I have always been challenged by the little green cabbage heads...Brussels Sprouts that is! How to make them tasty, succulent, and crave worthy. Well...bring on the celebration....I have achieved "Brussels Sprout Nirvana!"
I took the following recipe to my family Thanksgiving celebration...a little worried...a tough audience...given my relations' cooking skills. My cousin's husband owns the titles for "Turkey...Not Your Mother's Bird," and "Classic Stuffing," my brother is king of "American Traditional Desserts with a Twist," and my sister rules for "Recipes Remade to Be Healthy and Still Taste Great." I have held the titles of "Best Salad,"and "American Regional Dessert." (My artfully arranged and carefully selected cheeses with savory nibbles apparently don"t count since I do not MAKE the cheese! Pah.) The senior generation still holds several crowns...having grudgingly surrendered others. A tough crowd to impress...
Here's the grocery list:
3 to 4 lbs Brussels sprouts, rinsed and cut in half through stem
1 lb mushrooms, chanterelles, cremini or oyster, cut into large rough pieces
2 shallots, sliced very thinly
4 oz. pine nuts
1/2 cup chicken broth
1 cup heavy cream
olive oil....please use the good stuff!
sea salt
Heat oven to 450 degrees.
Put Brussels sprouts on large rimmed sheet...drizzle about 3 to 4 Tbsp olive oil over and toss to coat. Sprinkle with sea salt. Bake in oven for 10 minutes...stir sprouts...bake another 10 to 12 minutes. Remove from oven.
While cooking the Brussels sprouts...prepare the mushrooms. In a large skillet over med high heat...place 2 Tbsp olive oil to coat pan. Add mushrooms and let them brown...stirring occasionally. They will get juicy...you want to slowly cook the juices away. Remove from pan after about 6 to 8 minutes. Wipe out pan.
Put 2 to 3 Tbsp of olive oil in the pan...add the thinly sliced shallots and the pine nuts. Saute until onions are limp and the nuts golden. Pour in the chicken broth and cook until liquid reduced by half. Add the sprouts and mushrooms and stir to mix. Pour the cream over the top, turn the heat down to medium low and gently cook until thickened...stir often...about 4 to 5 minutes. Season with a little more sea salt.
I served in a large enameled Dru pan that I pre-warmed in the oven to keep everything nice and hot on the buffet.
I nervously eyed the table...strong competition...a cold wild rice, squash and dried cherry dish, acorn squash with kale and pecans...a corn souffle with mushrooms, red peppers and olives...a pear, pecan, blue cheese and endive salad. Yup. The veggies were a tough crowd. The mashed potatoes and marshmallow sweet potatoes did NOT count!
The younger group bypassed my dish...noooooo...but they skipped over most of the vegetables except the mashed potatoes and gravy. The semi-pro judges were next. "Eh...whose dish is the yellow cast iron one? What's in it?" When I told them it was Brussels Sprouts...it was scrutinized with narrowed eyes. But they were taking a spoonful. OK...so far. Last came the real cooks...my cousin and her husband...my brother and sister...
They all hesitated...looking at the table's bounty. And started spooning from each offering (a rule...in order to vote...you must try every dish...unless sadly...deadly allergic!) My cousin and I were last in line...when...
...two of the seniors came back at the table sheepishly putting their plates out "for a bit more of that Brussels Sprout stuff." A third came up with his wife's plate (who could tell?), with the same intentions. I looked down at the table...my dish was EMPTY except for a stray mushroom, some leaves and a puddle of cream! And that was disappearing rapidly since my cousin was sopping it up with a slice of bread. She mumbled something about "sampling it" when it was warming. My dish was clean! A slam-dunk title for me!!!!!
Good thing I had (like all good chefs) sampled my recipe before putting on the table. Yup. A winner. But maybe I'll tweak on it for next year with a bit of added Gruyere!
No sense in resting on my newly won laurels until next year...the family reunion is in July. Just the thought of the picnic has me thinking about a blue cornmeal cornbread recipe. Wonder how my farm relatives feel about smoked chilis? And could I make a poundcake that tastes like peach melba!? With fresh raspberries on the side?
I'll keep you posted...of course!
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Slip Sliding Away...Doesn't Even Begin to Describe the Day
Mother Nature, along with Boreas Rex and Jack Frost, decided to lavish my lovely Minnesota with 1/2 inch of clear ice, freezing rain, and 28 degrees late last night and into this morning. And then after all their labor...I believe they sat back to watch us mere mortals cope with the gift!
I listened in the dark to the rare car slowly creeping through the intersection outside my snug little house. Big or little, no one was going anywhere fast! One small bug tried to start from the stop sign and just spun in a circle...like a dog chasing its tail. A couple of vehicles thought my sidewalk was a good alternative to the street...a decision made after the fact! But, surprisingly not a single fender-bender to be heard. (At least in my corner of the world. TV showed a far different outcome in other areas of town.)
Morning came...very quiet...I couldn't see any traffic from my windows. It being Sunday...I don't have to be anywhere early...and having a dog with pleading eyes...I did the only thing a Jeep owner could. I decided to go to the park and walk my boy. Yup...officially crazy...I just didn't know it yet.
My first step, if you could call it that, was a wild ride. The leading boot tentatively touched the top step and felt secure, so I stepped out. I remember clutching the screen door and being suddenly 3 steps lower than where I started. Whoa. My dog, with his built in traction control, fared no better. I grabbed whatever I could when I saw him skid past me...trying to 1. slow him down, 2. keep him upright, and 3. prevent him from crashing into my big planter. Sorry about your tail, Watson.
I did the "Minnesota Shuffle"down the sidewalk...never lifting my feet...just pushing one forward, anchoring it, and scarily moving the other foot. All the while, constantly checking my inner balance. "Full Alert!" "Danger! Danger!"
The Jeep was covered in a complete sheet...that should have been my second sign of bad idea! But being a native-born Minnesotan...I carefully slid in and defrosted, well 10 minutes later, the windows. Pulling out of my level driveway, I planned on turning left. Planned. The roadway and the Jeep decided the opposing snowbank was the true destination. Sigh...did I mention that I am stubborn? By gad, I wanted to go to the park...and was going to do just that.
Going straight wasn't bad...until I hit the top of the steep hill past the middle school. Wheeeeeee...I think I felt what it was like to be a bob sledder! A novice bob sledder in the middle of a big PANIC! Thankfully, no traffic coming towards me...since the Jeep seemingly couldn't decide which side of the street was better.
By crawling at a sedate 10 miles per hour...we made the park...my fingers in a death grip on the wheel...and Watson's eyes the size of the proverbial saucers.
I parked by the trees, thinking the ice wouldn't be quite as bad as in the open areas. Sounded feasible. Actually was true for 15 to 20 steps. But only....
The play by play was ugly:
"This aging competitor bravely steps out...a clean start...her confidence grows. Oh no! Can't believe what we just saw! Thompson threw in a crossover that isn't in her program...her leading foot lifted...she propelled herself forward grabbing a sapling...kicking her back foot out too late...Ouch. That was a landing she'll not forget for a long time...and the sapling needs a moment of silent remembrance!"
Personally, I was thinking it must have looked like a bizarre DWTS dance step...a devilish dervish with an extended arm position followed by a partner-less dip! Well not quite, the sapling did give partnership its all.
Thank God...I don't think there were any witnesses!!
However, I laid there for several breaths...until Watson's nose hovered over my face...anxiously "huffing" to check me out. Yah...I saved his butt earlier...he didn't return the favor...thanks, Pupper.
The lessons offered by the school of hard knocks finally sink in...I was going home to hunker down and wait the weather out...but first, I had to get back to the Jeep. The knees of my jeans will never be the same...but I have a new appreciation what the snow covered ground looks like from the height of a crawling middle aged woman.
I didn't even stop for coffee ...can't tempt Mother Nature and her minions too many times. But I'll bet they had a good howler over my antics...probably even had a twinge of sympathy for me...but I'd place no bets.
I listened in the dark to the rare car slowly creeping through the intersection outside my snug little house. Big or little, no one was going anywhere fast! One small bug tried to start from the stop sign and just spun in a circle...like a dog chasing its tail. A couple of vehicles thought my sidewalk was a good alternative to the street...a decision made after the fact! But, surprisingly not a single fender-bender to be heard. (At least in my corner of the world. TV showed a far different outcome in other areas of town.)
Morning came...very quiet...I couldn't see any traffic from my windows. It being Sunday...I don't have to be anywhere early...and having a dog with pleading eyes...I did the only thing a Jeep owner could. I decided to go to the park and walk my boy. Yup...officially crazy...I just didn't know it yet.
My first step, if you could call it that, was a wild ride. The leading boot tentatively touched the top step and felt secure, so I stepped out. I remember clutching the screen door and being suddenly 3 steps lower than where I started. Whoa. My dog, with his built in traction control, fared no better. I grabbed whatever I could when I saw him skid past me...trying to 1. slow him down, 2. keep him upright, and 3. prevent him from crashing into my big planter. Sorry about your tail, Watson.
I did the "Minnesota Shuffle"down the sidewalk...never lifting my feet...just pushing one forward, anchoring it, and scarily moving the other foot. All the while, constantly checking my inner balance. "Full Alert!" "Danger! Danger!"
The Jeep was covered in a complete sheet...that should have been my second sign of bad idea! But being a native-born Minnesotan...I carefully slid in and defrosted, well 10 minutes later, the windows. Pulling out of my level driveway, I planned on turning left. Planned. The roadway and the Jeep decided the opposing snowbank was the true destination. Sigh...did I mention that I am stubborn? By gad, I wanted to go to the park...and was going to do just that.
Going straight wasn't bad...until I hit the top of the steep hill past the middle school. Wheeeeeee...I think I felt what it was like to be a bob sledder! A novice bob sledder in the middle of a big PANIC! Thankfully, no traffic coming towards me...since the Jeep seemingly couldn't decide which side of the street was better.
By crawling at a sedate 10 miles per hour...we made the park...my fingers in a death grip on the wheel...and Watson's eyes the size of the proverbial saucers.
I parked by the trees, thinking the ice wouldn't be quite as bad as in the open areas. Sounded feasible. Actually was true for 15 to 20 steps. But only....
The play by play was ugly:
"This aging competitor bravely steps out...a clean start...her confidence grows. Oh no! Can't believe what we just saw! Thompson threw in a crossover that isn't in her program...her leading foot lifted...she propelled herself forward grabbing a sapling...kicking her back foot out too late...Ouch. That was a landing she'll not forget for a long time...and the sapling needs a moment of silent remembrance!"
Personally, I was thinking it must have looked like a bizarre DWTS dance step...a devilish dervish with an extended arm position followed by a partner-less dip! Well not quite, the sapling did give partnership its all.
Thank God...I don't think there were any witnesses!!
However, I laid there for several breaths...until Watson's nose hovered over my face...anxiously "huffing" to check me out. Yah...I saved his butt earlier...he didn't return the favor...thanks, Pupper.
The lessons offered by the school of hard knocks finally sink in...I was going home to hunker down and wait the weather out...but first, I had to get back to the Jeep. The knees of my jeans will never be the same...but I have a new appreciation what the snow covered ground looks like from the height of a crawling middle aged woman.
I didn't even stop for coffee ...can't tempt Mother Nature and her minions too many times. But I'll bet they had a good howler over my antics...probably even had a twinge of sympathy for me...but I'd place no bets.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Long Johns...Disappointed at the Pastry Case
Long Johns are just not what I remember.
Well, to clarify, neither type of “Long Johns” that I recall (one with fondness, one not.) vaguely resemble my cherished memories. One disappoints, one happily exceeds. (Think heavy itchy wet wool...vs. today's light weight miracle fabrics.)
My memories of “Long Johns” always centers around the bakery shop (not shoppe!) on Main Street in Appleton, MN. If my grandmother was too busy with her gardening, chickens, Sunday School lessons, harvest/ planting, washing, ironing, mending, canning, rendering, butchering, or she had a houseful of family…she would go to the bakery (after grocery shopping) to pick up some “sweets” for the table. She made breakfast, mid morning coffee, lunch, mid afternoon coffee, and supper every day of her life. The only differences came in the amount of food she prepared, which depended on 2 things: the number of people she was feeding and the weather. Cold weather, more food. Warm weather, less food. No one went away hungry…or ill prepared to return to the fields.
So, on these occasions, we were allowed to visit the BAKERY and help (?) select. And if we were very good and helpful, we could choose our very own goodie to have later!
A huge, sparkling glass window beckoned us…like a hypnotic eye…to peer in and see the gleaming glass cases filled with baked goods. There was a wide, old fashioned screen door you pulled to open…and as a child I never remembered in my excitement...to “catch” the door so it did not slam. And when you left, the screen door had a fancy metal and enamel embossed “Thank You” plate where you pushed. All the cases inside were clear glass…several with fingerprints made while “pointing” out the exact sweet selected.
The fancy items, wedding and birthday cakes, were closest to the window, like beautiful sirens, tempting one to enter. Then multitudes of cookies and bars, marching like soldiers in perfect formation on the flat trays, followed by doughnuts (not donuts), other fried goods and sweet rolls. Crullers, cake (plain or glazed), raised (we called them Polish and they were always glazed), chocolate with frosting and sprinkles, spiced with cinnamon/sugar dusting, bismarks with assorted fillings of cream, custard, jam or jelly, fried cinnamon rolls and frosted Long Johns were present on a daily basis. (Sometimes the baker got creative and made PUMPKIN doughnuts with coconut frosting.)
Breads and rolls were across the far end; the bread orderly on the wall with signs as to their genre. Rolls were in the low case: parker house, split tops, clover-leafs, horns, hamburger and current. Seasonal specialties were reserved for the front window: stolen, lebkucken, peppernuts, divinity, spritz, date bread, sour cream sugar cookies, Russian Tea cakes, etc. A show piece wedding cake took majestic center stage…drawing admiration for the lifelike quality of the flowers cascading down…and the height it achieved.
Long Johns then: magical, guaranteed to make your mouth water and the car ride home endless. A golden brown outside protected the yeasty sweetness inside. Real maple frosting…still glossy from being swirled on by the baker’s knife covered the top. And freshly chopped, crunchy peanuts packed the top…melding into the frosting’s sweetness…delivering a sweet and salty morsel in each bite.
The pastry Long John of 2010 is a tasteless rectangle of oily cardboard with beige frosting (it tastes BEIGE too!), and crumbles of peanuts resembling floor sweepings. Not the tender pastry that I lusted for as a child. Today’s version of a maple frosted Long John with peanuts is greasy, doughy and under done. A commercial frosting overloaded with “maple” flavoring tastes as if made in a chemical lab. And the peanut topping?...usually not crisp…at worst, rancid. Even if the bakery is a “good” one.
So, in this case, you can’t go home again. But a girl can dream…..
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Cheese....Glorious Cheese!
Serious and funny thoughts about cheese....
Many's the long night I've dreamed of cheese -- toasted, mostly. Robert Louis Stevenson
Cheese! Why won't it stop flirting with me? Joss Whedon
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
My favorite contribution to the Thanksgiving table is cheese...I plot and plan which marvelous varieties will be displayed on the board...which morsels deserve to be added...what condiments will reside in my antique cut glass...do I include a homemade pate' or not? It goes without saying that I will have 2 types of crackers and a bread tucked cosily into a basket.
So as I am pondering this year's tantalizing board...I thought to share a very small bit of the relationship between cheese and me!
My wonderful niece belongs to a "Cheese Society" at her college. After each meeting she posts her comments and ratings of the cheeses. The following is a response of mine to one of her posts.
"Which Iowa Bleu? Maytag is the stalwart go-to bleu. There is about 7 or 8 cheese makers in Iowa that produce a bleu. I personally like Golden Ridge's (an Amish coop) Schwarz und Weiss (literally Black and White) a wonderful, full-flavored snappy tangy bleu. But I also love St Pete's Bleu from good old Faribault, MN. A must try with garden tomatoes, crisp bacon crumbles and diced red onion as a chop-chop salad. (of course, you can throw some green leafy stuff in there too!) Oh, and I can't forget Rogue Creamery's Bleu. Hmmmmm.
St Andre Triple Creme Brie...I have served that often enough to you at family events. Can't go wrong there...any cheese that has pure thick cream stirred in during the aging process has to be good! Any of Uncle Mark's jams with this on a baguette makes the world's BEST breakfast! (Of course with a steaming cup of coffee from the French press!)
Tasmanian Heritage Camembert ... frankly not a typical fan of Camembert since it often served too aged and runny for me. Too young is chalky and not pleasant. A middle aged is okay. Rather earthy or mushroomy on the palate ... not bad. But needs strong foods to stand with it...balsamic marinated baby onions and Smithfield ham slivers on warm biscuits. Or a great salami with cornichons on a baguette.
Try Cowgirl Creamery's Mt Tam or Red Hawk. They are worth the money ... just be sure they are not too ripe as they taste ammoniated. (A very ghastly taste on the tongue...not to mention the ensuing paralysis to the nostrils!)"
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
For this Thanksgiving, I am leaning towards:
French Aged Mimolette - broken into shards
Neal's Yard Berkswell - rich, sweet and nutty
Shepherds Way Big Woods Blue - complex, open textured
Donnay Dairy Chevre - mounded with drizzled single source honey and sprinkled chopped pistachios
Cowgirl Mt. Tam
Cave Aged Gruyere - cubed
St Andre Brie - soooooo rich and creamy
Well, at least that is the plan for now. I still have 3 days before the decision!
There's nothing quite like a piece of cheese
to nibble upon for pleasure and ease.
No matter the time or state of mind
greater joy than cheese you'll never find.
Served on a cracker or a soft piece of bread
a morceau de fromage will please your head.
Roquefort, camembert, brie or blue
served with fruit or in fondue
God gave us cheese- a bit of heaven on earth
to lift our burdens, providing sweet mirth.
And after all our daily work is done
we enjoy simple cheese just for fun.
But remember the ancient custom of the house
leave behind a kernel for the nocturnal mouse.
C Jim Sitterly
to nibble upon for pleasure and ease.
No matter the time or state of mind
greater joy than cheese you'll never find.
Served on a cracker or a soft piece of bread
a morceau de fromage will please your head.
Roquefort, camembert, brie or blue
served with fruit or in fondue
God gave us cheese- a bit of heaven on earth
to lift our burdens, providing sweet mirth.
And after all our daily work is done
we enjoy simple cheese just for fun.
But remember the ancient custom of the house
leave behind a kernel for the nocturnal mouse.
C Jim Sitterly
Many's the long night I've dreamed of cheese -- toasted, mostly. Robert Louis Stevenson
Cheese! Why won't it stop flirting with me? Joss Whedon
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
My favorite contribution to the Thanksgiving table is cheese...I plot and plan which marvelous varieties will be displayed on the board...which morsels deserve to be added...what condiments will reside in my antique cut glass...do I include a homemade pate' or not? It goes without saying that I will have 2 types of crackers and a bread tucked cosily into a basket.
So as I am pondering this year's tantalizing board...I thought to share a very small bit of the relationship between cheese and me!
My wonderful niece belongs to a "Cheese Society" at her college. After each meeting she posts her comments and ratings of the cheeses. The following is a response of mine to one of her posts.
"Which Iowa Bleu? Maytag is the stalwart go-to bleu. There is about 7 or 8 cheese makers in Iowa that produce a bleu. I personally like Golden Ridge's (an Amish coop) Schwarz und Weiss (literally Black and White) a wonderful, full-flavored snappy tangy bleu. But I also love St Pete's Bleu from good old Faribault, MN. A must try with garden tomatoes, crisp bacon crumbles and diced red onion as a chop-chop salad. (of course, you can throw some green leafy stuff in there too!) Oh, and I can't forget Rogue Creamery's Bleu. Hmmmmm.
St Andre Triple Creme Brie...I have served that often enough to you at family events. Can't go wrong there...any cheese that has pure thick cream stirred in during the aging process has to be good! Any of Uncle Mark's jams with this on a baguette makes the world's BEST breakfast! (Of course with a steaming cup of coffee from the French press!)
Tasmanian Heritage Camembert ... frankly not a typical fan of Camembert since it often served too aged and runny for me. Too young is chalky and not pleasant. A middle aged is okay. Rather earthy or mushroomy on the palate ... not bad. But needs strong foods to stand with it...balsamic marinated baby onions and Smithfield ham slivers on warm biscuits. Or a great salami with cornichons on a baguette.
Try Cowgirl Creamery's Mt Tam or Red Hawk. They are worth the money ... just be sure they are not too ripe as they taste ammoniated. (A very ghastly taste on the tongue...not to mention the ensuing paralysis to the nostrils!)"
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
For this Thanksgiving, I am leaning towards:
French Aged Mimolette - broken into shards
Neal's Yard Berkswell - rich, sweet and nutty
Shepherds Way Big Woods Blue - complex, open textured
Donnay Dairy Chevre - mounded with drizzled single source honey and sprinkled chopped pistachios
Cowgirl Mt. Tam
Cave Aged Gruyere - cubed
St Andre Brie - soooooo rich and creamy
Well, at least that is the plan for now. I still have 3 days before the decision!
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Moscow on the Hill...the Gem of Selby and Western.
Wow...wow...wow. A marvelous leisurely dinner at Moscow on the Hill in St Paul with good friends...again. Russian food...both peasant and royal...served attentively and warmly. Personally...Moscow ranks as one of my top 5 favorite restaurants in the Twin Cities. And yet...it consistently is ignored by MSP Mag and the Strib critics. Are they such snobs that they think the only "great" kitchen has a chef with a "name?"
Grab a group of friends...pick those who LIKE to converse and talk while leisurely dining...not those in a marathon to be out the door in 1/2 an hour...pick those who LIKE to share...and go to Moscow. Enjoy a true Russian meal...
We started the evening as the Russians do...hot and cold appetisers to awaken your appetite.
Assorted savory platter to start (chef changes it daily): A mounded beet salad perfectly tops a piece of their dark bread. Chicken liver pate...here I have to take my friends' description..."luxuriously silken on the tongue." Crisp/crunchy sweet pickles. Russian style herring (not Grandma's chewy stuff from the jar!) melts in your mouth. Chicken blini filled with chopped braised chicken, herbs and a tart cheese topped by a sour cream that is reminiscent of creme fraiche, not Old Home. Pickled vegetables were unusual...piquant, sweet and refreshing. And of course we have to order a separate side of my favorite, Mushrooms Julienne (rich and creamy, herby with plenteous bubbly cheese) on the side. And the basket of bread slices to soak up all the juices!
I had Chicken Kolobok...tender breast of chicken stuffed with wild rice, fruits and nuts. The size of a softball ... skin crispy and brown...glazed by a sauce of fruit, honey and herbs (do I taste figs?)... enough to sop each tender morsel of chicken. Roasted veggies.
I was treated to a couple bites of Beef Stroganoff...and after my girl friend's husband saw my covetous glaze...he slowly slid his plate away from my reach! Really...I did contemplate a fork war with him...the stroganoff was that GOOD. Generous strips of tender, simmered beef, rich mushroom gravy/sauce on wide noodles. Tangy sour cream and herbs dressed the serving...which WAS big enough to share!
Dessert was the homemade chocolate truffles...sigh. Two, each the size of a large marshmallow, on a Belgian chocolate drizzled and dusted plate...I can't do them justice!
Okay, I am going to try to describe the truffles. The merest molecule ... once in your mouth ... has EVERY taste bud screaming and fighting to experience all the truffle they can. They are rich, calorie laden ... and I DO NOT CARE! The density is incredible, not waxen, slow to melt, pure Belgian chocolate. You have to fight yourself to eat slowly, wanting to inhale greedily, yet desiring the moment to last! What is a girl to do?
And for a leisurely end...piping hot Russian style tea served in glasses with holders and a bowl of homemade jam. You take a small bit of jam in the bowl of your spoon...lower it into the steaming tea...let it melt...scoop up a little tea with the now melted jam...bring to your lips and slurp!
Moscow on the Hill...honest Russian food to share...good friends to enjoy...it doesn't get better.
Na Zdorovie!
Grab a group of friends...pick those who LIKE to converse and talk while leisurely dining...not those in a marathon to be out the door in 1/2 an hour...pick those who LIKE to share...and go to Moscow. Enjoy a true Russian meal...
We started the evening as the Russians do...hot and cold appetisers to awaken your appetite.
Assorted savory platter to start (chef changes it daily): A mounded beet salad perfectly tops a piece of their dark bread. Chicken liver pate...here I have to take my friends' description..."luxuriously silken on the tongue." Crisp/crunchy sweet pickles. Russian style herring (not Grandma's chewy stuff from the jar!) melts in your mouth. Chicken blini filled with chopped braised chicken, herbs and a tart cheese topped by a sour cream that is reminiscent of creme fraiche, not Old Home. Pickled vegetables were unusual...piquant, sweet and refreshing. And of course we have to order a separate side of my favorite, Mushrooms Julienne (rich and creamy, herby with plenteous bubbly cheese) on the side. And the basket of bread slices to soak up all the juices!
I had Chicken Kolobok...tender breast of chicken stuffed with wild rice, fruits and nuts. The size of a softball ... skin crispy and brown...glazed by a sauce of fruit, honey and herbs (do I taste figs?)... enough to sop each tender morsel of chicken. Roasted veggies.
I was treated to a couple bites of Beef Stroganoff...and after my girl friend's husband saw my covetous glaze...he slowly slid his plate away from my reach! Really...I did contemplate a fork war with him...the stroganoff was that GOOD. Generous strips of tender, simmered beef, rich mushroom gravy/sauce on wide noodles. Tangy sour cream and herbs dressed the serving...which WAS big enough to share!
Dessert was the homemade chocolate truffles...sigh. Two, each the size of a large marshmallow, on a Belgian chocolate drizzled and dusted plate...I can't do them justice!
Okay, I am going to try to describe the truffles. The merest molecule ... once in your mouth ... has EVERY taste bud screaming and fighting to experience all the truffle they can. They are rich, calorie laden ... and I DO NOT CARE! The density is incredible, not waxen, slow to melt, pure Belgian chocolate. You have to fight yourself to eat slowly, wanting to inhale greedily, yet desiring the moment to last! What is a girl to do?
And for a leisurely end...piping hot Russian style tea served in glasses with holders and a bowl of homemade jam. You take a small bit of jam in the bowl of your spoon...lower it into the steaming tea...let it melt...scoop up a little tea with the now melted jam...bring to your lips and slurp!
Moscow on the Hill...honest Russian food to share...good friends to enjoy...it doesn't get better.
Na Zdorovie!
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Note to Self...Do Not Break Personal Foodie Rules...With Good Reason!
When I started this blog, my sister asked me if, when I reviewed restaurants, would I "talk about the bad as well as the good?" I think the following answers that question.
It's a sad, but true tale I have to relate to my foodie friends...I broke my cardinal rule...I bought takeout at place I'd never been before...and I paid the price. I was rushing home to my pup...who had been alone all day...so I thought "Hmmmm, I've seen a busy parking lot at Asia (on Central in Columbia Hgts) several times. How bad can it be?" All those cars can't be wrong!
Where do I start?
Limp, grease sodden, more cabbage than the stated "pork and shrimp" egg roll...think akin to generic canned dog food! Cream cheese puffs...chewy, tepid and blah at best...gummy, old oil tasting at worst. And the Sweet & Sour Pork...pork, pah! Mystery meat. Army C rations would be preferable. The sauce (?) had pale pink lumps masquerading as tomatoes...bullet-like green peppers and 3 canned pineapple bits in neon pink paste. Yum.
The pork fried rice was the color of scorched earth after a fire...randomly deep brown with unknown additions. Shudder. I'm not guessing. The compost pile will have a workout the next few days. So, I've learned my lesson. And hopefully saved my friends! At ALL cost...avoid "Asia" on Central. You have been warned!
Note: Asia's parking lot is still busy on a regular basis when I drive by. I'm beginning to think it is over-flow lot for Walgreens across the street. That many people cannot be willingly eating (?) at Asia...really.
It's a sad, but true tale I have to relate to my foodie friends...I broke my cardinal rule...I bought takeout at place I'd never been before...and I paid the price. I was rushing home to my pup...who had been alone all day...so I thought "Hmmmm, I've seen a busy parking lot at Asia (on Central in Columbia Hgts) several times. How bad can it be?" All those cars can't be wrong!
Where do I start?
Limp, grease sodden, more cabbage than the stated "pork and shrimp" egg roll...think akin to generic canned dog food! Cream cheese puffs...chewy, tepid and blah at best...gummy, old oil tasting at worst. And the Sweet & Sour Pork...pork, pah! Mystery meat. Army C rations would be preferable. The sauce (?) had pale pink lumps masquerading as tomatoes...bullet-like green peppers and 3 canned pineapple bits in neon pink paste. Yum.
The pork fried rice was the color of scorched earth after a fire...randomly deep brown with unknown additions. Shudder. I'm not guessing. The compost pile will have a workout the next few days. So, I've learned my lesson. And hopefully saved my friends! At ALL cost...avoid "Asia" on Central. You have been warned!
Note: Asia's parking lot is still busy on a regular basis when I drive by. I'm beginning to think it is over-flow lot for Walgreens across the street. That many people cannot be willingly eating (?) at Asia...really.
Veterans Day 2010...Remembrance
Normally, this was a day on the calendar I would barely be aware if not for the papers telling me what is open/closed...and if the downtown meters are free.
Veteran's Day...my Dad was a vet...as were most of his brothers...but not much was ever talked about regarding their service. My uncle Don Gaard, a pilot in WWII who was shot down over Russia and spent time in a prison camp...again, it was not discussed in the family. But I never really thought about what Veteran's Day meant...until today.
Marvin Guy Smith was buried today...the US flag draped over the bronzed coffin...his faded WWII uniform and hat honored in the front of the country church. Photos in the hall showed a proud young man in a sharply creased uniform posed in front of an American flag; a tired, suddenly aged man at an un-named location in the Pacific theater; a somber world weary man in uniform with his radiant bride by his side; and finally a photo of a group of elderly gents at the American Legion. Most outfitted by Fleet Farm: khakis, plaid shirts and windbreakers...but all holding themselves at formation...canes, walkers and wheelchairs not withstanding.
Marvin Guy Smith joined the Army in 1939...spent 5 1/2 years in with 4 years in the Pacific. He was a "cookie"...the guy who tried his best to keep the weary and hungry GI's fed...in crappy, dangerous conditions...with supplies that barely resembled food...and it was the proudest time in his life because he was serving "His Country".
Marvin Guy Smith was 93; my Mother's last remaining Uncle. The last of 12 siblings. My last connection to the generation whose parents were born in the late 1880's. My last link to the pioneering lineage that settled in Fairfield Township, MN in the early 1870's. A carpenter and farmer who was married for 60 years to "Lady Lucille", and had 2 girls and 3 grandchildren that were the light of his life. A man who loved his 1952 John Deere "B" tractor and was given the precious gift of spending his remaining days on his beloved land. And yet, he defined himself as a "Veteran".
Marvin Guy Smith was the uncle who told stories...and stories...and stories. His memory was infallible...every detail...past news...current news...local...world. The forgivable fault of Marvin's (in his late years) was that the stories looped over and over, wrapping the listener. My much more grievous fault...I did not actively listen with my heart to the man behind the stories...his pride...his faith ...his patriotism.
Marvin Guy Smith was buried today...Veterans Day. A day set aside by our government to honor those who have served their country. "Served" as in stood up, said "here I am" and did the job to the best of one's ability...not as in "just doing the time," and the attitude of "I'm here...but don't expect much." Served as in willingly defending your country, served as in doing your duty even under the most terrifying of situations, served as in the awareness that one could lose a life serving country. And did it anyway.
Today's military personnel...thank you.
Marvin Guy Smith...THANK YOU.
Veteran's Day...my Dad was a vet...as were most of his brothers...but not much was ever talked about regarding their service. My uncle Don Gaard, a pilot in WWII who was shot down over Russia and spent time in a prison camp...again, it was not discussed in the family. But I never really thought about what Veteran's Day meant...until today.
Marvin Guy Smith was buried today...the US flag draped over the bronzed coffin...his faded WWII uniform and hat honored in the front of the country church. Photos in the hall showed a proud young man in a sharply creased uniform posed in front of an American flag; a tired, suddenly aged man at an un-named location in the Pacific theater; a somber world weary man in uniform with his radiant bride by his side; and finally a photo of a group of elderly gents at the American Legion. Most outfitted by Fleet Farm: khakis, plaid shirts and windbreakers...but all holding themselves at formation...canes, walkers and wheelchairs not withstanding.
Marvin Guy Smith joined the Army in 1939...spent 5 1/2 years in with 4 years in the Pacific. He was a "cookie"...the guy who tried his best to keep the weary and hungry GI's fed...in crappy, dangerous conditions...with supplies that barely resembled food...and it was the proudest time in his life because he was serving "His Country".
Marvin Guy Smith was 93; my Mother's last remaining Uncle. The last of 12 siblings. My last connection to the generation whose parents were born in the late 1880's. My last link to the pioneering lineage that settled in Fairfield Township, MN in the early 1870's. A carpenter and farmer who was married for 60 years to "Lady Lucille", and had 2 girls and 3 grandchildren that were the light of his life. A man who loved his 1952 John Deere "B" tractor and was given the precious gift of spending his remaining days on his beloved land. And yet, he defined himself as a "Veteran".
Marvin Guy Smith was the uncle who told stories...and stories...and stories. His memory was infallible...every detail...past news...current news...local...world. The forgivable fault of Marvin's (in his late years) was that the stories looped over and over, wrapping the listener. My much more grievous fault...I did not actively listen with my heart to the man behind the stories...his pride...his faith ...his patriotism.
Marvin Guy Smith was buried today...Veterans Day. A day set aside by our government to honor those who have served their country. "Served" as in stood up, said "here I am" and did the job to the best of one's ability...not as in "just doing the time," and the attitude of "I'm here...but don't expect much." Served as in willingly defending your country, served as in doing your duty even under the most terrifying of situations, served as in the awareness that one could lose a life serving country. And did it anyway.
Today's military personnel...thank you.
Marvin Guy Smith...THANK YOU.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Food Memories...or How I Felt 12 Again!
This review was from 6 months ago...but the pizza stays memorable! And it is still true...I feel like I am 12 again and waiting for a molten slice of pizza from Mom's oven each and every time I walk into Village Pizza. Gotta love those food memories!
Enjoy this brief review...(hey when it's right...it doesn't need to be long!)
Honestly...last night I had one of the best pizzas...not at "HOT" spot touted by Andrew or MSP Mag! But at a simple Mom/Pop on 7th Ave E in N St Paul, called Village Pizza. It looks like a small town joint from 40 years ago...linoleum floors and formica booths...mis-matched metal chairs with naugahyde...and a decidedly casual ordering system. Someone might come out and inquire as to what you'd like...but you'll get your pizza quicker if you go to the tiny counter in the back and order. (I always take advantage here to order mine "crispy"!)
But WOW! The "special" large was perfection. Crunchy, toasty, hand formed crust, bubbling molten normal cheese in strands that burn your lips, spicy sweet bites of sausage and a perfect smear of red sauce. MMMMM. That and a frothy sweet root beer made me feel 12 again!
Enjoy this brief review...(hey when it's right...it doesn't need to be long!)
Honestly...last night I had one of the best pizzas...not at "HOT" spot touted by Andrew or MSP Mag! But at a simple Mom/Pop on 7th Ave E in N St Paul, called Village Pizza. It looks like a small town joint from 40 years ago...linoleum floors and formica booths...mis-matched metal chairs with naugahyde...and a decidedly casual ordering system. Someone might come out and inquire as to what you'd like...but you'll get your pizza quicker if you go to the tiny counter in the back and order. (I always take advantage here to order mine "crispy"!)
But WOW! The "special" large was perfection. Crunchy, toasty, hand formed crust, bubbling molten normal cheese in strands that burn your lips, spicy sweet bites of sausage and a perfect smear of red sauce. MMMMM. That and a frothy sweet root beer made me feel 12 again!
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Snow Cankles....Who Knew!
Who knew that dogs could get cankles? Well, to be accurate...SNOW cankles. Not me. But apparently, as my dog Watson experienced this morning in the first snow (and it's a blizzard too!) of the season, they can. And like pantyhose cankles, they are not attractive. Think white bloomers...
Unfortunately they are also a bit more of a bother to make go away. No tugging at thin nylon to smooth out. The poor pupper repeatedly flopped down and worked the snow boulders out of the hair on each leg using his teeth. He'd tug and tease each one, flinging the hair encrusted snowball to the side before going after the next. Made for many stops and starts to our walk this morning.
However, all was not bad. The stops and starts caused the 2 of us to slow down...Watson to de-cankle...and me to breathe in the glory of the woods this morning.
The deep silence magnified every moan of the weighted branches as they stretched down to the earth. Released by the insistent wind...they sprang up from their burdens...dropping snow making soft thuds onto the blanketed ground below.
I could hear the chickadees and juncos chittering and twee-tweeting under the shelter of bowed grasses. If I walked too close to the sheltering weeds...they exploded out...flying to the nearest branch...and immediately began to scold me for disturbing them.
Lovely heavy wet flakes were blowing sideways...sticking burr-like to the first obstacle encountered. The fence posts each wore a jaunty cap...several qualified as raffish! And the rough tree barks were smoothed even like an application of makeup. Except they were far more stunning...Au natural.
I heard each footfall I took...my steps sounded like I was making snowballs. Packing the snow firm and hard...silent evidence to be left that Watson and I had passed through.
So...despite dog cankles and all...I am grateful for His reminder to slow down...breathe...and give thanks for each gift a day brings. Especially when gift wrapped in glittery, fragile beauty.
Unfortunately they are also a bit more of a bother to make go away. No tugging at thin nylon to smooth out. The poor pupper repeatedly flopped down and worked the snow boulders out of the hair on each leg using his teeth. He'd tug and tease each one, flinging the hair encrusted snowball to the side before going after the next. Made for many stops and starts to our walk this morning.
However, all was not bad. The stops and starts caused the 2 of us to slow down...Watson to de-cankle...and me to breathe in the glory of the woods this morning.
The deep silence magnified every moan of the weighted branches as they stretched down to the earth. Released by the insistent wind...they sprang up from their burdens...dropping snow making soft thuds onto the blanketed ground below.
I could hear the chickadees and juncos chittering and twee-tweeting under the shelter of bowed grasses. If I walked too close to the sheltering weeds...they exploded out...flying to the nearest branch...and immediately began to scold me for disturbing them.
Lovely heavy wet flakes were blowing sideways...sticking burr-like to the first obstacle encountered. The fence posts each wore a jaunty cap...several qualified as raffish! And the rough tree barks were smoothed even like an application of makeup. Except they were far more stunning...Au natural.
I heard each footfall I took...my steps sounded like I was making snowballs. Packing the snow firm and hard...silent evidence to be left that Watson and I had passed through.
So...despite dog cankles and all...I am grateful for His reminder to slow down...breathe...and give thanks for each gift a day brings. Especially when gift wrapped in glittery, fragile beauty.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Soup's On!
Soups are a particular favorite of mine:...easy to make...rich tasting...stretchable!...and simple to alter. They also have that immense comfort factor...the tantalizing tease of what's for dinner when you walk in the house...the sense of well-being as your warm hands wrap around the bowl....the curl of fragrant steam from your spoon. So I pass on a special winter recipe to you...one I made for my late father...at the little bungalow up north.
My description and recipe follows:
The Vidalias are sliced parchment thin and slowly carmelizing in butter...the Stilton is crumbled...the beef stock is ready...the parmesan rinds are waiting...2 sprigs of thyme...a bit of real apple cider and a bit more of butter for the stock pot....VOILA! Just an hour away from homemade French Onion soup! With melty, bubbling Gruyere cheese on... garlicky big croutons! I'm saying yummy already!
The Soup Recipe
4 Vidalias sliced thin and separated
1/2 stick butter
3 to 4 quarts good beef stock (depending if you like brothy or substance)
4 Parmesan rinds, from your local cheese shop
2 generous sprigs thyme, rinsed
4 ounces Stilton cheese, crumbled
1 to 2 cups real apple cider
2 cups shredded Gruyere
The Crouton Recipe
1 french narrow baguette, sliced lengthwise.
3 T of good olive oil with 1 clove of smashed garlic in it
2 cups shredded Gruyere
In a large stock pot, slowly carmelize the onions in the butter. (At this point, I usually stop and make the croutons.) Once carmelized (about 20 minutes), add the stock, the rinds and the thyme. Heat to a bare simmer uncovered for 20 minutes; then stir in the crumbled Stilton, smashing any bigger pieces against the side of the pot. Pour in the apple juice. Reduce heat until ready to serve.
For the croutons: split baguette lengthwise, and toast cut side up under broiler until lightly toasted. Remove from oven and brush tops with garlicky olive oil. Evenly place shredded Gruyere on top of each long half. Gently press on cheese to adhere. Cut each half into 4 inch section, place on broiler pan and put back under broiler to gently melt. No need to brown during this step.
To assemble, Pick out and discard parmesan rinds and sprigs of thyme! Then put hot soup in oven proof bowls; equally dividing the onions. Don't worry if you seem to have too much broth to use...see below. Set crouton on top each bowl and top with the remaining shredded Gruyere. Pop in the broiler until the cheese bubbles and browns. Remove carefully from oven....very hot. Serve and enjoy!
And if you ever have extra of this soup....either freeze as is or puree and freeze. I freeze my puree in small snack bags...about a 1/2 cup or so in each. Add to any gravy...it will raise it to the sublime!
Enjoy.
My description and recipe follows:
The Vidalias are sliced parchment thin and slowly carmelizing in butter...the Stilton is crumbled...the beef stock is ready...the parmesan rinds are waiting...2 sprigs of thyme...a bit of real apple cider and a bit more of butter for the stock pot....VOILA! Just an hour away from homemade French Onion soup! With melty, bubbling Gruyere cheese on... garlicky big croutons! I'm saying yummy already!
The Soup Recipe
4 Vidalias sliced thin and separated
1/2 stick butter
3 to 4 quarts good beef stock (depending if you like brothy or substance)
4 Parmesan rinds, from your local cheese shop
2 generous sprigs thyme, rinsed
4 ounces Stilton cheese, crumbled
1 to 2 cups real apple cider
2 cups shredded Gruyere
The Crouton Recipe
1 french narrow baguette, sliced lengthwise.
3 T of good olive oil with 1 clove of smashed garlic in it
2 cups shredded Gruyere
In a large stock pot, slowly carmelize the onions in the butter. (At this point, I usually stop and make the croutons.) Once carmelized (about 20 minutes), add the stock, the rinds and the thyme. Heat to a bare simmer uncovered for 20 minutes; then stir in the crumbled Stilton, smashing any bigger pieces against the side of the pot. Pour in the apple juice. Reduce heat until ready to serve.
For the croutons: split baguette lengthwise, and toast cut side up under broiler until lightly toasted. Remove from oven and brush tops with garlicky olive oil. Evenly place shredded Gruyere on top of each long half. Gently press on cheese to adhere. Cut each half into 4 inch section, place on broiler pan and put back under broiler to gently melt. No need to brown during this step.
To assemble, Pick out and discard parmesan rinds and sprigs of thyme! Then put hot soup in oven proof bowls; equally dividing the onions. Don't worry if you seem to have too much broth to use...see below. Set crouton on top each bowl and top with the remaining shredded Gruyere. Pop in the broiler until the cheese bubbles and browns. Remove carefully from oven....very hot. Serve and enjoy!
And if you ever have extra of this soup....either freeze as is or puree and freeze. I freeze my puree in small snack bags...about a 1/2 cup or so in each. Add to any gravy...it will raise it to the sublime!
Enjoy.
Meet My New Hero...Zorro.
It is rather ironic that I talk about random streams of conciousness....since according to the sleep specialists I am nearer to dead than conscious when I am sleeping.
I was motivated by my Dr. to attend a sleep clinic last night....I thought sure, "why not?" I have always slept soundly...and can "pop" off to sleep just about anywhere....much to the dismay of my traveling companions. (well, part of their justified dismay was also do the fact that when I "pop", I snore!) So, I blithely drove up to the clinic last night...fully expecting to amaze them with my "ability" to sleep.
Well...it takes 1.5 HOURS to "wire" (meaning GLUE to!) my body: hair, face, neck, heart, and legs. All of which includes 3 straps around your torso, a pulse reader on your index finger, and 2 little fixtures in my nose. Added up, that pretty much guarantees that I will not sleep...worrying about: 1. pulling out any of the little wires, 2. strangling myself, 3. the nose thingys that shift and prod as you try to get comfortable on the "pillow rocks" that are supplied, and 4. the full awareness that not only I am I being video'd....there is a person watching me all night!!! And she can hear me...how embarrassing. Just glad I didn't eat beans for supper.. :)
After flopping around the bed for about 3 hours....the tech came in and said "We have decided to put an CPAP mask on you to help you sleep." Okay....one more thing strapped to my body...but she took out the 2 little nose thingys! Wheee.
Fortunately, she had fitted me for the mask before I went to sleep....so it was just a matter of tightening it on. Yup. I am now cinched up like a B rated movie's Freddy Krueger!
The machine is rather hypnotic...think "snake", "basket", "flute", and gentle whispers of "You are growing sleepy. Very sleepy." The next thing I knew, it was morning and I had survived!
I thought I had "done" (it is not a test in that sense of the word, girl!) well. I prepared to tell the therapist that I only slept poorly because of the wires, glues, straps, nose thingys, rock pillows, etc.. In my cocoon at home...I am a first class sleeper!
The first words out of her mouth stopped me. "You stop breathing, on average, 71 times a hour." No exclamation points, no drama. Just precise, matter of fact words slapped on the table. "Stop breathing" as in one step closer to the angels. "Stop breathing" as in white light/long tunnel. "Stop breathing" as in gone from this world. Wow....not much argument left there.
She walked me through the read-out..I saw where my throat collapsed, my heart rate plummeted, my oxygen dropped below 75% saturation, and where my lungs and heart spasmed from the frantic brain messages "Breathe! Breathe!" I could not imagine my heart and brain going through this once, much less 71 times an hour. Gulp.
The read-out also showed the severity of my unconscious distress when the tech decided to wake me up and "mask" me. I immediately fell into Stage 3 sleep and then into a long period of REM. Which is the most restful and rejunvenating sleep...the kind I evidently never achieve. Hmmm...perhaps I have been missing out on all that beauty sleep! Could explain much :)
So, I am now "masked." Hence my CPAP headgear has been dubbed "Zorro." A life saver that does its heroics under the cover of darkness.
There just remains 2 thoughts: "How am I going to get my poor timid dog used to the machine," (since he runs from the electric toothbrush)....and "Well, one more nail in the relationship coffin."
Go figure...there is humor in it somewhere.
I was motivated by my Dr. to attend a sleep clinic last night....I thought sure, "why not?" I have always slept soundly...and can "pop" off to sleep just about anywhere....much to the dismay of my traveling companions. (well, part of their justified dismay was also do the fact that when I "pop", I snore!) So, I blithely drove up to the clinic last night...fully expecting to amaze them with my "ability" to sleep.
Well...it takes 1.5 HOURS to "wire" (meaning GLUE to!) my body: hair, face, neck, heart, and legs. All of which includes 3 straps around your torso, a pulse reader on your index finger, and 2 little fixtures in my nose. Added up, that pretty much guarantees that I will not sleep...worrying about: 1. pulling out any of the little wires, 2. strangling myself, 3. the nose thingys that shift and prod as you try to get comfortable on the "pillow rocks" that are supplied, and 4. the full awareness that not only I am I being video'd....there is a person watching me all night!!! And she can hear me...how embarrassing. Just glad I didn't eat beans for supper.. :)
After flopping around the bed for about 3 hours....the tech came in and said "We have decided to put an CPAP mask on you to help you sleep." Okay....one more thing strapped to my body...but she took out the 2 little nose thingys! Wheee.
Fortunately, she had fitted me for the mask before I went to sleep....so it was just a matter of tightening it on. Yup. I am now cinched up like a B rated movie's Freddy Krueger!
The machine is rather hypnotic...think "snake", "basket", "flute", and gentle whispers of "You are growing sleepy. Very sleepy." The next thing I knew, it was morning and I had survived!
I thought I had "done" (it is not a test in that sense of the word, girl!) well. I prepared to tell the therapist that I only slept poorly because of the wires, glues, straps, nose thingys, rock pillows, etc.. In my cocoon at home...I am a first class sleeper!
The first words out of her mouth stopped me. "You stop breathing, on average, 71 times a hour." No exclamation points, no drama. Just precise, matter of fact words slapped on the table. "Stop breathing" as in one step closer to the angels. "Stop breathing" as in white light/long tunnel. "Stop breathing" as in gone from this world. Wow....not much argument left there.
She walked me through the read-out..I saw where my throat collapsed, my heart rate plummeted, my oxygen dropped below 75% saturation, and where my lungs and heart spasmed from the frantic brain messages "Breathe! Breathe!" I could not imagine my heart and brain going through this once, much less 71 times an hour. Gulp.
The read-out also showed the severity of my unconscious distress when the tech decided to wake me up and "mask" me. I immediately fell into Stage 3 sleep and then into a long period of REM. Which is the most restful and rejunvenating sleep...the kind I evidently never achieve. Hmmm...perhaps I have been missing out on all that beauty sleep! Could explain much :)
So, I am now "masked." Hence my CPAP headgear has been dubbed "Zorro." A life saver that does its heroics under the cover of darkness.
There just remains 2 thoughts: "How am I going to get my poor timid dog used to the machine," (since he runs from the electric toothbrush)....and "Well, one more nail in the relationship coffin."
Go figure...there is humor in it somewhere.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Attracting the Wrong Attention....Again.
I don't often laze in the swing...however, sun was inducing somnolence...waiting for city water guy...when I realized I was being watched. Cute dark eyes (intent), silver gray hair (a bit messy), conservatively dressed, moving well under his own power. Hmmmm. The possibilities...
If only it wasn't a SQUIRREL! He was under my apple tree checking out the windfalls, running his little paws over each one searching for the PERFECT apple to squirrel away! (No chance I'd miss that one!) Apparently I was in his territory...and his scolding chatter was deafening! "Leave! Leave!", "These are MINE!", "First here! I get!", and "Go Away! I need ALL!"
Oh, well...at least he's a better possibility than the guy in the aisle at Byerly's.
If only it wasn't a SQUIRREL! He was under my apple tree checking out the windfalls, running his little paws over each one searching for the PERFECT apple to squirrel away! (No chance I'd miss that one!) Apparently I was in his territory...and his scolding chatter was deafening! "Leave! Leave!", "These are MINE!", "First here! I get!", and "Go Away! I need ALL!"
Oh, well...at least he's a better possibility than the guy in the aisle at Byerly's.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
A Random...Yet Plaguing...Question for the Universe.
What is it about elderly drivers in ginormous old cars the color of sun-baked putty, and the inability to drive in one lane or the other!?! Nooooooooo....they straddle the middle of the road, steering their barges S...L...O...W...L...Y down the road, creeping up to every corner to accelerate to the next. And I am ALWAYS the person caught behind them!
Bar La Grassa...reservations are necessary...for good reason!
I wrote the following review early last spring after a wonderful evening with friends at Bar La Grassa. I have since returned several times...mostly with great joy and satisfied expectations. Please go and experience for yourself...
Bar La Grassa...go. GO NOW...but select carefully. The Pappardelle with Veal Ragu was divine. Fresh noodles softly tumbled like heavy satin hair ribbons with a glazing of sauce hugging their wide shoulders. Veal, tender and succulent, reaches for your fork! No wonder pappardelle means "to gobble up!" Braised kale......my favorite winter vegetable...al dente...tossed with crisplets of meat and crumbles of ricotta!
La Grassa has Bagna Cauda! A peasant's dish of cauliflower, sliced in slabs, bathed in a redolent mixture of hot olive oil, garlic cloves & salt dried anchovy filets (at least that is how I know it). Then finished in a hot oven until smoky and golden! Someone was channeling Craig Claiborne from the 1960's! I am ecstatic to have a chef in this town who "gets" the simplicity and honesty of peasant food. Thank you.
The cons of Bar La Grassa....salt. The penne with shrimp was incredibly salty, as was the crab ravioli. Which was a pity since I'm sure the light sauces (minus the salt) would have been marvelous. Gratefully, the waitstaff kept the water glasses full.
I'm definitely keeping La Grassa on my recommend list...with just a few caveats. I plan on going back to try the Beet with Avocado and Citrus, and the Silk Handkerchiefs with Pesto! It goes with out saying the the Bagna Cauda will be on the table!
(An amusing aside, "La Grassa" means "the fat" in Italian...so Bar La Grassa means "The Fat Bar"!)
Bar La Grassa...go. GO NOW...but select carefully. The Pappardelle with Veal Ragu was divine. Fresh noodles softly tumbled like heavy satin hair ribbons with a glazing of sauce hugging their wide shoulders. Veal, tender and succulent, reaches for your fork! No wonder pappardelle means "to gobble up!" Braised kale......my favorite winter vegetable...al dente...tossed with crisplets of meat and crumbles of ricotta!
La Grassa has Bagna Cauda! A peasant's dish of cauliflower, sliced in slabs, bathed in a redolent mixture of hot olive oil, garlic cloves & salt dried anchovy filets (at least that is how I know it). Then finished in a hot oven until smoky and golden! Someone was channeling Craig Claiborne from the 1960's! I am ecstatic to have a chef in this town who "gets" the simplicity and honesty of peasant food. Thank you.
The cons of Bar La Grassa....salt. The penne with shrimp was incredibly salty, as was the crab ravioli. Which was a pity since I'm sure the light sauces (minus the salt) would have been marvelous. Gratefully, the waitstaff kept the water glasses full.
I'm definitely keeping La Grassa on my recommend list...with just a few caveats. I plan on going back to try the Beet with Avocado and Citrus, and the Silk Handkerchiefs with Pesto! It goes with out saying the the Bagna Cauda will be on the table!
(An amusing aside, "La Grassa" means "the fat" in Italian...so Bar La Grassa means "The Fat Bar"!)
Saturday, November 6, 2010
The Dakota...it is more than just great jazz
I have decided to start my blog with a few of my past restaurant reviews from my Facebook account that my friends found helpfully "tasty"! Hope you will enjoy the same experience.
We have a world-class chef in Jack Riebel at the Dakota Jazz. His menu intrigues, tempts and satisfies the soul. I had a beguiling dinner there last Thursday with a friend. I am normally rather loquacious ... his artistry deserves my silence ... broken by my mmmms. Jalapeno poppers, Walleye cakes, Caribbean Spiced Prime Rib of Pork and a heavenly Smoked Dark Chocolate Cake.
Jalapeno poppers...one thinks of breaded grease & slimy limp peppers stuffed with?? Well...Jack's are smoky, intense morsels roasted & stuffed with creamy Fontina, wrapped in crisps of Speck ham, drizzled with zippy chipolte cream in counterpoint to his perfectly fresh pico de gallo. The faint fire of the jalapeno plays a marvelous bottom note to the smoke of the ham & the tang of the sauces. Worth the trip alone!
Walleye cakes...I've had them elsewhere...and my first impulse was to avoid. But I decided to try...wished I had been eating at home so I could have cleaned the plate! 3 little cakes...not fishy...glossed with ancho chili tartar sauce and colorful tortilla slaw. Firm, not pasty. Jack handles fish with a deft and gentle touch! A little fire...big on taste!
Caribbean Spiced Prime Rib of Pork---WOW! Smoky, meaty pork served with a light black bean rice cake frosted by habenero banana salsa. (Highly addictive!) The plate is decorated by dabs of diabolo sauce around the edges; allowing the diner to pull in as much intesity as they desire. (This is a big serving...the guys should love it! No "why bother" small bites here!)
Finally...dessert. Smoked Dark Chocolate Cake. A dark, not sweet, intense cake with an interior more akin to a moist pudding. The cake has a fragrant froth/foam of Earl Grey and whipped cream along side. Crunchy, salty pecan praline bits beg to be eaten alone...but all together it is heaven on a fork! All floating on a port reduction. Thank you..thank you ... thank you. Head to the Dakota .... I highly recommend it.
We have a world-class chef in Jack Riebel at the Dakota Jazz. His menu intrigues, tempts and satisfies the soul. I had a beguiling dinner there last Thursday with a friend. I am normally rather loquacious ... his artistry deserves my silence ... broken by my mmmms. Jalapeno poppers, Walleye cakes, Caribbean Spiced Prime Rib of Pork and a heavenly Smoked Dark Chocolate Cake.
Jalapeno poppers...one thinks of breaded grease & slimy limp peppers stuffed with?? Well...Jack's are smoky, intense morsels roasted & stuffed with creamy Fontina, wrapped in crisps of Speck ham, drizzled with zippy chipolte cream in counterpoint to his perfectly fresh pico de gallo. The faint fire of the jalapeno plays a marvelous bottom note to the smoke of the ham & the tang of the sauces. Worth the trip alone!
Walleye cakes...I've had them elsewhere...and my first impulse was to avoid. But I decided to try...wished I had been eating at home so I could have cleaned the plate! 3 little cakes...not fishy...glossed with ancho chili tartar sauce and colorful tortilla slaw. Firm, not pasty. Jack handles fish with a deft and gentle touch! A little fire...big on taste!
Caribbean Spiced Prime Rib of Pork---WOW! Smoky, meaty pork served with a light black bean rice cake frosted by habenero banana salsa. (Highly addictive!) The plate is decorated by dabs of diabolo sauce around the edges; allowing the diner to pull in as much intesity as they desire. (This is a big serving...the guys should love it! No "why bother" small bites here!)
Finally...dessert. Smoked Dark Chocolate Cake. A dark, not sweet, intense cake with an interior more akin to a moist pudding. The cake has a fragrant froth/foam of Earl Grey and whipped cream along side. Crunchy, salty pecan praline bits beg to be eaten alone...but all together it is heaven on a fork! All floating on a port reduction. Thank you..thank you ... thank you. Head to the Dakota .... I highly recommend it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)