Alright, 2012. I get it.

Dear Boo,

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

sigh.

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

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

Love,

The Mouse

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

Hunger Strikes

Dear Boo,

Hunger is a bad thing. I'm not talking hunger on a global scale because DUH--I'm talking the bad decisions, bad moods, and general bad feelings that hunger can induce. As no doubt you know from experience, I become a hugely cranktastic bitch when it's been too long since my last snack. And I don't use that term lightly. Snack OR bitch. At the Big Apple BBQ in Madison Square Park recently, the Boyfriend literally thrust a pile of brisket into my face and said "I WILL NOT speak to you until you've had at least three bites of this." yowzah.

Now I know I'm not the only one whose capacity for reasonable behavior is severely limited by low blood sugar. One night last week, the Boyfriend had a rehearsal and would be gone all evening. I had no plans and said I was in for the night. An hour later, my friend called and said our old friend was in town from California and did I want to meet up for dinner. I thought of calling the Boyfriend but decided it was an abuse of cell phone power to leave a pointless message that he wouldn't get until after the fact, so I skipped off to dinner on my merry way. Partway through my macrobiotic sushi at Souen (deelish, by the way, despite the fact that the decor looks like the inside of Grey Gardens) and mid-discussion about how the introduction of credit in the 80s created a sense of complacency in the American public that has corrupted our sense of social justice and outrage (seriously, this is what we were talking about. this is what happens when you hang out with people from Northern California. And eat things like Wakame) I noticed a missed call on my cell. And by "a" missed call, I mean 16. And a series of increasingly alarmed text messages from the Boyfriend who, having not eaten since lunch, had gotten out of rehearsal early and come home to find me gone with no explanation or prior warning and no response to his calls, had gone into a spiral of HUNGER-AGGRAVATED panic. When I called to let him know I had not been abducted by a gang of wild urban ninjas, he was stalking around the neighborhood gnashing his teeth, too hungry and upset to stop for dinner. When I arrived home, I found a spent Boyfriend sitting on our couch eating what might be the exact OPPOSITE of a macrobiotic meal: an Italian hoagie, a 24 oz can of Bud Light and a LARGE BAG OF PORK RINDS. My penance, apparently, was watching him ingest this. (For the record, I love Italian Hoagies, but this wasn't even good. Visit this place for how it's really done.)

Moral of the story? EAT SOMETHING FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. If one person, just ONE person picks up a bag of peanuts before they make that fateful decision on an empty stomach, I have done my job, and all this blogging was worth it. Please, people, a panic attack and poor, POOR food choices could have been prevented with one well timed snack. Oh, and maybe a phone call.

Love,
The Mouse

In the interest of feeding your hungry faces before you do something stupid like buy a LARGE BAG OF PORK RINDS (sorry, I guess I'm just not over it yet), here is a fast dinner you can shop for and cook quickly. I recommend buying this Jamie Oliver cookbook since he's really good at this sort of thing and that's where our kickass spinach/feta/pea salad originates from, Boo. The fish part of this dish is from his book...

Take at Least Three Bites of This Before you Say Another Word Fish Dinner:

I'll make this quick. It really is easy. You'll need:
An oven and a roasting pan. Or cookie sheet in a pinch.
A few pieces of cod, or catfish or that sort of fish (ask the guy behind the counter if you're not sure)
Flat leaf Parsley
one fresh red chili
Pinch of oregano
2 limes
salad greens
balsamic vinegar
some small red potatoes
olive oil
salt/pepper
lemon

Preheat oven to 425 WITH the pan in the oven. Put a pot of water on to boil. When it comes to a boil, drop the potatoes in. They're done when a knife slides through easily. Chop up a couple of handfuls of parsley, the chili (minus seeds). Mix with a pinch of oregano. Spread a lil olive oil on the fish, salt and pepper, then pat the herbs on it. Pull out the pan and place the fish on it along with the halved limes. Hear the sizzle. Stick it in the oven for about 10 minutes, depending how thick the fish is. Take the potatoes out of the water and place in an oven-safe dish. with a spoon or fork, press down on the tops of the potatoes to break the skin and split the flesh open a bit. drizzle generously with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Stick in the broiler for a couple of minutes until the tops brown.
Toss the salad in a bowl and drizzle with olive oil, a bit of balsamic, and the juice of half a lemon. taDa.
When fish is done plate it up with a few smashed potatoes and a pile of salad. Serve with the roasted lime to squeeze over fish and some crusty bread. Easy Breezy Beautiful. Covergirl.