Fresh Tart

All quiet on the Midwestern-front today. Tired people in this house. John briefly napped, I seriously napped, it was awesome. We had a nice little brunch, broiled crab salad sandwiches. We had ours sans egg but they're mighty tasty with an over-easy egg on top, I must say. (Recipe posted in comments, below.) Add a glass of champagne if you like - NICE!

And for dinner, potage Parmentier, or leek and potato soup (recipe already listed, at right). I pureed it with a bit of creme fraiche this time, because I had it, and I lurve it. Outstanding. Simple. Filling. Healthy. Warm - and on a Sunday like this, that's important. Wet and chilly out there, my friends, a Wuthering Heights sort of wet, blustery, chilly. No moors, no Cathy, no Heathcliff (thank goodness), just...shitty weather. Perhaps I'll rock a smallish piece of warm apple pie later. Yeah, baby, that's the way to wrap up a cold, wet weekend in style. Comfort. Food. Back to my book (Thomas Hardy, Tess of the D'Urbervilles), under a blanket, to read by candlelight. Just kidding. Sort of.

Stacey? Stephanie? Sheesh, we've always looked like each other, but going through these photos yesterday it did hit me that there's no doubt we're related. Ha. And that's an honor for me, let me tell you. I don't have Stacey's cheekbones, unfortunately, or cool arched eyebrows. Or slim hips. Those she got from our mom. It would be fun if Cooper and Nathan end up looking like each other too!

Speaking of Nathan (sort of), tomorrow is his birthday, the big 1-0. How can it be that he's a decade old? It seems like just yesterday he was in diapers, like Cooper. I have to say, I love age almost-10, I love our conversations and his outlook on the world. I love the ability to communicate on such a meaningful level. I treasure it. In truth, all the ages are amazing. (I know, I know, my friends with teenagers are thinking, check back in four years, you naive, foolish idiot, ha.) Ah, I wipe a little tear from my cheek. Sniffle. My child grows toward adulthood, I approach 40, and life goes on...

So! Whew! What for dinner?! Even if we're all growing old(er), we must eat. We must soldier on, with small pleasures in our days, if we're lucky. A laugh here, a sniff of something wonderful there, the feel of the sun, and a glass of wine. Or beer, tonight it's beer. (And the feel of rain, not sun; it's rained all damn day.) And, I think, something Mexican, again. I've lit that particular fire and it still burns. John and A will eat out tonight, as is their Friday-night special, so I will dine alone. On...quesadillas, I think. It's tough, without an avocado, it is. But again, even without avocado, we must soldier on. With sour cream, and hot chiles, and Monterey Jack cheese...

OK, I didn't have a quesadilla, I went even easier, and had chilaquiles. Basically, crunchy tortilla chips layered with a bit of cheese, perhaps chicken, smothered in sauce and a hint of cream and heated until the chips are softened. It is, in a word, kill. Mexican comfort food. And in my version, which is like the fast-food version of relatively fast food, it takes about, oh, 3 minutes to make yourself a hot, spicy - kill! - dinner. Relatively moderate too, as far as Mexican can go. Would have taken a pic, but I ate it too damn fast... (Recipe posted in comments, below.)

La, la, lovely! Oh, Spring, sigh. After I showered, I gave myself a spritz of Frederic Malle En Passant (lilac, heavenly scent) and a dab of Christian Dior Diorissimo (the classic, lily of the valley, also heavenly). Nothing over the top, but I do smell girlie and like spring, sitting here in my office. As Suz would say, NICE.

And I'll get to hear her say it aplenty tonight...And Kim say "fo sho", which sends me into fits of giggles every time I hear it... Feminine Hijinx (come hang out at their pad!), Feminine Hijinx (they're spot on!), just go with the flow, you can't say no, to Feminine Hijinx! If you've listened to our podcast, you've heard that insanely catchy tune (even John walks around singing it), written and played/sung by Suz, by the way. Can't wait! I'm in the mood for wine and naughty talk with the minxes - woo hoo! I have a small surprise to spring on them tonight, heh, heh, heh... I'll report tomorrow... Ooooh, a mystery!

Ch, ch, chicken tonight, crispy, quick oven-roasted chicken (recipe at right). Rice. (As I often point out, lots of chicken and rice consumed in this household - it's a Levy thing; but I go with it.) Sauteed vegetables. I think I'll do curry in the veg again, I really enjoyed it when last I stirred up a batch. (I'll post a recipe for it in comments, below.) Particularly good with rice, which is nice because I don't create a sauce from this particular chicken recipe. I certainly could, you do end up with lots of gorgeous crusty brown drippings in the pan. It's a nod to moderation, I suppose - I eat 100%+ of the crackly, crunchy, salty skin, baby, so the trade-off is no sauce. That way I can put down my fork feeling satisified, happy even, but not ill. Moderation. Right.

I'll choose to call this morning crisp, not chilly, given it's pleasantly sunny and green. I'll not deign to call it glorious, however. Oh, wait, that's right, I'm supposed to not tempt the weather gods. Then I take it back, I take it back immediately. A glorious morning, quite worthy of praise. (And it is, in all seriousness; despite my chilly, bumbling-as-I-type fingers, I actually feel my oats on a sunny, crisp - not frigid, mind you, just crisp - day, whereas I wilt and suffer on a hot, sultry one.) How high maintenance am I? Cool, not cold; warm, not hot; delicious, not decadent; reserved, not repressed; assertive, not aggressive. On and on and on. If aiming for moderation in all things makes one high maintenance, then that's what I am, I guess, even though high maintenance people (bitches AND bastards) send me. Get over yourself! (Says The High Maintenance Moderate Epicurean. Ha.)

Groceries. Laundry. Cleaning. Cooking. An exercise in housewifery is required of me today. An exercise of the body is as well, I'd say a crisp day such as this calls for a stroll around the 'hood.

(My apologies, Honey, I just ate the leftover quiche for lunch. I usually leave quiche/frittata/omelet/souffle-type leftovers for John, but I could not resist. With a teeny bit of creme fraiche. And half of a Bay's English muffin. Prrrrr...)

Oooh, not a date-night dinner tonight, ha. I made chicken tortillas and ate them with raw onions and raw jalapenos, my mouth is still afire and it was utterly worth it. Mmmm... Sometimes you just need that Mexican fix. And this way it was relatively healthy vs. the calorie-bomb-Mexican I also enjoy/crave (you know, beef burrito, smothered in red gravy and cheese; or the more authentic route, carnitas, tamales, sopas. Love it all.) I whipped up a simple chile sauce (see my spicy beans recipe - same idea, onion, garlic, various chili powders, water, salt, thickened with masa; it's a gravy, basically) and stirred in bite-sized pieces of chicken, pulled from a butter-tender deli rotisserie bird. Served in warm, soft tortillas (for Nathan) or on top of a crispy, corn tortilla (for me; I didn't make home-made tonight, those are hands down the best, however; again, see my spicy beans recipe). Garnished with, as I said, raw onion and jalapeno, plus lettuce, tomato, and slices of cool, creamy avocado. No cheese needed, not with the avocado. Ahhvocadohhhh. Mui bueno!

Going a little truffle this evening, heh, heh, heh. Just John and me, our usual Monday evening, and I'm itching to cook after a weekend of eating out. And I have this jar of white truffles, from Zabar's, calling my name... I know, it's nothing like having a fresh white (or black) truffle, I've had the real thing and it is truly intoxicating. (I plan on securing a purchase of even a small piece this fall. Always intend to, never quite nail it down, however...) But I'm hoping the jarred version will give more than a hint of true truffliness, so we're having truffles two ways, both simple, both small. A crustless leek "quiche" first course, garnished with...shaved truffle. And then a simple pasta second course, angel hair finished with a smidge of cooking liquid, butter, tossed with...diced truffle. I'll let you know how it goes... I figure even if I don't capture much truffle flavor, there's not a thing about leeks, eggs, or angel hair that sucks, so we should be golden.

Well, "little" ended up being the operating word. As in little, to no, truffle flavor. As in truffle muffle. Darn. I should have known, but hope springs eternal when it comes to truffles... I'd say you get a smidge more truffle flavor from the $7.00 D'Artignan truffle butter available at Byerly's and lots of gourmet food shops. Sigh. However, I hit on a fabulous little egg dish, very moderate but oh-so-decadent tasting. Crustless leek "quiche," made glorious with no more than a last-minute topping of 1 tsp. of creme fraiche per serving. My god, it's incredible. (Now that's a recipe I'll post, in comments, below, even if I'm a bit saddened by my no-truffliness truffles. Boo.)

Happy Birthday Tom!

Today is John's little bro Tom's birthday. Tom has assigned military codenames for the people in his life. His wife Valerie is Whitewater. His son Cameron is The General. I'm Smoky, so named a couple of years ago while John and Tom were on the phone on a Saturday morning while I was making a little breakfast for John. Tom, like his brother, LOVES food, so he was asking detailed questions while John was raving about the "amazing meal" I was preparing, and how Tom would be so blown away by it. The conversation went something like this...
J: "So, Boo, the Steph-Monster is making me breakfast. Dude, she's making me a breakfast you would not believe..."
T: "What's she making you, Boo? A little somethin'? A little somethin'?"
J: "Not just a little somethin', Dude, it's a maj. She's doin' a maj. She's frying bacon..."
T, groaning: "Oh. My. God. She's making you bacon.."
J, laughing: "Dude, slow down, the bacon is not the point."
T: "Then what's the point? What's the point?"
J: "After she makes the bacon, she fries eggs in the bacon grease. In the bacon grease, Boo, it's a move, I'm tellin' you, it's a move."
T: "Slow down, soldier. Did you just say she fries the eggs in the bacon grease?"
J: "That's what I said, Boo, and it's fucking incredible, it makes the eggs kind of smoky..."
T: "Did you just say it makes the eggs smoky? Smoky! I'm calling the Steph-Monster Smoky from now on... She's Smo-kaaaaay... Smo-kaaaaay..."

And so I am. John and I have laughed so hard about that conversation because of how excited Tom got about the bacon, like that was the point of the story, when it was only the introduction to eggs fried in bacon grease, apparently a New Concept for New Yorkers. Oh, what they've been missing all these many years. Happy Birthday Tom!

Zabar's baby! Oh yeah, oh yeah. NY-deli feast tonight, arrived this a.m., to celebrate round II of John's birthday. Shrimp and lobster salads, H&H bagels, chive cream cheese, pastrami, corned beef, sour-dough rye, chocolate chip cookies. Basically, all of John's favs. And mine too - OMG, can't wait to sink my teeth into a warm pastrami on rye with Russian and a smidge of slaw. YES! I also bought a small jar of whole white truffles, to grate over softly scrambled eggs. Don't think we'll get to that tonight, though. We have to pace ourselves.

Moderation, Stephanie, moderation. Slow. Down. Take a few deep breaths. Savor. Enjoy. And then, stop. Remember?

And anyhow, I don't want to be stuffed and miserable, I've got to be spot-on for Hijinx with my minxes tonight! Woo hoo!

Happy Birthday Marge!

Pastrami paradise over here. Prrrr... We had a nice little second birthday celebration for John, with the kids. I made Kosher for Passover brownies for A, and they're incredible. As good as any brownie. The key is matzo cake meal, very easy to create tasty baked goods when you've got it. (Recipe posted in comments, below.)

So I'm off to Suz's shortly, to tape a new episode of Feminine Hijinx! Woo hoo!

Happy Birthday to the most amazing husband in the whole world - J..O..H..N!!! Woo hoo! John. My John. My best friend. Best other things too, but never you mind about that. Unashamedly selfish and unendingly generous all at the same time - that's the key to his hilariously dichotomous core, that's his charm. That and his comfort with who he is - he doesn't get one bit wrapped up in worrying about what other people are thinking and I LOVE that about him, it's been a huge eye-opener for me. So, here's to John, probably on a conference call as I write this, not much birthday fun there. But I think he played basketball this morning (I slept through that, ha), and that's one thing he really wanted to do today. Another is have chicken and rice for dinner, so that's of course the plan. Oh, and have chocolate, I'll be working that in there too. Happy Birthday Honey! (I'm blowing you a kiss, in case you're wondering, what the..?)

And a fabulous and yummy lunch with my aunt Mary, at Beaujo's Wine Bar. Thank goodness my lovely aunts don't get their hair done in Willmar - I get to cash in on regular lunches, woo hoo! We had a nice, juicy Sauvignon Blanc with a delicious Greek sandwich - crusty bread, veggies, cheese, olive spread. A perfect lunch on yet another gorgeous, sunny day. Turns out Minnesota is the new California, have you heard?

On the way back to my car I bowed into Spirit for Kids and picked up a couple of insanely cute little things for the Coopmeister. That store is dangerous; as Stacey and I keep saying, thank goodness there aren't any little girls in our family. One could do serious damage to one's pocketbook in that place; everything is original, funky, and pricey.

Well, I'm off to pull together chicken and rice for Johnny's birthday din. Hmmm...what sauce? I'm incorporating the Cuban yellow rice I made on Sunday night, flavored with a hint of saffron. There's a bit of sherry in the rice also, I may go with a sherry pan sauce. Nice. That sounds nice. Roasted asparagus. Brownies for dessert. (I'll post recipes after I figure out exactly what I'm doing, in comments, below.)

Burgers. Beer. No Brownies, though. Hmmm. I know, Bed! Bed works, to keep my alliterative barbecue triumvirate in power... I won't be in bed while I consume burgers or beer, but soon thereafter, so I say it counts. Burgers. Beer. Bed. Have a good night yourself. (I'm rushing, back out onto the deck for yet another marvelous, golden evening.)

Oh. My. God. The burgers. Just unbelievably decadent and delicious. I added a bit of Swiss and sauteed mushrooms to mine, which made it amazing, but the test of a truly good burger is that it's good buck naked. This one would have been so. (Tips for a perfect burger in comments, below.)