New Years Revolutions

Dear Boo,

It's 2013! I know, big news.

The other day one of my clients told me he only makes "New Years Revolutions," which I found supremely awesome and perfectly fitting. After all, the new year is just that--the commemoration of another revolution of the earth around the sun. So I'm making some New Years Food Revolutions for myself. Because research (and every single day of my life) has proven that small changes are more likely to last than an epic upending of everything all at once.

Here goes.

1) I will put my fork down in between bites. Sometimes I catch myself watching a stranger funnel food into his or her mouth, their fork moving in a continual circle from plate to piehole back down to plate again and I just want to be like, TAKE A BREATH, DUDE. And then I'm at dinner and somewhere halfway through my entree I look up from my plate and am like, oh, THAT'S what my husband's face looks like! How handsome! And I realize I haven't looked up from my food since it was set down in front of me twenty minutes ago. There's all sorts of scientific and philosophical arguments for eating slower that I don't need to bore you with here. Mostly, I think I missed out on some pretty awesome meals in 2012 (and the 30 or so years before that) by flying through them, and I really don't want to do that in 2013. There's just too many good bites out there to savor.

2) I will make pasta. At least once. I have this weird fear of making pasta. Which is so silly because its so simple and I've made far more complicated things. But something about this feels like something a "real cook" makes, and I'm just little old me, right? I'm not Someone Who Makes Their Own Pasta. Right? Wrong. Someone Who Makes Their Own Pasta is just someone who one day sits down and you guessed it--makes her own pasta. So face the fear and do it.

3) I will make at least one stinkin thing out of All About Braising by Molly Stevens. Much like the infamous hovercraft circa 1987, I put this cookbook at the top of my christmas list a couple of years ago (I think I even blogged about it. Oh--there it is! For shame.), and have hardly touched it since. Enough with the bad feng shui of items taking up space in my home that serve only to make me feel guilty. I will cook something from this tome or I will give it away to the first person who comments below. Guilt, I release you.

4) I will visit this store. Its ridiculous that I have still never been to Kalustyan's. And now that I have put that in print, the foodie police may come and drag me away in handcuffs made of garlic scapes. But really, I have to go. And it's right around the corner from my work so I have no excuse.

The actual and entire size of our kitchen in 2013, where the magic of Christmas lives. 

5) I will cook for my family more. Some day when we host our family for Christmas there will be enough chairs for everyone to sit down and there will be a big huge table to pull those chairs up to and there will be a real fireplace instead of the yule log on netflix and there will be a mantle with stockings over said fire and there will be about 100 times more counter space and room in the kitchen for people to visit and no ovens that die mid-turkey roasting, and a dishwasher so we can use real plates and maybe a few other things. But until then I will keep cooking and I will not wait for a holiday to share it with our family. Because it's just too freaking fun and joyful and gratifying to not do it more often.


6) I will eat more fruit. Okay, this one is pretty straightforward. I don't eat enough fruit and I need to.

7) I will turn off during meals. I'm not one of those people who answers my phone at restaurants, but I have been known to pull it out with my wallet at the end of the meal, or to get up from my kitchen table table to silence a ring during dinner. At work, I often eat in front of the computer. I have no doubt this is both bad for my brain and my butt. So, I will take mealtimes to consider what's happening between me and the plate, me and the person at the table with me, or me and my own thoughts. I will daydream, I will look at the forkful as it makes its way to my mouth, and I will silence and hide my phone (turning it off will be saved for next year. We're talking baby steps here.)  

8) I will know my fridge better. I have thrown out a disgraceful amount of food because I've let it waste away, forgotten, at the back of my fridge. Just this morning I cut up and used half an onion without looking first to see that there was already a leftover half an onion PLUS a leftover quarter of an onion, wrapped up and tucked away in the back of the bottom shelf. I will stop being ageist against my groceries, and will treat my elders with respect and dignity. And in this small, cold corner of my ktichen, I will wage a private war against consumerism and waste. Okay, well, at least I'll try to clean the crisper more often.


9) I will stop wasting money on bad food. And speaking of waste...Far too often, I hear myself saying, "Oh, we can't eat there, it's too expensive. And then the next thing you know, I'm blowing $30 three times a week on takeout and more money than I care to add up on drinks out with friends and overpriced lunchtime salad bars. 2013: the year of quality over quantity, delayed gratification, vs immediate semi-satisfaction.

Here's to a year of good taste and good company, and the peace and time to savor it all.

Love,

The Mouse

Of Mince and Men, 2010

Dear Mouse,

I write to you on the Eve of the Eve of the New Year, from Washington DC! I'm on the top floor of a creaky old house where I'm living with a few other actors and designers all working on a show at this venerated institution, which is directly across the street. From my window I can see the dome of the Capitol Building, lit up against the cold December night. I am looking forward to an exciting and challenging few months here. If the first two days are any indication I believe this project will considerably expand my vocal range, my physical endurance, and my respect for the House of Atreus. Those crazy Greeks...

Since I've only been in DC two days working 9AM to 530PM (and, ok, basically in bed by, kind of, now) I havent yet even begun to explore this town, culinarily or otherwise. I'm told there's a lot to write home about, but those "in the field" posts will come later.

It's been a while since I posted, for all sorts of happy reasons involving a) an actual food journalism assignment that had to be completed (!more on that later) and b) of course, The Holidays.

So, let me just cut to the chase, which in this case looks like this:

Oh yes.

When I say "Mincemeat" you say "Pie"!

"Mincemeat" -

?

I'm waiting.

(I made this.)

I missed you ! (And the Boyfriend) over Xmas. It was both weird and wonderful to do this Big Holiday in such a new way this year. At first I was afraid. How will this work? You'll be in Florida, I'll be at Helena's place in Irvington... we won't be in NJ sharing the time-honored rituals of lost cognac balls, forgotten Buches, and enormous hams. It was new. And though tinged with nostalgia and some sadness, it was also ... kind of awesome.

I will not even attempt the full story of the delights that were packed into this beautiful little Yuletide-on-Hudson celebration. Helena and I had a 'production meeting' a full two weeks in advance to confirm the small guest list, plan the menus, and schedule activities. (The Date, by phone on Christmas Night: "It's like you bought an all-inclusive Irvington Christmas Package". Wearing my newly acquired Wolf Hat and sipping a hot toddy while preparing to watch Its A Wonderful Life, I solemnly nodded in agreement.)

All-inclusive indeed! It was a great hodge podge of everyone's nostalgic Must-Haves (Helena's grandmother's Divinity recipe, HBF's traditional viewing of "Home Alone"), plus bold steps all our own. To be sure, I made everyone listen to Dylan Thomas reading A Child's Christmas In Wales (a la Hart), but I also seized the opportunity to make a dessert I knew no one in our family would ever go for: the mince pie, which as you know I discovered in Ireland over Xmas 2007.

Going to bed on the Eve covered in flour and butter, I heard HBF on the phone downstairs to his family, expressing exactly the emotions I was feeling. On the one hand, he missed them, and was reminiscing about Christmas Past. On the other, he was suffused with joy and excitement at 'Christmas of the Future'. There's a significant moment in a person's life when a holiday turns from something that you Get to something that you are able to Give. And fact that The Mother was able to come up to Irvington!! to eat our food, open presents under our cracked-out tree, and sing "Grandma got run over by a reindeer" with us was ... well, I think I've said it all.

personalized, bedazzled stockings and songbooks

And you know what? The Mother ate a whole piece of mince pie after all. God Bless Us, Every One. And Happy New Year!!!

Love,

The Boo

PS I also made these cookies which were a big hit and you can eat the leftover lemon curd on your Christmas Morning gingerbread pancakes (we suggest one egg and a lot more milk)