Chicken Mole Enchiladas

Sunday afternoons were created for a few specific things: good movies, long naps, glasses of red wine, OH - and football.  All of which preferably happens whilst some decadent deliciousness bubbles away in my oven or slow cooker. 

And this deliciouness is what I made to stock my freezer in case I didn't feel like cooking when I got back from the Christmas holiday.  Of course, not all of them actually made it to the freezer.  But I suppose it would have been naive of me to think they would.  Especially when I braised the chicken in mole.

Bubbling mole in all it's thick, rich, chocolately goodness is exactly what I'd like to smell while I lay on my couch taking occassional sips of a big California Zinfandel, and slip in and out of conciousness while some movie starring Ryan Gosling plays softly in the background.  That is my definition of a perfect Sunday afternoon.

I'm A Screamer

Or so it seems.  Because that's exactly what I did when someone sent me this picture of the latest seafood selection at Whole Foods.

That looks a little too much like a snake for me.  Not that I'm scared of snakes...well, not when they're dead.  But that just looks disgusting.  Still...I'm no punk.  So weird flaccid phallic object be damned!  I had dreams of unagi-topped crispy sushi rice to fufill.

Dreams really do come true.

Duck Duck Goose

It's good to have foodie friends.  REAL GOOD.  I love that they'll get excited with me when it's truffle season.  It's fantastic when they text me pictures of slow roasted meats and soft shell crab club sandwiches. 

But the best part of having foodie friends is that they invited you over for Sunday dinner.  And when you arrive, you discover that they are in their "bistro phase".  And in response to being asked what exactly that entails, you're told:  "That means I'm confit-ing my own duck up in here!"  And to that I say:  HELL.  YES.

I love when people are in their bistro phase!!  Look at that!  It quite literally fell off the bone.  How can you not love a duck like that?  Especially when it comes with proscuitto macaroni and cheese, mustard roasted brussel sprouts, and potatoes with crispy shallots.  I mean...come on.

Fish Tacos

How is it that I just ran out of limes?!  For me, limes are one of those ingredients that I never check to see if I have before I start cooking, because I always have them.  Always.  Except the other night when I decided to make fish tacos.

So annoying.  I was forced to eat my fish tacos with a squeeze of lemon juice.  Ugh.  I'm a victim.

Fortunately, all the smokily-charred chipotle sauce I rubbed on my fish before i pan-fried it made me feel better about my life.

Neptune Oysta

Boston.  Excuse me...Baaaston.  There are plenty of things I love about Baaaston.  Sure Ben Affleck  is a good start (the Ben Affleck from "The Town", not the Ben Affleck from "Mallrats"...obviously).  But it also has a sunrise that looks like this...

Not a bad way to wake up.  It's lovely, yes.  But not nearly as lovely as what happens at Neptune Oyster.

Neptune is a tiny place.  And much to the chagrin of my friend, who I was 30 minutes late meeting, they don't even let you sit at the bar for a drink.  Frankly, I'm shocked she hadn't assaulted the hostess by the time I arrived.  Then again, we were in Boston.  And you know...you never who's a shank toting gangsta.

Anyway, all was forgiven, when we finally sat down, and these babies took a seat right next to our prosecco....

Wellfleets and Kumamotos.  Street name: Briney Goodness.  And I was only a few oysters in when my appetizer showed up. (Um, yes, they're quick to turn over a table there...hmpf...)

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW GOOD THAT WAS!  Let's look at it from another angle...

So let's just recap exactly what's going on here.  That would be what happens when you make a perfectly thin buttermilk johnnycake, schmear just the right amount of honey butter ontop of it, and then top THAT with smoked trout tartare, and then top THAT with little pearl caviar.  And then you take a bite.  And then you pass out a little from all the buttery-creamy-smokey-caviar poppin-goodness.

And when you finally come to.  And you open your eyes.  You see THIS...

See, here's the thing.  I am not a person who arrives at a restaurant unawares. I tend to read a menu at least once (possibly three or four times) before I get there.  And when I read the menu, it said the scallops came with some kind of braised pork shank, and my favorite: chanterelle mushrooms.  Well, apparently, they  ran out of chanterelle's.  Fortunately, they replaced it with the next most logical ingredient: DUCK CONFIT!  What?!  Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.

I Whip My Hair Back and Forth!

Admittedly, this post has nothing to do with food.  Although, given a little creative interpretation, that may or may not be true.  Technically, these pictures were taken the night before Thanksgiving (food related).  And I had just finished baking a 6 layer chocolate cake right before this happened (definitely food related).  A 6 layer cake with salted caramel holding the layers together.  And here's the evidence...

Whoever said a picture is worth a thousand words was either an anorexic, or they weren't talking about food.  There are no words for this cake!  There are only sounds.  Mostly oooh, ahhhs, with a few moans on the side.  We'll get back to that at another time...

Anyway...that's not what this post is about.  This post is about what happens when you try to convince a 7 year old to help you do a photoshoot for this year's christmas card.  I had one song, and one song only playing in my head when I saw how the pictures turned out.  So...CUE THE MUSIC!

Hop up out my bed turn my swag on.  Pay no attention to them haters because we whip em off. 

And we ain't doin nothing wrong.  So don't tell me nothin.  I'm just tryna have fun.  So keep the party jumpin!  So what's up?  Yeaaaaaaaaaaah!  And I'll be doin what we do.  We turn our back, and whip our hair, and we shake em off.  Shake em off!

I'ma get more shine than a little bit.  Soon as I hit the stage applause I'm feelin it. 



Whether it's black cars, black stars, I'm feelin it.  Cause can't none of them whip it like I do.  Owwww....

You can't be mad at Willow Smith.  And you've gotta love one of the cutest girls in world agreeing to help me make my one of kind Christmas card.  What a trooper.  Thanks Mini Me!

Thanksgiving: A Love Letter

Oh Thanksgiving.  Sweet, lovely, Thanksgiving.  No offense to Christmas, or my own Birthday, but of all the National holidays, you my sweet, are my very favorite.  You are the only holiday that celebrates the beauty of the food comma.  It is an art, indeed the fine line, that separates being full, from complete nausea.  And every year, as families the mainland United States over, fall into that slight comma, you make sure that there is plenty of football playing softly in background to lull us into a gentle sleep. 

Like me, you always root for the underdog.  You celebrate ingredients that no one could care less about the other 364 days of the year.  Things like turkey...the red-headed stepchild of poultry.  And canned cranberry sauce.  If someone offered me canned cranberry sauce in April, I would seriously consider smacking them in the mouth.  But on Thanksgiving, I have actually witnessed the look of desperate panic as one of my family members heard that I forgot to pick up a $1.99 can of Ocean Spray at the grocery store.  And I'm pretty sure that the can I finally found in the back of my brother's pantry had been there since last Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving, you little lovebug you, you remind me that I should practice being more grateful more often.  It shouldn't take a national holiday, and butter-ladden homemade cinnamon roll (or three) for me to feel so fortunate.  So sappiness be damned, this year, the thing that I'm most grateful for is the gift of my entire family showing up to participate in the most basic pleasures: an amazing meal, a glass of wine, and long conversations with nothing but time.  Ummm...and also, an extended game of grown-ups vs kids Wii Just Dance, which just for the record, I won. 

Winter Scallops

Um...LOOK AT THOSE SCALLOPS!!!  And I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking: Clearly the bits of double-smoked extra-thick cut bacon topping those scallops were originally attached to a larger piece of bacon.  What happened to the rest of that piece of bacon?

Well, see...what had happened was... I was just about to sautee that kale that the scallops are sitting on, and I looked over and realized that the double-smoked extra-thick cut bacon had made it's way out of the refridgerator and was sitting there on the counter.  Staring at me!  I mean, I couldn't just leave it there.  It would have been relegated to the back of the freezer until who knows when!  That's just wrong.  So instead, the bacon came along for the ride.  It was slowly sauteed until some (read: all) of the fat melted off the meat and landed safely at the bottom of my sautee pan.  I married that bacon fat with a lot of thinly chopped kale.  Talk about soulmates....

It was EXACTLY what I wanted that day.  It was warm, little smokey from the bacon, a little crispy from the seared crust on the scallops.  And it went perfectly with the Pinot Noir we were drinking that afternoon.  I love having EXACTLY what I want.

Vegetable Soup & An Amazing "Crouton"

My eyes are almost always bigger than my stomach.  Typical.  A great thing for my stomach (and my waistline), but a horrible thing for my refrigerator space.  At least twice a month, I find myself starring into the refrigerator at an abundance of vegetables that are threatening to start wilting any day now if I don't do something about it.

And my mind immediately flashes to my grandmother.  This is a woman who carried ziploc baggies filled with snacks in her purse because she'd be damned if she was gonna waist good left overs!  And by "snacks", I mean that one time we got in a cab headed to the airport and she pulled out a ziploc filled with pancakes and ham.  Pancakes.  And HAM.  It didn't matter if you were at Jean George or Ponderosa (yes I'm from the Midwest where we have Ponderosa...leave me alone!) she was NOT going to leave good food on the table....and into her tupperware it went.

Fortunately, it turns out that if you throw a ton of vegetables into a pot with a piece of double-thick cut bacon, and some fish broth, let it cook for an hour, and then hit with the hand-blender, you come out with a perfect fall soup. 

And of course, you'll need to top it with the best crouton ever...a piece of Pancetta Foccacia.  I don't understand why anyone would serve anything other than piece of toasted foccacia as a crouton.  Probably because they're stupid.  Fortunately, I don't have to worry about that.  The perfect snack on a perfect fall day spent playing in the park doing this...

Yep!...that's my friend...yeah, the grown up one...on the swing...with all the kids...giggling hysterically.  I won't lie, I was on the swing right next to her.  No judgement.

Bottega



After a morning spent wine tasting, it was definitely time for some carbs.  And when you find yourself in Napa, you obviously want to eat said carbs at Bouchon.  Obviously.  Until you find out they're fully booked, with at least an hour wait for a table.  And your tour guide said you have to be back in 2 hours.  ...Damn it!  Not a problem, I always have a backup plan.  Ad Hoc is just a short 5 minute walk away.  Just long enough to help you start to crave that next glass of wine.  Perfect. Until...DAMN IT!...you find out they have an hour and a half wait.  Who's gonna serve me my parmesan polenta now?!

Oh, that's right, Michael Chiarello will.  God I love that man.  He can really do it all.  He can write cookbooks, he can compete for the Next Iron Chef.  And he can make me Parmesan Polenta with Caramelized Wild Mushrooms.  And when I've cleaned my plate like a big girl...

...I get a prize for being so good.  And I love prizes!  Especially when my prize is Red Wheat Tagliarini with a Veal/Pork Bolognese and Mushroom Sugo.

Do it Michael.  Do it!

San Francisco

Oh San Francisco.  You little minx you.  Look at your gorgeous smile...er, I mean sunrise.