that as well.

When I became an independent adult, living far from any of my childhood homes, I remember asking my mom once if it bothered her that I hadn't lived close to home since high school. She responded how thankful she was for the time we did spend together and appreciated that we both treated that time with care and respect. I would say the same for my friends and family who live thousands of miles away. Memories of special times together can be powerfully precious, even if that nurturing is not on a constant basis.

While growing up, summer was my least favorite time of year. I guess I missed the pattern of school and the activity that went with it. Now, I feel the complete opposite. I love the lack of schedule and the time if offers me to be with friends and unwind. In the drink world, summer begs for the simplicity of gin and tonics. I've covered that drink already, but today I offer a fine twist in the form of St. Germain, a liqueur made from "hand selected elderflowers that impart a crisp mélange of flavors with hints of citrus and tropical fruits. Tres curieus, n'est ce pas?" Yes, this is a produit de France, and that quote comes directly off the label. I've been noticing this ingredient more and more in drink recipes and was curious enough to go out and buy a bottle. The first time I saw it in the store, however, all I could find was a really tall bottle that cost upwards of $40. I dismissed that in search of a smaller, more economical version that would allow me to test this new liqueur instead of making it my new best friend. Well, I soon learned that this 750 ml version is the only one that is made, and so I have welcomed this beautiful new bottle into my life. I'm happy to say that all signs point to a lasting friendship and several more blog posts as I explore its many uses. Stay tuned...

St. Germain Gin & Tonic

1 oz. gin (Tanqueray or Bombay Sapphire work well)

1 oz. St. Germain

Tonic Water (Fever Tree is a personal favorite)

Lime wedge

Place 4-5 ice cubes in a cocktail glass and add the gin and St. Germain. Stir together and add tonic and the lime wedge. Then toast to friends and family!

A Sense of Style

2014-05-06T20:37:00.001-07:00

Some people collect stamps, others recipes. I seem to have a penchant for shoes, but let me just say that mine is not a typical collection because it has an extreme lack of diversity. To be honest, I was a little horrified the other day to look down in my closet and realize that perhaps, just perhaps, I had gone over the edge. You decide.

Now, I have my justifiable reasons -- don't we all? My feet have always had issues, just ask my sister. For years she kept track of my toenails, or lack thereof. After years of running, hiking, skiing, and spending time in large, clunky boots with low arches that don't prevent my toes from slamming into the front of those boots, I have bruised (and lost) many a toenail. Nowadays, my feet are cursed by plantar fasciitis. If you've never suffered from this ailment, may you pray to the feet gods that you never do. This tends to be one of those aging problems. Your arches sink over time, which is not a good thing if you didn't have high ones to start off with. That's where the Danskos and Birkenstocks come in to offer support to my sinking arches.

I also have bunions, which I learned more than ten years ago -- long before I had crested the hill. I was in Sun Valley trying on some new hiking boots (so I could crush a few more toenails), and a strapping young salesman looked down at my feet and said, "You know, you would be wise to go with a wider shoe because of your bunions." "My what??" I replied, horrified. In my mind, bunions went with little old ladies with blue hair, not an athletic mom like myself. It was at that same moment I realized that strapping young salesmen saw absolutely nothing in 40-year-old, bunion-laden women. It was a dark day, indeed.

A while back I read an interview in the New York Times Magazine with some famous woman. I was not aware of who she was, but I will never forget one little comment she made about women's fashion, specifically regarding shoes. She questioned the sanity of any woman who would wear concrete blocks on her feet in lieu of a cute pair of feminine flats. Although she didn't name the brand, I knew immediately that she was talking about my beloved Danskos. Now I recognize that they are neither ladylike nor sexy, but I have embraced my lack of style, and my feet are happier for it.

Now it might make sense to pass along a granola recipe with this post, but I'm going to do quite the opposite. As I sit typing in one of my many beloved sets of concrete blocks, I share a recipe for a very delicate and sophisticated drink, the Brandy Crusta. This drink has been around for more than a hundred and fifty years and beckons to be sipped in a cute floral party dress with accompanying dainty shoes. The Brandy
Crusta was developed in the deep South, so you might have to use your imagination if you, too, having aging feet. I guarantee, however, that the taste is delicious, no matter what you're wearing.

Brandy Crusta
adapted from Dale DeGroff

1 1/2 ounce brandy
1/4 ounce maraschino liqueur
1/4 ounce Cointreau
1/4 ounce fresh lemon juice
1/4 ounce simple syrup
lemon-peel spiral
sugar to rim the glass

Combine the brandy, maraschino liqueur, Cointreau, lemon juice and simple syrup in a mixing glass. Using a small cordial glass, rim the glass with a wedge of lemon and then carefully dip the outside of the glass in a plate of fine sugar. Strain the drink (with a fine strain) into the glass and add the lemon-peel spiral. Make sure to delicately lift your pinky as you drink. Simply lovely, dahling.

Spring Forward

2014-03-17T19:31:00.001-07:00

I'm trying to. Spring forward, that is. When I was growing up, fall was my favorite season because I loved getting back to the school routine. Maybe it was the new clothes. I still have fond memories of a flannel dress I wore on the first day of sixth grade. It had license plates all over it, and I thought I was destined for the cover of Vogue, especially with the accompanying black and white saddle shoes that were all the rage. But I'm a summer gal now. I suspect this has something to do with where I live. Every year at this time when we return to daylight savings time, I find Mother Nature to be particularly cruel.

One day it's sunny and warm, hinting at what's to come. Then the next five are wet and cold, forcing the capris back into the closet. It could be worse, I know, and my apologies go out to those of you who live east of the Mississippi. But you will soon have something that those of us in the Northwest rarely get -- a real, sustained spring. So I'm forcing it upon myself this week.

This time of year brings confusion to my taste buds. My body still seeks warm beverages but mentally I'm ready to break out the drink umbrellas. It dawned on me recently that I have not covered a very important drink for my repertoire: the daiquiri. Not only do I wish to add it to my go-to list, but by the end of this blog post I am hoping to have mastered its spelling. The basic recipe for a daiquiri calls for three simple ingredients: white rum, fresh lime juice, and simple syrup. Light-bodied rums are different from the medium-bodied ones I talked about when making Watermelon Mojitos. Light or white rums are still made from sugar cane, but they are typically aged in steel barrels and filtered before bottling to impart a more subtle flavor. The medium-bodied rums are often aged in oak barrels and have caramel added, creating a richer flavor.

Thanks again to Dale Degroff, I have learned a unique variation to this drink called the Hemingway Daiquiri. Created by a bartender in Havana almost a hundred years ago, this drink adds grapefruit juice and maraschino liqueur to the basic recipe for a more unique flavor. And any drink that allows me to use up that large bottle of maraschino liqueur I bought last year is one I must try. Ernest Hemingway apparently had an aversion to sugar, so the original recipe did not call for simple syrup. Upon first sampling this drink, I thought it would be a little harsh without the sweetness, but by the end I was wishing it had less. I will include the recipe I first tested, but you can decide how sweet to make your own.

To go with this Havana-inspired drink, I give you one of my favorite recipes: Island Pork Tenderloin Salad. Paired with a daiquiri, this combination is sure to bring a little warm sunshine to your life and spring to your step. Enjoy your daiquiri. D-A-I-Q-U-I-R-I. Daiquiri.

Hemingway Daiquiri
inspired by Dale Degroff

1 1/2 ounces white rum (such as Bicardi Light)
1/4 ounce (or less) maraschino liqueur
3/4 ounce grapefruit juice
3/4 ounce fresh lime juice
3/4 ounce (or less) simple syrup

Shake ingredients with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a lime spiral.

Island Pork Tenderloin Salad
(adapted from Epicurious)

For Pork:
2 t salt
1/2 t black pepper
1 t of cumin, chili powder, cinnamon
2 pork tenderloins (about 1 lb. each)
2 T olive oil

For Glaze:
2/3 cup brown sugar
2T finely chopped garlic
1T Tabasco

For Vinaigrette:
3T fresh lime juice
1T fresh oj
1T Dijon

1t curry
1/2 t salt
1/4 t pepper
1/2 cup olive oil

For Salad:
3 oranges
6 ounces baby spinach
4 cups thinly sliced Napa cabbage
1 red pepper, cut into thin strips
1/2 cup golden raisins
2 avocados, sliced

Stir together the salt, pepper, cumin, chili powder, and cinnamon; then coat pork with the rub. Heat oil in a heavy skillet (that can go in the oven) over medium high heat until just beginning to smoke, then brown pork on all sides, about 4-5 minutes. Leave pork in the skillet.

Stir together all the glaze ingredients and pat onto the top of each tenderloin. Roast in the middle of the oven until the meat reaches 150 degrees, about 20 minutes depending on the size of the tenderloins. Let pork stand in skillet at room temp. for 10 minutes.

While the pork rests, whisk together all the vinaigrette ingredients. After the pork has cooled a bit, cut it into thin slices.

Prepare all the salad ingredients (cut the peel and pith from the oranges and cut into 1/4 inch slices. Toss them all (except the avocado) with half of the vinaigrette. When you are ready to assemble, place the salad ingredients first on your plates and then layer the pork, oranges, and avocado on top. Drizzle the remaining vinaigrette and pork juices over the pork.

All Joy, No Fun

2014-02-10T15:11:00.001-08:00

As you may have noticed, my productivity has decreased noticeably since last summer. This is not due to lack of interest. No, this is due to lack of sleep. I have a teenager who should be going to his first period class around 9am but instead is learning trigonometry at 7:20. He has a mom who should be sleeping until 7am but is awakened over an hour before her body would like to see the light of day. All work and no sleep has made me a tired and unproductive writer.

I was once asked if I am an early bird or a night owl. "Neither," was my reply. "I am a wimp at both ends." Always have been and always will, I suspect. And so my ears perked up last week while listening to an interview with Jennifer Senior, contributing editor at New York magazine and author of a new book on parenting called All Joy and No Fun: The Paradox of Modern Parenting. Kids, she points out, were originally part of the economic engine of a family; they were housed and fed and expected to work as soon as they were able. At the turn of the twentieth century, the movement towards child labor laws meant that parenting had to take on an entirely different role. Parenthood became sentimentalized and children became, as Senior writes, "economically worthless and emotionally priceless".

The role of a parent became much less clear, and our society became much more child-centric. This was fascinating to consider, but what really struck me was her discussion around sleep deprivation. She described the three groups that parents fall into: the first group becomes cranky but basically does okay with the constant lack of sleep; the second finds it difficult enough that parents are both cranky and compromised; the third group is made up of complete basket cases. As I listened to this young mother talk about the lasting effects of sleep deprivation, I thought to myself, "But I am less than three years away from being an empty nester. I should have graduated out of this cranky stage a long time ago!"

The statistics on parenting and happiness are sobering. Parenting does not tend to help with an adult's happiness factor, and it can be very stressful on a marriage. I remember my mom once saying she was only as happy as her least happy child. I understand this now. Parenting young children is very physically tiring; parenting teenagers drains emotionally. As they begin to spread their wings, they force parents to stand back and hope for the best. But when those wings get wet or don't work as expected, it's impossible to ignore the pain your child feels.

Don't get me wrong, however. Parenthood does have its transcendent and joyful moments. Just this morning, in a groggy state of mind, I heard my son say, "Mom, don't plan anything for dinner on Friday -- I'm cooking." It look a few moments for this to sink in. Did he just say what I thought he just said? Other than eating cookie dough, he has never shown an interest in becoming my sous chef. And then it dawned on my sleepy brain. Friday is Valentine's Day. Awwwww. I just love this kid, and I love this emotionally priceless moment. Transcendent, indeed.

As a result of all this talk about sleep, it seems appropriate to highlight a drink that involves caffeine. And with February 14th just a few days away, I share with you Cafe Amore, a delicious variation on Irish Coffee.

The recipe is fairly straight forward, but the amounts of brandy and amaretto will differ depending on the size of your glasses and the amount of added flavoring you desire. My glasses are quite hefty, and I found I could easily start with 8 ounces of coffee. I added just one sugar cube because I don't tend to like sweetened coffee. Speaking of sweetness, the brown sugar cubes came to me from my friend Nancy (along with the glasses). Funny how many drink-related gifts I have received in the last year. You all must think I do nothing but imbibe in my free time.

If you notice in the picture, these tasty little cubes came all the way from Mauritius and added a true international flavor to the drink. Irish Coffees are traditionally made with brown sugar instead of white. If you've not recently been to Mauritius, and don't have friends nice enough to help stock your cocktail supplies, you can make a brown sugar syrup. This is made just like a simple syrup with brown sugar. As you prepare the cream, whisk until just under stiff so it has no bubbles and will pour slowly.

Cafe Amore:

8 ounces coffee
1 ounce Amaretto
1 ounce brandy
1 brown sugar cube
Hand-whipped cream

Pour coffee into the glass and add the brandy, Amaretto, and sugar cube. Stir to dissolve. Carefully ladle 1 inch of cream on top and garnish with chocolate shavings. Relax and enjoy the moment, especially if your child has just fixed you dinner. Ciao.

Here's A Toast

2014-01-08T13:08:00.000-08:00

Most every Friday I go to work with tears in my eyes. I know this doesn't make sense -- it is Friday, after all. But at 7:25am, when I am about a half mile away from my school, I always hear the familiar jingle that identifies a new segment of StoryCorps, the NPR program that helps people record their life stories, archiving them to leave a lasting legacy for their families and loved ones. Like a Pavlovian dog, just hearing that jingle gets my tear ducts ready to flow, and like a junkie who knows that showing up to work in tears just doesn't make any sense, I can't help myself. These conversations are just that compelling. Sometimes they're funny, sometimes sad, but they are always a fascinating look into two people's lives and the connection that exist between them. In a world of news that often feels removed, these stories are very real. Birth, death, and love, the essence of human existence, are the most common topics, and these conversations illustrate that no matter how different people might seem on the outside, we share more similarities than differences with one another.

StoryCorps began 10 years ago with a little sound booth in Grand Central Station, and a recent special celebrating its anniversary highlighted one of the first couples to enter the booth, Danny and Annie Perasa. I dare you to follow this link and listen to two of the many recordings this couple made at StoryCorps and not be moved by the power of their words. I was relieved that this special came on during a weekend when I had nowhere to go and a box of kleenex close at hand.

30,000 StoryCorps interviews have now been recorded and archived in the Library of Congress, and people from all walks of life have stepped into a sound booth for 40 minutes and left a slice of their lives. David Isay, the founder of StoryCorps, said recently in an interview, "The StoryCorps experience reminds us that if we take the time to listen, we'll find poetry, wisdom, and magic in the stories of the people we find all around us." Arriving at work one day a week in tears is a small price to pay for that magic.

Now I've been sitting at my computer trying to figure out how to segue into a cocktail; kind of the way I feel every Friday morning as I segue into work. But I learned an interesting fact over the holidays about why we clink our glasses together to make toasts, and it seemed like the perfect piece of information for this blog. Bear with me, I'll find a connection soon. My son, who has become a world history guru thanks to his first AP class, gave me a book for Christmas called, The History of the World in 6 Glasses. The book chronicles the development of beer, wine, spirits, coffee, tea, and coke and gives the reader a quick history of the world through these beverages and their lasting effects on mankind. In the early days of beer, around 6,000 BCE, there were no beer steins, or any glassware for that matter, so people would sit around a tall vessel and sip beer together through straws. Today, we symbolically reunite our glasses into a single vessel by clinking them together and making a toast. Perhaps not the tightest segue, but you have to admit it's an interesting piece of history.

This holiday season reminded me how much I love Ina Garten's recipe for chipotle-spiced nuts. And they pair nicely with a French 75, which is a great way to use up some of the extra Prosecco you have on hand after making some poinsettias. Happy New Year to you all. May your year be full of strong connections to loved ones.

Chipotle Nuts
(adapted from Ina Garten's
How Easy Is That?)

3 cups unsalted cashews
2 cups whole walnut halves
2 cups pecan halves
1 cup whole almonds
1 T vegetable oil
1/3 cup pure maple syrup
1/4 cup brown sugar
3 T orange juice
2 t ground chipotle powder
2 T dried rosemary
Salt to taste

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
In a bowl mix the nuts with the oil, maple syrup, brown sugar, orange juice, and chipotle powder. Add 1 tablespoon of rosemary and 1 teaspoon kosher salt. Spread the nuts on a large cookie sheet and roast for 25 minutes, stirring two or three times, until the nuts are glazed and golden brown. Remove from the oven and sprinkle 1 more tablespoon of rosemary and 1 teaspoon of salt. Transfer the nuts to a large piece of parchment paper or wax paper (otherwise they will stick miserably to the cookie sheet) and allow to cool. Store in an airtight container.

French 75
1 oz brandy
3/4 ounce Simple Syrup
1/2 ounce fresh lemon juice
Champagne or Prosecco

Shake the first three ingredients well with ice and strain into a champagne flute. Top with Champagne or Prosecco. You can make simple syrup by combining equal parts of sugar and water. If you use extra fine sugar, you do not need to boil the water in order to dissolve. Mixing 1T of each makes just about 3/4 of an ounce.

Peace on Earth

2013-12-04T06:31:00.000-08:00

It's funny what we remember from our youth. Why some memories stick while others disappear does not always make sense. Take, for instance, a memory I have from second grade. Mrs. Netherby, who honestly was one of my favorite teachers, asked us to write what we thought about the Vietnam War. The Vietnam War! In second grade!! Perhaps because I was always very young for my grade, or perhaps because my friends and I did not discuss things like this while playing kick the can, I honestly had no thoughts at the ripe old age of seven as to what the Vietnam War even was. Fortunately, I sat across the aisle from Angela Johnson who was really smart. As I stared at my paper, wondering how I was going to start, let alone complete, this assignment, she was busy writing away. A quick glance told me that she believed that war was bad. Now here's where my memory is particularly sharp all these years later. I thought to myself, "If I write the exact same thing down on my paper, I will be caught cheating. Soooo, I'll write the opposite." Yes, I wrote that war was good. Not that I had any good evidence to back up my thesis, but by golly I wasn't going to get caught stealing from my friend Angela. The sticky part came when my teacher called me up to explain my thinking. How could I possibly explain my thinking and thus confess my crime?! I don't exactly remember what I told Mrs. Netherby. Bad memories have a wonderful way of sometimes becoming very muddy, but somehow I survived my interrogation. Just for the record, I don't really think war is good.

The following year our Girl Scout troop went over to Margot Carr's house to make these new, cool plates. You know the kind, I'm sure. You drew a picture on a piece of paper, and then a few weeks later that beautiful artwork showed up on a plate. What's etched in my memory from this experience was the dilemma I faced in those days when it came to making peace signs. I could never remember which way they went.

As you can see, I didn't exactly get it right. That plate comes out every Christmas, and every year I'm brought back in time, remembering what a confused child I was when it came to war and peace.

I thought it only fitting to bring you a festive drink recipe called, appropriately, Poinsettia (which, as long as we're talking about memories, is a word I can never remember how to spell). This recipe comes from Dale DeGroff, the guru of cocktails. His book, so kindly given to me by my sister, purveyor of all fine things, is often the first source I go to when looking for a new drink. Although his recipes are sometimes stronger than I like, his proportions are just right on this one. The recipe calls for champagne; my adaptation uses Prosecco.

Poinsettia (adapted from Dale DeGroff"s The Craft of the Cocktail

2 ounces cranberry juice
4 ounces Prosecco
1/2 ounce Cointreau

Pour the cranberry juice into a champagne flute and fill with Prosecco. Top with a float of Cointreau. I used R.W. Knudsen cranberry nectar, which is less sweet than Ocean Spray but has more sugar than straight cranberry juice due to the fact that it's not (despite its name) made just from cranberries. If you want a drink that is less sweet, you can use real, unadulterated cranberry juice. In order to float the Cointreau on top, turn a spoon over so that the concave side faces up. Put the spoon just up to the inside rim of the glass (not easy to do with a champagne flute) and slowly pour the Cointreau on top. Unlike some layered drinks, you won't actually really notice the liqueur actually floating on top, so don't worry if your layering techniques are not expertly honed. But if you remember my B-52 recipe from long ago, that's a great one for practicing this technique. Enjoy and Peace on Earth.

Magic Eight Ball

2013-11-11T15:06:00.001-08:00

I have something to share about myself that will probably surprise you. But before I divulge this information, I must tell you about a small success I had recently. I was in a liquor store in search of an ingredient for my latest drink. I know, I know...this flies in the face of the resolution I made in the Kitchen Gods post, but hopefully you will ultimately be on my side with this decision. Anyway, there I was searching among all the different bottles when I overheard the store employee helping a woman find some brandy for cooking. She pointed her towards a type that came in a bottle far larger than your airplane variety, and the woman said, "Yikes, that's big. Are there any drinks you can make with brandy?" Other than suggesting a Brandy Alexander, the employee was kind of stumped. And so I stepped up and offered up my sidecar recipe, history and all. I kind of shocked myself, to be perfectly honest. I'm not the type to remember a joke, even ten minutes after it's been told, but apparently I am the type to remember a drink recipe. Not quite sure what that says about me, but I did enjoy this small bit of success.

Now, on to secret information. I love football. I kid you not. Not professional so much, but I am very happy to sit down on a Saturday and watch teams I have absolutely no affiliation to whatsoever. This probably has a lot to do with my dad who took me to many, many Stanford games while I was
growing up. While a freshman at the Naval Academy, he had to learn fight songs to all sorts of schools around the country, so while watching games on tv, he would always sing along with the marching band. Football was on all the time at my dad's house. Saturdays, Sundays, college, professional -- he watched 'em all. For years we had these little juice glasses with football team logos that my dad collected when filling his car up with Shell gasoline. They seemed pretty tacky at the time, even to me as a teenager, but it would be great to have one now as a memento. I thought I had cornered the market in my family for football viewing, but my sister's now in on the gig, too. Dad is looking down every fall weekend and smiling.

A few weekends ago my mother-in-law called to offer up two tickets to see the Washington Huskies play Cal. I immediately made the assumption that I should go with my son and leave my husband at home. I felt a little guilty knowing that it was his true alma mater, but only for a minute. I was excited to soak in the atmosphere of college football again in person. The night was beautiful and the home team won, but when the experience was over, I said to Nelson, "I must be old-fashioned because I prefer the college football experiences I had as a kid -- no large-screen video and flashing lights, music that came from marching bands, not piped in and loud enough to require ear plugs, and spectators that sat through the game instead of standing. The whole feel of the game was different, and the experience left me longing for the past.

Around this time I was also pondering drink options for my next blog post. I seldom have ideas lined up, so it's always interesting how future posts take shape. This one, apparently, was in the stars and just required a shake of the Magic Eight Ball. When I made my comment to Nelson about feeling old-fashioned, the drink by that same name started to come to mind. I have looked at this drink recipe in the past, but it has honestly never appealed. Something about bourbon does not grab me. The tie-in with my football divulgence, however, seemed too appropriate to pass up. And then more signs began appearing, tying together my future and bourbon. First, the November issue of The Atlantic magazine arrived in my mailbox with an article all about bourbon whiskey, the main ingredient in an Old-Fashioned. And then this past weekend, as I finished reading the New York Times' Sunday Magazine, I came upon an article devoted solely to the Old-Fashioned. Was I destined to write about this 200-year-old drink? All signs pointed to yes.

I realize I've kept you a while already, but spare me a few more moments so I can teach you about the spirit in the Old-Fashioned. Bourbon is an American whiskey made from a grain mixture that is at least 51% corn and takes its name from Bourbon County, Kentucky. The remaining grain is either wheat or rye. Bourbon is not to be confused with the two other types of American whiskey: Tennessee and Rye. Unbeknownst to me, until The Atlantic arrived, there is quite a science to the distilling process, particularly the details related to the oak barrels the ingredients must sit in to age. The story in the magazine tells of a distillery in Frankfort, Kentucky that was struck by a tornado in 2006. The building took a huge hit but not a single barrel was damaged. Repairing the warehouse took several months, however, and during this time the barrels on the upper floor were exposed to rain, heat, and sun. But when these barrels were opened five years later, the bourbon that came out was the some of the finest the company had ever made. Ever since that time, the company has worked tirelessly to figure out just exactly which variable created the change. Even if you never asked for a chemistry set for Christmas, the article is compelling reading.

To my untrained taste buds, bourbon is harder to like than Tennessee whiskey. I learned in my research that Tennessee whiskey is slowly filtered through ten feet of sugar-maple charcoal before going into barrels to mature. I assume that's why it is slightly sweeter and more appealing to me. Nevertheless, I now have a bottle of bourbon in my liquor collection, forcing me to seek out drink recipes. Today, it's the Old-Fashioned. Tomorrow, who knows. I will say that after I shared with Nelson my yearning for times gone by (as far as college football games are concerned), he actually concurred and agreed that the good old times must have been pretty good (as far as college football games are concerned). Maybe I'm not as old-fashioned as I thought.

Old Fashioned
(adapted from Dale Degroff who would probably cringe at my added touch)

1 teaspoon sugar
2 dashes Angostura bitters
2 orange slices
2 Amarena cherries
soda water and Orangina
2 ounces bourbon

In the bottom on an old-fashioned glass, muddle the sugar, bitters, one orange slice, one cherry, and about an ounce of soda water. Remove the orange and add the bourbon and 4-5 ice cubes. Fill with equal parts of soda water and Orangina. Garnish with the remaining orange slice and cherry. Why Orangina? I found the added sweetness balanced the bourbon well. Return to my recipe for a whiskey sour to refresh yourself on the wonderful Amarena cherry. Put on a little bluegrass, watch a horse race on tv, drink an Old Fashioned, and savor that Kentucky bourbon. Cheers!

Respecting Our Elders

2013-10-22T08:20:00.001-07:00

Many moons ago I set out on an adventure to bike around New Zealand. Looking back all these years later, I realize how Lewis and Clark it was of me to set off by myself to such unknown territory on a bike I had not ridden all that much with a tool kit I had barely touched. Such is the naivety of youth that allows us to head off on such an adventure without any second thoughts about the "what ifs".

Two days into my expedition, having consulted my "Cycle Touring in the North Island of New Zealand" book, I left the small village of Kaitaia to ride up to Cape Reinga, the northern most point on the island. Surrounded by beach and water on all sides, I envisioned paradise. What I had not envisioned was the condition of the road out to Cape Reinga. As I poured over this book in the weeks leading up to my departure, I often came over the words "sealed" and "unsealed" as descriptions for roads. I figured that unsealed roads were probably just a little bit more rough in the same way that I figured I could manage just fine with a tiny tool kit for a two-month excursion. Details, details.

Halfway up the Cape, I decided to take a side road to a beach to spend my first night out in the wilds of New Zealand. A hundred yards into this detour, I realized that "unsealed" meant "get off and walk" for one on a loaded touring bike with skinny tires. A mile into this slog, a jeep pulled up alongside me and offered to give me a lift. Now, I know what you're thinking: new country, solo female traveler, two males offering a ride, recipe for disaster. But this was New Zealand, after all, and the passenger was an 83-year-old man named George who was soon to become my new best friend. I accepted the ride, spent a wonderful night on the beach, and then slogged back out to the main road the following morning.

As I set out to finish my trek to the Cape, I was startled by a small camper that was beeping its horn at me. Who could possibly be honking at me in this country that became home just three days earlier? George and his wife Mabel. As we sat inside their camper drinking tea and eating homemade cookies, I learned that they were from Auckland, had toured on bikes through Europe, and they said if I was ever in Auckland they would be happy to put me up for the night. George then said, "If you come on a Sunday, I'll take you out on a ride with the Auckland Cycle Touring Association."

Fast forward three weeks, and there I was in Auckland (Papatoetoe to be exact, pronounced "Papa-toy-toy" -- the best sounding town on the planet) visiting George and Mabel who treated me to a lovely dinner and slide show of recent travels. After four hours in their presence I felt like a long lost granddaughter. The following day was our Sunday ride, which I anticipated would be a nice stroll in the park without my panniers. George failed to mention, however, that the Auckland Cycle Touring Association was preparing for a "century ride" (100 miler) in just a few weeks. He also failed to mention that one of the members of this very grey-haired group had ridden in the Berlin Olympics. Details, details. My leisurely Sunday ride was anything but and was filled with unsealed roads that these guys rode over effortlessly. I was schooled that day, but I loved every moment. These men, George in particular, taught me about the art of aging gracefully. As a 25-year-old I had little appreciation for just how important a lesson that was to receive at such a young age.

So why recount a tale from the ancient past? A few weeks ago my friend Kelly invited me to go to a seminar at a local nursery on gartending -- the blending of common garden plants in beverages. Right up my alley! The speaker, Beth Evans-Ramos, was an energetic, grey-haired woman who instantly made me think about George and Mabel. Setting out on a new post-retirement career, she re-energized in me that adage of doing what you love, no matter your age. Life is full of adventure if you're willing to let it into your life. I could go on forever about all the fun tips we learned in her class, but I've kept you long enough, so I will just send you to her website,

mamaknowshercocktails.com. How can you resist with a name like that?

I leave you with a drink I've been wanting to make for a long time, the Sidecar. I'm a huge fan of the NPR game show "Says You" and many months ago they included a section where the panelists had to guess the origin of various famous drinks. According to them, the Sidecar was created in a Parisian bar during World War I where it became the favorite drink of an American officer who regularly arrived by sidecar. At closing time, the officer, not so fit for duty anymore, would then be transported back to the base in the same trusty sidecar. Many drink aficionados believe this story to be totally false, but how can you resist historical fiction? In honor of Beth Evans-Ramos and her love for infusions, I let the sugar for the glass rim blend with dried orange rind for a few days to add an additional splash of flavor.

Sidecar

1oz brandy

1oz.Cointreau

3/4 oz. fresh lemon juice

Chill your glass. While it's in the freezer, combine all the ingredients in a shaker with 5 or 6 ice cubes. Shake until nice and cold. Strain into a sugar-rimmed glass. Serve with a flamed orange peel. Check back to my Negroni recipe for that great video on the art of flaming an orange peel -- it's well worth a second or third viewing.

For the sugar, I collected the zest of half an orange and let it sit out overnight to dry. Then I added about a half cup of sugar and put the combo in a sealed container. After a second day I then strained out (most) of the rind before using the sugar to rim the glass. Drying slices of the peel would probably work just as well and would be easier to remove.

Salut to George and Mabel. Life is as full of adventure for as long as you are open to it.

PS. I was lucky enough to get only two flats during my entire biking adventure in New Zealand. And it's wonderful to be back to the blog!

The Kitchen Gods

2013-08-14T09:42:00.000-07:00

I'm on a new mission. No longer will bags of produce be pulled from my crisper dripping in brown ooze that only comes from buyer neglect. I'm determined to find a use for that little bit of feta cheese that lingers in the cheese drawer just waiting to get moldy. And I vow to use up every heel of every loaf of bread I ever buy again. I will boldly go where I seldom go and force myself to regularly use up what's in my refrigerator before returning to the grocery story. I will think more creatively about what I can put together with the ingredients on hand as opposed to pulling out a new recipe and adding unwanted food to an already crowded refrigerator.

Oh, these vows sound so good, but they are so difficult for me because I am a recipe kind of gal. Blame it on my mom who created terrific meals but was wedded to her cookbooks. I am not genetically predisposed to winging it in the kitchen. Which is why I marvel at Lynne Rossetto Kasper who hosts NPR's show The Splendid Table. She has a piece each week where someone calls in with five ingredients they would really like to use up from their refrigerator. Now I might be able to do this if given some pasta, pasta sauce, Parmesan cheese, a bag-o-salad, and a bottle of dressing. But Lynn is WAY better at this than me. She can take fig jam, jalapeno peppers, fish tails, a rutabaga, and chocolate syrup and create an amazing dish. Now I have never actually tried to replicate one of her five-ingredient feasts, but once she is done explaining the recipe each week, I want to run out and buy five more bizarre ingredients to add to my already overflowing refrigerator. The kitchen gods have not bestowed upon me the gift of creativity. But I am on a mission to change.

My last drink recipe required the purchase of a bottle of maraschino liqueur. When I went to purchase the stuff, I was really hoping to find a small six-ounce bottle, or better yet one of those tiny airplane bottles. What I ended up with was a 750ml bottle -- enough for A LOT of pink flamingos. Maraschino liqueur is not exactly a common drink ingredient, and as I added the tall bottle to my overflowing liquor shelf within my overflowing pantry, I realized that my new mission needs to extend beyond just the refrigerator lest I end up on that tv show about hoarders. I must get creative.

So this week I bring to you a drink recipe that comes from my new creative self. I did indeed start with a recipe but then adjusted the ingredients to ones I had on hand. I was inspired by the blackberries that grow with abandon this time of year. I was also inspired by the loganberry liqueur I purchased for my sangria recipe that is about as useful as the maraschino liqueur. I am boldly going forth, and I hope you enjoy the first by-product.

Blackberry Press

adapted from The Modern Mixologist

1 oz. limoncello liqueur (another liqueur in my pantry just looking for a new use)
1 oz. loganberry liqueur (you can substitute blackberry liqueur if you're not on my same mission)
2 oz. fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1/2 oz. simple syrup
10-12 fresh spearmint leaves
4 fresh blackberries

In a mixing glass muddle 2 blackberries, the spearmint, and the simple syrup. Add the liqueurs, lemon juice, and ice; shake until well blended. Strain into a cocktail glass filled with crushed ice. Garnish with two blackberries dusted with powdered sugar. A perfect August drink.

Double Vision

2013-08-03T21:21:00.000-07:00

Remember those ads for Evelyn Wood speed reading classes? The ones where people simply turned the pages in the books they were reading and voila! The books were fully read and comprehended. Those ads always appealed to my need for project completion. When I start working on something, I like to keep working until it is finished. No interruptions. I marvel at people who have five or six books on their nightstands that they are reading simultaneously. How can you possibly do this? To me that feels like cheating those characters out of their due respect while having a quick fling with someone else in a completely different story. Maybe that's a bit harsh, and maybe I just need to embrace the art of multitasking. But remember I'm 50 years old and old dogs...well, some just like to go one book at a time.

Last December I set a goal: 50 drinks in my 50th year. Research, concoct, photograph, and blog. I sit at 21, and I am well past the halfway mark. This does not sit well with me. If Evelyn Wood offered a speed blogging class, I would sign myself up immediately. I thought the summer would give me a chance to get ahead, but you've probably noticed a slight bit of lethargy. It's not really lethargy, it's the incredibly beautiful summer we've had. Sitting down in front of a computer does not have the same appeal on a sunny 80-degree day as it does on a cold and dreary one. I am behind and the new school year is bearing down upon me. I fear this goal will not be reached because there have just been too many other flings worth the detour.

But instead of lamenting my slow progress, I'm sending a detour your way. My friend Deborah threw a party last night with a theme: Double. Every food and drink item had to relate to doubles. It was a birthday party for her husband. Well, it was a party disguised not to be a birthday party for someone who was turning 55. Double fives. On the menu were double cheeseburgers, twice-baked potatoes, some cheese from a couple who had bought twice as much as they needed recently for a party they threw, double chocolate brownies, and so on. As you can see there was a certain amount of creativity allowed in determining how to fit the theme. When Deborah called to invite us, I had a cocktail book open on my lap and was looking at a drink with two straws. That seemed a bit lame until I thought a bit more on the ingredients: two types of alcohol, two types of fruit juice, two types of grapes. And the name, Pink Flamingo, brings to mind a bird whose most distinct feature is its two legs. This drink was meant for this party and conveniently there was both a single serving and pitcher-sized recipe. So the pink flamingo was my contribution to the double-themed party and is now my detour for you. Good luck resisting.

Pink Flamingo
as adapted from The Modern Mixologist by Tony Abou-Ganim

11/2 oz. Absolut Citron vodka
1/2 oz. Luxardo Maraschino liqueur
2 oz fresh lemon sour (you make this by combining 1 oz. of fresh lemon juice and 1 oz. simple syrup)
1/2 oz. white grape juice
1 oz. pomegranate juice

Mix all ingredients in a shaker with ice until well blended. Strain into an ice-filled Collins glass. Garnish with lemon slices and green and red sliced grapes.

Batch Recipe
750 ml. bottle of Absolut Citron vodka
6 oz. Maraschino liqueur
44 oz. lemonade (or fresh lemon sour if you want to squeeze a ton of lemons. I used Odwalla, which is less sweet than some lemonade.)
20 oz. white grape juice
20 oz. pomegranate juice

Mix all ingredients in advance along with 10 to 12 slices of lemon. When ready to serve, transfer to an ice-filled pitcher. Add fresh lemon slices and grape slices to each cup.

**A note about Maraschino liqueur: this is a fairly rare liqueur made from Marasca cherries found in Italy. It is a clear liqueur made from distilling the cherries and then adding a separate distillate made from the crushed stones, which add a somewhat bitter-almond flavor. Luxardo is the cream of the crop apparently, but I used the Maraska brand. Even this liqueur nicely fit the double theme since both parts of the cherry were used to make it. Score. And now I'm up to 22.

Wistful Memories

2013-07-24T20:32:00.000-07:00

When you've had a parent struggle at the end of life with Alzheimer's or dementia, you don't take your own memory glitches lightly. We all have them, but after my father died, I found myself looking more carefully at my own brushes with memory loss. So imagine my dismay last week when I accidentally left my sister at the airport to fend for herself and find her way to our house all because I had written on my calendar that she was coming in on Monday instead of Sunday. I was totally thrown out of whack by this major scheduling snafu. We laughed, I sighed deeply, and then moved on. Monday morning I dragged her to my semi-annual dentist appointment. I know what you're thinking: your sister came 3,000 miles to see you and you dragged her to the dentist???! Well, in all fairness, she only made these reservations on July 1st and rearranging those semi-annual visits is as easy as booking dinner with the queen. She assured me that she was happy just spending time with us, and so off we went.

Upon arrival at the dentist's office, the receptionist had a funny look on her face. She stepped away for a moment and then said, "I have you down for next Monday." Now I really know what you're thinking: you dragged your sister to the dentist on the wrong day after having left her at the airport? This is not good. Inside I was really getting thrown about my own mind. How could this be? My little reminder card had read July 15th. It had to be their error. The receptionist kindly handed me a Starbucks gift card and told us to go have coffee on her, which we did. Afterwards we got back in the car only to find that it wouldn't start. Bad things happen in threes, so life was looking up.

We were rescued by my neighbor Dave who kindly picked us up. I was ready to call it a day. Or a week. When we came home, I checked my calendar. Sure enough, I had two visits to the dentist on two consecutive Mondays. The error was all mine. Sigh. That afternoon my son had an art class just down the road from our house, so I buzzed him down only to find that there was no class. I still am not sure what happened to that class, but I had just gone past the magic three; something was not right. Nagging reminders of my dad's last few years were leaving an edge to my laughter, but what was I to do? Carry on. Just carry on.

Thank goodness for friends. Just a few days before my memory mayhem, my friend Nancy (wife of kind Dave) delivered a bottle of Scalabrone, a light red wine made from Cabernet, Merlot, and Syrah grapes. Along with the wine came a recipe for Scalabrone Sangria. In anticipation of my sister's arrival, I had purchased all the ingredients, and in my best-laid-plans senario, I would put everything together Sunday night so that we could enjoy the sangria Monday evening. But since these plans didn't quite work out, I put everything together Monday morning before heading to the dentist. That evening, instead of hiding under a rock as I wanted to, we thoroughly enjoyed several glasses of the fruity blend. All's well that ends well. Hopefully my sister will muster up the courage to visit once again. Chances are she will send reminder texts every hour in advance of her arrival.

There are many different recipes for sangria and I am by no means an authority, but this is a tasty one. I don't know how easy it is to find Scalabrone, but I suspect a bottle of Merlot or Syrah would substitute well. On a warm summer evening, it's a very refreshing drink.

Scalabrone Sangria

1 bottle Scalabrone
Juice of one orange
Juice of one lemon
2 cups chopped ripe peaches
1 1/2 cup raspberries
1 1/2 cup club soda
2 T sugar
1/4 cup fruit brandy (I used Clear Creek Distillery Loganberry Liqueur)

I placed all ingredients (except the club soda) together in a pitcher and let set overnight. The original recipe says to "blend" all the ingredients, which could be interpreted to mean mix in a blender. You'll have to choose. Add club soda before serving; it should be nice and chilled. The recipe can be made without the added liqueur for a lighter drink. Sangria is guaranteed to cure ever the most difficult of days. On this I am an expert.

On the Road Again

2013-07-09T20:59:00.001-07:00

There's a lot that I love about being a parent, but there is one stage I would like to delete from the parenting handbook: driver's ed. I thought that round two would be easier. I'd be an experienced passenger ready to calmly teach my son the rules of the road. Actually, who am I kidding? At the ripe old age of nine, Nelson was kicked off a go-cart course. This should have been my first clue that driving with him might be a little different. I blame that one on Mario Cart, the video game that allows young boys to practice driving with reckless abandon. As I watched him go around the go-cart course, the look in his eyes told me he was trying to put to good use all that Mario had taught him. Let's just say that Mario's techniques are a little different from what the Department of Licensing is looking for. My son learned that the hard way after running off the go-cart track one too many times. When the owner came storming onto the track and pointed to the exit, he suddenly realized that racing Mario and Luigi was not quite the same as the "real" thing. So let me say that this is definitely no easier the second time around, and actually the grey hairs are coming in by the handful right now. Could be that Mario still resides deep down within Nelson because I have never experienced conversations quite like these:

Nelson (as he is driving on a 55-mile-an-hour road for the first time): This is so cool!

or...

Me: You need both hands on the wheel.
Nelson: But I need to learn how to drive with my knees.
Me: Give me one good reason why (never, by the way, open the door with a question like this).
Nelson: I need to learn to drive with my knees so that I can perform CPR while driving.
Me: No response. Starting to feel heart palpitations.

or...

Me: Nelson, do you see the sign that tells you to go 20 mph around this curve?
Nelson: I am so not going 20 around this curve. What's the fun in that?

Despite an innate love for speed, my son is actually a very competent driver. Young? Unaware of all that can quickly go wrong behind the wheel? Yes, yes, but he'll get there -- hopefully in one piece. And to be honest, there's a part of me that does not like the independence he will soon gain when he is able to grab the keys and go. That's the death-defying part when I will no longer be in the passenger seat reminding him that he does not need to learn to drive with his knees and that he must slow down. I also know that with license in hand we will start to see less and less of him. Parenting is all about letting go. That's the really hard part.

So carpe diem, I say. Time to enjoy that son of mine who is quickly becoming a charming young man right before my eyes. What better way to wind down from a summer practice drive than with a watermelon mojito. I adapted a recipe from Ina Garten, and it's a recipe that is meant to be shared with friends at a backyard barbeque. So go grab yourself a juicy watermelon and some mint, stay off the roads that are within a ten-mile radius of our house, and enjoy the summer sunshine.

Watermelon Mojito
(adapted from Ina Garten)

30 large fresh mint leaves, coarsely torn by hand
2 cups of watermelon puree
6 to 8 ounces rum (I used Appleton Estate Jamaican rum)
1/2 cup simple syrup
6 T freshly squeezed lime juice (about 3 limes)
Sprigs of mint and spears of watermelon for garnish

Use a mortar and pestle (or a muddler) to mash the mint leaves. Cut up enough watermelon to fill a food processor approximately half full. With a steel blade, puree the watermelon and mint until very smooth. Pour two cups of the mixture into a pitcher and add the rum, simple syrup and lime juice. Put ice cubes into your cups and pour the mojito mixture in. Garnish with the mint sprigs and watermelon spears. This mixture will make about 6 servings; you can always double it for a large crowd. If you're serving dinner, you can make this in advance and then greet your guests at the door, mojitos in hand. They will love you forever.