Eating While Pregnant

Dear Boo,

Though you'd never know it from my presence here (or lack thereof), the last few (lets say six) months have been an absolute bear, full of activity, stress, excitement, deadlines, to-do lists, and lots of growth (in more ways than one). All of a sudden, I turn around and here I am, sitting on an inflatable "birth ball" at my desk, nine whole months pregnant, unemployed, with a quiet internal clock tick tocking away at all times in the back of my head counting down the time until life changes forever.

It's been quite a ride.

Six months. And I thought I was big THEN.

One of the very first things you hear upon visiting the doctor and finding out that yes, indeed, you do have a little passenger along for this ride and no, you're not the one in a million who took not one but two defective pregnancy tests from different brands that you made your husband go out in the middle of the night to Duane Reade to get where he ran into your mother, naturally, and had to pretend he was there on an urgent mission for tin foil, is that there are certain things you must not eat for the next 10 months. These include but are not limited to: alcohol, raw fish, cured meats, deli meat, pate, some fish, most soft cheeses, anything unpasteurized, runny egg yolks, and organ meats. I leapt with joy (as much as I was able, being as exhausted and in caffeine withdrawal as I was) when my doctor actually suggested caffeine as a way to treat headaches while I couldn't have painkillers. Turns out a cup a day is no big thing, thank the lord.

Almost all of these "don'ts" have mixed evidence to support their ban (this woman just wrote a whole book about debunking some of this conventional wisdom), and my doctor has been reassuringly relaxed about the whole thing: "If it didn't make you sick before, it probably won't make you sick now. Just be smart and don't get cold cuts from some disgusting deli on the corner." She even permitted a glass of wine a week after the sensitive first trimester. Which is great, because all of this fear-mongering, worst case scenario-ing, tsk-tsking, it's not about you anymore, right when you're trying to come to terms with what this all means for YOU and your LIFE and your PARTNER, especially for someone who takes comfort and pleasure and finds community and even identity through food, is a real bummer. I remember early on, reading a blog post by someone bemoaning this whole restrictive, shaming approach to pregnancy eating and claiming that the amount of stress it induced in her was likely more harmful to her baby than just having a damn sip of wine or a piece of salmon sushi. I remember scoffing at it, thinking I would never be that wound up pregnant lady and that I could hold off on a few of life's pleasures for a few months, no problem. Cut to me, six months pregnant, in Spain on our babymoon, wiping tears away as I talked to my doctor on the phone, convinced after getting violently but temporarily ill that I had contracted Listeriosis and threatened the life of our baby from the cured ham I ate at the bar the night before. (This, mind you, after asking my doctor explicitly about this before our trip and being told by her, "I ate proscuitto all through my pregnancy. Have some ham, you're going to Spain.") Turns out it was more likely the churros for breakfast, cod fritters for lunch, and cream-filled pastry for dessert that did it than some rogue bacteria. Overeating is overeating, pregnant or no.

oh, but those churros were worth it.

The point is, I've been thinking about my experience eating during pregnancy a lot lately, mostly because a) thinking about eating is what I do, pregnant or not, and b) because pretty much the second most popular question I'm asked after, "how do you feel?" is "have you had any weird cravings?" and I've realized a few things.

First, the pregnant stomach is a decisive stomach. At least in my experience. While normally, my plague of indecisiveness hits hard at dinner time, when ordering in versus eating what we have in our fridge, pad thai versus arepas versus a turkey burger takes on epic proportions, since housing a demanding and frequently hungry guest with her own set of taste buds, things have become much simpler. I wake up from a nap and want lasagna. Nothing but lasagna. One trip to the store and a short time later, I am waddling out of the kitchen barefoot with a casserole dish, an image you and the Husband got a lot of mileage out of. A group of friends is debating where to go for dinner, and wisely and sensitively, ask the pregnant lady what she would like. Instantly, the milling about on the sidewalk ends as I declare we will be eating burgers and take off down the block. In a sea of, is this okay? is this normal? is the baby okay? am I okay? how will I know what to do? I'm never going to know what to do. I have to resolve all of my issues in the next six months before I am fit to parent, the clarity with which my body has approached eating is a relief. It's as if my stomach is reminding me, we know what to do. Don't waste your precious time. Trust your instincts. From what I've heard, pregnancy is a great precursor to the endless stream of advice and opinions and judgment one gets from every possible source as a parent. Strangers, grandparents, newspaper articles, doctors, celebrities, everyone will have an absolute truth about the right and wrong way to do things, and from what I can tell, it is a parent's job to sift through this, say thank you, and check in with one's own gut, one's own child, and one's own values and intelligence to decide what is right for each of us. For me, this process has started with eating during pregnancy. This welcome decisiveness of my body with regards to what it wants and needs has been a necessary antidote to the noise.

Eating during pregnancy has also been the first experience I've had in balancing my needs with my baby's needs, an essential lesson for parenting, I can only assume. Sometimes I want a second piece of chocolate cake. Does my baby NEED this cake? Is a ton of refined sugar the best thing I could give her? Probably not. But is it dangerous? Nope. And sometimes a happy mother is what's best for her and sometimes that's what we go with. And then there are times when I'm not hungry, but the kick in my ribs tells me someone else probably is, and while I could happily get a milkshake and be done with it, I have a bowl of kale and an organic egg because she needs her greens and she needs her protein and that's important to both of us. As I obsess about my fears about losing my identity, how one can possibly balance being an artist and being a mother, and how the course of my future will be shaped by bringing this person into the world, I am already practicing how to maintain balance. How to take care of myself and of her. How to honor not only my needs but my desires, all while recognizing, meeting and protecting hers. All in a day's lunch.

And finally, that sweet tooth I thought I lost for good back about a decade ago? Turns out it was just lying dormant. No wild cravings to speak of, but my love for all things baked and sweet has returned with a vengeance. It feels like a throwback to my college days when a cookie the size of a dinner plate just wasn't big enough. Even sweet breakfasts, which I normally abhor--cold honey-dipped cereal, pancakes with syrup, muffins--have caught my eye again. What does it all mean? Who knows. Will it disappear again once this little one is on the outside, or were the past ten years just a salty blip? Who is to say. Chalk it all up to the great big mystery that is motherhood and life. I'm just along for the ride, trying to savor the uncertainty rather than spit it out.

In honor of my newly rediscovered taste for dessert and the special sweetness of this time, despite the panic, anxiety, and never-ending to-do list, I give you these brownies, which I have made about three times since getting pregnant and always to rave reviews. I love them because intensely sweet though they are, for the potato chip lover in me, they've also got a punch of salt. A sweet and salty balancing act, just like pregnancy. Also, while I absolutely adore Ina's Outrageous Brownies, I swear I end up spending like $50 on the ingredients each time I make them. This has all of the outrageousness at a more economical and manageable price, another welcome bonus for those of us rapidly hemorrhaging money and likely to continue doing so for the next 20 or so years.

36 weeks and counting! Tick, tock...

Love,

The Mouse

Photo courtesy of the Food Network. Each time I have made these, I've neglected to take a picture. Chalk it up to pregnancy brain and the fact that no one wants to stop eating them long enough to snap a shot. 

Salted Caramel Brownies
from The Barefoot Contessa: Foolproof

1/2 lb (2 sticks) unsalted butter
8 oz plus 6oz Hershey's semisweet chocolate chips
3 oz unsweetened chocolate
3 extra-large eggs
1.5 tablespoons instant coffee granules, such as Nescafe
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour, divided
1.5 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
5 to 6 oz good caramel sauce (not dulce de leche, which has added milk or cream)
2 to 3 teaspoons flaked sea salt 

Preheat oven to 350. Butter and flour a 9x12x1.5 in baking pan.

Melt the butter, 8 oz of the chocolate chips, and the unsweetened chocolate together in a medium bowl set over simmering water. Allow to cool for 15 minutes. In a large bowl, stir (do not beat) together the eggs, coffee, vanilla, and sugar. Stir the chocolate mixture into the egg mixture and allow to cool to room temperature. Make sure not to skip this step or the chips will melt and ruin everything. :)

In a medium bowl, sift together 1/2 cup of flour, the baking powder, and salt and add to the choocolate mixture. Toss the remaining 6 oz of chocolate chips and the remaining 2 tablespoons of flour in a medium bowl and add them to the chocolate mixture. Spread evenly in the prepared pan. 

Bake for 35 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. As soon as the brownies are out of the oven, drizzle the caramel over the top of the brownies. If you need to, microwave the jar until its pourable and stir until smooth. Sprinkle the brownies with the sea salt. Cool completely before cutting. 

The Chicken at the End of the World

Dear Mouse, 

Happy Winter!

Xmas Tree on the porch of The Porches Inn, North Adams, MA

 It's 12:01 AM on 12/22/12, which means the Winter Solstice has passed, and we are all still alive, praise {Insert Mayan Deity Here}. You, A-Mac and MD have just left my place after our annual Solstice Dinner, which means I have been consuming wine since early 12/21/12. As such, I'll try to keep this short, sweet, and coherent.

I've been back in NYC for twelve days now since A-Mac and I returned from a two-week gig up in the Berkshires that was, on several levels, the stuff that dreams are made on. 

                                      Even though we had to wear our own faces all the time. 

(My) first snow of the year!! glimpsed from hotel window

Just another day at the office

                               Sabine, the Porches Inn Cat, stares at the fire. (There's a fireplace.)

I'm well aware that a lot is going on in our world at the moment. Certainly there's been enough new things to blog about in the time since I returned from AvantShangriLuminatiCamp. And I'm aware that if I AM going to yammer on about My Winter Vacation in the hills I could at least talk about the incredible Museum where we worked, the beautiful and challenging piece we were there to rehearse, the Dream Team Playwright/Director/Composer triumverate I have only dreamed of, or at least the memorable acoustic gig I played in a local sports bar/restaurant, singing in front of a popcorn machine between two flat screen TVs. These are all important.

But all I really want to talk about ...

... is breakfast.

So, you fill out the little card and hang it on your door at night...

... and in the morning, this happens.

(L to R (basically): chocolate croissant, juice glass, adorable silver 'lunchbox', black mug, grapefruit juice, half-and-half, coffee thermos, NY Times.)

Yes, the Porches Inn in North Adams, where we were housed for this gig, is a pretty stellar joint. It has a lot going for it : rural charm, proximity to famous museum, fireplace, 24-hour outdoor hot tub. But the feature which has ruined me for all Actor Housing going forward is

 - three words -

 Complimentary. In-room. Breakfast. 

Let's see it again, shall we?

I mean, if you can imagine a more Boo-Friendly amenity I'd like to hear it. 

You choose coffee or tea, type of juice, type of pastry, type of milk!!, and either local news or NY Times. Oh, and when I requested fruit instead of pastry? I got it. Apple & orange. I mean I still can't get over this . I really can't. 

I figured, well, I'll do that for the first few mornings. You know, until I get sick of it. 

(I never got sick of it. Oh, yeah, and all our meals were catered. And ... scene.)

But nothing gold can stay, and so it was that we finished the project with tears, laughter, harmony, weight gain, and good memories. I found myself back in NYC, forlorn, bleary-eyed, and - gasp! - having to fix my own breakfast.  Oh, the hardships of re-entry. 

Fortunately, we do have The Commons downstairs, and so far no one there has noticed when I'm wearing pajamas.  Also fortunately, the five-pound bag of The Roasterie 'Kansas City Blend' coffee I ordered (from, yes, Kansas City) arrived while I was gone. And most fortunately of all, I remembered that I like to cook. 

And when you find yourself in the kitchen feeling, for whatever reason, just a little out of practice (read: lazy/whiny), it's good to have a reaally simple, shall we say Foolproof recipe to which you can turn.

Chicken with Shallots, from Ina Garten's new cookbook, "Foolproof", which The Mother gave us both for Hanukkah. Good timing. 

This is the chicken I made for you guys tonight and I think I can say it was a hit. I recommend it for a busy winter week like this because it is FAST, Easy, and yet also somehow Fancy-Seeming and special. 

Happy Winter and Room Service for All!

Love,

The Boo

The Boo's Room Service Recovery Chicken, or Ina Garten's 'Chicken With Shallots' from 'Foolproof'

*I do not own an ovenproof skillet, so I browned the chicken in a pan on the stove and then transferred it to a roasting pan for the oven part. Also, Ina calls for "boneless, skin-on" chicken breasts which I couldn't find. My breasts had bones (you know what I mean) and it was just fine. *

Ingredients

4 skin-on chicken breasts

1/4 C minced shallot (1 large)

1/3 C fresh lemon juice  

3 tbsp heavy cream

4 tbsp (1/2 stick) butter, diced, room temp

1/2 C white wine

3 tbsp canola or veg oil

1 tsp salt

1/4 tsp pepper

Preheat oven to 425. 

Heat oil in skillet over med high heat for 2 min until it starts to smoke. 

Place chicken breasts, skin down, in oil and leave them for 4 - 5 min.

With tongs, turn them over and put the skillet in the oven for 12-15 min. (or, like me, transfer to roasting pan, and put in oven.)

Meanwhile, on stove, mix shallots, lemon juice, and wine in a saucepan over med-high heat. Cook until reduced to about 2 tbsp.  

Add cream, salt, pepper and bring to a boil. 

Turn off heat and add the diced butter. Swirl the pan to melt the butter.  (Don't reheat, says Ina, or sauce will "break", something that the Mouse explained to me and I still don't understand what it is.)

Take out the chicken and pour the sauce over it. Serve. 

Bringing It: Rosh Hashanah Plum Tart

Dear Mouse,

Happy New Year!

Let it be known that I started writing this post as soon as I walked in the door  from the family dinner where I served the item to be discussed below. I think that's a first.

"... the late August abundance of italian prune plums, which i find better cooked than eaten out of hand."

                                    -Sarah Leah Chase, Nantucket Open House Cookbook

(Longtime readers will recall that the above words signify The Boo's unhealthy  obsession with said Chase cookbook, since she committed them to memory upon first reading Chase's "Purple Plum Crunch"   recipe (yes, republished by Ina) years ago. She now cannot mention, eat, or think  about prune plums without muttering this phrase inanely like some kind of fruit mantra. Oh, and lest she forget, The Mouse also likes to helpfully repeat it every time plums come up in conversation (surprisingly often). It's like that South Park when Cartman can't even think of the song "Sail Away" without having to sing the entire thing...? Anyway.)

As I mentioned in my last post and will probably repeat, I am Super Excited to greet Fall. And  I'm just going to keep it real for a second and say I'm maybe more excited than usual this year because, for me, the summer of 2012 .... sucked. Yep.  Winter/spring was great (work! love! income!). Then, come June, all of it, in the words of the great Eddie Izzard, "slowly collapsed, like a flan in a cupboard."
(He was talking about the Austro-Hungarian Empire, but that's basically the same thing as my life.)

Fortunately, I'm a big girl now and I recognize these droughts for what they are: droughts. End of career and personal life? Probably not. Hard? Yes. But there's always a choice. I could have spent all summer lying on my floor complaining to the fan.  Or,  I could do what I did: lie on the floor 60% of the time, and spend the rest in Spiritual Boot Camp. I read kind of every helpful Text I could get my hands on. I went on Yoga Retreat (Thanks Mom!) . I talked to various Advisors.  I - yes - cooked. And..

I re-enrolled in "Shouting Aerobics"!

...which is totally not what it's called but it makes me giggle every time I say it to myself.
And when you're sweating through 60 -75 minutes of cardio while also shouting positive statements like a New Age Cheerleader ("I GIVE! MY BEST! THE REST I LET GO!!"), you feel A) AMAZING, there's no way around it... and B) SO RIDICULOUS that it helps (at least the first time) to keep a little NYC snark on hand for balance. Whatever gets you through the squats.

                                                         Best Plum Tart (pre-cooking)

I think I really thought I was so out of shape that if I went back to class I might actually die. Like, I just flat-out couldn't and wouldn't make it. Then I did. And THEN, after not dying,  I had two Big Thoughts. One was "I am capable of more than I think"...  and,  right on its heels: "... and I should be acting like it more often."

Attention Must Be Paid: The Mother's showstopping version of  Beatty's Chocolate Cake (L), (so light and fluffy yet so deeply chocolatey!) and your take on Smitten Kitchen's Apple Charlotka ("more apples than batter") (R), both of which graced the Rosh Hashanah table. (Why don't I have a picture of The Aunt's cheesecake? Too busy eating.)

What if, I thought, I really, actually, did my best, in everything I do? What if I brought my best game to every task, no matter what, even if my best isn't that amazing on everything?  What would that be like? I decided I am going to spend this Fall finding out. Or, as I put it to Mr. Poet at our lunch the other day:

" I'm making a plum tart for Rosh Hashanah... 

and it is going to be the Best Damn Plum Tart I can possibly make! "  

                                                                   Here it is.

We clinked our (second round of) bloody marys together, and I went off to buy 14 italian prune plums...whichifindbettercoookedthaneatenoutofhandohmygodicantstop.

The experience was a great mix of improvisation and careful attention to detail. I went basically with Dorie Greenspan for both the filling (layer of jam, layer of plums, walnuts and sugar on top) and the crust (her Sweet Tart Dough). But I threw in a little cassis liqueur as homage to Chase. And I mistakenly bought an 11.5-inch pan when the recipe is meant for a 9-inch pan. ("Oh no don't burn it!" - alarmed Mouse Text.) But I decided I would just refrain from preheating too long, and then watched it like a hawk. It worked out great - I like a thin crust.  

Moral of the story? Success! The crust did not burn or tear. The plum juice did not ooze excessively. And it was consumed - almost entirely! - by our discerning family!  And I felt GREAT for having given my all to something and done it to the best of my ability. On one level, you could say it's just a small thing that doesn't have anything to do with Big Life Issues. On another, it makes me realize again how everything, actually, IS connected ... because the feeling of Kicking Ass in one area just makes you want to Bring It in others. A good reminder to always Give Your Best ... then, the Rest You can  Let Go. 

Happy Fall (again),

Love
The Boo

The Boo's Best Plum Tart

Ingredients

Crust:

Make Dorie's "Sweet Tart Dough" (scroll to bottom of page for recipe). Follow her instructions exactly except the part about the 9-inch pan. For this recipe, you want my happily wrong proportions (11.5 - in tart pan with removable bottom). Crust-making-phobics (of which I am one) will note joyfully that you don't have to roll it out -- just press it into the pan with your fingers and chill that s*t for at least 30 minutes.

Filling

12-14 italian prune plums (ok if they're large you'll use fewer, I think I had about 10 in there. If you have extra, roast them and put them on your oatmeal, your chicken, anything.)
1/4 C plum jam (I used Sarabeth's "plum and sour cherry spreadable fruit", but my tart was quite tart. If you like things sweeter, maybe use regular sugary jam)
3 tbsp sugar
3 tbsp chopped walnuts
A splash (2 tbsp?) of cassis liqueur if you have it
1 tbsp cornstarch

Halve and pit the plums and put them into a bowl. If they're big plums, maybe slice each half again. Toss with cassis and cornstarch and set aside.

Mix walnuts and sugar in a bowl. Set aside.

Take out chilled tart shell and set on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, or a silpat, or whatever.

Spoon jam into chilled tart shell and spread across bottom. 


Arrange plum halves or slices in concentric circles on top of the jam, starting at the outer edge of the shell and working your way in.

Scatter sugar/walnut mixture over the fruit.

Cover in plastic wrap and let sit in a warm place for 30 minutes. 

Now, maybe with like 5 minutes to go, preheat the oven to 425. 

Remove plastic wrap from tart! (I almost forgot to do this), and put baking sheet with tart on it in oven for 20 minutes. (at 10 minutes give it a glance and check speed crust is browning).

After 20 minutes, take it out, tent it loosely with foil (to keep the crust from getting too dark) and put it back in for another 10.  It's done when the crust is a lovely golden brown and the fruit is bubbling. 

Let cool for at least 45 min, then remove outer ring of pan and slide the rest (with bottom) onto platter, Serve warm or at room temp.    

Nothing Better

Dear Boo,

Let's be honest. I like to toot my own horn for being an adventurous eater with a sophisticated palate and a few neat tricks in the kitchen. But when it comes down to it, is there really anything better than pasta with sauce and cheese? I'm gonna have to say no.

Unless, that is, it's pasta with sauce and cheese that's been baked to piping perfection, with spots of melted creamy mozzarella and bechamel swirled messily into the chunky rich tomato sauce, alternating with spots of crunchy, crispy, burnished crust of salty parmesan and bread crumbs, eaten at a table shared with good friends, alongside a delicious velvety glass of wine (or two), on a late Sunday afternoon right when those Sunday blues you've known since the age when life began to organize itself around Monday mornings and deadlines and homework, during a long, cold, gray month when apparently someone forgot to send a memo to the northeast letting us know it's actually SPRING and has been for quite some time.

Yup, nothing better.

Love,

The Mouse

Mario Batali's Ziti Al Telefono (or rigatoni, as is the case in the above photo) Makes 4 Servings (Ha. I was afraid this wouldn't be enough to feed us all, but we ended up sending some home with our guests, and eating it for days after. Don't fret.)

1 pound ziti
2 cups Basic Tomato Sauce (recipe below, or use your own)
2 cups Besciamella (recipe below)
1 pound fresh buffalo mozzarella, cut into 1/2 in cubes
1/2 cup freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano
1/2 cup fresh bread crumbs

Preheat the oven to 425. Bring 6 quarts of water to a boil in a large pot, and add 2 tablespoons salt. Cook the ziti for 2 minutes short of the package instructions; it should be too al dente to eat. Drain and rinse under cold water until cool. Drain a second time and place in a large bowl. Add the tomato sauce, besciamella, mozzarella, and Parmigiano to the ziti and stir to mix well. Place the pasta into a casserole dish (or divide into 4 individual gratin dishes as Mario would have you do) and sprinkle with the bread crumbs (I sprinkled also with a bit of parmesan and drizzled some olive oil over the top.)
Bake for about 20 minutes, until bubbling and crusty on top.
Serve with Ina Garten's Roasted Broccoli if you know what's good for you.


Basic Tomato Sauce
Makes 4 cups

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 spanish onion, cut into 1/4 in dice
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
3 tablespoons chopped fresh thyme
1/2 medium carrot, finely shredded
2 28-oz cans whole tomatoes
salt

In a 3 qt saucepan heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook until soft, about 8-10 minutes. Add the tomatoes with their juice, and bring to a boil, stirring. Lower the heat and simmer until thick, about 30 minutes. Season with salt.


Besciamella
Makes about 3.5 cups

5 Tablespoons unsalted butter
1/4 cup all purpose flour
3 cups whole milk
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

In a medium saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the flour and stir until smooth. Cook, stirring, until light golden brown, 6 to 7 minutes. Meanwhile, in another medium saucepan, heat the milk to just under a boil. Add the milk to the butter mixture about 1 cup at a time, whisking constantly until very smooth, and bring to a boil, whisking. Cook, whisking, until thickened, about 10 minutes; remove from the heat. Season with the salt and nutmeg. Transfer to a bowl and let cool, then cover and refrigerate until ready to use.

A Farewell to Christmas

Dear Boo,

Happy Little Christmas!

I remember growing up, we celebrated the twelfth and final night of Christmas as sort of a last hurrah to the season, softening the blow of taking the tree down, stripping the house of its last shiny bauble, twinkle, and bough. It was always so sad seeing our living room afterwards, as if the way we lived 11 months out of the year was just devoid of something--spirit, spectacle--ooomph. And then there was the dried out, naked carcass of the tree, left for the garbage man on the sidewalk. It was all too much to take. So the Parents devised what in retrospect was a fantastic strategy of distraction. For this one special night, The Mouse and The Boo would make dinner for them--planning the menu ourselves, scanning the food-stained pages of mom's ancient stack of cookbooks, and taking our first few stabs at slicing, dicing, and sauteeing. What did we even make? Do you remember? All I can recall is the discovery made some time around 1996 that parmesan and pears taste delicious together--a revelation for us novices that came in the form of a salad (with fennel maybe?) from one of mom's cookbooks (Silver Palate maybe?) (Note from the Boo: It was Chase's "Open House Cookbook", and the salad was "Mixed Greens w/Fennel, Pears, and Parmesan Shards". The beginning of my obsession.), and Jamie Oliver's Spinach, Feta, and Pea Salad (a standby to this day).

Then there was a make your own sundae bar, where I'd pile on the "Whipped Topping" and we'd sit, cookies and cream mustaches on our faces watching Dad fumble and curse at the ancient movie projector which he'd eventually get to work with a sputter and whirr, and there I'd be, larger than life, six years old in the Helyar Woods, grinning at the camera and lifting my skirt over my head. Or grandma at her wedding on a rooftop in the city, the wind blowing her veil, and you next to me saying, "When I get married, I'm going to do it on a rooftop in Manhattan." (Or did I make that last part up? Is it possible we actually had footage from her wedding?) And then we'd exchange gifts with each other (what did we possibly buy each other as kids?), and give presents to Mom and Dad (remember when I gave Dad a tie? That still makes me laugh. What the hell was I thinking?). And then, the house quiet and a little empty, the scent of pine needles beginning to fade, we'd go off to bed.

I think some of my earliest memories of cooking, and the joy of finding a new recipe, of feeding people and watching proudly as their plates were cleared, came from our Little Christmas traditions. And as this year was the first time I've had my very own Christmas tree, covered in my very own hand-crafted ornaments, I'm finding that I still need a little something to help soften the blow of saying goodbye to the season. (Note from The Boo: Um, mine is still up.)

So, tomorrow night (since tonight, on the official twelfth night of Christmas, I had rehearsal), The Fiance and I will celebrate Three Kings Day (his people's name for Little Christmas) with a gift exchange, dinner by him, and--sniff--taking down the tree.

But before we say goodbye, one last taste of the holiday.

My Christmas plate. Clockwise from down center: the Fiance's Pernil, Yucca with Cuban Mojo, The Boo's Roasted Brussels Sprouts, Raw Kale Salad, Ina's Cauliflower Gratin, The Mother's Sauteed Red Cabbage, The Mother's Stuffing, The Mother's Turkey, and--yep--The Mother's Sweet Potato Casserole. With marshmallows.

And lastly...

For Christmas Eve at the Boo's House, Ina's Baked Shrimp Scampi. A mess of shrimp swimming in garlicky butter with parsley and breadcrumbs, baked until golden brown. (Note from the Boo: MMMMMM)

I'll be making this again. At least some things don't have to get put away with the ornaments.

Ina Garten's Baked Shrimp Scampi

2 pounds (12 to 15 per pound) shrimp in the shell
3 tablespoons good olive oil
2 tablespoons dry white wine
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
4 teaspoons minced garlic (4 cloves)
1/4 cup minced shallots
3 tablespoons minced fresh parsley leaves
1 teaspoon minced fresh rosemary leaves
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon grated lemon zest
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
1 extra-large egg yolk
2/3 cup panko (Japanese dried bread flakes)
Lemon wedges, for serving

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F.

Peel, devein, and butterfly the shrimp, leaving the tails on. Place the shrimp in a mixing bowl and toss gently with the olive oil, wine, 2 teaspoons salt, and 1 teaspoon pepper. Allow to sit at room temperature while you make the butter and garlic mixture.

In a small bowl, mash the softened butter with the garlic, shallots, parsley, rosemary, red pepper flakes, lemon zest, lemon juice, egg yolk, panko, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and 1/4 teaspoon of pepper until combined.

Starting from the outer edge of a 14-inch oval gratin dish, arrange the shrimp in a single layer cut side down with the tails curling up and towards the center of the dish. Pour the remaining marinade over the shrimp. Spread the butter mixture evenly over the shrimp. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes until hot and bubbly. If you like the top browned, place under a broiler for 1 minute. Serve with lemon wedges.

Love,

The Mouse

All I Want for Christmas

Dear Boo,

In case you're still wondering what to get me for Christmukkah, I thought I'd make it easy on you and enclose my wish list. Not surprisingly, you might sense a theme here.

1) Le Creuset dutch oven.
Yes, they're expensive. But yes, TJ Maxx tends to have sales on this sort of thing. And yes, I've already thought about all this. I don't seem to own any kind of stove-top-to-oven dishes which leaves me crestfallen when I start reading a recipe for beef stew or braised lamb shanks or coq au vin that calls for just such a versatile pot. Also it makes me feel oh so Julia Childlike to bring one of these canary-yellow dishes to the table. I might even develop a faint trace of an accent. If you're lucky.

2) All About Braising, by Molly Stevens.

I've decided you can make up for the fact that you cackle wildly at my nerd-dom every time I mention this title, by buying said book for me. It seems to be all the rage on the blog circuit and I think you'll agree with me that during the winter pretty much all one should eat is something slow-cooked in some kind of sauce with sauteed vegetables. Also there's a recipe for braised celery with breadcrumbs which I am so perplexed by that I must try it. Also, will put to good use my new dutch oven.

3) My boyfriend's new book.So pukka in your plaid shirt, Jamie.

4) Oh Ina.You have never steered me wrong. From your awesome broccoli, to your outrageous brownies, you make me want to kick off my shoes, jump on the jitney, and come blow off some steam with you and Jeffrey. Let's get back to basics.

5) An Immersion blender.

Please don't mention this to the Boyfriend as I will get a good chiding about how we have no space for more kitchen stuff, and if you don't plan on using that AT LEAST once a week, out to the curb it goes, blah blah, yadda yadda, stoppedlisteningtwentyminutesago. Here's the thing. I want one. I don't have a blender. I don't want a blender for the aforementioned spatial issues, and who needs to clean all those parts. Also, what a genius invention--instead of juggling a hot pot and pouring all that soup into a whole other receptacle, one batch at a time, you just stick the little jiggimahoozit into the soup and BAM. Blending has commenced.

6) You may remember from "Things we Like Today" past, that we own two frosty beer mugs. Well, we did. One fell on the floor and cracked in half, spilling out whatever liquid that is between the walls of the glass (the Boyfriend thinks its water. I think it's something far more sinister).
Also one of the two cool Bodum glasses I like to drink wine out of, met a similar fate. It seems we are not meant to have double-paned glass. Maybe you could prove me wrong.

7) A Hess truck.
Every year you promise to make up for the fact that no one took me seriously when I kept asking Santa for one lo these many years ago. I hear there's a new model. With flashing lights.

Thank you. Your milk and cookies will be waiting.

Love,

The Mouse