On mouths and such
Who needs restaurants when you can eat like this at home?
I confess that I am rarely pleased when eating out, as eating in (besides the laborious preparation and the odious task of post-cooking detail) is generally far more rewarding than what you can get at most restaurants. Of course, according to girl-child, the quality of dining experience does not rely merely on the food, or drink or even the ambience, but rather what makes or breaks the experience is purely material: “Is it a good restaurant? I mean, do they have crayons?” Ah yes, the important questions are answered. Of course she has been having trouble discerning right from wrong with relation to her own mouth anyway, "I don't want to bite you, but I feel like I have to!" (Travelling can be rough, all that delayed satisfaction!)
Perhaps I am spoiled, I hear some people's families and friends don't cook well, but on this vacation I was privvy to the delectable treats of being surrounded by good chefs. Especially K. (she can make even the most mundane -say potatoes- into something amazing, oh, and btw I need a recount of the crème fraîche concoctions with nut crust that you were describing). Here is our collective effort: a Greek salad with an embedded potato dill creation.
Then of course, with my grandmother the only way in which we really connect is sifting through recipes and cooking side-by-side, given that certain topics are simply off limits. This Key-Lime Merengue tart was a joint effort, lovely dessert. (Yes, I did finally get my Key Lime - can't leave Florida without experiencing it, much better than that awful crème brulee!)
Then finally Sandy and Bob saw us off with a brunch:
I. even got to go Lizard hunting with my cousin Chris.
And before we could leave, after the requisite family photos of my lovely, Jesus-loving Floridian family (wonderful people, I swear, even if they were still bothered by Janet’s slipped tit),
I. put her foot in her mouth, as my grandmother was telling doggie jokes, Isabella interjects, “Hey mommy, tell the Bush joke!” (as I glare pointedly in her direction…) “that’s an old joke, sweetie…” (and it is!)
I confess that I am rarely pleased when eating out, as eating in (besides the laborious preparation and the odious task of post-cooking detail) is generally far more rewarding than what you can get at most restaurants. Of course, according to girl-child, the quality of dining experience does not rely merely on the food, or drink or even the ambience, but rather what makes or breaks the experience is purely material: “Is it a good restaurant? I mean, do they have crayons?” Ah yes, the important questions are answered. Of course she has been having trouble discerning right from wrong with relation to her own mouth anyway, "I don't want to bite you, but I feel like I have to!" (Travelling can be rough, all that delayed satisfaction!)
Perhaps I am spoiled, I hear some people's families and friends don't cook well, but on this vacation I was privvy to the delectable treats of being surrounded by good chefs. Especially K. (she can make even the most mundane -say potatoes- into something amazing, oh, and btw I need a recount of the crème fraîche concoctions with nut crust that you were describing). Here is our collective effort: a Greek salad with an embedded potato dill creation.
Then of course, with my grandmother the only way in which we really connect is sifting through recipes and cooking side-by-side, given that certain topics are simply off limits. This Key-Lime Merengue tart was a joint effort, lovely dessert. (Yes, I did finally get my Key Lime - can't leave Florida without experiencing it, much better than that awful crème brulee!)
Then finally Sandy and Bob saw us off with a brunch:
I. even got to go Lizard hunting with my cousin Chris.
And before we could leave, after the requisite family photos of my lovely, Jesus-loving Floridian family (wonderful people, I swear, even if they were still bothered by Janet’s slipped tit),
I. put her foot in her mouth, as my grandmother was telling doggie jokes, Isabella interjects, “Hey mommy, tell the Bush joke!” (as I glare pointedly in her direction…) “that’s an old joke, sweetie…” (and it is!)
posted by ilana at 11:13 a.m.
2 Comments:
two variations, both garunteed to calm our restive souls:
1) chocolate hazelnut raspberry
roast and peel hazelnuts. pulse in a blender with a bit of sugar and butter until it makes a coarse flour like cornmeal. press into a spring form pan. melt at least 2 ounces of chocolate over a double boiler. whisk in creme fraiche and sugar (if bittersweet), cointreau or other liqueur. spread quickly over nut crust before it sets up. sprinkle over finely sliced yerba buena. press in fully ripe and luscious raspberries. chill for a while, then pop out of the ring. make a toast to not being pregnant when you serve it.
2) citrus almond cherry apricot
core and slice fruit in half. poach or flambe with rum and vanilla. let them cool. roast the almonds, adding walnuts near the end. pulse them in a blender as above. zest an orange and juice it. whisk the orange bits and sugar into the creme fraiche. put it in the shell, arranging the poached fruit on top. chill to set. when serving, sing songs from grease (well-ah, well-ah, well-ah, unh!) and overcome your shyness to kiss a boy you secretly like.
mmmm. mouth watering. but y'know i think maybe it'd be better if you made it; wink wink, nudge, nudge say no more...
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