Virtual Decorating: Olio Aglio Pepperoncini

My dearest friend Barbara and I were at one time single-girl neighbors, living in California.  We would walk over to each other’s house for a glass of wine, and often end up talking about decorating, as she was usually in the midst of some decorating dilema.  Being the corporate “what’s wrong with right now?” girls, talking would end up as doing.  Hanging pictures, moving furniture, you name it, all under the influence.

Now, we are both married, living on opposite sides of the country, so our decorating has become more virtual, sans the vino.  We’ll spend time sharing our desktops, looking on-line for design solutions.  I think we actually remodeled her kitchen that way.  There was even talk of me being the project manager, cuz that’s what I do.

After I posted the Black Painted Cats, she got inspired, and wanted to do them for an upcoming Halloween Party.   I offered to send her samples of the materials from Michael’s so she would know what to purchase, and we even got on-line together to source the black spray paint Chris had used on those pumpkins (Kimball Midwest High Gloss Black #880-80, not available at most hardware stores).

Piece of Cake, right? 

Wrong. 

You know you live in the boonies when the Yellow Pages lists the Brown store as the FedEX store, and they tells you the nearest FedEx Store is 20 miles away. 

Barbara (via mobile):  Well, just send the stuff with UPS and I’ll send you a check.  How much could it be? Twenty bucks?

Me (at the Brown Store): How much to ship this to zip code 90210?

Brown:  $67.89

See what Brown can do for you?

Off to our United States Postal Service. 

Me:  How much to ship this to zip code 90210?

USPS:  $37.95 for Guaranteed, and $31.89 if you don’t care when it gets there.  Oh, and fill out this form, and give me the name of your first born.

Yeah.  No.  (Your tax dollars and mine at work.)

Now I’m mad.  So I put my Project Manager hat on, and proceeded.  Back to my desk, to the FedEx Website to find the nearest drop box.  Better to trust them than Yellow, right?  Barbara emails me a FedEx shipping label from her on-line account, and I’m off again.

It would have been easier to mail myself to California to make them for her.  More expensive, but at least we could have made them over a bowl of Olio Aglio Pepperoncino and a glass of vino together.

Two Stupids on a Sunday: Braised Short Ribs

My mom and dad typically went out to dinner on Saturday nights, but Sunday was reserved for a family dinner.  How she got dinner on the table at 1pm, with four kids and church I don’t know.  These days, Chris and I look forward to a mid-to late afternoon meal, so we have time to get some things done around the house.

We thought we were quite clever by building a house we thought was going to be “maintenance free.”  By that, I mean the entire outside of the house, including the deck and porch is plastic.  We didn’t want a garden, we didn’t want flowering plants or trees because we didn’t want to have to mulch, prune, cut around or fertilize anything but a simple lawn.  Besides, we had enough beautiful trees surrounding our lot, lined with stone walls.

But we still have leaves.  Lots of them.  On the lawn, in the gutters.  Between getting the leaves out of the way, cutting the lawn, and doing what he calls “playing with firewood” Chris would be out there all day and that would drastically cut into our day of rest. 

Me:  Honey, how long before you think you will be done?

Chris:  You mean hurry up and relax?

In an effort to get him through his chores, clean up and get ready to watch Sunday sports, I usually make an attempt at helping him.  I say attempt because it seems I can do nothing very practical when it comes to helping him cut down trees, rake leaves or clean gutters.

Remember the Honeymooners from last fall?  Standing on ladders, holding legs, getting leaf mucked dumped on my head, while he cleaned out the gutters with his homemade gutter cleaner?  I found it in the garage yesterday. 

Bet he plans on using it soon.

And then there’s playing with firewood or as I like to call it, two stupids try to cut down a tree.  We nearly killed each other, and that was without the chain saw running.

So, when I offer to help, I usually have to have dinner already prepared.  By the time I’m done, I’m too dirty and too sore to get into that kitchen and make a mess.

And at this time of year, what better than something braised for hours, and all ready to heat up.  I made braised short ribs for Sunday, but next time, I’m going to skip the short ribs, and use a flat cut brisket instead (see Recipes).  Let work, less fat, no bones, same great taste, same great texture.

The Happy Dance: Blondies and Brownies

Grace and Chris did “the happy dance” last night. 

The first time I saw Grace do this was on my deck in Branford.  Chris and I had been spending most weekends together, usually with one full day traipsing over the Connecticut River to Graceland to spend time with her.  It was 45 miles out, and 45 miles back, so we would try to find things to do out on the other side of the River.  (It was still a bit awkward to ask her mother to come to my house for one of those trips.)

He was used to spending days in the car with her, as that was what they did as she went from infant to toddler to little girl.  

I decided we needed to break that pattern and spend a day in my neck of the woods.  We went to Bishop’s Orchard to play in the hay maze and pick out pumpkins, then to my house to carve them. 

I hate carving pumpkins so I was happy to hand this duty over to Chris while I made an early season Turkey Dinner.  I watched out the kitchen window, as Grace, who had never carved pumpkins before, stood on the deck, wingspan half stretched, and flapped her hands.  (I knew I was in trouble.)

Fast forward to our first fall weekend of the season with her.  That means fire in the fireplace, her favorite soup, Hocus Pocus and baking. 

I was upstairs when Chris walked in the door from work.  What did I get?

No kiss.  No hug.

Just,  “There’s talk of cookies?”

“Yes, Blondies and Brownies”

Hence the dancing.

Enchantment: South Florida Fish Stew

Last weekend we visited Strawberry Hollow in Guilford.  It’s one of those little shops that opens during the Fall to Christmas Season here on The Shoreline. You will know you have found it when you see a policeman directing traffic around the parking area on the weekends.

Its one of my first go-to places during the fall since I returned to Connecticut.  This is not one of those cutsy, country, chotchke motif type of places.   This is serious decorating, and it is something other, something else.   Primitive.  Elegant.  (Expensive).  

This is the shop where I source the potpourri for the Inside Mason Jars for both Fall and Christmas.  All natural ingredients, naturally scented.  Hence the price.

I have visited this shop in many years past, but never ventured beyond the storefront.   For the first time, however, I walked down into the farm you can see from Route 1. 

OMG. 

 

Farming is very hard work.  Making farming look this beautiful, that’s another thing entirely.   As we took the path down into the fields, this feeling overwhelmed me.  

Magic.  Enchantment.

We were out all day, and when we got home, it felt like a soup day.  I made South Florida Fish Stew.

The Cousins Grim: Chocolate Cake with Chocolate Ganache Frosting

Let me start at the beginning.  My father loves my Chocolate Cake, and I traditionally bake him one on his birthday.  Last year, I made a 10 inch, two layer cake, and there wasn’t a crumb left. 

This year, I made it again, and had some left over, so I made a few cupcakes and had them in the freezer. 

Remember that old game Telephone you played as a kid?  Everyone sat in a circle and one person whispered something to the next person, and then that person whispered that same something to the next person, until the circle was complete. The last person then had to say out loud what the something was and the first person then had to say out loud what the something was.  

The two somethings were rarely even in the same genre, but everyone got a really good laugh out of it.

I recently gave a friend, Patty, a piece of the cake.  She loved it so much, she asked for the recipe, and I printed it off for her.  

She happened to relay to my cousin Leslie (a really good baker and chocolate lover) how good it was. Leslie wanted the recipe, so Patty read off the ingredients and the instructions to her so she could make it.

At least she thought she did.

Patty: Leslie's cake didn't come out.

Me: Why not, what happened?

Patty: I don't know, she just said it didn't come out.

Me: Did she make substitutions?  Did you have all of the instructions?

Patty: I don't know, but she said she took the cake, and the frosting to her mother's and told her to try to do something with it.

Couple of days later, I'm going to see Leslie, and I brought her a couple of the cupcakes made out of the leftovers that I had frozen.

Me: I brought you something.

Leslie: What is it?

Me: Chocolate Cake

Leslie: Give it to me!

Silence.  Then the moaning started.  

It didn't stop until the cake had been inhaled and she had frosting all over her face.  (She looks good in brown.)

Me: Patty said your cake didn't come out.  What happened?

Leslie: Well, actually, what happened was I left my oven on pre-heat and then forgot about it.  About 20 minutes later, when I checked, the cake was done.

Me: What about the frosting?

Leslie: It was grainy.  What it supposed to be confectioners sugar?  Are you supposed to melt the chocolate?

Me: Nope.  Regular old.  You put the cream and the sugar in a pan, and bring it to a boil, then pour it over the butter and the chocolate, and when it's melted you beat it over a bowl of ice.

Leslie: WELL, I DIDN'T GET THOSE INSTRUCTIONS!

Me: Why not?

Leslie: I was in a hurry and when Patty said the frosting was a ganache, I told her I've made a ganache before, I'll figure it out.

Me: Did you taste it?

Leslie: Well, I brought it to my mother's, and my sister Carol tasted it.  (My cousin Carol is known as a very eloquent person.  She always has the exact right words for any occasion.)

Carol pronounced it "VERY GRIM"

Leslie: We thought we might break it into pieces and layer it with chocolate pudding and whipped cream and make a trifle out of it.

Carol: It will be a very grim trifle. 

In Memorium

Ed's Big Orange Monster

It lay inert upon the ground
Its head sunk in the mud
The earth was shattered from the sound
Puff, puff, puff, puff, then thud
I’ll kill that goddamn block of wood
With this ton of tempered steel
I’ll lift it once more if I could
And attack with such great zeal
With gut born groans, and bulging eyes
From his pants there came a great wind
That orange hulk raised to the sky
With a whoosh he missed again
His anger raised, his face beet red
Like a bull he pawed the ground
Once more arose that vicious wedge
Once more that missing sound
“Splits all” is what the pamphlet claims
Be it wood of any kind
Use a bomb sight for a better aim
But he’s pooped, he swung three times
Forty years has passed away so neat
In that time Ed sold his maul
As an anchor for the seventh fleet
For it touched wood not at all

 Happy Birthday Dad
We miss you

Pre-Thanksgiving Brunch: Shaved Brussel Sprouts & Polenta Cake

Well, ok, I'm not really having brunch.  I'm practicing some new recipes to serve on Thanksgiving.  We typically visit our friends in Wilmington on Thanksgiving and time our drive to beat traffic, which means its up at O Dark 30 to get over the river and through the woods before anyone else starts heading to Grandma's house.  We get there, we're hungry, but don't want to spoil our appetite either.

I've had this dish at a local restaurant and it's one of my favorites, but Chris isn't crazy about the venue, so I don't get this very often.  We love the food, but the venue is just not . . . well, its just not.  

This year they are driving to us, so I thought I would just serve our appetizers when they arrive as a light brunch.  I tried my hand at a version of this dish and called it a success: (click to go to recipe)  Shaved Brussel Sprouts & Polenta Cake.  A little champagne, a little fire, and a little nap while the Turkey roasts.