Pocket Aces

Greetings, Earthlings.

Do you know what I just did? It was the craziest thing. Marc and I were driving home from work late this afternoon (yes, I work now.) (yes, I work at the same place as my husband.) (yes, I know that is a recipe for disaster - more on that later.) and I was feeling BAD - queasy stomach, headache, that droopy-bone tiredness. As we were driving home, I thought back to 2004, the last time I worked in the city. I was working at Maryland General, and Marc and I would commute into Baltimore together from where we lived in Annapolis. I was pregnant, only 8 weeks or so in, and feeling terrible. The whole ride into the city in the morning would consist of me nibbling graham crackers and sipping ginger ale, a walking cliche - it really was the only thing I could stomach. I would get to work and moan at my desk and be so happy I had a student to go do evaluations for me because my usual iron stomach that allowed me to stand the smell in some of those hospital rooms was long gone. And by the end of the day, when I would drive down to Fell's Point to pick him up, I was so bone tired that I would stumble over to the passenger seat and invariably fall asleep five minutes into the trip home. For about four months, it went like that. And if I didn't know better, I might have thought that I was pregnant today given how I felt. But I do know better, and no, I'm not.

Anyway. I was feeling pretty inexplicably awful and Marc and I were plotting what to do about dinner - I had some steaks planned, which he could easily handle, and I would muster up the energy to boil corn, then go lay down. He lamented briefly that I had forgotten to get some shortcake to go with the strawberries I'd gotten at the farmer's market this past weekend. I mumbled something and pretended to not care about it when suddenly all I wanted to do was make sure those strawberries got eaten while they were still in their prime, and the next thing I knew, I was digging through my vast cookbook collection for a cake recipe that I could make with the limited contents of my pantry and my small reserve of energy.

You should know - I don't make cake. I don't really bake. Sometimes I try, but my results are always, in varying degrees, subpar. It's all too precise for me, the girl who loves to read recipes but refuses to actually use one. So I found a cake recipe - Lightning Cake, it was called, perfectly - and was pleased that Marc didn't bat an eye at this strangeness because it was indeed strange. And I made that cake and do you know what I just did? I was feeling like I was coming down with the plague, and next thing you know, I made a fucking AWESOME PERFECT LITTLE PIECE OF PERFECTION of a cake. It was the craziest thing.

And then I felt tired again, and went and lay down.

But then! Oh, hi! I felt like sharing it, and what do you know? I know someone who used to blog, and she looks a lot like me. Well, actually, since it's been about 3.2 years since last she blogged, you should know that in that time she's lost 15 or so pounds, started earning paychecks, has shinier hair and whiter teeth, ran a marathon, planted some semblance of a vegetable garden and found the cure for the common cold. In her spare time, that is. (I'll let you wonder if any of those are actually true.) (Sorta, yes, no, only a 5K, yeah, and if only.)

I'll bet you were at the point where you were like, "That's it. There's no point in coming here anymore. I'm so happy that checking her lame ass site is one less thing I have to fit in my day." No, I'm not talking to you, but I am talking to YOU and YOU over there, the only 2.4 people who bother coming around here anymore. See, and now I've pulled you back in. A little nonsense from my fingertips, and you're mine again. Oh, the power.

When I logged into TypePad (helloooo, old friend!) there was a little article winking at me on the main page. "How To Increase Traffic To Your Blog". TypePad, why must you mock me?

So, yeah, I'm a working girl now. Not THAT kind of working girl. The other kind. I have a nice little part-time flexible gig that only remotely relates to anything I used to do in my former life and that is to say that I can no longer wear scrubs to work. Which is bittersweet, because while scrubs are hardly flattering, it's tough to beat going to work in your pajamas. It also means that I spend a good deal of time scared to death that I don't ruin this big new thing I've taken on while on the surface trying to have all the confidence in the world that of course, I can do this, why would you ever think I couldn't? And I'm not trying to be cryptic - I'm not sharing details of my new job because while it's not likely I'd be dooced, there is still the whole matter of this blog containing my political opinions and the occasional tendency of my fingers to hit a pattern of keys that comes out F-U-C-K and there's nothing I can do to stop it, and let's not even mention the drunken photos of myself or that one shot of my kids in the shower. Wholesome, world-saving people they are, over there in that place where I sometimes work. Why risk it?

Besides, I'm not going to be writing about work, because that's boring. The only reason you needed to know anything about it was so you could understand that it is what has been keeping us apart. But no longer! We have much to discuss, you and I.

I don't really remember what I was talking about when I started this post. The frog has descended on me again. I should go back and reread it, edit it, likely cut it all out. Yes, I meant to say "frog" up there. I said it because I sometimes substitute "frog" for "fog", like, "It's so froggy outside". I do this only around people from whom I have no expectation of being taken seriously. Obviously you are a subset of those people. I'm sorry I had to admit this to the 2.4 of you. Aren't you glad you don't have to speak to me in real life?

I'm going to lay down now.

Fried food makes the people come together.

I've always read about the Tuscan tradition of eating squash blossoms, but had never come across any to try. Until, that is, I found a bunch in the pumpkin patch. After checking with the owner (who hadn't heard of fried squash blossoms, and therefore did not know of the wonderful bounty right there in his pumpkin patch), I made off with a bagful.

 

Egg wash, light flour and parmesan cheese batter. A little kosher salt. Lovely.

 

Make sure and save a handful of parmesan for sprinkling. You MUST sprinkle.

 

If this isn't a unifier, I don't know what is. Maybe I'll write it in on the ballot. You know, I can fiercely argue politics and still want to give the person I'm arguing with a hug when I'm done, provided I liked that person to begin with. But if this is too fried, too decadent, too weird for you? Well. I'm not sure we can ever truly understand one another.

Here's the thing.

Sometimes, in my best moments, I think myself clever, maybe a little funny, whatever. It's at these moments I try to come down here and share all that *cough* brilliance *cough* with all you beautiful-on-the-inside-cause-I-can't-see-your-outsides people.

"Down here" is my basement, by the by. We've established that I blog in my basement, right? Next thing you know I'll be playing D&D, and starting my own pirate radio station.

So, yeah, the thing is, in all my other moments, I find myself pretty boring. And those are the moments I don't blog. Because why share the boring? Who wants that? And this is why there are only posts here 3, maybe 4 times a week. It's because, honestly, I only have 3 or 4 moments per week of wit or whathaveyou to share here. Or also sometimes, inspiration will strike in the car, and I'd love to race down here and blog about it the second I get home, but typically the baby must be carried up to bed or water must be fetched the second we walk in the door and the spark is gone. You know how it goes. I should carry a little notebook with me, to record the sparks. We'll see if that actually happens.

Hey! Father's Day was this past weekend, and it hope it was lovely for all. Ours was nice - I told Marc to choose what he'd like for dinner and he waited till about 2:00 Sunday afternoon to decide so it was off to the grocery store I went and let me tell you, there are few worse places to be on a Sunday afternoon. Home Depot being one, perhaps. But I got what I needed and I came home and cooked, and Marc helped, because he know he'd chosen some complicated shit to cook. We made this, and while the spicy tomato sauce was very nice and super simple, the gnocchi was a pain in my ass and it came out TERRIBLE. And I've done gnocchi before, so I choose to accept none of the blame. I also did mussels, and steamed shrimp, and some garlic bread. All that was yummy.

I made Marc a Celebrate Everyday Life book from Shutterfly - he adores it and sleeps with it under his pillow at night. Go check it out. Make your own. It's awesome. You can see mine here.

And with that, I have to go put Mason and myself down for a nap. I don't usually nap, but I am totally wiped today. Too many late nights, lately. Hopefully an Old Photo Tuesday later. I have an idea, and have to find the photo.

I love living in farm country.

Farmer's market Saturday mornings. Pick your own strawberries. Goooood, good stuff.

Fresh strawberries on my cereal. I picked those little babies right off the... vine? No. Plant, I guess. Yummy.

Salad greens. Roasted green beans. Early tomatoes. Yum, yum, and yum.

I took the bulk of the strawberries I picked here and made some strawberry rhubarb sauce. Meant to be put over ice cream, which we did, but I personally like to eat it right out of the bowl, like strawberry soup. I have still MORE strawberries and rhubarb waiting for me upstairs to be turned into even more sauce. Last batch I made, I thought I made too much and gave some away to a neighbor. I will not be repeating that mistake.

Later this week, when it gets a bit cooler, I'm going back for peas. And probably more strawberries.

Have I mentioned "yum"?

Unbreak my sauce.

Don't you love Hollandaise sauce? Mmmm. I do. Over Eggs Benedict, or yumming up some asparagus? Sign me up. Or maybe just to eat by the spoonful? Well, if you insist.

So I wondered, last night as I'm getting ready to make some dinner, how it was that I loved Hollandaise, and I enjoyed cooking, and yet I'd never attempted a real Hollandaise? And hey, I bet if I made some Hollandaise to go over the asparagus I'm planning on roasting tonight, Marc might actually enjoy it instead of leaving most of it on his plate as he tends to do? So I checked the fridge - do I have all the ingredients? Egg yolks, butter, lemon juice. Check, check, and check. Then I checked my skills - do I have what it takes? Well, I've done a beautiful citrus beurre blanc, I can do a mean balsamic browned butter sauce, and I can do a vinaigrette with one hand tied behind my back. So YEAH, I've got the skills. Let's get to it, baby.

By the way, do you know just how much butter goes into Hollandaise? If you are afraid of knowing, you should avert your eyes from what's about to come.

Ack! I tried to warn you! DO NOT LOOK DIRECTLY AT THE BUTTER!

Alright, so I'm a-whiskin, and adding the butter - cube by cube! - and this part was all too handsy for me to manage any decent photographs. So let me assure you that all was going well. The color was right, I wasn't curdling (and when I was afraid I was about to, I just did what my pal Nigella taught me and stirred in a little ice chip, and all was well - NOT THAT THIS IS FORESHADOWING OF MY DOOMY DOWNFALL, OR ANYTHING!) and things were thickening up nicely. Add the lemon juice, now. Ok, all is still well.

Uh oh. Is it supposed to be this thick? This feels like mayonaise. This can't be right. This isn't sauce - it will be way too gloppy! HALP! I know - another little ice chip. That will thin things out nicely. (I can hear your warning screams, you know. It's just that it's too late. I've already been a moron.)

OH NOES!

And, it's official. My sauce is broken, and so is my heart. In case the above photo isn't enough to convince you that the sauce, once thick and creamy, is ruined, then just check out what happened when I decided to pour it over the asparagus anyway:

SSSOOOOOOOBBBB.

Now I'll never get Marc to eat asparagus.

Your life will be richer if you make this.

Somebody asked me for my chicken salad recipe recently, and I get significantly more flattered than I should when things like that happen. I mean, if somebody wants my chicken salad recipe, then it must be the best chicken salad recipe in the world. And if I do have the best chicken salad in the world, then I must be a genius of epic proportions who never dresses poorly and will probably also cure cancer someday. Wouldn't you like my autograph?

Anyway, when my friend received my chicken salad instructions, he said that I should consider posting it, because it is - AND I QUOTE - "informative and damned entertaining". Much like myself, in my own mind. Obviously this friend does not get out much, but we're not going to point and laugh about that just now. Maybe later. So here's the recipe, such as it is. Be warned - when I feel flattered and smart, I use a lot of words. I can't help it.

ROBYN'S BEST CHICKEN SALAD IN THE WORLD

No amounts I give are exact - I just do everything to my own taste, and you should do the same. Ok doke? Ok doke.

You will need:

• 6 chicken breasts (you can do boneless skinless if you must, but you will really get better moisture and flavor with skin-on, bone-in. You will just pull the meat off after it's done cooking and there will be no skin or bone to be found anywhere in the salad, so don't be afraid of this. Please?)
• Black peppercorns
• Salt (kosher is best - sea salt is a viable alternative. God will not smite you if you just have regular Mortons - I will just pretend to know nothing about it.)
• Some garlic cloves (you only need one bulb, but you probably won't use the whole thing)
• Bay leaves (dried)
• Thyme (fresh, not dried)
• A medium jar of Miracle Whip (I use Light and think the flavor is the same either way, but use whichever you're happier with. But don't even think of using fat free.)
• 1 bunch of green onions
• Green grapes are optional. So is celery. I don't really like them in it. More on this later.

To do:

Throw the chicken breasts, a handful of whole black peppercorns, a bunch of generous pinches of salt, some whole garlic cloves (skin on and all), a few sprigs of thyme (stems and all), and 4-5 bay leaves in the biggest pot you've got. Shove it all in there - you can do it. Fill it with water to the top of the chicken - don't worry if a tiny bit is peeking out. The pot will be covered, so it will steam. Finally, throw in a little more salt. Then just a little more. Ok, that's enough. Cover the pot and put it on high heat till it starts to boil. The lid will start to juggle about ominously - at this point, turn the heat down to medium-high, make sure your chicken is still mostly covered, and leave it alone for a while (like 30 minutes or so). After a while, come back to it and poke at the chicken with a fork. It will probably be all white and pretty firm. Turn the heat down a little more - like to a simmer- and go away again. Come back again later (usually for me this part will be close to an hour after I started cooking it) and turn the heat off. Check the meat - it should separate easily with a fork. (It will be firmer and a bit tougher if you use boneless skinless breasts. Just sayin'.) When you're satisfied with how it's cooked, you will dump it all into a big colander (do this in shifts, or even better use two colanders if you have them and you need to.). You need to let the chicken cool - it's going to be crazy hot on the inside right now and will stay that way for a while. Don't worry about the stuff clinging to the chicken - wilted thyme, mushy garlic, sticky peppercorns.  It will all be pulled off.  DO NOT RINSE WITH COLD WATER (or any water) AT THIS TIME. DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO SPEED THE COOLING PROCESS OR GET RID OF THE ICKIES THAT WAY.

Walk away from the chicken for at least 15 minutes. It can handle sitting longer, if you need it to. Don't sweat it. Gather your other ingredients. Get your Miracle Whip out, finely chop the green onions (don't use too much of the green part - isn't it ironic? dontcha think?) and also chop some thyme leaves (rough chop, no stems). Get out your bestest knife, but the type you will need will depend on the chicken you used. If you used boneless skinless, the meat will be a little stringy and you may need a serrated knife to get you through. If you used skin-on bone-in, the meat should be tender enough to use a chef knife. There's kind of a lot of cutting, so this matters more than it should.

Ok! Time to start with the chicken! It will still be a bit hot, so be careful. You need to pull off the skin then pull the meat off the bone - once you get good, you can do this with two swipes. Then, assuming you have large chunks of meat, consider breaking them into a few pieces to help them cool AND to make cutting easier. If there is stuff you want to rinse off (and there totally will be), now is an ok time to do it. Not just peppercorns and such, but fat and a few membranes and some of that white mushy stuff that I don't even know what it is. Take a deep breath and get it all off. I also use the knife and just cut off parts that look unsavory (sometimes pieces that came off close to the bone look... marrowy... so I cut that off. Persevere! I know you can do it!) Cut your chicken into little pieces and pile it all in a big bowl conducive to stirring.

Once you have all the chicken, add Miracle Whip. I don't know how much to tell you to add - start with a few heaping tablespoons full and stir and see where you are. In the end, you will use as much as you want to make the salad as dry or wet as you want. Once you get it where you want it, don't worry - it won't sog out or anything, because you aren't adding anything else liquid (unless you do grapes - but we're still not there yet). Mix in your very finely chopped green onions and your roughly chopped thyme leaves (you pulled them off the stems, right?). Grind in some black pepper. Sprinkle in some kosher salt (I swear you'll be happier with kosher!) - as much as you want until it tastes right. Note - it will not taste *truly* right yet - it has to sit for a while for all the flavors to blend. Also - don't be afraid of the salt. You need to taste some salt to balance the sweetness of the MW. So keep going till you taste it (in a pleasant way).

Aaaand this is pretty much it. Ideally you will make this the night before or at least a few hours before you want to eat it so the flavor can blend (didn't I just say that?). Now, if you want, you can do the green grapes. But don't add them to the whole mix - chop them into quarters and let the willing individual stir them in right when they want to eat it. If you put grapes in your salad, they WILL sog out, and they will also go bad in a day or so and significantly reduce the fridge life of your beloved salad. And after all that cutting and peeling skin and hot fingers and pulling off chicken fat, you'd better bet you want it to last a few days.

Enjoy!

Cooking: A, Food Photography: C-

Oh my God, steady yourself against a wall or something... I am going to post a picture that was taken mere hours ago. Behold, for I have discovered that it is NOT excessively difficult to walk down a flight of stairs holding a CF card. Like, you just hold the card in one hand, and the banister in the other. Then it's step, step, step, all the way till you reach the bottom. Don't forget to put the card in the reader, now! Ok, almost there... don't get hung up on what to name the new folder when we are SO CLOSE... now, just click "acquire all files" and OMG! I did it! Wait, those pictures kind of suck... but I've gotten this far, so they are getting posted, dammit!

Ok, dinner last night... deeeelicious. I did a stellar job, if I may say so myself, with my Rosemary and Lemon Pepper Crusted Pork Tenderloin, and Green Bean Salad with French-Mustardy-VInaigrette, and Acini de Pepe pasta with some creamy lemony sauce with bacon and parsley that I totally made up. The pork rub and the pasta sauce were bastardized from Rachael Ray (as I tend to bastardize most of her work) while the green beans from Jamie Oliver were pretty spot on the way the were. I was VERY pleased that the only thing to come out of a box in this meal was the dried pasta - and let's face it, I am not about to start making my own pasta. The rub and the sauces were all hand mixed, or whisked, or shaken in a mason jar. I really don't know why I don't do this more often - it's really not that hard. It's irritating that I need a damn TV chef to inspire me, but I guess whatever it takes, yes?

And there's the final product. Tasted better than it looks in this photo, I promise. I really wonder how people take such nice photos of their food. Be warned, I will continue to post my mediocre photos of my excellent food until I get this right.

Here I go, with pictures of food.

This is a typical breakfast for Mason - oatmeal with strawberries or bananas mixed in. Lately I'm enjoying feeding her from my favorite pretty Anthropologie bowls. I think I might have to buy some more of those. Oh, and that's an adorable mini spoon from Ikea.  Couldn't you just squeeze it? (Just kidding. Do not attempt to squeeze my spoons. It's not like they're real silver, or anything.)

So, here's my venture into food photography. I need to work on my styling, I think.