A Pre-Emptive Steak

"Chet writes science fiction. His book is going well but his life has jumped the outline in this engrossing exploration of the addiction, power and danger of dwelling in the imagination." - Humana Festival blurb for Anne Washburn's " A Devil at Noon"

Dear Mouse,

Hello from Louisville KY! I am here for two months, embarking on a journey of science-fiction romance with witty dialogue, interdimensional travel, and mime sequences.

Speaking of the dangers of dwelling in the imagination, I'm having deja vu for more reasons than one. One, I'm doing this play again, though it's an actual production!! for the first time. Two, this is the first repeat of my travels (I blogged from here in 2009). Three, if the bed weren't different I would swear this is the EXACT same apartment I had last time, complete with giant-armoire-enclosed-tv, wall to wall yellow carpet, yellow walls, plastic plants, and a small balcony (!!) with a really impressive, twinkly view of the whole night city. (Maybe it's just a new bed.) And, Four, I can already feel an apology coming on - a Blogpology? - about not having enough to write about for a while. Rehearsal begins at 9AM tomorrow! and fills our days thereafter til we open on Feb 27. And I hope/imagine many evenings will be filled with new people and new plays. I am so excited. Also, at 9PM, I'm already ready for bed, which concerns me. (Well, it was a travel day.) The volunteers who picked us up at the airport took us to the grocery store where I bought all the ingredients for your Fiance's Picadillo, thinking that'd be an exciting, and easy, first night dinner.

... 20 minutes later I had microwaved a Lean Cuisine pizza, steamed some broccoli, and unwrapped an "Almond Dream: 'Little Dreamers' " frozen nondairy dessert sandwich. My point is that this does not bode well for exciting culinary adventures.

In my (pre-emptive) defense, however, I'd like to show the court what I am working with here:

Exhibit A:

Not a bad kitchen, right? Ooh, look at all these cabinets! Can you guess what's in them?

Did you say "Nothing"? You're right!

Well that's not fair. There's a pot and a pan. A knife. All the basics. I'm just pointing out my handicaps (no baking/roasting pan, measuring cup/spoon... )But last time I did blog about rolling out pie crust with a beer bottle, so ... this might be good, actually.

Exhibit B:

Have you ever seen the like of this before?

No, this is not Ground Control. Or, well, it is. Of the stove.

So to get ahead of the game, I want to make sure to share this recipe I just learned. I made it for myself the night before I left town, and it could. not. be. easier.

The Mother, concerned for some reason that I didn't have enough food in the house (when I was about to leave town for two months), had dropped by with chicken sausage, turkey chili, bean soup, and two individually wrapped shell steaks, pleading indecision. I explained I only had one meal left to make and thanked her, keeping one of the shell steaks.

This is great for a busy or late weeknight when chopping one shallot already seems like enough of a challenge (that's as hard as it gets).

The Boo's Steak for One

(yes, lifted from Sarah Leah Chase's "Cold Weather Cooking", which is just what this is)

1 shell steak, 1-in thick (mine was. you can adjust time in the pan of course if thinner)

kosher salt

1 shallot, minced

1/2 C balsamic vinegar

1-2 tbsp butter

That's It.

Sprinkle kosher salt generously* over the bottom of a skillet with the heat on high.

(*Maybe it's because I was using the large-crystal rock salt type, but I would like to offer a caution to not be TOO generous with salt here. It's going to form a crust on the meat, which is Uh-MAZing, but also has the potential to, well, kind of kill you with salt.)

When the salt crystals begin to jump up off the pan (!), throw the steak in.

Sear on one side about 4 min for med rare. Bottom will be brown and crusted.

Flip it over and sear another 4 min.

Take it out of the pan and keep it warm on a plate.

Minced shallot into the pan for 30 sec.

Pour balsamic into the pan. It will steam up - maybe shield your eyes here.

Boil until reduced to around 2 tbsp balsamic syrupy reduction.

Turn off heat, swirl in butter til melted.

Pour it over your steak. Eat.

I ate this with steamed broccoli on the side (also fabulous with the sauce), and grated parmesan on top. I think it'd also be great over a bed of arugula.

I'll leave you with another pre-emptive measure, good for this kind of travel -

The Pill-Dispenser-Turned-Spice-Rack. Fits neatly in the suitcase. A brilliant idea from Mrs. Poet. (Left to Right: cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, red pepper, cayenne, thyme, italian herb mix).

There may be hope for this kitchen yet.

Love,

The Boo

Winter Whites

Dear Mouse,

"Our snow was not only shaken from whitewash buckets down the sky; it came shawling out of the ground and swam and drifted out of the arms and hands and bodies of the trees; snow grew overnight on the roofs of the houses like a pure and grandfather moss, minutely white-ivied the walls and settled on the postman, opening the gate, like a dumb, numb thunderstorm of white, torn Christmas cards." - Dylan Thomas

I love Saturday mornings!! There is (are?) 15 inches- !! - of snow on the ground outside, I just finished listening to Ira Glass interview a 14-year old Glenn Beck disciple talking about how snow proves that global warming is "propaganda", but I'm still in a good mood. Friday was my last day at the day job I've held since 2004 and panic has not yet set in, I leave town Thursday for a two-month gig, and I'm wearing really comfortable socks. Today's plan: to read the Times in my pajamas, Netflix old episodes of BlackAdder (current obsession), and cook.

Let's never become these guys.

I just spent a month preparing for new head shots by (mostly) eliminating White (pasta, bread, potatoes) from my diet. Possibly because of this, I'm going to share with you two really good "white" recipes which ironically don't contain much flour at all. They are substantial, comforting, beautiful, easy, delicious, and a good idea when you are home this snowy season.

Vanilla Bean Pudding from Smitten Kitchen

This is worth it for the magic moment where you're whisking a pot of hot liquid on the stove and going, "This isn't working, it's never going to turn into - PUDDING! OH MY GOD I made PUDDING!" It thickens, suddenly, and there you have it. It could Not be easier. I went for the vanilla-extract version rather than the bean-scraping, but I bet that would be excellent. Next time I would also totally go with her suggestion to add some rum. I have this bottle of The Kraken crying out to be used in such a simple, homey, not-too-sweet and incredibly filling dessert (which this is).

Mr. Poet's White Chicken Chili (based on Epicurious recipe)

Unlike the Ina Garten recipe of the same name, this chili really is White. It starts with a roux (flour and butter), and involves white chicken, white beans, and grated jack cheese, ending up with an incredible, creamy, wintry stew flecked with green chiles and flavorful heat despite its bland appearance. Mr. Poet's version used canned beans (and I bet you could also probably use canned chiles and still rock it out). An additional note from the chef himself reads "My only major change was to cook everything in the same dutch oven. Next time I'd brown the chicken in small batches ... and cook the peppers with the onions. Good to pair with corn bread, arugula salad, and 100 proof whiskey."

So there you have it. I'm heading back to my couch.

Love,

The Boo

I promise not to write about my wedding for the next nine months. No, seriously.

Well at least I know what I'll be doing with my hair.

Dear Boo,

The night before last, I had a dream. It was my wedding day. We were on the porch of wherever the wedding was being held, when I realized that the Fiance and I had never talked about what the ceremony would consist of. No vows, no officiant, no readings selected. Nothing. I frantically scribbled a list of names and some quotes from memory on a napkin and cried to Mom that I didn't understand how we could have forgotten to plan such an essential component. Then I realized I had never contacted a florist and how would we get decorations in time, what with the wedding happening in an hour or so! I tearfully settled on wilted neon daisies from the deli and thought how? how did this happen?? I didn't have long to wallow though, as I suddenly remembered that I was scheduled to perform in a show the night after the wedding and had failed to learn my lines. "I'll just have to carry my script!" I declared despairingly. "You can't do that," Mom said. "It's a performance. You'll have to make time to learn the lines."

I woke up, sweaty and only somewhat relieved.

Because you see, while there's still time, and I promise you I will not be doing a show the day after the wedding, and I'm sure I'll find a florist and put together some kind of a meaningful ceremony, all of this is dependent on me--no, US--actually living through the next nine months. And with the way things are going, I'm not sure I will.

I realize I'm being a tad overly dramatic. And I tell myself to shut up and check in with reality on a regular basis. I mean, seriously, I found the person I want to spend my life with, and incredibly enough, he feels the same way! And now we're getting married. Which means we get to have all the important people in our lives together in one place, to celebrate us and bear witness to this big, lovely, loving step. Does it really matter whether this occurs under a big white tent or a ceiling with exposed steel beams??

When I was in third grade, I think, we had a computer class, where each student sat down in the library in a tiny plastic bucket chair, basking in the green glow of those old PC screens. We were taught how to open a new word processing document and instructed to write whatever we wanted--a story about anything we liked. It wasn't a writing exercise, just an attempt to get our fingers familiar with the keyboard, to learn to connect the cursor with the place we wanted to add a word. During parent-teacher conferences, my teacher told Mom and Dad about how frustrating this was for me. While all the other kids clicked away happily all period, writing about dragons and princesses and beating up their little brothers, I twisted in my seat, furrowing my brow, crossing my legs, examining my nails, and generally brooding in an elaborate attempt to foster the inspiration necessary to write something really worthwhile. By the time I had settled on an idea, lifting my pointer finger to strike the first key, the period was over and we had to go to lunch.

Well, it seems not much has changed. Saying yes to the Fiance's proposal took about two seconds (once I realized he wasn't joking).
Choosing the location, date, and every other detail of this wedding is taking what feels like a lifetime.

Making choices has always been part of an agonizing dance I do with myself which involves the weighing of pros and cons, the mourning of the roads not taken, the imagining of all possible unexpected considerations, and a healthy dose of self-examination, emotional gymnastics, and snacks.

I realize, though, if I ever want to fit into a wedding dress, I cannot snack my way through every decision. That is, not if the snacks continue to be salt and vinegar potato chips. So, instead I plan on making and eating this salad as much as possible. I'll need the vitamins to get through this phase of planning. Take that, wedding industry! I refuse to be swept up in your tidal wave of white poof, archaic anti-feminist customs, hideous rental chairs, MOST IMPORTANT DAY OF YOUR LIFE, nonsense. Talk to the kale.

Love,

The Mouse

Kale Salad

(shown above with sausage and peppers over garlic bread)

This was inspired by a salad Chef Josh served one night, and a recipe he has for a "Winter Panzanella Salad with butternut squash, croutons, and kale. If you email him, I bet he'd share the recipe...

It never occurred to me to eat kale raw, as I'd previously only cooked it down into near oblivion to soothe the bitter bite. But it turns out, it's fantastically delicious in this form, and makes for a great hearty winter-time lettuce alternative. And since it's raw, you're getting the maximum dose of all its healthy leafy green properties. I made a version for our Christmas dinner, and its crunchy, acidic, and inescapably healthy flavor was a perfect foil to the rest of the rich meal.
Here's how I do it:

1 Bunch or so of kale (I like Lacinato or Tuscan Kale. I think the curly variety you often find in supermarkets is better cooked.)
Remove stems and spines, and slice thinly.
2 large shallots, sliced thinly
1/2 lemon
3 T or so of Cider Vinegar
6 oz grated cheese like very sharp cheddar or gruyere might work
6 T or so of Olive Oil (for both sauteeing shallots and to finish salad)
(optional: couple handfuls of sliced almonds)
(optional: add 2 T of chicken stock)

Clean kale and remove stems and spines, slice thinly and put in bowl. Slice shallots thinly and sautee in a good amount of olive oil over medium high heat until translucent and fragrant. Pour shallots and oil over kale while hot. Squeeze lemon over kale, add cider vinegar, and salt and pepper to taste. Add a bit more olive oil, and toss. Taste it and adjust with more lemon or vinegar if it needs acidity, or more salt and olive oil or chicken stock to your taste. Add cheese and almonds (if using), toss and serve. I find the kale tastes best if you let it sit with the dressing for a bit before eating.

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

The Kitchen Where We Meet The World (Potluck 2011)

Dear Mouse,

"I don't mean to be a Posshole Asta", said Leon, looking over my shoulder, "But you have too much water in that pot."

Ah, out of the mouths of Lions...

Jamie Oliver's 'Chicken In Milk'.
Photo lovingly recycled from a Mouse Post Past



He meant, of course, "Pasta A**hole" (as in, someone who claims at least partly Italian background and has things to say about the way you're making dinner), but a slip of the tongue created this fabulous new job title. I told him he should start an Italian Cooking Advice Column, "Ask the Posshole Asta", and then I said to get out of my kitchen.
(He stayed though... because he was also cooking the meal.)

Yes, Mouse, it's a new year, bringing with it new vocabulary words, new humans (welcome to the world, Little Poet!! born 12/30/10), new relationships, and most importantly, new ways to approach eating things. My 2011 began with a Potluck Dinner Party.

What with Little Poet and the new year, I was inspired to do a little digging into the significance of the number 11. Like any good, new Agey friend, I printed out her astrological chart (the 'snapshot' of the planets' positions at the moment of birth). Little P had a few big planets in the 11th House, which meant approximately nothing to me. But what I learned straight off I really liked:

"The 11th is the house of friends... our first experience of tribal society, the playground where we meet the world." (astro.com)

New Year's Eve 2011 found me close to friends indeed - very close, as three of us tried to prepare four dishes simultaneously in my very tiny kitchen. How did this happen, I wondered. Firstly, my plan had been for a solo New Year's (silent meditation retreat, two days of yoga, or similar). But there I was, two days to go and no closer to a plan than "Kripalu costs what?" Then I realized that several friends, none of whom know each other, were without plans. I offered to host a potluck dinner, and it was On like the silver top hats grudgingly worn by the staff at Cafeteria this year.

Secondly, 'potluck' is not a word that often escapes my (food snob?) lips.It always sounds like "good luck with that". Oh, sure, it's fine for an office lunch or maybe a church dinner? But it's an entirely different thing in your home. You're letting someone else deck your table with their god knows what creations, and even - gasp - commandeer your stove to prepare. A dinner party is something you either host or attend. Right? Something well-planned and harmonious. A potluck is, like, every man for himself. You won't be hungry but you also probably won't be satisfied. Right?

rigatoni alla vodka, photo courtesy recipebridge.com. But ours looked like it.
(I really need to unpack/locate my camera)

THE MENU

Leon, aka Posshole Asta: homemade vodka sauce, homemade marinara type sauce w/veggies.

J-Mas (Posshole Asta #2): rigatoni and fresh raviolis from place in Jersey, homemade (vegan) chocolate chip cookies, surprisingly tasty.

A-Mac: spinach salad with dried cranberries, walnuts, and goat cheese.

The Boo: Jamie Oliver's Chicken in Milk, as seen above. (Really, so easy and people freak out. Make it.) Roasted Brussels Sprouts w/bacon and rosemary.

The Mayor: red wine and mulled cider, witticisms.

To drink: kir royales for some, seltzer and pomegranate juice for the teetotalers, a word that I think must have been invented as an intoxication test (ie, if you can say or spell it, you're not drunk)

Highlights: the TWO pasta courses (oh, 2010 decadence past). The digestive walk around the block before midnight. The viewing of Times Square Fireworks from my fire escape! The after-dinner 'Double Dream Hands' rehearsal. The brief loud chorus of Auld Lang Syne. Going to sleep to the sound of hooting noisemakers on 7th avenue.

There's something about learning to feed and be fed at the same time. In 2011, let us play in the 11th house of communal creativity. Let us open our kitchens and our hearts to new tastes and new lessons. Sometimes, we can let someone else boil the water and make the sauce.

May I suggest your local Posshole Asta?

Love,

The Boo

Snowy Interlude

Dear Mouse,

I dont know if you heard down there in FL, but it snowed a bit up here in NYC.


In honor of Snow Day, I thought I'd share the following recipe, from the Folger Shakespeare Library. It's a real recipe. I think I may try to make it. My fave is the part where you beat it with a tree branch. (And if anyone knows what a "Sillibuffi" is, contact me immediately.)

Happy New Year!

To make Snow.

Take a pint of thicke sweete Creame,
and halfe a pint of Sack* and halfe a
pound of Sugar, and the white of two Eggs
well beaten, and a pretty deale of Limon,
and mingle all this together, and put it into
a pretty big earthen Pan, or Bason, and
take a pretty big birchin rod, and beate it
till the froth doth rise, and thin take it
of with a stirre, and put it into the thing
you would have it goe in, (it should bee
a glaze Sillibuffe pot, if you have it, if not,
a white creame dish will serve: you should
lett it stand a pretty while before you eate
it, because it should sittle with a little
kindi of drinki at the bottom, liki a Sillibuffi.

Mrs. Sarah Longe, Her Receipt Booke, c.1610
* "sack" = sherry

Happy New Year! Come back so we can have a kindi of drinki.

Love,

The Boo

Subliminal Weight-Loss Tapes (Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Chocolate Croissants)

Dear Mouse,

Remember Lloyd Glauberman?

Of course you do.

In our house, there were many surprising traditions (speaking of xmas!). But two things will always stand out to me as Hart Household Staples: Diet Foods (Sugar-Free Mini-Muffin, anyone?) and Meditation Tapes.

Yes, our family believed in the power of deep breathing and visualization to treat everything from insomnia to Thanksgiving traffic. My favorite of these tapes were the mysterious Dr. Glauberman's. With names like "Excellence" and "Mind-Body Connections - Feeling Better", they featured a 'Hypno-Peripheral Processing' technique in which LG's voice would appear in stereo; telling one story in one ear of your walkman's headphones, and an entirely different story in the other. While sort of space-y New Age music played, I would drift off into a 'twilight state' leading, eventually, to sleep, or to a general well-being. I loved them.

Of course, we had other favorites. I liked Shakti Gawain's recording of her 'Creative Visualization' Meditations, featuring the Pink Bubble Visualization and others. And while in college, at home one fateful day, I discovered a random hypnosis tape entitled "Weight Loss". Mired as I was in collegiate angst and the effects of the Freshman Thirty or whatever it was, I jumped at the chance to think some more about my favorite subject at the time: calories, and how to burn them. (I am glad to say this stage is over). I tried it.

It was similar to a lot of other tapes. It asked you to visualize something you really wanted to achieve and focus on that. (Oh, while looking great). The package explained that 'certain threshold statements' were also being played at certain points in the tape, but you coudn't consciously hear them. I just hoped they weren't, like, "Fatty", or "Eat Mallomars", and pushed play.

Now I can't remember whose tape this was, or anything about it, except that ... it worked. Not in any big dramatic way. I didn't become suddenly rail-thin, or replace eating with aerobics. But I did, miraculously, notice that I would look at certain foods and think a completely new thought, "Do I really want that right now?" If the answer was no, and it often was, I would think another completely new thought, "Well, then why would I eat that? I'm trying to stay healthy/lose weight", and go on to do something else. And sometimes that was aerobics!

I wound up thinking less about food. And also being more aware of it.

Thinking less.
Experiencing more.

I asked that the tape be sent to me while I was in Ireland as an exchange student, but when I got it, I found our father had accidentally recorded over it with himself talking on the phone. Not as effective. And that was it for my subliminal life for a long while.

OK, so fast forward to last week. I have a really demanding role coming up in two months, and by that I mean it contains a scene in which I am going to have to appear onstage wearing, say, a sheet. In front of, oh, potentially most of the American Theatre. And while this is certainly exciting, it also calls for help.

Help that only one person can give.

It turns out that Dr. Lloyd Glauberman is not only still going strong, he is updated for the digital age, with CDs AND downloads for sale.

... AND he also has a new recording: "Hypno-Peripheral Processing - Weight Loss".

I figured, "It can't hurt", and I ordered it, already hearing you laughing at me. (I understand). It's pretty much what I remember - the soothing, spacey sounds, the dual doctor voices, instant twilight, no memory of what he said upon 'waking', good falling-asleep experience. I noticed some changes immediately - namely, a general sense of well-being and an increased mindfulness. An awareness of my own appetite, and the instinct to choose veggies and protein frequently. But perhaps most importantly, several days in, there was this.

No, this is not a diet croissant.

I know what you're thinking, because it's exactly what I thought, when I woke up on day 7 or so with only one thought on my mind. I had to have breakfast, and it had to be this: a warmed-up, flaky, melty, chocolate croissant. My mind protested for a moment -- "You NEVER eat these! What kind of weight-loss tape makes you crave croissants? You're just going to ruin everything". But somehow, a different voice was stronger. I went downstairs, picked up coffee, the paper, and a chocolate croissant from Le Pain Quotidien. I went back home, popped it in the oven at 250F, waited about 9 minutes.I brought back the now-gloriously puffed up and warm specimen to the table and prepared to assume the traditional furtive, "I shouldn't be doing this", croissant-eating
posture--

-- and it didn't happen. I sat up straight and calmly took a bite.

And - these experiences are always so hard to really explain after the fact - but I have to tell you I finished that croissant with only ONE thought on my mind, which roughly translates to "MMMMMMMMM!" There was absolutely, positively, no guilt, no bargaining, no Fat Thoughts AT ALL.

Happy Holidays, Dr. Glauberman! Thank you for the reminder that maybe, just possibly, one of the ingredients of a healthy bodymind is (gasp!) sincere mindful enjoyment of the Food it eats.

And though out of habit, post-croissant, I may fleetingly have thought, "well, now the day's lost'....

... it wasn't. What did I have for lunch?
(Without, I SWEAR, thinking about it and certainly not as punishment?)

A bowl of sauteed collard greens.

They were delicious too.

Love,

The Boo

Sticky, Sweet, Salty, Sour (and other words to describe the holidays)

Dear Boo,

My, how embarrassing. I've really been falling down on the job lately when it comes to cooking and writing and writing about cooking. I swear it's not ENTIRELY due to my faraway, but impending nuptuals, though I have to say, for two pretty low-maintenance people, it sure is taking us a while to figure out where the frick to get married (seriously, any ideas, people? Put me out of my misery.). There's also that little thing of school. I write to you now, still in my pajamas at 12:30, having pulled the old person version of a paper-writing all-nighter. ie, get home at 10pm, put on a pot of coffee, order some diner food, and write until 2am when the fiance is asleep on the floor, and I just can't read another sentence about theories of attachment in the infant-caregiver dyad. Ick.

The point is, it's been so busy around here that I turn around and here we are, smack in the middle of the holiday season. Thanksgiving came and went in a house in Virginia full of 26 close relatives of the fiance (13 of which are children), and a tummy full of the ubiquitous biscuits and gravy (on the MORNING of Thanksgiving, no less) and a truly decadent turkey dinner. And then Hanukkah, earlier in the season than is really fair. As if the inferiority complex wasn't bad enough in a Christmas-focused culture, here we are lighting candles before we've barely put away the leftover cranberry relish. Or at least, some of us are. I've been such a bad half Jew this year. The only time I've lit them was on the night of our family brisket dinner in honor of the holiday. For which, as per usual when it comes to our family, in a panic induced by the Mother that we may not have enough food (read: twice as much as is really necessary for any 4 person dinner.), I made some chicken.

But not just any chicken. Grandma's apricot chicken. Or an approximation thereabouts. It has been one of my very favorite comfort foods since we had it grandma's table and then at our own when mom used to make it. It's sticky and sweet, savory, salty, crispy and moist. And, as I was reminded this time around, easy. The perfect weeknight main dish, holiday or no. Thanks, Grandma. And happy Hanukkah.

Now, onto Christmas.

Love,
The Mouse


Grandma's Apricot Chicken

* I was surprised to find a similar recipe to our family version in Bon Appetit for a Hannukah menu in 2007. Apparently, we're not the only ones to find this strange mix of asian and eastern european flavors somehow appropriate for a Jewish family dinner. As my measurements and cooking times are all estimates (and rather loose, at that), you may want to refer to this one for details. I won't be hurt.

1 3lb chicken, cut into 8 pieces
1 cup apricot preserves (make your own here!)
1/3 cup Teriyaki Sauce (plus a couple of tablespoons)
1/3 cup Soy Sauce (plus a couple of tablespoons)
3-4 cloves of garlic, minced
Ginger powder (optional)
salt and pepper as needed

Marinate chicken in a couple of glugs each of soy sauce and teriyaki. Sprinkle a bit of ginger powder if you like. Add a bit of the minced garlic, reserving most for the glaze. Let sit in fridge for anywhere from 30 minutes to 8 hours.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Mix preserves, soy sauce, teriyaki, and rest of garlic in a bowl. If you're not in a rush/limiting your dirty dishes, blend this mixture in food processor until mostly smooth. Line a shallow, heavy baking pan with tin foil and sprinkle with a bit of oil. Place chicken skin-side up on sheet, and place in oven. Cook until chicken is just beginning to brown (10-15 minutes). Take out of oven and spoon glaze generously over chicken. Put back in oven. Cook until about halfway done (about 30 minutes more), turn and glaze other side. Finish cooking in oven (20 more minutes?). For last few minutes put under broiler to crisp skin a bit. Serve with anything. Lick fingers.