'twas the week before christmas...

...and all through the strike.....

wait, that's not how it goes.

some highlights from strike week include: a ride from two strangers all the way to work, getting me there on time, which seemed impossible. also, 6-7 miles home that evening, on foot, concluding with sunset as i crossed over the bridge into brooklyn. a december sunset on a clear night over the lights of the waterfront is a beautiful sight.

the next day connie and i bundled up, and headed over the bridge together to the east village, where we shared wine and wassail (what's 'wassail' i wonder?) with brian and z. after finding the line too long at supper, we languished over a decadent meal at lucien. it was so satisfying that i began to wonder why THAT hadn't been my neighborhood spot all those years. we had raw oysters, lamb, salmon, creme brulee, an exquisite tarte tatin.....and due to the strike, barely even had to wait for a table.

i finished up the week before christmas with dinner last night at raoul's, which has somehow managed to maintain its old soho charm. despite the crushing corporate shopping invasion, raoul's still feels warm and cool and real. i had an excellent dish of cappellini with little neck clams and chorizo; it was dominated by the full-bodied richness of the chorizo and a touch of cream in the sauce, and i couldn't help but eat every last bite. all this while drinking wine and listening to stories of old soho, told my my dining companions who had staked out soho lofts in the 70s and paid $200/mo. we were, all of us, new yorkers born and raised, ranging in age from 30 to 60, having shared a downtown NYC life that exists no more.

having the usual?

it's very important to have a neighborhood spot. it is also important to have the staff there get to know you, and say things like "having the usual?" i have experience with forging a neighborhood spot, but have never gotten as far as having them know me. my addiction to to the anonymity of nyc has somehow prevented it, i suppose.

in my old neighborhood, my spot was supper. and i really did eat the same darn thing every time i went. in lieu of the waiter doing so, i would sit down and turn to my dining companion and say "having the usual?" which meant panzanella and grilled vegetables and cacio e pepe.

only two and a half months into my brooklyn life, i have declared my neighborhood spot to be cafe luluc on smith street. have had several brunches there, and will say those are the best french fries i can remember in a while. last night i added dinner to the repertoire. our table had beet salad, mussels, pork chop, steak frite, moroccan lamb, creme brulee, chocolate cake, and hot damn! every single thing was delicious. and not very expensive. and did i mention they made me a really good vodka martini?

knife skills

"chop," i just found out, is a bad word. better words are "slice," "dice," "carve." as a writing teacher, i know this, that specificity is key. last saturday e and a and i attended a beginning level knife skills class at ICE. three hours long, and taught with dynamic old-school efficiency by norman weinstein, the class teaches its students, first and foremost, not to chop. the loud crash of a knife to a cutting board does not occur when the knife is handled properly. nor does the chef get a sore arm or shoulder. the blade glides effortlessly.

we learned to hold our knives properly, how to dice onions, slice carrots, core tomatoes, slice bagels (not fingers), mince herbs, chiffonade basil, and "use the steel." i learned that i've been doing pretty much everything wrong, and i am excited and determined to get better through practice. there's still knife skills 2 and 3 to take (in 3 you learn how to make cool garnishes), and i am definitely tempted.

$85 for a jam-packed 3 hours. institute for culinary education, formerly peter kump's cooking school.

leftovers sandwich

one of the first dinner parties i ever hosted was with mara, in the june of 1996. we had graduated from college only days before, and were still high on the fumes of celebration, accomplishment, and comraderie (just around the corner were reality, confusion and, well, ohio, but that's another story). we hosted a small dinner at her parents' comfortable and lovely house in massachusetts and carefully planned a menu of north african carrot soup and lamb salad with cornichons. knowing mara, she also made an elaborate and delicious dessert but i cannot remember it now. we shopped at a local market, picking only the finest ingredients and purchasing a container of the at-the-time-unknown-to-me creme fraiche. it felt very adult. and yet i imagine we used our parents' credit cards.

the dinner party was a success--we set a formal table, and we topped off the meal with a moonlit walk, all 8 or so of us getting lost a few miles away and accepting a hilariously overpacked ride home from a neighbor. the next day, for lunch, we ate leftover lamb salad wrapped in flour tortillas and i discovered the beauty of a "leftovers sandwich."
1) the flavors have had time to marinate and deepen.
2) almost anything, put on a sandwich, is a good idea.
3) with that sandwich come the memories of the first eating, so that the day after our successful and exhilarating party, we got to experience the evening all over again.

the traditional leftovers sandwich, of course, is the day-after-thanksgiving sandwich. my favorite was last year's: a crusty ciabatta roll, a whole-grain mustard, turkey slices, cranberry sauce, and mashed sweet potatoes, eaten perched on a high stool near a roaring fire. if you haven't already done so, make yourself one, before your leftovers go bad--or run out.

good gravy

the organic turkey was delicious. there was a humorus episode in which i unwrapped it and decided it smelled funky, mom ran to the the neighbor, who speaks very little english, neighbor thought we were asking her to prepare the turkey for us, and gamely began rinsing it, poking it, etc. we finally conveyed our concerns about smell at which point she nodded, patted the turkey, and exclaimed brightly: "it's natural!" which indeed it was.

my guide that day was a stack of "cook's illustrated" magazines. i had a subscription for about two years and only used it once or twice. decided i would go through every single one and find some gems. i made a cook's illustrated gravy, from scratch, which was certainly the most professional gravy i have ever made (samuel and i gleefully swapped gravy stories the next day; only once you've done it do you know this feeling of pride). i made smashed potatoes , for which the secret ingredient was cream cheese. i made baked acorn squash with brown sugar glaze, for which the secret ingredient was the microwave. cornbread mushroom stuffing came courtesy of martha stewart, my favorite jailbird/celebrity homemaker.

wendy carved the turkey for me, like she always does. mom made her always good cranberry sauce and excellent mushroom barley soup, joan made terrific walnut string beans, and we had more pies than we knew what to do with.

i am still having issues with how to get everything the right temperature at these shindigs, but if i am lucky, i'll have a lifetime to get it right.

giving thanks

thanksgiving has come at just the right time. see, i have not been feeling very thankful. in truth, the phrase: "how come everything i touch turns to shit?" actually went through my brain the other day. i realized, even in the moment, that this was a nadir.

so, in an effort to remind myself of all the things i have to be thankful for, a list. 26 items, one for each letter of the alphabet.

A is for apples from the farmers market.

B is for buddy, my dog-cat.

C is for cobble hill. quiet and beautiful, my new lovely home.

D is for "the dying gaul," a movie that amazed me. deeply beautiful and deeply flawed.

E is for ethan, my brother.

F is for my friends, who are top-notch.

G is for gastronomy, which brings me joy (see "J").

H is for hot chocolate.

I is for the island of manhattan, which though i have left it, i still love.

J is for joy, when and where i find it, which is more often than i realize or acknowledge.

K is for klemperer, jerusha. will try to be thankful that i am me.

L is for laurie, for her life advice and listening (that's several L's)

M is for the middle eastern market, sahadis, my neighborhood market.

N is for new technology, such as my new ipod, new ibook, new silicon baking tins.

O is for opportunity, which even though i am having trouble seeing it, i know is out there (kinda like the tooth fairy...).

P is for pretzel croissants from city bakery.

Q is for quiche, which i love to make, and love to eat.

R is for running, which i can do now, despite my belief a few years ago that my knee would never heal well enough for it.

S is for seymour, my lap cat.

T is for the organic free-range turkey that we will enjoy on thursday. this is me putting my money where my mouth is.

U is for upheaval, in a good way.

V is for deborah madison's "vegetarian cooking for everyone," a terrific staple of my cookbook library.

W is for wine. wit. words.

X is for expression, the gift of which i do possess and must remember to use.

Y is for yoga, and what it does for my body.

Z is for sleep, which is easy, quiet and plentiful in my new home.

home cooking

in one short day, i loved someone and lost her. my old boss and I were chatting by our desks one day a few years ago, when the conversation came around to food (this happens a lot with me).

"you know who you'd love?" she asked, "laurie colwin."

she lent me her copy of a slim paperback called "home cooking." colwin's writing reminded me of emails from mara, of short stories by lorrie moore, of the musings of a good friend i never knew i had. she does not write about restaurants or caviar or filet mignon. as the title suggests, every meal takes place in the small kitchen of her first, starter, NYC apartment. she argues against fancy kitchen gadgets and for dishes that remind one of childhood. she is witty, humble and knowledgeable.

i google searched my new best friend, excited to learn about her other books and her life today. perhaps some part of me hoped i'd end up in her kitchen making bread with her, cracking silly jokes and getting flour in our hair. i was devastated to discover that she had died young, several years earlier, leaving behind a husband and a small child. mourning my loss, i devoured "more home cooking," a collection which was published after her death.

two nights ago i made a supper for myself that included "squash tian," a colwin "recipe" that actually just reads like a paragraph. it has become an old favorite of mine and is perfect in the fall when the butternut squash is at its best. it is absolutely simple and terrifically delicious. vintage colwin, you might say.

squash tian

for squash tian, proportions aren't the issue, method is; but for 4 people you probably need about 2 big butternuts, or 4 of the sweeter medium-sized delicatas. peel, seed, and cut the squash into 1-inch chunks. shake the chunks in a bag of flour, shaking off the excess flour, and put them into an oiled or buttered shallow baking dish. scatter the squash with about 1/4 cup good parmesan; 1 large garlic clove, minced; and pepper to taste. drizzle the tian with about 1/4 to 1/3 cup best olive oil and put into a preheated 400 degree oven. the oven must be really hot, or instead of a crispy topped, melting dish, you will end up with a sodden mess-- trust me, i have had this happen. bake the tian for 30-40 minutes. i myself would be very happy to eat this with salad, but as we do not necessarily live by vegetables alone, something else must be provided...

what's up with organics?

i try to buy organic dairy. it's widely available, and therefore requires no extra effort, only slightly more money. organic veggies are harder to come by, and organic meat, unless you're cooking for yourself, is pretty hard to procure. i feel strongly about eating organic, and yet my daily practice is less than stellar. it's similar to the distance between my attitude and my practice on the issue of vegetarianism. i have been known not to practice what i preach (along those lines: while waiting for my indian takeout tonight, i picked up a tatterred old issue of "real simple," april 2005 and read a great piece by jonathan safran foer about his ever-changing relationship to food, vegetarianism, and identity. it reminded me of my own feelings, and was beautifully written).

the usda recently passed some new guidelines on the definitions of what is technically to be considered organic, only to have it overturned immediately by the organic trade association. there's been lots of resulting buzz about organic food in the media lately, and i have felt the need to become more informed.

last weekend i attended a baum forum event called "what's up with organics?" i attended an earlier symposium of theirs, last winter, on susatinable agriculture. hilary baum routinely gathers those people who are at the heart of these issues and creates panels that, in their diversity, look at issue from many sides. she includes scientists, farmers, administrators, educators, and business people.

i learned an incredible amount this past weekend. rather than boring you with details i will give you a few highlights:

1. the pesticides found in conventional foods present "unknown health risks." whereas this is slightly more heartening than hearing that they are directly connected to cancer, the word "unknown" is scary to me. and just because something has not ben proven yet, does not mean that the results found someday will not be terrifyingly huge and profound.

2. if given the choice, buy organic valley instead of horizon. horizon, like many other organic brands, is owned by giant agribusiness company dean foods. organic valley is an independently owned farmers' coop.

3. along the same vein: boca is owned by kraft, odwalla is owned by coca cola, stonyfield by danone, kashi by morningstar, etc etc etc. this was a real eye-opener for me.

4. many farmers are angered by the usda's regualtion of organics, and are repelled by the notion that you could call something "organic" and still have 5% synthetics in it. as a result, some farmers have rejected the term organic entirely.

i could go on and on. and i plan to. not go on ranting to you, but go on educating myself, and furthering my commitments, and lessening the gap between what i believe and say, and what i do.

p.s. i bought a mac. and now the settings on here are all screwy. hence the cessation of uniform type, color, style etc.

je suis so french

picking a place on the globe and fashioning an entire dinner as though eating there, is a favorite planning technique of mine. i am not proficient enough at any particular kind of cuisine to stick with one geographical locale. and so was born: mexican night. greek night. you get the picture.

yesterday, monday night was brasserie night, pour ma maman et mon frere. on le menu were lentil salad with lardons and fried egg, onion soup, brie/sausage and bread, and steamed asparagus. the lentil salad is from gourmet magazine apparently, though i found it on epicurious,

3/4 cup lentils (the small green kind, called "french lentils")
6 oz. thick cut bacon, cut crosswise into 1/4 inch strips
(i used regular thin cut bacon and it was perfectly good, but lacked that vrai lardon quality)
2 leeks, white and pale green parts only, finely chopped
2 celery ribs, finely chopped
1 large carrot, finely chopped
2 tbsp red wine vinegar
1 tbsp fresh chopped tarragon
1 tbsp olive oile
eggs
(if your dinner is like mine, some people will want eggs, some will not. make one egg per person, for those who want)

cover lentils with cold water by 2 inches in a sauce pan. simmer, uncovered until just tender, about 20 minutes.

blanch asparagus in boiling water for about three minutes, until bright green, then shock with an ice bath

while lentils are simmering, cook the bacon in a skillet, and try not to burn yourself with flying bacon grease. once bacon is crisp, fish it out and drain on paper towels, leaving the grease in the pan.

add the leeks, carrots and celery and cook until just tender. add the red wine vinegar and cook until most of it evaporates. remove from skillet and add tarragon, half of the bacon, salt and pepper to taste. transfer to a bowl and keep warm and covered. don't clean the skillet; there is still bacon-y goodness there to exploit.

drain lentils and mix with veggies.

add a drop of oil to the skillet and fry up however many eggs you'll need, over easy.

put a blob of lentil salad, covered with an egg, with asparagus spears on the side.

put on a beret, pop in the "best of edith piaf," giggle to yourself over the brilliance of monsieur jerry lewis, and dig in!

indecision

when plagued by indecision, even picking what to eat can be paralyzing. my advice is to choose something simple. and add butter.

a long time ago i wrote down a julia child recipe on a scrap of paper. it's for a dish called "potage parmentier," and the other night i made it for julie (along with roasted brussel sprouts and a gigantic steak). i added turnips to julia's recipe, but it was similar in outcome, i am sure. it's just that the farmer's market had turnips and it felt right to buy them. when else?

now i have a giant bowl and every night when i come home and fret about small meaningless decisions (about computer purchase and travel plans), i can just pop some potage parmentier into the microwave, and no choice need be made.

potage parmentier

2 cups potatoes, peeled and diced
3 turnips, peeled and diced
3 leeks, white and light green parts, cut into chunks
2 quarts water (in truth i myself have no way of measuring a quart)
1 tsp salt
several knobs butter

put the potatoes, turnips, leeks, salt and water in a pot on the stove
cover, bring to a boil and simmer for 45 minutes
about 25 minutes into this process, remove the cover
once finished, mash with a fork and stir in the butter
add more salt and pepper to taste

this makes a whole lot, certainly enough for 5 or 6 people.

liking it the first time

things i didn't like the very first time i tried them:

coffee
sushi
tofu
spicy mustard
gefilte fish
olives

if i hadn't tried these things again, i would have missed out. now i love the warm comfort of a cup of joe, crave the tangy zip of mustard on almost anything, and unabashedly look forward to the seder every year so i can wolf down a processed whitefish ball slathered in red horseradish.

what about people? i have dear friends in my life i didn't like the whole first year i knew them! but what about a fella on a date? if i don't like him the first time, is that a good indication, or do i need to keep trying? could he become my mustard? my bowl of assorted french cocktail olives?

cranachan or: first supper

i chose my new apartment for its kitchen, so it was my great delight to host my first supper. in looking for recipes to use for this meal, i encountered one for the aforementioned "cranachan." this seemed like a perfect choice, both because i had tasted it recently on its home turf, and because the folks coming over were all recent visitors to edinburgh. it turns out it's a mess of cream, sugar, rum, and granola. i would have thought it was whisky, but i guess, occasionally, the scots veer away from beer and whisky and hit the rum.

we had ravioli with a butter/sage/walnut sauce, a salad with roasted pears, blue cheese and cranberry vinaigrette, several bottles of argentinian red, cookies, and the ol' scottish classic: cranachan. it is incredibly rich. chris declared that "it tastes like breakfast--in switzerland!"

my apartment is large enough for guests. the counter space is ample; cooking was a cinch. my cats are social butterflies. i used my grandmother's vintage tablecoth. we drank adam's grandfather's whisky. the DISHWASHER made cleanup easy. so, about the new apartment, i'd have to say: so far so good.

cranachan

2 cups heavy cream
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup granola
pinch salt
2 tbsp melted butter
2 peaches, diced
1 cup chopped dates
1 cup blueberries
2 tbsp rum
1/2 cup walnuts or pecans, chopped

mix granola, nuts and salt
pour onto a rimmed cookie sheet
cover with melted butter and bake in a 350 degree oven for 8-10 minutes
whip the cream until soft peaks form
fold in sugar
fold in rum
fold in cooled granola mixture
fold in all fruit
cover with saran and chill for 1 hour or more

scotland, in a nutshell

what i love about food in nyc is that you don't need to spend a lot of money to get a great meal. the $2 pakistani food at the punjabi grocery on houston is decidedly good, as are the $5 arepas at caracas on 7th street. if you mention to people the bad food in scotland, they will likely give you a response that mentions how much british food has improved, and also that there is a michelin 4 star restaurant (martin wishart). but to eat at this place, one must be a millionaire. scotland has not yet had a food revoultion for the people.

i myself was in edinburgh on a very tight budget (thanks to the poorly-performing US dollar, you rat bastard), and i had a hard time eating well. i ate a lot of potatoes. and a lot of cheese. there were however, some highlights. though be aware that some things on this list are not here for the culinary excellence.

1) snug scottish bistro. here i spent my 31st birthday. a wee dram of a place, snuggled in the basement floor of a stockbridge townhouse. the proprietor is a delight--friendly and kind and totally invested in his restaurant. it is BYO and quite casual. if the dollar weren't so bad, it would be very reasonably priced. i dined with emily, my new friend. i had venison, she had chicken stuffed with haggis (surprisingly--YUM!). both were expertly prepared and we also really liked our oddball scottish dessert called "cranachan." we finished up, tipsy and sated, and headed off to see david o'doherty, a charming and understated irish comic.

2) piemaker. a fast food joint of sorts, selling basically single serving chicken pot pies. but with many different options for filling (chicken tikka anyone?). at one pound fifty a pop, hard to resist. not to mention that flaky crust.

3) cheese. the brits know their cheddar. the cheese aisle at the supermarket practically consists of nothing but. not to be missed: an extra sharp white cheddar sandwich with onion pickle (basically chutney). I found a pickle at crombie's of edinburgh, a gourmet sausage place on broughton road, that i'm very fond of. of which i'm fond. crap.

4) valvonna and crolla. i found the gourmet food shop! this small italian specialty food store would be nothing special in food-obsessed nyc, but in edinburgh it is a rare treasure. sundried tomatoes packed in olive oil, fresh pasta, prosciutto, and a gourmet cheese counter. i bought a "sourdough" bread, which was certainly the best and crustiest bread i had all month, but ch-rist people! you should be able to break your teeth on the crust of a good sourdough. i also bought a scone--the best one i had in scotland; i could taste the cream. and an english cheese called "cairphilly," which i thought to be a ridiculously fun name. i made open faced sandwiches of this cheese, on the sourdough bread, with caramelized onion pickle. yesssssss.

5) clarinda's tea room. the first friday we arrived, eric led us at sunrise for a crisp morning hike up arthur's seat. it was virtually empty and there were clear views of edinburgh for miles. delirious with lack of sleep, it was an oddly grounding experience, a great way to start off the month. after our descent, we hit this small grandma-style tea room, replete with doily tablecloths, and antique china on the walls. at the time i had no way of knowing that this place is indeed special, that the food is notable, etc. after trying other places over the course of the month and returning to clarinda's several times, i understood. the tea is delicious, the scones are great, the scottish breakfast is a greasy delight. the service is gruff and perfunctory, at odds with the gentle sweet decor. this, too, i came to love.

6) fried fried fried. they have these shops where there is a glass case at the front, with heat lamps, and piles of every food known to man--all of it DEEP FRIED. fish, sure, but also hamburger patties, haggis, sausages, mars bars. late at night, drunken folks crowd these places and order up heaping portions of all things fried. it is one of the most astonishingly gross things i have ever seen. miraculously, americans continue to be the fattest creatures on earth.

it was interesting for me, though, to be in a place in which there were few culinary marvels for me to behold. it helped me ease off of my obsession, and freed up my extra dough for unceasing theater attendance.

perfect saturday

wake up at 9:30 am -- just late enough to feel like you're being decadent, but early enough to have the whole day ahead of you. head to alon's on north highland. nab a paking spot out front. enjoy one of the few sunny mornings in weeks -- a slice of southern sun in between tropical storms. buy a decaf latte and a loaf of 7 grain bread, sliced for weekday lunches. ogle the scones, the pastries, the cheeses. make a mental note to return for a sandwich someday.

head across the street to the small, charming farmers' market. select a gorgeous yellow heirloom tomato, several red plum tomatoes, and a bag of collards. enjoy the morning, live under the strange but pleasant illusion that you live here (yet hurry home to read the paper....the ny times!).

up on the watershed

ever read the NYTimes food section and they mention something tasty that is not in NYC (so unfair), and you think to yourself--they don't call this the "decatur times," why are you telling me about great fried chicken on west ponce de leon in georgia? that would have happened to me this past wednesday had i been in nyc. HOWEVER, i was instead in decatur, georgia, just a few short blocks from "watershed," the restaurant featured in last weeks dining section. genius!

the story is an amazing one; it includes emily saliers of the indigo girls, and the long strong friendship between a young gay white male chef and his elderly female african-american mentor. amy, adam and i checked it out for lunch this past saturday and found some worthy treats.

my pork sandwich had all the right ingredients, but was badly constructed. sandwich making, as we know, is an art (one that, say, melampo in soho has perfected). this sandwich was made with delicious crusty bread, excellent roast pork pieces, some delicious dried figs, spicy arugula, a sharp dijon and an herbed spread cheese. somehow, though, it tasted better all pulled apart. adam's collards were excellent, amy says her sour cream bacon potato salad hit the spot, and we all agreed that the onion rings were the best we had ever tasted. they were thin, crispy and extremely salty; i didn't even use any ketchup. to finish up, we shared a piece of georgia peach pecan pie, which was excellent.

mom and i will head back with adam on a tuesday night for dinner so we can experience fried chicken night. i'll report back on that later. in the meantime, folks back in nyc can be jealous that i got to try a lauded place in georgia, instead of the other way around!

music break

sometimes i do stuff for fun besides eat. i opened the local paper "creative loafing" and the face of an old high school classmate jumped out at me. i had walked by the living room, in nyc, and seen her poster up a few times, but had never made it to see one of her shows. here in atanta, i don't really have the jampacked schedule i have at home, so i can do things like finally see someone perform.

i gathered the troops and we headed out to eddie's attic, just a few blocks from our house in decatur. we were there to see sam shaber, but other were playing before her, and she was playing with her pal edie carey. i was feeling the pressure; it's hard to be the person who drags 5 people to to hear music that hasn't been pre-screened.

turns out, sam shaber rocks. literally. she has a sassy, electric stage presence, a true performer. her voice was obviously strained from 200 days on the road, but she still sounded great, and still gave 100%. her partner on the bill, edie carey, was also terrific. she sounds like a cross between jewel, sarah maclachlan, and dar wiliams. they complemented each other beautifully--edie laconic and witty, sam chatty and hilarious.

do me a favor: check out their respective websites: www.samshaber.com and www.ediecarey.com

go see one of their shows, or take a risk and order a CD.

home of the braves

an atlanta round-up:

1. july 4th at turner stadium was a total blast. amy caught a fly ball, the braves creamed the cubs, and i learned how to do "the tomahawk." topped off by navy seal paratroopers with sparklers on their feet, descending onto the field post-game, and a huge fireworks display.

2. dekalb international farmers market is not really a farmer's market. it's a huge supermarket, like fairway --minus any pretension. the produce alone can boggle the mind, with three types of bananas from three different countries, 4 kinds of basil, 14 kinds of squash, etc. my favorite was the aisle of molasses. only in the south could you make three shelves of molasses. we bought fish, sausage, fava beans, brussel sprouts, fresh bread, pickles, cheese, honey, coffee...but wear a jacket. they keep it DAMN cold in there.

3. caramel cake from "piece of cake" bakery in roswell. the koplans served this at their bbq for us on sunday night and presented it as a "southern specialty." whoooowhee. three layers of white cake, with sugary caramel between every layer and a thick top coat as well. insanely sweet, quintessentially southern.

a side note: i haven't been able to kick the diet coke habit. tried briefly to replace it with sweet tea and was up all night long from the caffeine.

buttered crumpet

here in the south, people like to eat fried stuff. also, stuff made with lard. i'd like to report that, like the french, they are miraculously and mysteriously thin, however my small amount of reasearch shows that this is not the case. a trip to atlanta's stone mountain last weekend revealed a population of rather large folks.

dinner at the mountain's "mountain view restaurant" helped connect the effect to the cause: all you can eat buffet, with fried fried fried everything. it was scrumptious and nauseating all at once. i ate:

fried chicken
ribs
mashed potaters
brunswick stew (think: pork)
salad
ice cream

this was followed by the stone mountain laser and fireworks show which featured a medley of patriotic tunes and country ballads. truly bizarre.

the best part of a georgian meal, but something not featured at the mountain view buffet, is a good ol' fashioned biscuit. the one from ria's bluebird was divine, and certainly made with shortening or animal fat or something disastrous like that. i have had a few biscuits now from the legendary flying biscuit cafe. whereas the place is unimpressive overall (despite my fond memories from 10 years ago), the biscuits are excellent. not terribly traditional, but i love them. and i just happen to have the recipe (vicked from the flying biscuit cookbook on the shelf of the house i am staying at. back in NYC i make the recipe from the new basics cookbook):

3 cups all purpose flour (pref. white lily brand--so southern!)
1 tbsp plus 1 1/2 tsp baking powder
3/4 tsp salt
2 tbsp plus 1 1/2 tsp sugar
6 tbsp unsalted butter at room temp
2/3 cup heavy cream
2/3 cup half and half
2 tbsp half and half for brushing the tops
sugar for sprinkling on top

preheat oven to 375
mix flour, baking powder, salt and sugar
cut butter into it, using two forks, a pastry cutter or your fingers, you know the deal
make a well in the center and pour in cream and half and half
mix with wooden spoon until it forms a dough ball
turn ball onto lightly floured surface and knead 2-3 times to form a cohesive mass, don't overwork
use a rolling pin to roll to 1 inch thickness
use a biscuit cutter dipped in flour and cut circles

place on a pan lined with parchment paper
brush tops with half and half and sprinkle with sugar
bake for 20 minutes
makes 8-12 biscuits which in the south may well be 1-2 servings. ha.

hot-lanta

here i am in atlanta, trying to keep the culinary flame alive. i have a few restraints (budget/time/geographical cluelessness) but also several nice liberties, including a car.
having a car means that when i tried for the second time to hit papi's, the cuban joint, i had a quick getaway to check out ria's bluebird instead.

amy and i are pretty sure we were in atlanta's red hook (and you know how i feel about red hook), across from oakland cemetary on memorial drive. ria's bluebird is hip in a very lowkey way and is housed in what appears to be a vintage diner. we had huevos and a breakfast burrito but are eager to return for the pancakes and a sit in the sunny back garden. i know we'll be back there--my huevos were tasty enough to trust this place, and they make a good cup of joe.

a second culinary success came in the form of tonight's dinner. i am so lucky to have amy to be my food-obsessed buddy and housemate. we ate a grocery bought roast chicken, and oh lordy! please tell me why i spent the past five years being a vegetarian, because surely i couldn't remember as i ripped skin from bone. sweet jesus. this was accompanied by a beet salad i made the other day:

(wrap scrubbed red and yellow beets in tin foil packets and roast at 400 degrees for about an hour or more until beets are tender. allow to cool a bit then slide skins off with your hands. this gets messy. slice the beets any way you like. hit with a glug or two of olive oil, some red wine vinegar, salt, pepper and some crumbled feta. save beet greens for later--sautee and eat over pasta--that's what i did. it makes you feel thrifty.)

and also by amy's fantastic fava beans a la boyce:

(don't bother parboiling these suckers. just slice them crosswise with a small paring knife and slip off the inner skins. then sautee with butter, garlic. salt and pepper, a little lemon juice, some grated aged provolone and voila!)

almost enough to help us forget our doggone crappy day.

onward, ho!

yeah, that's me, callin' you a ho.

no, seriously. this coming tuesday is my last day at my job. it will be 5 years to the day since i started. 5 years since dad died, 5 years since MFA finished, 5 years at this job. as i said, onward, ho. no more job means no more (free) high speed internet access. i am not really sure how much i'll be able to blog from atlanta, let alone scotland. in truth i am not really sure if anyone reads this anyway, but it's fun to imagine there are scads of you. you imaginary crowds of people...check in from time to time as i plan to have all manner of madcap food adventures in atlanta and edinburgh. i am thinking i'll have some time to bake bread, or learn to make sausages by hand or something. do you have a restaurant in atlanta to recommend? are you one of the people who writes in comments and i don't know who you are? post a comment! i especially welcome advice, of the starting over/new frontiers/isn't life a kicker variety.

if you send me your home address, i will send you a postcard, or a letter. i think i am going to make it my mission these next three months to bring back the epistolary arts.