Monday Laugh (Or Not)

I had all these great ideas for a Halloween post - and then I came home and discovered that my toilet had exploded while I was away at work and so I got a little distracted.

If I could TP whatever higher power might be out there, I would.  Trick or treat, indeed.

(This story made my sister laugh, so maybe it does work thematically for today's post.  But I did not laugh. No sir.  No laughter.)

There (Should Be) A Chill In The Air

Regardless of what's going on back home along I-95, it's unseasonably warm here in London: temperatures are hovering in the mid-teens.  I've given in to wearing tights and boots, but my winter coat is still on its hook in the kitchen, and when I ran out for the paper this morning I found even my cardigan to be superfluous.  However, I looked out the window last night at 6pm into a pitch-black garden; BST ended in the wee hours this morning and the clocks went back an hour.  Autumn is certainly rolling on.

Because of that, I'm indulging in my deepest hibernation instincts.  You won't be surprised, dear readers, to know that many of my cold weather rituals involve food and drink, perhaps because there's something inherently comforting about nesting in the kitchen, something soothing about pouring a steaming pot of tea, something nurturing about slicing into the golden-brown of a cake.

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What's that, you say?  Cake?  Yes, certainly - cake!  My new favorite easy cake is this Apple Yogurt Cake with Cinnamon Sugar from TheKitchn.  It's a two-bowl recipe requiring nothing fancy, and it makes your kitchen smell exactly like your grandmother's kitchen might have smelled when you were a child, if it were imagined by one of those people whose job it is to create scented candles.  You can find the recipe at the link above; I used a round springform pan and had to leave it in the oven for an extra 15 minutes but other than that found the cake to be exactly as promised.  I'm terrible at taking pictures of food, but I suffer for you all and therefore present to you my breakfast:

Nom, my dear readers.  Note the translucent chunks of cooked apple and the marbled vein of cinnamon sugar - oh, nom.

As a bonus, I've discovered a new drink that is perfect for this time of year.  Lots of my friends count the changing of the seasons by the appearance of relevant Starbucks beverages; I, too, get giddy when I spot the first red Christmas cup in a gloved hand.  But this - this is ideal.  This is a London Fog.

Now, take your London Fog and your slice of apple/yogurt/cinnamon cake and curl up in an armchair with a good book.  I'm revisiting some of my childhood favorites, and have got dog-eared copy of A Wrinkle in Time next to me.  Doesn't that sound perfect for a gray Sunday?

Time to Breathe

Well, while the eastern seaboard of the United States is preparing for a serious (and seriously early) first snowstorm...

I walked home through Hyde Park this afternoon to this brilliance:

It's been a bit manic today, what with brunch and catching up on Downton Abbey and baking some apple-yogurt cake plus getting ready for tonight's Disney-themed Halloween party, so I will have to catch you all up with a lovely post tomorrow.

Have a very happy weekend, dear readers!

Frock Fridays - Halloween

Somehow - and I have no idea why - last year's (Halloween) Frock Fridays is one of my most popular posts; it has the second most unique hits of anything I've published.  It's going to be hard to top that, but I'll try... with a classic!

Young girls are generally not very creative when it comes to Halloween costumes.  My sister, for instance, who threw a fit whenever our mother tried to put her in a dress, always wanted to be a bride.  I can only remember ever being a witch - which would be easy to recreate today on the high street!

I'd need this dress from Reiss, with its spiderweb of lace across the shoulders...

I'd need these Christian Louboutin pumps, with their don't-mess-with-me spikes...

And I'd need a hat, but, to be honest, who wants a hat when they can have a feathered sequin mask from the ever-classy Accessorize instead?

I'm pretty sure I'd be set with these three things - that is, if I were to be a witch for Halloween.  Stay tuned for next week's Frock Fridays to learn what I did dress up as in the end!

And tell me... what will you be for Halloween?

On Language

I didn't realize that the Oxford comma would be so polarizing!  Will it be very sad or totally cool if that Monday Laugh post ends up being one of my most popular?  Oh, well, I guess you're all in this with me regardless.

However, since we're already talking about grammar...

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I remember learning in my 10th grade English class - hello, Miss Stair! - that when you use a singular noun to reference a group of people, the verb that follows has to be singular.  So, for instance, I was taught that you would say:

The team is winning the game.

It seems that in British English, though, you often reference the multiple people held within the collective noun and use a plural verb:

The team are winning the game.

This bothers me beyond belief - but apparently it's not that the British are losing an appreciation of proper grammar and rather that we find here an example of cultural differences!  (Ta da.)  When I did a little digging on Google, I found that Wikipedia (blessed be it) recognizes both formal and notional agreements for collective nouns, as explained below: 

If you want something a little more (ahem) established than Wikipedia, Merriam-Webster's Dictionary of English Usage goes into much depth on this subject, and the information can be found in its entirety online at the link above.

I actually find this sort of thing fascinating.  Please tell me you do, too!

(Disclaimer: my grammar nerdiness only extends so far, and I therefore must beg your indulgence if you find any grammatical mistakes in this blog.  I'm only human!)

Monday Laugh

You're all aware: I'm a Democrat.  Though I will always vote with my party (there's a saying about the devil you know beating the devil you don't) there are definitely some Republican politicians who I respect and some Republican policies that I'm willing to listen to.  I'm even willing to admit that, sometimes, the Democrats that we've elected to lead us are being absolutely ridiculous.

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That being said, we've got a bumper crop of Republicans fighting each other for the nomination, most of whom on their best days are really a bit silly.  They're been debating each other for the past few months, both officially and unofficially, getting increasingly more aggressive as we get closer to the convention in August 2012.  One thing that they almost universally agree on, though, is that the federal government has overstepped its mandate and that we should be focusing on states' rights.  Whenever I hear that argument - which is heartbreakingly mentioned in this BBC article about child abuse in the US - I think of President Bartlet.

Can we have it back, please?

Exercise: From Bed to Couch

Well, last night was a bit of a mess, dear readers.  I mean, I think the event went well - I left early so I'm not sure, but all signs were positive - but I was so disgusting that my boss backed away and shielded her face every time I approached.  Finally, I suggested that I might be more charming to our guests if I was not actually at the theatre; she agreed and I fled back to bed.

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At the moment I'm curled up under a duvet on the couch with the detritus of illness around me - tissues, mugs, The Amber Spyglass, my hot waterbottle, enough pillows to occupy a Pottery Barn showroom, a pot of honey that I am literally eating with a spoon to soothe my throat - and am blogging feverishly while the rugby final plays quietly in the background.  (Note to self: stop googling "what is the difference between pneumonia and bronchitis."  It is not helpful.  Instead, focus on the ruggers; google "dieux du stade calendar 2012."  Ah, yes, that's better.  Vive la France!)

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Speaking of NSFW websites, I have a confession for you all: I have a secret blog obsession.  It's really pretty embarrassing, but my flu-inflicted delirium is telling me that I have to come clean.  Okay, are you ready?  I compulsively read Cosmo's fictional blog.  I know, it's terrible.  I can't defend myself, so I'm not even going to try.  But it's just so juicy!  There's so much dramz.  Love it.  Even if it is totally made up.  It's sort of perfect for sick days - and all other days.

Now that I have bared all, I think it's probably time to sign off.  Keep well, and send me healthy vibes through the interwebs!

From Champagne to Chicken Soup

Well, it's been a past few days of highs and lows, both personally and professionally.  Actually, it's funny how often recently the personal and professional have been indistinguishable, though I will try to focus on the former in this blog as usual.

Let's start with one of the best highs: AG's Pink Diamonds and Pink Champagne event at Georg Jensen on New Bond Street on Thursday night.  I met up with Melissa, who is a recent transplant from Boston to London and whose blog I've been pouring over for months, and we rocked the room, checking out the bling, helping ourselves to bubbly, enjoying manicures, and possibly nibbling on a mini cupcake or two or many.  Of course, we did meet the American Girl herself, the lovely Christy:

Christy and Melissa

We met a few other American expats who are based in London - two of whom may turn out to be excellent professional contacts, which is awesome - and I'm really looking forward to having new friendships come out of this.  (Dear Melissa, especially please come into town more often.  And if you need help cashing in on your raffle prize, you know who to call...)

me and the BP

The current low is that I've got the mother of all headcolds.  You know that scene in You've Got Mail when Tom Hanks goes to visit Meg Ryan with a bouquet of daisies and she's in bed surrounded by crumpled kleenex and empty mugs of tea?  That's been me for the past 36 hours.  I woke up in the wee hours of Friday morning feeling awful and tried to talk myself into believing that it was just the beginning of a hangover (I'm looking at you, caipirinhas from Mews of Mayfair) but when my alarm went off I realized that I was well and truly sick.  I stayed at home yesterday to recover and am still taking it easy today; I've got an event at work tonight that I cannot miss and so I'm sleeping as much as possible and downing fluids in every waking moment to get myself back to my fighting weight.

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The silver lining of this illness is that I finally got the chance to make stock from the chicken carcass that's been living in my freezer since my last dinner party.  (Always keep the leftovers when you make a roast chicken.  The soup you make later will be even better if, like me, you can't carve properly and you leave good meat on the bones!)  There are tons of  delicious options for chicken stock - matzoh ball soup, Italian wedding soup,  etc - but I just used what I had in my house and made a chicken soup with turkey-parmesean meatballs, spinach, and noodles.

To make the broth, place a chicken carcass in a large pot and add chunks of carrots, parsnips, celery, and onions as well as a generous dash of both salt and pepper.  (You can really add anything else that takes your fancy, like leeks or rosemary sprigs, but that's all I had in my kitchen!)  Bring to a boil and then simmer for at least two hours, occasionally skimming any foam or film from the top.  Strain, discarding anything solid, and use the stock as a base for soup.

The meatballs are almost as simple, and I sort of made them up as I went along:

500g lean turkey mince

1/2c breadcrumbs

1/2c grated parmesan

2 eggs

2 tbs water

chopped fresh parsley

salt and pepper

Whisk together the eggs and the water and then mix in the breadcrumbs.  Allow the mixture to sit for five minutes so the breadcrumbs get well and truly goopy and then add the rest of the ingredients, combining well.  Roll out balls 1" in diameter, and brown them on all sides in a frying pan.  Then dump them into your simmering stock and cook for 15 minutes.

I threw some spinach and pre-cooked pasta (leftovers from a dinner earlier in the week) in the pot for the last few minutes; the spinach wilted and the pasta warmed up nicely in that time.

To be honest, because of my cold I wasn't really that hungry, but I knew that I needed some energy or I wouldn't be able to make it out of the house, let alone to an event tonight!  The soup was delicious even through my stuffed nose - there's just so comforting about this sort of food when you're under the weather, isn't there?

similar recipe here

I hope you're all having a lovely weekend and are remembering to bundle up and take plenty of vitamin C!

Frock Fridays - Coats

Okay, so coats aren't actually frocks.  But, you know, sometimes they vaguely have a similar shape.  And, unless you're Lady Gaga, your coat and your dress will often cover the same parts of your body.  So, since I am a little frocked out after my trip to Anthropologie last weekend, I think we'll discuss coats today.  After all, 'tis getting to be the season.

I do, I have to admit, have two wonderful coats.  The first is a gorgeous white J Crew number that my mother bought me a few years ago against her better judgement.  (I would guess that I've spent more than the original cost on dry cleaning since then.)  The second is a navy blue military style that I splurged on at a Nicole Farhi sample sale in Seven Dials last winter.  I'm definitely not in the market for a new coat.

But if I were, I'd probably take advantage of the £50 off coats offer at Hobbs and snap up this vintage-y one with the princess collar and empire waist.  I love the velvet trim.  Doesn't it look like something Samantha Parkington* might have worn?

*I got Samantha for my 9th birthday and so she's definitely my favorite American Girl doll.  Felicity was my second favorite, and then Molly, and then Kirsten.  I don't know who the other dolls are because they came after my time - I stick to the classics.  Don't lie, you know exactly what I'm talking about, dear readers.

Un Peu De Maquillage

The New York Times recently published the analysis of a study that determined that wearing makeup can help advance a woman's career, as long as it's not overpowering.  Apparently, the appropriate application of cosmetics to a woman's face makes her appear more trustworthy, reliable, and competent.

To be honest, I hadn't contemplated this before, but must admit that I do buy it.  I didn't think about the fact that my makeup might advance my career, but I have always been aware that I will do better professionally if I take care with my appearance.  My job is quite public and I feel that taking the time to look put-together is a sign of respect for both my position and my employer.  It might be anti-feminist to say this, but I enjoy putting on a face before going to work because I feel more ready to appoach the day once I've swiped on some mascara.  (The article calls the confidence gained from cosmetics a placebo effect but, to be honest, I think that it might be more valid than they give it credit.)

Given what I do, which involves a decent amount of event-management, my makeup bag has to be ready for a morning meeting over coffee in town or an evening drink at the bar before a performance of our latest production.  I don't like lugging around a tote full of supplies all day every day - I am intimidated by the women who apply their cosmetics on the train, pulling out one specialist brush after another from a bottomless purse - and so I stick with basics that can be gradually reapplied throughout the day, increasing in intensity as needed.

My go-to choices are below; all are standard except for the eye liner, which only comes out after dark.  They're all pretty low-key because my mother taught me - as Coco Chanel says above - that you know you've done a good job putting on makeup when no one can tell you're wearing any.  "Your makeup shouldn't be noticed," she told me.  "You should be."

My sister turned me on to Laura Mercier's Oil-Free Tinted Moisturizer and now I swear by it - I don't know at what point you're supposed to switch to the normal tinted moisturiser, but I'm terrified that my skin isn't finished making a mess of itself and so I'm erring on the side of caution.  (I'm currently using Fawn, but as my summer color is fading I'm soon going to have to switch to the paler Bisque.  I'm very upset about it, naturally.)  Laura Mercier also makes my favorite eyeliner.  I find the soft kohl pencils easier to use than other options, though that may be because I'm not doing anything that takes true precision.  My preferred color is Black Violet; it really draws out my eyes without being too harsh.  My mascara is classic Maybelline, and I'm really not picky about which version of theirs I use though I think I was drawn to this one because "The Colossal" sounded hilarious.  Similarly budget is my C.O. Bigelow Rose Salve, which used to be sold at pharmacies but has now become a hipster thing, I think, and I use it for its chapstick-like properties as well as the hint of color it gives my lips.  Last but not least is every East Coast prep's blush of choice: Nars Orgasm, which looks good on almost every skintone.

Of course, like any good girlie girl, I'm always on the lookout for new products, so if you have any suggestions please do share!  After all, I can experiment a bit more when I'm off the clock...

New Foodie Haven (Ruined Already)

Man, I'm frustrated.  A good thing comes along and then the New York Times has to go and blab it to the whole [expletive] world.  Can't they stop scooping?  Jeez.

I mean, remember when Amy M. Thomas, who has "always been one of those girls," wrote about discovering Paris beyond the tourist confines?  I was annoyed because she mentioned a restaurant that I had been planning on visiting during my then-upcoming trip to Paris with my mother and I was afraid that, having been featured in the paper, it would become overrun by Americans.  You should have seen what my expat friends living in Paris said about her article; I think the kindest thing was this:

The typo notwithstanding, I think you all understand the sentiment.

I feel vaguely the same way about last week's London Dispatch blog post highlighting the Maltby Street Market.  Now, I need to preface this rant-ette with the confession that I've never actually been there.  However, my famous-chef-friend (hey, Jake!) told me about Maltby Street over the summer and I've been dying to go ever since.  After all, the boy who introduced me to salsify and samphire has got to be trusted when it comes to food.

But now the whole thing is going to be absolutely ruined.  Ruined, I tell you!  I'm the only socially liberal but sort of elitist American expat who has relocated to London and who went to an Ivy League college and has an advanced degree in something vaguely esoteric and who works in the arts and who loves local/seasonal cooking and who embraces/questions all faiths and religions but believes above all in spirituality - oh [expletive], I'm such a bobo - who is allowed to know about and frequent the Maltby Street Market!  It's not for you.  It's for me.

Therefore, dear New York Times, stop scooping!  Thank you.

Monday Laugh

[Today's Monday Laugh is dedicated to my favorite nerd in the whole wide world: Jon.]

This is how you infuriate fans of Star Wars, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and Star Trek:

found on Facebook

Anniversary Weekend

I'm really going to try hard not to overload you with sappiness, dear readers, but I have to say that this weekend was amazing.  I am so lucky to be able to share all of these adventures with such a wonderful guy... oops,  there goes the gushing!  Goodness, it's harder than I thought to tamp down my ardor.  I suppose that's a good sign, though, right?

On Friday night, Jon and I met at Gordon Ramsey's Foxtrot Oscar for dinner.  Most of the reviews I read said that the food was really good though the service wasn't great, but I have to say that both were stellar.  We started with a glass of Prosecco each and split a Caesar salad - it was old school, topped with a poached egg, bacon, and anchovies.  The main draw of the restaurant, though, was their steak-sharing option: we got a meltingly delicious ribeye with a green salad, thick-cut fries/chips, and onion rings plus a decent bottle of red wine.  (I learned the sinus-clearing way that English mustard should be taken seriously.)  We finished with a delicious cheese plate - or so I thought: our lovely waiter, who was very impressed that we were still going strong after three years and who asked Jon for tips on how to keep a woman happy, brought us chocolate truffles at the end on a plate that had "Happy Anniversary" written on it in chocolate!  It was the perfect start to the weekend.

We woke up on Saturday morning and treated ourselves to a lazy breakfast at my flat before heading up to the Southbank for the Cheese and Wine Festival.  It was a gorgeous day - we both ended up taking our jackets off because the sun was so strong - and it was lovely to wander along the river, catching the sights and people-watching, before picking up lunch (a spinach and feta wrap for me plus a pint of pale ale; raclette with potatoes and gherkins along with mulled cider for Jon) at the Festival.  They had a bunch of seminars, and we snagged seats for the one on cheese/beer pairings.  It was hosted by Meantime, which is the beer featured at the Old Brewery in Greenwich where Jon and I had dinner two summers ago, and La Cave à Fromage, a yummy specialty shop in South Ken.  The only two pairings I remember off the top of my head are stout/Stilton and IPA/Manchego - absolutely delicious!

I made Jon suffer through my amateur photography tour, stopping every five seconds to try to get a different angle of the London Eye...

In the evening, Jon took me to the Café de Paris in Soho, where we enjoyed a cabaret/burlesque show.  I don't have any photos for you because it didn't seem appropriate to whip out my camera, but I will assure you that it was very tasteful - very old-fashioned, almost - and such a fun and unexpected way to spend a Saturday night.

Breakfast on Sunday morning was pancakes; I discovered that English pancakes are more like crêpes than American pancakes, and Jon taught me how to flip them in a frying pan without using a spatula like in the movies.  I was a pro by the third try!  We went our separate ways around noon - me to the King's Road to make my worshipful pilgrimage to Anthopologie for sale dresses and Bea's cupcakes, and he to his house to prepare for his sister's visit.  (I enjoyed my interlude meeting up with AT and gabbing over coffee after she provided invaluable sartorial advice at Anthro - thank you for the company, lady!)

vanilla/rose macaroons

hat display

pretty wallpaper

I hope that you all had a delightful weekend - here's to another week ahead!

Morning Contemplation

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Dear readers, you might get two posts today.  I've woken up early - damn body clock - and so I am compelled to blog about some pretty and inconsequential things to pass the time, but I am aware that I owe you a full session on my anniversary with Jon (part deux begins as soon as he opens his eyes, though we all know that this might mean me waking him up when I get bored). So make sure you check back tonight for details on our dinner last night and our adventures today!

8:29am, Saturday 15 October

I'm curled up under the duvet with my oh-so-very-sexy socks and a cup of tea because, as you can see above, a morning chill has permeated the air.  But the windows are beautifully misty and the sun is streaming in and it is going to be a delightfully lovely day.

After we have breakfast - we stopped at the store on our way home last night to pick up eggs and bacon and bread even though we were so full that the thought of more food made us queasy - we're going to head out for a few hours of walking around Southbank.

As 16*c is manageable but perhaps a bit chiller than is comfortable for an afternoon en plein air next to the river, I'll have to think smart when it comes to picking an outfit.  My tights are staying securely in their drawer (mostly because I'm too stubborn to admit that they might be necessary) and so I'll be forced to stay warm through other means.

In the spirit of whiling away the hours,  I scoured my beloved Polyvore for high street finds; all of the items above are relatively affordable and easily accessible if you live in the UK.  The top, a plain white tee, is from Evans and is £8, and although Evans caters to plus-size ladies they start at a UK14 (US10) so I qualify.  The earrings are £30 from John Lewis and the necklace is £20 from Freedom at Topshop.  I'm usually not a huge fan of River Island because I think their clothes are often too of-the-moment, but I love this £45 green blazer.  The skirt, at £35, is River Island, too - maybe this season will change my mind about the brand.  From Red Herring at Debenhams, those classic wedge loafers come in at £32.  And, last but not least, the most expensive item in the above display is the H&M bag for £70.

I read something in this week's Stylist, which is the free magazine that you get on the tube on Wednesdays in London, that I had to share with you all.  (You'll see why the above clip from Ellen is relevant in a second, though personally I think that Hugh Laurie is relevant to any situation just because he is so darn handsome.)  The mag has an article about the importance of a good haircut, which is apparently "The Investment Piece You Wear Every Day."  They talk about a high-quality haircut as

one that you can tell wasn't done down the high street for a tenner

Ahoy, Britishisms!  The closest I have ever gotten to sounding this British was when I emailed my entire office a few days ago to tell them that I was going to clean out the fridge in the kitchen because "it was manky, and anything that had gone off was going to be immediately chucked in the bin."  (Translation: it was disgusting, and anything that had expired was going to be thrown in the trash.)  But, really, I think that this line from Stylist takes the cake.  What it means is

one that you can tell wasn't bought on main street for ten dollars

How silly.  Also, do you remember a few weeks ago when Hurricane Irene was battering the East Coast of the States?  That's when I learned that the English really do pronounce "hurricane" as "hurr-ih-cuhn." Sillier and sillier!

Jon is awake now, which means that I have to sign off, but he first wants me to tell you that if My Fair Lady was released today as an original concept, there would be universal outrage in Britain.  After all, the only people you can make fun of these days are the toffs!

Frock Fridays - Anniversary

This weekend, Jon and I will be celebrating our three-year anniversary.  (We are considering the few months in which we were not technically together due to, you know, having broken up as part of the journey of our relationship.  Therefore, blah blah blah.  I mean, who wants to stop the clock and then start counting again?  That would put our anniversary sometime in January, which is just not right.  You get it, don't you, dear readers?)

I'm taking him out for dinner tonight at Gordon Ramsey's Foxtrot Oscar in Chelsea to begin the fireworks.  I'm thinking that this Valentino S/S 2011 frock would be perfect for the evening - fresh and romantic but not too treacly.  The polka-dots are fun and the bow adds a lovely girlishness that helps to moderate the balance between flirty and sweet.  Now, I wonder if I'll have time to swing by the Sloane Street store on my lunch break.  Do you think they even stock past seasons?

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Celebrity Sighting in Notting Hill

Culture means so many things and, interestingly, is often just as much about people as it is about art - Kevin Spacey at the Old Vic, the Savage Beauty exhibition featuring the work of Alexander McQueen, and Popeye and Olive Oyl at a book launch.

Wait, what?

Yup, that's right, folks.  I met Popeye and Olive Oyl.  Jon's company threw a launch party for a new cookbook at Books for Cooks in Notting Hill last week, and these two characters were the guests of honor.  How cool is that?

I don't think I've ever seen a Popeye cartoon, but we all know the song:

Well, actually, I'm pretty sure the version of the ditty that I learned at school was a bit ruder and started something like "I'm Popeye the sailor man / I live in a garbage can."  Oops.

Get Thee To...

... Anthropologie on the King's Road on Sunday afternoon to enjoy their mid-season sale plus delicious treats from Bea's of Bloomsbury!

I'll see you there!

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far...

Dear readers, you know that I love autumnal vegetables.  As you saw from my menu for the dinner party I hosted on Sunday, I've been going a little produce-mad: butternut squash, mushrooms, apples, and brussels sprouts all featured just in that one meal.  I don't know if you're as crazy about all of the delicious goodness as I am, but the thought that you might be lacking in inspiration for the bounty of the earth makes me very sad.

And so - drumroll please - I give you inspiration!  Behold the gloriousness.

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(But first I want to preface the gloriousness with the disclaimed that, my love of Borough Market aside, I am not a food snob.  I mean, I am, but before I was a food snob I was a lazy so-and-so.  Therefore, while I do suggest that the Platonic ideal of a butternut squash is found at a farmers' market, having been trucked in fresh from the fields at the misty crack of dawn, I am happy to admit that the butternut squash in the pasta dish that I made tonight was not only purchased from Sainsbury's but that it was purchased pre-peeled and pre-sliced.  I know, gasp away.)

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The first thing that will inspire you is knowing what produce is in season when.  If you're in the States, this interactive map from Epicurious will help you.  For all UK-based cooks, check out the calendar from Turnips.  Due to globalization and technological/agricultural advances, it is, of course, possible to find things in the store that aren't in season.  For instance, British broad beans are somehow still in the veg aisle in my local Tesco even though they should have been finished in July at the latest, and things like bananas that are grown in the tropics are available year-round.

Second piece of inspration is knowing how to pick your produce.  Timing is everything, especially if you're on a budget and only cooking for yourself.  This guide from TheKitchn is a good gospel.  I don't think there's anything wrong with buying something and waiting for it to ripen - although this will more often be the case with fruit than with vegetables - but make sure you've appropriately guestimated the time it will take to be ready.  You don't want to buy a basket of peaches that will be ready in a week if you're not expecting anyone to come over to share them with you when the time comes, because then you'll have to either eat them all yourself or throw the leftovers away.  (Actually, peaches is probably a bad example; I could eat a million peaches all by myself in one sitting.  You know what I mean, though, don't you?)

personal photo; Turnips stall at Borough Market, Oct. 2011 

And then third, you have to find recipes that showcase these amazing vegetables.  I'm not even going to begin to suggest cookbooks - though please do tell me your favorites because I'm always looking for new ones - but I will give you a few websites that I frequent for recipe ideas.  That there are a million fantastic cooking blogs out there, and I find that the best way to find new sites is to go to the favorites of your favorites.  Here are a few to get you started (you can click on the images for the links):

Now, go to town!  And please, let me know what you make - I'm always looking for more inspiration, too!

Monday Laugh

I recently had a heated conversation at work - there are no arguments in my office, you know; we only have passionate discussions - about the Oxford comma.  I am a devotee of this dazzlingly beautiful piece of punctuation.  Most of my colleagues, I discovered, are not.

What is an Oxford comma, you ask?  When one lists three items and separates each with a comma, the final comma is known as an Oxford comma.  Therefore, in the sentence "I will be a grammarian today, tomorrow, and forever after," the comma inserted before and forever after is an Oxford comma.

It is said in some circles that Oxford commas are unnecessary.  I submit that it provides clarity to lists and can reduce embarrassing confusion.  For instance:

via

And thus endeth the lesson.  Amen.

A Full Weekend of Yom

[I started writing this post yesterday, but discovered that blogging about food while fasting is vaguely masochistic.  Therefore.  That entry has been abandoned - mostly because, towards the end, it was only making hungry Cookie Monster sounds - and I'm now starting fresh with a cup of coffee and a bowl of yogurt and granola before me.]

Yom Kippur isn't a happy holiday; one doesn't celebrate it so much as observe it.  It's the Day of Atonement, when you ask forgiveness for your sins of the past year; it is your last chance to repent for all that which has gone wrong between you and God, determining whether or not you will be inscribed in the Book of Life.  As part of this, religious Jews fast from sundown on the night before through sundown on the night of the holiday.  My family always went to a big party, thrown by family friends, to break our fast, and I have such wonderful memories of the feelings of community that this fostered.

To that end, I try to host my own break fast meal when I'm not home in DC.  I totally screwed things up this year because I somehow thought that Yom Kippur was today, Sunday, and not in fact Saturday.  (I was wrong.)  Jon took me out to dinner at a lovely new restaurant in Clapham called the Abbeville Kitchen to break my fast last night; I suppose that means that tonight's dinner party is just a normal dinner party - well, a normal dinner party with autumnally Jewish overtones!  (Is that even a thing?  Must be, now that it's online.  Anything on the internet is true, you know.)

I'm making two kind of galettes to start, one with butternut squash and caramelized onions and one with mushrooms and stilton.  The actual dinner will be kasha-stuffed roast chicken with roasted brussels sprouts.  To finish, we have a cheese board from Neal's Yard and chocolate chip biscotti.

As I've only ever before made the biscotti, that's the recipe I'm going to share with you.  It's beyond easy, though you do have to watch the clock a bit carefully.  You can put almond slivers in it, too, or probably anything, really, as long as it doesn't mess with the consistency too much.  Go to town!

Chocolate Chip Biscotti

2 1/2 c flour
1 tsp baking powder
3 large eggs
1 c sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
7 oz (200g) chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 175*c.  Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.  In a small bowl, combine the flour and the baking powder.  In a big bowl, combine the eggs, sugar, and vanilla using an electric whisk for five minutes or until the mixture thickens and holds its shape.  Using a rubber spatula, stir the flour mixture into the egg mixture and then mix in the chocolate chips.

On a lightly floured work surface, divide the dough in half and form each half into a log.  Set the logs lengthwise on the prepared baking sheet.  Bake for 25 minutes or until lightly browned, rotating the sheet halfway through.  Remove the baking sheet from the oven and decrease the oven temperature to 150*c.  Let the logs cool on the baking sheet for 10 minutes.

Transfer the logs to a cutting board and cut them into slices 1/2" thick with a serrated knife.  Place the cookies cut-side up in a single layer on the baking sheet.  (You may need to use a second sheet.)  Bake until the biscotti are firm, about 20 minutes, flipping them midway through baking.  Let cool completely. Enjoy!