the first year

Ten years. Today marks ten years from what Conrad and I consider our first date. Ten years.

That's, oh, 20 times longer than any previous relationship I'd previously had. Pats on the back all around.

In the run up to the Big Event (eat your heart out, Will and Kate), I've been casting backward from time to time. I thought it might be fun, then, to share photos from the first year Conrad and I were together.

Unsurprisingly, there are few photos of the two of us. There is this one, however, from about a month after we started dating. Our first appearance as a couple, I guess. It took some of our teammates another year to figure out we were together. We chuckle about that now.

That first year we traveled together: first San Diego (wow, another photo of us!), then trips to my homeland
and his (twice).
San Francisco followed on from that,
and then we capped the year in style, celebrating our anniversary (and his birthday the next day) with a trip to visit his cousins in Sweden.
I was a little afraid to tell him how much I wanted to go with him because I couldn't afford to buy a ticket, and I didn't think he'd use miles for me to go with him. I was delighted and grateful to be wrong.

It was from that trip that one of our household sayings came into our lives: As long as we have snacks and each other...

10 years, much snacking, each other. Enjoy a glimpse into our younger times together.

questioning the hat

So, in an effort to be more grown up and emulate Martin's style (which I genuinely admire - do not read this opening sentence as snark, please!), I have added a couple of hats the wardrobe. When I bought this at an H&M in Toronto (yes, I was in Toronto, it happens), I thought it looked rather dapper. When I wore it Friday night to go out for dinner with Bradley, I found myself thinking it looked old and stuffy and like I was trying too hard.


I'm usually not so torn on my clothing (though Conrad and perhaps Todd and a few other close friends might dispute that), but with the hat, I am. I'll hold on to it, but I fear it may take up residence in a corner of my closet and not see daylight again for quite some time. Like when I'm truly old or something. Which may not be all that far off, come to think of it....

back to NOLA for conference

It's turning out to be a pleasant Sunday here in Chicago. We've just been across the street for a second round of coffee, I've baked more scones and given most of them away. Still ahead: packing for the upcoming travel. But no rush. A bit of time to check in here on the blog first.

I've only ever been to New Orleans for conferences, and with a second conference there this year, my tally is now up to 4 visits. I know there is much of the city I have yet to see, and doubtless much to appreciate. Sticking close to conference hotels on and around Canal Street and the French Quarter, however, does not give the best impression of the city. I don't have a lot of scenic photos to share. My room at the Holiday Inn did have some good views, however.

I do have a few food shots. I kept them to a minimum this past trip, I'm not entirely sure why. Perhaps not in the mood? I did eat some good things, though: a pizza at Domenica, dinner at MiLA (including a rice pudding with rum-glazed dates), dinner at the bar at Sylvain where the smoked salmon rillettes were a highlight of my meal.

The conference itself? Enjoyable and rewarding. I didn't have any committee responsibilities, so I was able to sit and listen and let ideas and research findings wash over me. I drank in what I could, and the rest of the time I tried to connect with some of the people I know, like Susan (no photo, alas) and Marisa. And Carolyn, with her fabulous mane of hair.


No more conferences this year, and the remaining travel I have is to the same old, familiar and welcome places. Which means, of course, more food photos to come!

something old, something new

I wheeled out a couple of familiar recipes last night and tried a few new ones. Mixed success, in my brutally honest opinion, but a fine dinner overall.

Speaking of old and new, that was the mix at our kitchen table. Conrad and I have each been with the Smelts 10+ years. Brad and Matt are at about a year apiece. We have a great group of younger swimmers on the team these days, and it was a nice opportunity to get to know both of them a little better. The dinner started from a Facebook post by Brad when he was visiting a particular winery in California, Merry Edwards. I commented that Conrad loved the Pinot Noir from that winery, and Brad said he had picked up a bottle to share. I suggested he bring it for dinner, he agreed and invited Matt along to fill out the table nicely. A vegetarian meal to fit Brad's diet, and some good wine to enjoy. Oh, plus team gossip, of course!

Unusually for me, I did not force everyone out of the kitchen while I cooked. Conrad opened a bottle of Champagne for the four of us (why not celebrate anything we could?), and they munched on cheese, quince paste, crackers, olives, nuts, and caper berries. Me? I finished off a batch of rice cooked with the liquid drained from black beans I'd cooked up. Then I turned my attention to empanadas. Ah yes, fried food. Mmmmmm. A fine recipe, and one you've seen from me before.

I had roasted two types of mushroom (trumpet and hen-of-the-woods) and chopped those up. To them I added some cooked diced potato, charred garlic, diced goat milk gouda, and some chopped rehydrated red chile. This became the filling for the empanadas. While we chatted, I was pressing the dough and folding it closed around the mushroom mixture. A lighter set of flavours - a little earthy, but not too deep and rich - to go with the Pinot, or so I hoped.

But I'll be honest, I could have done better with the empanadas. The oil wasn't hot enough at first, and the slow cooking let the first several I made open up as they cooked. Grrrr. The last several were better, I'm glad to say, but it was a bit embarrassing to have kitchen mistakes on full view. Brad and Matt were very indulgent of them, thankfully.

I served the empanadas with the rice (which also was a bit less good than I would have liked, though I think the leftovers will go nicely with eggs and a chile sauce of some sort - it's been a long time since last I made that recipe, but I used to love it in the days back at the restaurant), red chard, and a sauce I'd made using dried red chiles, onion, charred garlic, dried mushrooms, and tomato. It turned out well, I think, a happy experiment.

And so we dined.

And the wine, I should add, was delicious.

After dinner, we remained in the kitchen. Matt had brought a Washington Cab blend, and we slowly sipped our way through that. Conrad helped tidy a bit, and I started on dessert. Here's where the new recipes came in, and frankly, I thought they were pretty darn good. I had made hazelnut shortbreads from Emily Luchetti's truly wonderful Stars Desserts cookbook (my hardcover edition needs rebinding badly) earlier in the afternoon. I also made a batch of hazelnut ice cream from a recipe I found online. It was well worth skinning all those nuts, I tell you. The nut flavour was subtle, and it would be understandable to think that the ice cream was a good, rich vanilla. There are a lot of leftovers of it, though, and I may find myself tempted in days ahead.

I went with hazelnut, though, because I think its a great complement to plums. The plum season will soon end, and I will be sorry to see it over. For snacking or for cooking, plums are a wonderful fruit, after all. I used 9 prune plums last night in making the showstopper: souffles.

There I was, in the kitchen, mixer running at high speed as I whipped up egg whites and sugar. I folded them in batches into a strained plum puree. Three ingredients, that was it. The mix then went into prepared ramekins and into the oven. A short time after that, Brad started getting excited, asking if I had made baked Alaska. He knew that I had made ice cream, and he thought that egg whites plus ice cream logically meant that classic dessert. Nope, sorry Brad. His excitement was cute, though. My own excitement came with the rising of the souffles. I had plates ready with a scoop of ice cream (for adding into the hot, sweet-tart souffle) and a couple of cookies. The souffles came out of the oven, a nice brown on top, pink around the sides. Onto the plates, onto the table, and delighted reactions all around (including from me). This was one of the best desserts I've done in ages - a little forethought on what to make and how to present it, a willingness to take a small risk.

We ate it all up, full as we were, and settled into contented conversation once the plates were clean.