cookie binge

After a long dormant period in the kitchen - laziness, travel, holidays - I am back!

Well, you knew that already. I have actually posted a few things. This post should not be a surprise. Still, are you sitting down?

I've been baking.

Yep.

I know.

Last week was a bit obscene, in fact. I overdid it, and it's a wonder I even want to go into my kitchen anymore. Still, TK needs his CotM supply, and if one conference roomie gets cookies, I cannot neglect the other. And the SF wondered where his cookies were, and I thought, "Gee, if I'm mailing cookies to Baltimore to two people, I can't forget one of my all-time favourite Smelts, Tim." And Jeph's birthday needed a batch of cookies, and Brian's birthday was just yesterday. Also, we had some goodies from Vancouver to send up to Conrad's sister.

How many people is that?

I made four different types, but in the interest of some element of surprise, I photographed but one batch, the thin, crispy, tasty double chocolate cookies. How sad that I had to hold back the misshapen ones. Mmmmm.

TK jokes about his friend Jamie being my arch-nemesis, meanwhile, but, in fact, I have met her, and she is quite lovely. And she's just got a new position starting Monday. So... back into the kitchen today to get some cookies for her to start off on a happy note. Biscotti this time (orange, milk chocolate and almond) - I whipped them up in between finishing a workday at home and heading for a short swim. I hope she likes them. I may concoct a few more for her, in fact. Stay tuned.

And come to think of it, I'm in town this Saturday morning. Scones for Smelts resumes. Huzzah!

favourite cuisine

If asked, I can answer easily. No, sorry, despite my recent (and ongoing even) outburst of patriotism, my favourite cuisine is not Canadian. Oh sure, I love me some good butter tarts and Nanaimo bars. But no.

If asked, I will always say Mexican. Hands down. Is it any wonder why I love being in Chicago, home of the Baylesses' restaurants?

Last weekend I indulged in Mexican a little closer to that country. Conrad and I were in Austin for the weekend (well, he was there longer). I have a longer post to write about our especially good dinner with AJ and Holly, but for now, a breakfast treat, huevos motuleños.



I had this dish for breakfast at Güero's Taco Bar on South Congress. Great, funky part of town (and I really do recommend a trip to Austin if you've never been). The breakfast was quite fine (and when I reminded the waitress of the side order of chorizo, it was even better). Still, I can't help but think a little wistfully of the days of Don Diego's when Dick would make this dish. His version had the bananas, and peas, for that matter. Really, I've never had a version so good. The quest, however, is delicious to undertake...

open letter (three days late)

Dear Jeph,

First of all, happy 41st. Plus 3 days now. Early happy 42nd? A blessed Easter to you? Oh, heck, happy birthday.



Thanks for being you. Thanks for being an awesome friend. Thanks for enabling my dirty habits by sending me comics that I don't buy for myself. Thanks for sending your great baking. Thanks for hosting us last summer and making the most gorgeous summer squash tart imaginable. Thanks for the near-daily (and multiple times daily) e-mails. Thanks for having a wickedly hot boyfriend and letting me make frequent inappropriate remarks about him. Thanks for nagging me gently on things like not getting enough sleep. Thanks for sending me links to cool things like Threadless and such. Thanks for answering the phone and offering advice on matters Web site and baking related. Thanks for four years of knowing each other and the friendship we've grown and maintained in that time.

Happy birthday - I hope the cookies and other gifts arrive with you tomorrow. May you enjoy them well.

Take care,
Peter

red meat

A confession: I love pig. We had ribs last night, and I get cranky when I get to Whole Foods too late on a Saturday morning to snare a bacon-studded breakfast burrito.

In fact, I love meat, period. All animals, most cuts (I can't think of one I've tried that I've not liked, not offhand. Yes, I like kidneys and liver). I cook it, I eat it. I am real about where it comes from.

Having said that, though, I recognize two things:

- my body honestly can't process it as well as I thought, or as well as it used to. A big bunch of red meat for dinner leaves me in a torpor later, and I recall a night in a hotel in Cleveland where the meat sweats set in. Of course, I usually have red wine with red meat, and perhaps the added effect of wine doesn't help. Red meat, pork aside, is not something we eat a lot in our home anymore.

- there is an increasing ethical and environmental consideration that I haven't given enough thought to. Where does the meat come from, how was it raised? Those questions and others are even more relevant nowadays (well, actually, they should never have been irrelevant), and I find myself thinking of them a little more now. It's funny, because I have thought that way about seafood for a longer time. Things I need to pursue and explore further.

Having said all that, it was a steak for me tonight. A New York strip loin. I refuse to feel guilty. As I said, red meat is a rare thing at home now - I haven't cooked lamb in weeks, in fact - so this once, it made for a nice dinner alone while Conrad was at a professional function.



Leftover pea puree, blanched rapini, a big piece of red meat. What you see on the plate is half the steak. I may just slice it cold for tomorrow and use in a salad for dinner. I seared the steak and finished it in a hot oven. I won't claim to be the best cook of chunks of red meat like that (braises are my thing, I think), but it fed me well indeed.

winning recipe

Credit where credit is due. I've only modestly dipped into the fantastic cookbook TK got me for Christmas (Vancouver Cooks 2), but ladies and gentlemen, we have a proven winner that I will return to time and again in years ahead:

curry salt-crusted halibut with pea puree

The downside to this recipe (and there is one, sorry), is that it is so magnificently fragrant that even with a homemade air freshener of orange peel, clove, and cinnamon sticks simmering on the stove, the apartment was still a little redolent of curry Monday morning. Curry is not necessarily a scent one wants to wake up to on a Sunday morning, I have to say.

Still, it is a winner. Conrad and I had a nice date night in planned for Saturday. Oh, not hugely, sickeningly romantic. No. Just the two of us, though, spending time together quietly and conversationally. Holding hands, watching some AbFab. Enjoying a bottle of a Cedar Creek Chardonnay, the fish, and each other.





Really, can anyone ask for more?

15 things (and one bonus)

15 things that made for such an amazing, wonderful, memorable, delightful Olympics week in Vancouver. And an honourable mention.

1. My sister. Hostess to many MKs over the course of the weekend (and an MK herself, oddly). Shopping companion. Dining mate. Hockey connoisseur. I don't think I show her enough appreciation.

2. Other family - a nice lunch of dim sum with my brother Carlos. I'm sorry Mark couldn't make it. I'm sorry we didn't get up the coast. I apologize a lot for something that was a good time, I know. Sorry.

3. Chris. Read his blog already! Also, he'll kill me, but I will set him up with anyone who meets my exacting standards for awesome enough to be his match.

4. Brian and Giuseppe. We love these guys no end, and we're glad we get Chicago and Vancouver time with them. Bonus points to Brian for his past Olympics experiences to share with us. Bonus points to Giuseppe for introducing me to Dan Mangan's stuff and then for being so adorkably tongue tied around the man.

5. Dan Mangan.
OK, I wasn't wild about the woman who was on before him (OK, I was so unenthralled as to sit reading the Globe and Mail - a TORONTO newspaper, for crying out loud! - on my iPhone while I prayed for her to be done her set), but the man put on an awesome show. Among many wonderful moments, I loved that he halted "Pine for Cedars" to tell us how, when he was touring Australia, he had to explain the lyric about winning a home in a hospital lottery. So BC. Love him.

6. This sweater on me. I never said I wasn't shallow.

7. This scarf on me. In fact, I'm very very shallow.

8. Coffee at Safari. If I can't have a flat white, then this will do nicely, though I realize I forgot to go to the place Janet recommended. In May, when we return.

9. Seeing Canada's first gold medal on home soil - EVER! - draped around Alexandre Bilodeau's neck, and having tears running down my cheeks during O Canada.

10. Getting to dress in Swedish drag and be a Svenska fan for one hockey game.

11. The First Nations presence around the Games (photo from the Coast Salish carvers in a house at the Art Gallery). Wonderful, special. I've commented already. Conrad and I ended up buying a print from the Edzerza Gallery to keep in our Vancouver home. I'm stunned that Alano Edzerza designed the really cool Netherlands uniforms. Wow.

12. Curling. Never really played it, still love it. How can you not love a sport that opens sessions with a round of bagpipes?




13. The houses and pavilions. Best by far was Canada's Northern House, but I think I actually liked Maison du Quebec most for its entertainment and proximity, its' blue glow at night.

14. Vancouver in the spring sunshine. Yes, it was spring. Yes, I am still bitter about being back in wintry Chicago.

15. Sharing in it all with this man. My Valentine the night of the photo, but so much more, and every single day. Thanks SB!


Honourable mention (no photo): meeting Mark and Maureen, even fleetingly. Marie may be the one hosting people, but I felt more than a little pleased at having been able to lend our condo for one night to the brother and sister-in-law of a good friend. I hope they enjoyed their Olympics experience and greatly!

curling

Ah yes, all you Americans, you know you've been keenly awaiting this post. Curling, the sport that fascinates you, in all its glory!

Oh, I mock a little, but only just. Truly, I have heard from a number of people here in Chicago that they watch the curling and try to understand it. I think that's lovely, really. Too bad that the American men (more later) have struggled to the point of benching their skip. I take no joy in saying that.

We had tickets to two rounds of curling, in fact. Last Tuesday, it was the first round of women's. Four games, eight teams, all on at once.



The skies in the photos look cloudy, but we were so warm as to have to unbutton and unzip and leave jackets open or off. A short walk from the King Edward station on the Canada Line, we joined the throngs at the Vancouver Olympic Centre. Many many fans, a lively atmosphere. And some odd characters sent out to keep us all entertained though, in truth, all lines moved briskly enough. And then inside to our seats. The place was packed,
and around us sat many Canadians, most of whom seemed to know the sport well. Which made for interesting eavesdropping.

From where we sat, we could not see the Canada-Switzerland game below us well. Not a worry - from what I could tell, it was played conservatively. We found much to enjoy in the other games.

Ultimately, it was the USA-Japan game at the opposite side of the rink that captivated us. The Americans jumped to an early lead, one that seemed too much for the Japanese. Midway through, though, the Japanese stole three and were back in it. From there they chipped away and pulled ahead. In the last end, the Japanese were up 8-7, but the USA had the hammer. Neither team played it easy, and with one stone left to play, the Japanese sat in the button. The US skip threw, and it ended up pretty darn much where she wanted it, or so I believe: right in the button next to the Japanese stone. The other games were over, a number of people had left, but those of us who stayed held our breath as an official came out with a device to measure the distance of each stone from the center of the house. Close, USA, but not quite. Japan won it 9-7. It was so slight, the difference. As I tweeted: Curling, a game of mere inches. 1, 2 and 3/4, 6.5. The Americans and Japanese learned that lesson again today. Amazing finish.



The next day we went back for the second men's session.



No Canadians in play, and - sadder still - no Norwegians with their remarkable pants. Is it wrong of me to covet them a tiny bit?

In any case, another sunny day
to move through the crowds outside, this time with the added bonus of those Mounties I mentioned before. Inside we found we were on the opposite side of the rink from the day before, and closer to the action. We also found ourselves surrounded by Americans, and I heard some terminology from a couple of other sports being deployed (I swear I heard someone describe it as scoring a goal). Knowledgeable or not, they were enthusiastic, and while the chants of USA USA became a little sadder as their team


sailed rocks wide or through the house, it was a good atmosphere.

Funny thing is, I don't know that I was as gripped by the games as the day before, though I did enjoy watching the Britain-France match unfold. The Brits, defending world champs, looked strong. Alas, four ends in, and we knew we had to get going. Marie had hockey tickets for us, and we didn't want to be late for that fine gift.

I will not apologize for wanting my country to sweep the gold, but I do wish all the curlers good curling inasmuch as it remains to them this late in the tourney.

more on Vancouver/Olympics to come

Well, not a lot more - I think I've done a decent job of keeping this blog updated with Vancouver Olympics-related entries. Curling still to come, that much is certain. Maybe one or two other smaller posts.

Like this one. A nothing post, a trifle. A brief reminder to people that there are seven sets of photos (and even videos) in the Flickr collection. And a shot - one of many - that helps explain why it was a melancholy taxi ride home through dingy, snowy Chicago this evening. Give me a day or two, and I will be happy here again, but for now, I really badly miss things like this view, the Burrard Bridge as seen from the Aquatic Centre.

raclette

Encountering a new and delightful food experience is one of those perfect little things in life for me. Even fast food can count. Yes, I'm easily pleased, aren't I?

Two days ago (gosh, TWO days ago - this vacation went so darn fast!), Conrad and I were wandering around with Brian, mostly on Granville Island. We walked the perimeter (more or less),





stopped in at art installations, watched some singing and dancing, shopped and posed in Railspur Alley,
stood in lines. All of this was quite fun, truly, especially given the sunny weather. Ah, glorious sun in Vancouver.

The highlight, hands down, was the raclette. The Swiss have taken over Bridges Restaurant (which is kind of where I envision my wedding rehearsal dinner one day taking place), and while the line to get in was a good 30 minutes long (a paltry wait by the standards of many of the popular venues and pavilions at these Games), we noticed that there was almost no one in line for some food stations right around the corner. Well, ok.

$8 got us either raclette or bratwurst. Oh come on, I live in the Midwest - I can get bratwurst all the time. Raclette? Melted cheese all crusty from the broiling? yes please. Within minutes we had food.

My sister was once married to a man with Swiss roots, so raclette is not new to her. I have heard her mention it many times. I had no idea this was what it was. This enormous hunk of cheese gets shoved under a broiler. The gooey part and crust then gets shaved onto rye bread before the cheese goes back under the heat for the next person.




Awesome! Fun to watch, fast, and oh so tasty. We sat in the sunshine near a group of singing Swiss and munched away contentedly.


And then, of course, off to get some beer!