Cocktail Hour

I think I’ve mentioned here before that I don’t really drink.  It’s not for any moral or philosophical reason – I just don’t care for the taste of most alcohol, and I’d rather eat my calories than drink them.  But, for the sake of this project (insert martyr sigh here), I decided to try again.

My husband and I try to get out for a date night whenever we can, but sometimes our schedules and our budget don’t allow for a babysitter and a night out.  So, we made our own date night on our screen porch.  We turned off the TV and turned on the baby monitors, lit some candles, and listened to the crickets.  We laughed.  We sipped.  We didn’t really talk about the kids for once.

He had the “real margarita” (Barefoot Contessa Parties!):

He said it tasted like a real margarita.  I remember wanting to buy margarita glasses when we first got married.  Now I’m glad we didn’t, because in almost 8 years of marriage, this was our first homemade margarita.  I’m glad I know how to make them at home now, though, because one of our favorite Mexican restaurants has gone downhill in recent months.  They always had cheap margaritas, but the food has become so bad there that we won’t go back for the drinks.

I had the whiskey sour (Barefoot Contessa at Home):

It’s pink because I added a little maraschino cherry juice.  Sadly, the maraschino cherries were my favorite part of the drink.  I remember trying (and liking) these in law school, so maybe my taste for whiskey has just disappeared.  I don’t know.  My husband tasted it and liked it, because I went light on the whiskey.  Blech.

I’m just going to have to try harder if I’m going to become a lush.  On the other hand, I highly recommend the stay at home date night.  Within an hour of these photos being taken, the baby woke up and we tended to him.  A few hours later, the 3-year-old woke up.  I’m glad we enjoyed our fleeting quiet time while it lasted, drink or no drink.

Ice Cream Sodas with Strawberry Syrup

I went hard core on this recipe (Barefoot Contessa Parties!).  I started with homemade strawberry ice cream.  That’s right, I made the ice cream.  I used a recipe for the ice cream from one of my favorite wedding gifts:  a series of Williams Sonoma cookbooks organized by topic.  There’s a whole book devoted to ice cream, and this recipe was in it.  I had, embarrassingly enough, some strawberries left in the freezer from last summer.  I guess it shouldn’t be all that embarrassing:  at least they were locally grown, and they kept well in the deep freeze.  And they weren’t nearly as bad as the strawberries we found in my grandmother’s freezer when she died.  They were labelled “1974.”  She died in 1996.  What’s worse is that she moved in 1987.  The strawberries were old enough to be entering puberty when she moved them from one house to another, where they were delicately preserved until they were old enough to vote.  And drink.  For that matter, they were probably fermented enough to be a drink.

But, I digress.

The strawberry ice cream was awesome, and it made a fine strawberry ice cream soda, with strawberry syrup made from more frozen strawberries.    Actually, I’m taking my husband’s word for it, since I’m not really an ice cream soda kind of gal.  I prefer my ice cream straight-up, but my husband discovered that he’s a fan of the ice cream soda when we were on vacation last summer, so he was the guinea pig for this experiment.  He’s a good sport, that one.  Either that, or he was afraid after hearing stories of my grandmother that I’d be tempted to keep the strawberries in the freezer for another few decades, so he gamely gulped down his dessert without complaint.

Split Pea Soup with Parmesan Croutons

Recently, my husband traveled for work.  What kind of work requires an Episcopal priest to travel, you ask?  Something to do with endowments, which sounds more risque than it really is, I assure you.  For the record, I kind of hate it when he travels.  I know I’m lucky that he doesn’t have to travel often (and that he has a job, and that I have a husband… the list goes on.  I’m a lucky lady).  But I’m also fortunate that I still like having him around.  A lot.  He’s home now, but while he was away, my parents were kind enough to visit for a few nights to help me tame the toddler.  In return, I made dinner for them – things that they love, which my husband is not so keen on.  Split pea soup (Barefoot Contessa Cookbook) and parmesan croutons (also Barefoot Contessa Cookbook) probably top that list.  My husband probably likes split pea soup as much as I like his solo travel.

The soup (and the croutons) got raves from my parents, though.  That’s saying something, since they know their way around a bowl of healthy soup, and they’re not shy with their opinions.  The oregano in the split pea soup was a big hit, and we used a whole wheat baguette for the croutons.

Steak with Béarnaise Sauce

I’ve never been much of an indoor steak cook.  On the rare occasion that we cook steak at home, it’s on the grill in the summertime.  But, we have a few steaks in the freezer from our CSA’s partnership with a grass-fed beef farm, and I’ve been wanting to try them before freezer burn gets the best of them.  I’m no longer afraid to cook steak indoors, nor am I afraid to make bearnaise sauce, because of these recipes from Barefoot in Paris.  I had never even heard of  béarnaise sauce until I went on my honeymoon.  My dear, sweet, thoughtful, kind, romantic husband made dinner reservations for us on the grand porch of an old lodge at sunset, at a fantastic steak restaurant.  It was the only place that I’d ever seen anything other than A1 or Heinz 57 served alongside a steak, and I was duly impressed.  As we held hands and gazed out into the sunset, I said, “Wow!  I’ve never seen that many birds flying together before!”  With a bit of a catch in his voice, he mumbled something like, “Yeah, um, me neither.”  He didn’t tell me until we were safely inside that the “birds” were actually bats swarming around.  Yeesh.  So, it was at that restaurant that I was introduced to not only lovely steak sauces such as the tasty béarnaise, but it was also the place and time where I was first exposed to what can only be deemed an act of loving deception:  my new husband protecting me from my own phobia by playing along with my self-delusion that I was seeing birds and not flying rodents.  I’m still grateful for that – if I had known they were bats, I never would have stayed long enough to finish my dinner.

Kiss my Grits

I never cared much for grits until I met my sweet Southern husband.  We still don’t have them in our regular rotation, but they’re a nice change of pace every once in a while, and they’re certainly easier to make than anything that involves peeling potatoes.  These Creamy Cheddar Grits (Barefoot Contessa Back to Basics) paired nicely with the French Country Omelet (also from Back to Basics).  For the omelet, I only have a 12″ oven-safe pan, and the recipe called for a 10″ pan.  I just added an extra egg and a dash of extra milk, and I shared my portion with the toddler on my lap.  The grits must have passed muster, because my husband had seconds for dessert.

Broccolini with Balsamic Vinegar

This recipe (Barefoot Contessa at Home) strikes a fine balance between those of us who like absolutely nothing adorning our green vegetables (me) and those of us who like whatever we can get our hands on to dress up our veggies (my husband).  The dressing makes up for the fact that the broccolini is still crisp, and it’s not so intrusive as to take away from the flavor, but it does give it a little something to make it more interesting.  Or whatever it is that dressing is supposed to do to vegetables.

Chocolate Buttercream Cake

I have a confession:  I use boxed cake mix and frosting from a can.  I’ve made cakes and frosting from scratch, but the cake mixes are so much easier, and they often turn out better.  I’ve never had a cake from a boxed mix that falls, and I wish I could say the same for every scratch cake that I’ve ever made.  My husband requests a cake (from a boxed mix, with canned frosting) every year for his birthday, and I happily give him his wish.  So, it’s with some trepidation that I approach the cakes in the Barefoot Contessa cookbooks.  In this case (Chocolate Buttercream Cake, The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook, pp. 194-196), my anxiety was for naught.  I chose this recipe first because of the pretty picture featured alongside it, and the fact that every time my husband sees that picture, he says, “That looks pretty.”  This cake was beautiful, and actually quite easy.  The frosting was a bit of a challenge – it was really, really thin.  The recipe instructed that if the frosting is soft, one should let it cool and try again.  Eventually, after whipping the frosting at high speed and refrigerating it, it firmed up quite nicely, to the point of being almost fudge-like the next day.  This cake is awfully rich, so a small piece is all you’ll need.  (These are words you will not often hear from me.)

You’ll notice that this was not made as a layer cake.  I’m lazy, and as every good Midwestern girl knows, a layer cake recipe can be made in a 9×13 pan, and anyone who complains about it won’t get seconds.  So there.

Six years

Six years ago, we walked down the aisle of an historic place, and made our own history by saying our vows there.  Then we ate cake.

Happy anniversary to the butter to my bread, the frosting to my cake, the father to my child, and wisest, sweetest soul I’m privileged to know.

Photo by Jen Rusch Photography.

Apple Crostata

I love apple season in Minnesota.  Home of the Honeycrisp and the Zestar, we’re surrounded by orchards that offer the season’s finest.  The fact that the season is relatively short makes the picking seem even sweeter.  The only problem (if you can even call it that) with being surrounded by this much beautiful bounty is that I often get overzealous in my picking and buying, and the next thing I know, we’ve got bushels of apples pushing us out of the kitchen.  I usually freeze lots of applesauce, and make some desserts as well.  The apple crostata on p. 176 of Barefoot Contessa Parties! is going on the favorites list for sure.  It’s like an apple pie, but easier, and I would even venture to say, tastier.

I’ve mentioned that I cooked as therapy in law school.  During that time, I perfected the art of pie crust.  Not surprisingly, I had several willing guinea pigs who helped me eat the not-so-pretty attempts at the perfect pie, but I found after a little practice that it wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it was, especially with the help of an electric stand mixer or better yet, a food processor.  So, shortly after I graduated, I met my now-husband.  To impress him for our first official date, I made him a triple berry pie.  It was late spring, and the berries were perfect.  I rolled out a beautiful homemade crust (when really, I should have been studying for the bar exam), and I must say, the results were impressive.  The new-date-now-husband complimented the pie, and then proceeded to eat the filling and leave the crust on the plate. Had I known him better, I would have eaten up his leftover crust right then and there.  Despite this obvious failing of character, he turned out to be a very nice guy, and needless to say, we went on more dates.  I just learned not to make more pie unless there would be someone around who had the good sense to eat it.  All of it.

This apple crostata, however, passed the taste test of the previous crust-waster.  The dough is just ever-so-slightly thicker than a traditional pie dough, and the result is somewhat rustic.  The apple flavor really came through, and we both gave the final product two thumbs up.

Crostata Dough on the pastry board

Apple Crostata, before baking

The Finished Product

Ready to eat!