The Valentine's Day

Most of you probably know that I,Aeom not a fan of Valentine,Aeos Day. Significant periods of my life have been spent single, and Valentine's Day always functions as a painful reminder of my status; really, I have to struggle to remember the last time I actually had a nice Valentine's day. So, as I approached the 2008 Valentine's leap year, I had absolutely no expectations that the day would be anything other than, well, another bad Valentine's Day.

This year turned out to be a bit different.

For the first time since I was a senior in high school and a (male) friend sent me a flower-gram, I received Valentine,Aeos Day flowers. The bouquet actually arrived the day before, when I happened to be working at home. Thank you Pete, my very amazing friend.

Tracy and I carpooled together on THE day. As we reached the 2nd floor landing of our office, we were stunned by the sight of many of the men on our team gathered in the copier nook/calorie corner, bubbling enthusiastically amongst themselves. They saw us, ,Aeuthere,Aeos Tracy and Schelley!" We stopped, stunned,AePand made our way through the gauntlet. I tried to ignore the ,AeuHappy Valentine,Aeos Day!,Aeu greetings, and then realized that something else was going on.

Mid-afternoon the day before, the Planner guys decided to surprise the girls on our team with breakfast. And by breakfast, I don't mean donuts, but freshly cooked pancakes, topped with syrup, whipped cream and strawberry hearts, delicious croissants and juice. On a tray. With Valentine,Aeos candy. Wow. Double Wow.

Later than evening, after yoga and watching some couple fight on the street while driving home, I hit the anti-Valentine,Aeos Day party at Neumos. It was a nice reminder that compared to others,Aeo heartbreaks, mine could be so much worse. We, as humans, can be excessively cruel to one another. Then, a very excellent late night drink and hamburger at Quinn,Aeos (more about Quinn,Aeos later).

For the first time in a long, long time, I had a very nice Valentine,Aeos Day.

Brazil, Part 2

Plans to write more about Brazil soon after I got back from vacation fell apart. A case of blogger,Aeos block, perhaps, other excuses such as work and painting and too many late nights.

The truth about Brazil is that I captured most of the food highlights in my first rushed entry. We trekked once again to Pariso Tropicale, for another amazing meal involving fish and seafood mocqueca and a spectacularly grilled octopus and fish, surrounded by a dozen different grilled fruits. We hired a cook for New Years Eve, who made us delicious fejoada, black bean and pork stew. We ate well on the island of Fernando de Noronha, but the meals were simply good, and nothing really stood out from a food perspective.

Really, it,Aeos the people and adventures along the way that I,Aeoll remember about the rest of my Brazil vacation.

On our last day in Salvador, while climbing into a cab to head to Pariso, I stumbled and sprained my foot. Later, John taught me that the ,AeuC,Aeu in RICE stands for ,Aeucompression,Aeu and kindly, and gently, wrapped my foot. Spending the next day traveling (from Salvador to Fernando, two one hour plane flights with eight hours of wait time in between) with a sprained foot was, well, unpleasant. I tried my best to keep up with everyone, but it was hard. I,Aeod limp behind the group, falling further and further behind. Eventually, one of the guys would turn around, see me bravely trying to keep up, heads would confer, and then one would peel back and walk with me. I have to admit, the extra special attention was nice, especially the offers of luggage carrying help. And, thanks to some miraculous pills from Kirby, the Recife airport, already modern and clean and lovely, was extremely pleasant.

I really liked Fernando de Noronha; my favorite moments involved the ocean. We saw giant pods of dolphins, swimming and frolicking in the water. I admired the giant rock, visible from almost all parts of the island, as its appearance changed, depending on position and light. In one instance, it was a giant mermaid, praying. Another, it resembled King Kong, gazing into the distance. And another moment, a giant pile of rocks. I snorkeled around a reef, at first finding nothing, then seeing bright colors emerge. Snorkeling was even better another day, when we swam with the sea turtles; while we battled the choppy currents, the turtles paddled around, adjusting their swim to the currents, periodically popping their heads above water for air, and perhaps to see the sights. Or the rock. And then there was the beach and pool time; beautiful beaches that stretched on forever and ever, with very few people (completely the opposite from the social experience of the Salvador beach crowds).

I,Aeove never rented a bike while on vacation, and after Fernando, may never again. The bike rental market is limited and it appears that no one on the island has the skills necessary to tune up bikes. We ended up renting three somewhat questionable bikes and after John insisted that we had been promised a fourth bike, one that had recently been ready for landfill. Despite the fact that the brakes on our bikes didn,Aeot quite work, and the gears didn,Aeot stick and everything else was held together with bubble gum (the word ,Aeujanky,Aeu applied), we didn,Aeot kill ourselves and had fun and lots of laughs (laughing while trying to bike up a steep hill is well, hard). Our biking goal was to get some exercise and find a beach. We didn,Aeot find the exact beach we were looking for, but found one that was amazing and beautiful.

Really, that,Aeos all that counts in the end.

Cooking with Julia, Plus Some Experiments

I have exactly two books in my cookbook collection that absolutely terrify me: The French Laundry Cookbook and Mastering the Art of French Cooking. I don,Aeot know why, maybe because the recipes involve so many steps, probably because both books represent cooking nirvana and likely, because so many cooks perceive the recipes to be hard, regardless of the actual level of difficulty. A year ago, one of four New Years resolutions was to ,Aeucook a meal from Mastering the Art of French Cooking,Aeu. In early January, I transferred that resolution (along with two of the remaining three) to my 2008 list. I,Aeom part of the way there,AeP

While on vacation, I read Julie and Julia, a story of how one very crazy woman challenged herself to cook every single recipe in Mastering the Art of French Cooking within a year (and blogged about it). Not to be mean, but Julie came across as somewhat crazy,AePand I figured that if she could successfully cook from MTAFC, then I could too. I was inspired, and resolved to do more than thumb through the book and actually cook with Julia.

The decision to cook from Julia required dinner guests, and under the guise of "thank you for hosting my blog and why don't you come for dinner?" Richard and Melissa unknowingly were my first guinea pigs.

As I reread the recipe for vanilla souffle approximately ten times, I heard Julia,Aeos distinctive voice in my head. I wish that she had been standing beside me while I was cooking, as nerve wracking as that would have been, mainly because I had questions. Julia, which stage of the recipe do you mean that I can cook at low heat if I want to make the souffl/(c) ahead of time? If I don,Aeot have a kettle to cover the souffl/(c) before I bake it, will a plate suffice? And despite referring me to the souffl/(c) baking dish section, I,Aeom still confused about whether I really need to extend the depth of the souffl/(c) dish with parchment paper and string.

While cooking, it,Aeos fairly unusual for me to have to repeat any component of a dish due to error. This souffl/(c) required two restarts. First, the eggs would not separate properly,AePso I ended up throwing out three eggs. Sort of a restart. And then, while ,Aeugently warming,Aeu the base of milk, salt and flour, the not separating eggs distracted me, and I overcooked the base. Do over.

The vanilla souffl/(c) came together in the end. It was delicious, and between the three of us, nothing was left. But it wasn,Aeot as I had imagined: the souffl/(c) had separated into a puffy, egg white layer and a custardy, egg yolk and vanilla layer. I,Aeom not sure if it separated because it sat too long or because I covered it with a plate, rather than the suggested kettle.



We ate well before dessert, starting with gougeres (gruyere cheese puffs, a recipe from Artisanal in New York, a restaurant which I may have written about, but that entry is still trapped on Nilay,Aeos server), olives and bread and cheese (a nice and runny cheese).

The night before, I bought several pounds of short ribs, which I sprinkled with fresh herbs, salt and pepper. A few hours before dinner, I browned the short ribs, boiled up two bottles of 2005 Riven Rock Cabernet (cheapest Cab at Whole Foods), added the ribs, covered and braised the whole thing in the oven for a few hours. The meat was amazing ,Aei tender, falling off of the bones, full of the flavor of the herbs and the wine, simple and complex at the same time. We sprinkled with gremolata, a mixture of fresh herbs, garlic, lemon and salt and pepper. I used the leftover wine and fat to reduce the sauce into a nice gravy, plus polenta with gorgonzola (which cut the richness of the beef) and brussel sprout hash (brussel sprouts sliced a bit too thinly, saut/(c)ed up in some olive oil and garlic, and dressed with lemon juice and dry vermouth). Richard and Melissa also brought a very excellent Duckhorn cabernet, rich and complex and perfect with the short ribs. I should note that Mom discovered the recipe several months ago in Bon Appetit.



A week later, I used the two remaining short ribs to make ravioli, inspired by an amazing short rib ravioli meal at Delfina a few years ago. I tried to duplicate the recipe, first grinding the meat, then mixing it with leftover gremolata and gravy, using wonton wrappers for the ravioli part. The ravioli wasn,Aeot horrible, it just wasn,Aeot didn,Aeot have the same taste that I remembered. Really, it sort of fell flat and even my first ever beurre blanc sauce, using Alice Waters,Aeo recipe from her excellent new The Art of Simple Food, didn,Aeot really help. Although, I have to admit, on its own, the beurre blanc sauce was absolutely delicious. The beurre blanc sauce is bubbling away in the little pot behind the ravioli in the picture below.



I did attempt souffl/(c) again, this time with spinach and gruyere. Pete and Chris were my guinea pigs, and I was confident enough in success that I bought a bottle of Cremant to go with. It was worth it ,Aei the souffl/(c) was golden and puffy and absolutely delicious.

Julia still scares me, but not as much. I'll definitely do more, and maybe someday, I'll move on to the French Laundry.

The Absence of Blogging

I,Aeove been trying to blog since I got back from vacation, and well, I just haven,Aeot been in the blogging mood. I guess technically, it,Aeos called writer,Aeos block; I throw words down on the page, and they sort of but don,Aeot quite seem right. The posts are just not ready for the blogosphere primetime.

January and February are traditionally tough months, not from a food perspective, but from a life perspective. First, there,Aeos the weird post-holiday period, lasting through mid-February. And the Seattle weather. Before Sunday, I had last seen the sun while on vacation in Brazil. Life has been perpetually overcast. The sun broke through on Sunday, beams of bright light waking me out of my hung over state. Sun can be such an amazing thing. Later, I noticed the early signs of spring around the neighborhood ,Aei green shoots emerging from the dirt, spring and summer beers appearing in the grocery store.

I now need to return to and clean up half written entries. Even though I haven,Aeot been posting much, I have been cooking and eating. So more to come.