The rumor goes that the first President of the United States chopped down a cherry tree when he was a child, so it only makes sense to me that cherry desserts belong at the July 4^th table. -- My mother will probably think I'm insane, but I'm pretty sure she'll enjoy the result.

Fresh Cherry Clafoutis

+ / - 2 cups fresh cherries, pitted
2 eggs, room temp
3/4 cup milk, room temp
2 tbsp cream, room temp
6 tbsp granulated sugar
1 tsp lemon zest
1 tsp vanilla extract
pinch of salt
1/3 cup all-purpose flour

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Liberally butter a six-cup baking dish OR six 1-cup ramekins liberally (although oven-proof custard cups or the like would work too, or a six-cup serving dish could certainly work): If using the ramekins, place them on a baking sheets.

Preheat the baking dish(es) in the oven 5 min before filling.

Combine the eggs, milk, granulated sugar, lemon zest, vanilla, salt and flour, either in a mixer, food processor, or by hand. If using a mixer or blender, leave it on low until the batter looks smooth: When you have the smooth consistency, pour the batter approximately even over the cherries to about a quarter inch from the rim of your baking dish(es). The clafoutis will rise while cooking. Don't fill to the brim!

Put the clafoutis into the oven and leave it alone for at least 20 minutes: Don't peek earlier because you will lose necessary heat. The ramekins will need to bake about 23 to 25 minutes: A full baking dish will run closer to 30-35 minutes. Remove from the oven when the center is set. Best if served warm.

When I first made these, I let them cool slightly, and then ate one right off the baking tray with a spoon while it was still just a little too warm. Perfection.

Also note, you can add about a tbsp or two of kirsch or other cherry cordial to the batter while mixing -- I opted out, but I've heard it adds some lovely depth to the dish.

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Okay, I take back most of the nasty things I've said about summer, because figs have arrived at my local farmer's market this past weekend. I did a happy little boogie and dragged my poor mother over to the booth so I could examine them closely, and I ended up leaving with a basket of black and green figs in hand  and considerably happier than I'd been walking in.

(And that's already pretty happy, since I love our local Saturday morning farmer's market.)

Of course, the poor figs have been languishing in my mini-fridge since then while I indecisively thumbed through my file of fig recipes. Due to problems with the big fridge, the college mini-fridge has once again become my main refrigerator-- Which means I don't have crème fraîche, and I lost the Salem blue cheese that I ordinarily love to broil figs with in the toaster oven, and so on, and so on...

And then, thanks to my recent obsession with Serious Eats, I found just what I was looking for on the site's new source for food porn feature, Photograzing.

Oh, yes. That's JUST what I needed for inspiration.

.. These herbed frommage blanc fritters are definitely next on the list to make, once I have a fridge with enough room for all my beloved types of cheese.

Fig & Prosciutto Pizza

1 12-14" pizza stone or tin
cornmeal for scattering

1 TJ's garlic and herb fresh pizza dough

White sauce:

1/4 cup olive oil, divided
4 cloves garlic, peeled
2-3 tbsp fresh shredded Parmesan
1 tsp balsamic vinegar, preferably white

1 pint black figs, de-stemmed and sliced thin
2-3 oz. prosciutto
4 handfuls quattro formaggio cheese mix
1 handful fresh shredded Parmesan

While things are heating, make the sauce: Put the four cloves garlic and one tbsp of the oil into a small blender, mortar and pestle, or other hand-chopper and go to town 'til it forms a small, thick amount of paste. Drizzle in more oil and add in your desired amount of Parmesan: Repeat. Drizzle in the last tablespoon and the balsamic vinegar and stir until combined -- This will make enough to thinly paint your pizza dough. Scale up as you feel necessary, but the cheese will more than make up for any perceived dryness.

Carefully remove the pan / stone from the hot oven with heat-protectors of choice: Scatter lightly with cornmeal to keep the dough from sticking too much. Stretch the dough out roughly 12" with your fingertips and do your best to center it on the hot round: It WILL stick the moment you put it down, with the dough starting to cook. This is good, it'll prevent the dough from slipping away while you put the toppings on. Roll or pat the dough out further, taking care not to burn yourself.

Paint with the white sauce, and sprinkle with about a handful of the quattro formaggio. Lie down strips of prosciutto, cut to your desired size. (I went for long, thin strips, draped around in a spiral.) Sprinkle with another handful and a half of cheese. Top evenly with the thin-sliced figs, and sprinkle evenly with the desired amount of the remaining quattro formaggio and Parmesan.

Pop it in the oven and reduce to 450 F. Check it after ten minutes, and every 2-3 minutes thereafter: My thin-crust pie was perfect after 15 minutes. Enjoy!

I loved how the sweet of the figs paired with the salty of the prosciutto, and the savory of the cheese and garlic 'sauce.' I have to remember to make this one again the next time I get my hands on a pint of figs -- though how can you go wrong with figs + thin slices of cured ham + cheese?

And in case you don't want or happen to have access to pre-made quattro formaggio, here's the proportions:

1 cup (4 oz) shaved provolone cheese
1 cup (4 oz)  mozzarella cheese
1/2 cup (2 oz) shaved Asiago cheese
1/4 cup (1 oz) freshly grated Parmesan or Romano cheese

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First off -- I apologize.
I just got married on the 7th of June, and in the craziness and planning that was leading up to the Big Day... I lost track of this journal for six months.
... I feel so incredibly guilty, neglecting this space like that.

Still, I have reasons: I haven't been able to keep up with more than one online journal. I haven't been enjoying the whole cooking thing as much as I feel I should. There hasn't been a camera I can take good food pictures with -- and so on.

If I'm honest, I'll admit they're excuses.
I've been neglecting my cooking in the face of the easy out because of stress -- and worse yet, I've neglected something I love.  Guess I'm going to have to promise myself to be more proactive.

First off: My kitchen garden is still going strong. I've had to replace the basil and thyme, but the rest of the herbs are doing all right: The sage never came up, breaking my heart -- and since I'm in a gardening state of mind these days, I think I may have to run over to the local Farmer's Market tomorrow morning and pick up a sage seedling, as well as perhaps some arugula. (I've taken to reading Serious Eats in my unannounced hiatus.)

I have a pot of strawberry plants in the front yard, as well as two rosemary plants, and four tomato plants (not including the half dozen or so of tomato seedlings that I was able to coax out of the soil), plus four pepper plants -- one green bell, two purple bells that are just starting out, and a jalepeno that I'm telling myself I'll never use, but keep regardless.

The first heat wave of not-yet-summer seems to be upon us, so naturally, I've hit a furious period where I must bake. Comfort? What's that compared to roast chicken basted with coco-nib and pepper-infused olive oil or homemade cakes with tea flavorings? That's crazy talk right there.  -- Yeah, the husband thinks I'm nuts, though I've promised him I know where to find an inexpensive box fan that will fit perfectly into the kitchen window.

If it weren't for my birthday (which is coming up with alarming swiftness), I think I'd just call summer a total loss and rally for a season-long trip to Australia to avoid it -- but at the moment, I have to grant that this weather's giving me the perfect excuse to whip up a chilling pitcher of sangria.

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Been a long time since I've written: Mea culpa, mea culpa. Life tends to grab me and run away at top speed.

This past week, I got my hands on a yarn winder for half price at JoAnn.com, and I've been using it with my umbrella swift to wind up any and all hanks of yarn I have lying about the house.
This also means that I finally had the tools to frog my Malabrigo merino poncho and ball it up for a new project.

I loved my poncho: It was my first big project, the first larger-than-a-scarf garment I was actually able to wear, and the Malabrigo meant it was insanely soft and cuddly. I'd been looking at it lately, though, and finding some amateurish mistakes: Parts where the stitches were seriously uneven, parts where the pick-up for the hood gapped and pulled and left holes, parts where I'd dropped stitches and never noticed. That poncho was always warm and something I was incredibly happy to wear, but I knew the longer I wore it, the more it would come apart and eventually fall apart irreparably.
So I took it apart and salvaged the yarn, frogging the six to seven skeins by winding it onto the swift, and then wound it up into a center-pull cake on the winder. (Which prompted the fiance -- who had patiently helped me with the project by playing engine to keep the swift rotating while I frogged lengths of yarn free -- to comment that the night's work sure looked pointless now.  ... I then grinned at him and reminded him that all the hanks of yarn I get require winding into balls, and the balls are then knit into projects, and that's all part of the process rather than wasted effort -- and that seemed to leave him a little more gratified.)

I'm now halfway through the back of a modified Roam -- I'm opting out on the seed stitch, since my left wrist started hurting when I was working up a Roam as written (in the shade redwood forest of fingering-weight Memories), and because the Malabrigo is decidedly heavier than DK weight, I've had to do a little math to keep it sized appropriately. I'm having fun doing it at any rate, and I'm getting to intermittently cuddle my Malabrigo again.

Honestly, I love that wool. If only it weren't so expensive, I swear I'd use it to the exclusion of all other yarns... Excepting for the friends of mine that are wool sensitives, of course, but for me? I'd live in the stuff, especially since they seem to now offer it in both lace and chunky weights, and I'm pretty much hopelessly in love with all things merino.

I'm rather fixated on the current pseudo-Roam I've got going, though, so with any luck I'll have pictures of a finished hoodie in the next couple of weeks.

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One really, really good thing about taking part in a weekly food challenge?
...Well, aside from guaranteeing that I'm going to eat at least one home-cooked meal a week, or getting motivated to cook more frequently...

I love that I'm near always looking for new things to do, and taking inspiration from existing recipes. After all, I took one look at the Epicurious recipe for a fresh fig tart with rosemary cornmeal crust, and then wondered how it would taste with something less sweet.

The answer? Pretty darned good.
Now, if only I could improve my "photography skills."

Fresh Tomato Tart with Cornmeal-Thyme Crust
Yield: About 3-4 servings

Crust:

¾ cup all-purpose flour
¼ cup yellow cornmeal (not stone-ground)
1½ tsp sugar
pinch to 1/8 tsp salt
¼ cup cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces
¾ tbsps finely chopped fresh thyme
2 to 3 tablespoons ice water

3-4 small to medium tomatoes, washed and sliced 1/6-inch thick
½ tsp fine-grain sea salt
2½ - 3 tbsp crème fraîche
½ cup mascarpone cheese (4 oz)
1 tbsp sugar

1 tbsp balsamic vinegar
1 tbsp honey
fresh thyme leaves, to taste

Press dough evenly onto bottom and up sides of tart pan(s) with floured fingers. Smooth dough with a small spatula or the back of a spoon (floured if necessary), and roll a rolling pin over top of pan to trim dough flush with the edge (if necessary). Prick the crust bottom with a fork. Chill until it's firm, about 30 minutes or so.

While waiting on the crust to chill, prep your tomatoes: To avoid a soggy mess later on, you'll want to rid the tomatoes of some of their water. Clear a space on your counter and put down a double layer of absorbent paper towels. Slice the tomatoes into eighths or so, making very fine, thin wedges: Place the tomatoes in a single layer on the paper towels and sprinkle them with about 1 tsp (+/- accordingly) fine-grain sea salt. Cover the tomatoes with another layer of paper towels, press gently. Let them sit until you're ready to use them.

Preheat oven to 400°F. Bake crust in middle of oven until center and edges are golden, 20 to 30 minutes.

Whisk together sour cream, mascarpone, sugar, and salt in a bowl until well combined and slightly stiff. (I found that while the mascarpone and the creme fraiche were fairly stand-up on their own, they liquefied slightly when combined -- probably the addition of the salt and sugar.) Refrigerate until ready to use.

Let the crust cool to room temperature before filling: Heat balsamic, honey and thyme (if desired) in a small saucepan over moderately low heat, whisking about 4 minutes, then cool glaze slightly. Take care not to breathe in over the pan, as the scent can be a little overwhelming for the sinuses, but the results are stunning.

Remove tart shell(s) from the pan(s) and spread mascarpone cream in shell. Pat dry the tomato slices and arrange decoratively over cream. Drizzle with honey-balsamic glaze and serve.

The tart is really ridiculously good on its own -- I honestly think mascarpone and creme fraiche are now my favorite mixture of flavors ever, and even better than sweet cream ice cream  -- but a drizzled teaspoon or so of the balsamic glaze makes it to die for. Wow.

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... I'll admit to increasing the stash by a cone of cobweb-weight cashmere, but that serves a purpose otherwise known as the veil I'm knitting for my wedding. But. Even that had a purpose, and it wasn't a "Well, I want to knit this for myself just because. Present time, happy unbirthday to me!!" project.
I've been designing my freakin' wedding dress, for goodness' sake. I can see it in my head, and I should really be picking up my needles and the appropriate cones to start up on that.

So what happens instead?
The Fall Knitty comes out, and I go and fall head-over-needles for Roam.

'No,' I tell myself. 'If you're going to focus on a pattern from there, put down the lace section of the Stitchionary and look at Muir. That's something that could work for the wedding, right?'
So my knitting Id largely shushes, but simmers and grumbles.

'No, I'm not making Roam,' I tell my noisy little Id.
'No, I'm not adding to the stash.'
'No, I can't find the recommended Great Big Sea yarn. Yes, I've looked. Everywhere. All right, I'll prove it, you pushy little underbrain.'

So I search, and today? Today, I see this, written a couple days-ish after my last hunt.

Well, feck.
Now she's pointed out substitutions, and I actually have ten skeins of the now-discontinued Memories from Knitpicks -- which is a fingering weight uber-soft merino that I originally bought in three shades to make Thermal, and would fit the looser gauge for more drape requirement.
I keep having images of the red, brown and black yarn in a drawer in my bedroom, neatly balled up for my use.
It would be a perfect Roam, you know.

... Pardon me.
I have to go cast on and make my inner yarn ho shut up.

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On a whim, I mentioned to a 'net friend that I wanted to re-create the porchetta rustica.
Said friend asked me why, when I could probably google the recipe.

I clearly owe said friend lunch, as Google revealed not one, two, or three versions, but a proverbial plethera of copycat recipes. There is now no need of me to re-invent the wheel, although I am annoyed that all the recipes I've looked at call for a convection oven with the wind on. What happens if we don't have a convection oven, hmm?

So far, I haven't been able to find the non-convection variation (or, for that matter, if it makes much of a difference) -- but here's the recipe with a few (but not all) adjustments suggested by a kitchenlink reader.

The local Trader Joe's has reasonably priced blueberries and filberts, I've got capers in the fridge, and the rest are kitchen staples, as far as I'm concerned: All I need is a pork loin, and I'm ready to roll.

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While I don't know how many people really read this, I've been uncharacteristically quiet here lately -- Mea culpa. I've been tied up in a project over at LiveJournal -- Two Ingredients, a food-challenge community. (My co-moderator came up with the idea, and I just couldn't say no. I've been taking the odd weeks, which strikes me as appropriate.)

There've been some really interesting things to come out of that place, so far.
Also, I'm amused that my typically assigned ingredients seem to be a main ingredient and a spice: Fish and capers. Tomatoes and thyme. Chocolate and garlic.
... All right, I'm kidding with the last one, though I keep threatening to actually do it. ;)

I'm also currently trying to mock up our journal icon, since I already have the perfect image... Now, I just need a line drawing of a chef hat or a spoon, and the thing can go up.
GimpShop is nice and mostly works for what I need, but I kind of miss my student copy of Photoshop: I knew exactly how to get what I wanted from Photoshop, right down to the filters. Darn you, Adobe, why do you have to be so freakin' expensive?

Anyway! Point is, there's been a lot of food over the past month, and I suspect I'll be back-dating some of the recipes and the like, as well as more knitting talk. I still haven't really posted anything about my No Sheep Swap experience with pictures, and I would still really like to -- so, that'll be going up, too.
(Not to mention the stuff that came with a recent-ish Etsy purchase from one of my downstream No Sheep buddies. Seriously, there was some REALLY cool stuff that came out of that package!)

Side note: I'm also contemplating a move for this journal to Wordpress, since I get the feeling I may be a little too dependent on Six Apart for my blogging needs. Alternately, some folk I know on LJ seem to be dual-posting from their Wordpress journals... So when I'm feeling a little less technologically lazy, I think I may look at trying to link this journal in that way. Wish me luck!

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Or, food / semi-review post! Don't read this if you're hungry.

The other night, I went out to dinner with the co-workers: We all earned a service award, essentially, and the dinner was our thank-you from the company. When we earned the same award last year, our reward was a dinner at Claim Jumper's (and I'm still dreaming of their ginger creme brulee) -- this year, we were treated to the Kitchen Table at Buca's.

While not my first trip to Buca's, it was my first experience at the Kitchen Table -- and if you ever get the chance, I'd say, take that table at least once. It's interesting to watch everything going on in the kitchen, they'll bring dishes by your table and tell you what they are as they go out, and you get to interact directly with your chefs.

I have to say, I was really fond of ours. She had some excellent suggestions, and, er, we may have gotten to talking about unusual food combinations (like the ingredient choices made in the porchetta rustica -- more on that later). Also, she was a former California Pizza Kitchen chef, so she was listening intently when we started talking about them -- and then she and I got to talking about the Peking Duck pizza that (alas) is no longer on the CPK menu.

I had a lot of fun, and it was interesting to see how the kitchen worked. But I digress from the real reason we were there: The food.

I'm sad to report that for the first time in the years since I've been going to our local Buca's, I did not get the caprese. I'm an enormous fan of the way they make it, but there was just not enough interest at the table, it seemed -- though the day's salad special made its way onto our table, and I wasn't sorry in the least. The Bossman and I polished off most of that (and the leftovers, such as they were, made it home with me) -- he more after the spinach, and me attacking and devouring the fresh, flavorful wedges of tomato.
It was a 'warm spinach and tomato salad,' but it was also so much more than that. They touched the spinach, slivers of red onion and beefsteak tomatoes to the pan just long enough to warm them, and then added candied pecans and what I believe was a house balsamic vinaigrette -- if I'd been able to think past the goodness dancing on my tongue, I would have asked what went into it -- and then tossed with a mild, white goat cheese. The tomatoes were definitely my favorite, though chasing the onions and pecans around my plate were a very close second. -- I may very well have to call over there and ask what balsamic they use, because theirs was so much more mild than the stuff I keep at home, and managed to be sweeter without being cloying. (Time to upgrade!)
I do not know what kind of goat cheese they used, alas, but I think it needed a little more oomph to really make itself known: It didn't stand up all that well when paired with the dressing. Feta'd be all wrong, but it needed something... Guess it's time to go cheese tasting and expand my goat cheese repertoire.

Before that, though, we had bruschetta and the trio sampler -- battered shrimp, calamari, and mozzarella, only one of which I'll touch. The breaded mozzarella wasn't what I was typically used to: They appeared to be thin, breaded rounds of cheese, and tasted more baked than fried; I was so relieved to see something other than the fat, leaky fingers of fried, breaded cheese dripping with grease, that I did perhaps snitch one more than I should have. (No one complained since the shrimp and calamari were otherwise theirs.)
The bruschetta was little more than fresh chopped tomatoes and basil atop the house bread, drizzled with garlicky olive oil. I did love it, but the toppings were a little light. Maybe they needed a touch more garlic and onion, who could say?

And then we ordered the main course.

I was first to pipe up, and I requested the porchetta rustica: Herb-rubbed pork sliced into rounds, and topped with a sauce of red wine, balsamic, blueberries, capers and hazelnuts, served with a side of roasted potatoes and veggies.  (I have to admit, I've recently found a mild obsession with capers, especially when in these kind of dishes.)
The boss wrinkled his nose at the blueberries -- "Blueberries? In a wine sauce, on pork?" -- but I persisted and received backup from the rest of the group, so it made its way to our table and I was so very not sorry. (Neither, for that matter, was he -- he actually admitted it worked, in spite of the perceived weirdness.) I'm now going to have to dedicate my life to duplicating that dish. ;)

Of course, our chef was listening in while I announced to Bossman that I make it a point to try my hand at making ans tasting 'weird foods.'  It was an amusing couple minutes while I defended myself by pointing to his reaction to the blueberries and capers on pork. ;)

There were other things we ordered, though I did not touch the linguine fruitti di mare -- Again with the calamari and shrimp, only including mussels and clams, which are also not my cup of tea. Meant more for the co-workers, right?

We also ordered some pasta dishes (that were tasty, but I was way too full to truly appreciate) and a side of tuscan beans and escarole in marinara. It was my first time knowingly trying escarole, and I have to say I enjoyed it: I like it in much the same way I like cooked spinach, but it's got ... Hm. Perhaps not 'more' flavor, but that's the best term I can come up with at the moment. Cooked spinach can be a background flavor: Escarole isn't. I'm probably going to have to track it down fresh to form a better educated opinion.

I discovered something, however: While the co-worker-turned-friend at my left was squeezing his lemon onto his linguine di mare at his seat next to me, I took my first bite of the Tuscan white beans, and wow. The scent of lemon that hit me was enough to make that dish pop, and I was actively disappointed that the bites afterward lacked that citrus-y hint. I've decided that this weekend, I will be making white beans with greens (likely spinach, since I always have that on hand), olive oil, and lemon juice/zest.

Honestly, I only had enough room for a spoonful of tiramisu. In-sane.
Great food, though. I'm clearly going to have to drag people back that way to go get more of the things I really liked.

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A few weeks ago, I went and wrote up an info-dump on cooking sites to share with my friends: After all, there are so many good places for recipes out there.

I'd hope that any Internet foodie already knows about the good places for recipes: Epicurious.com. Epicurean.com. Myriads of food blogs like 101 Cookbooks and Simply Recipes. And as for community sites -- I had my start with AllRecipes.com, but when it comes to that sort of site, I'm personally fond of Recipezaar.

But did you ever think of NPR as a source of recipes?

They are. I've added their feed to my iGoogle page, and I pounce the moment I see a new link -- It's not the best place for searching for a specific recipe, true, but they seem to have some of the more interesting food-related articles out there.
Today's love fest is for NPR's Kitchen Window: Granita by Any Name -- Call it an extension of my Spice Cream obsession, especially when considering the offerings of Sangria or Orange, Grand Marnier and Lavender Granitas. Coupled with the hot weather, I can hardly think of anything better.

On the News with Food front, I'm also terribly fond of the LA Times' every-Wednesday Food section, but word to the wise if you want to look -- You need to be subscribed to even be able to peek at most of the articles. Boo hoo.

I know I've had a link-dump before on other places with recipes: I remember going on and on about Williams-Sonoma's recipe and technique pages, though you really have to be relentless in searching that site sometimes. Cooking.com. Café Beyond -- Two out of three of these contain recipes and techniques, so I usually end up saving the page in some format for the info as there doesn't appear to be an archive. (Alas.)

Plenty of good resources out there.

 
I must have been on to something, since I've added not one, but three new food blogs to my reading collection from the time I originally shared that information. I found Orangette thanks to following a link out of NPR's Kitchen Window, my dear friend C. glibly sent me a link to Heather Christo ("My co-worker's friend is launching her foodie website and I thought it was nifty," she says. "Take a peek!"), and Simply Recipes linked to Tea & Cookies two days ago. (Two days that I've spend going through Tea's blog, deciding amidst the travel, tea, grilling lessons, and keys to a well-prepared kitchen that she's a person I wish I had the chance to get to know in person.)

Clearly, the Internets are plotting toward inundating me with food blogs to get back at me for going all knittery.

So. There's a world of intimidatingly good cooks out there that are also really fascinating people... Not that the two are mutually exclusive. Actually, seems to me most interesting people are foodies or otherwise passionate about something.
... Tea may also have posted this meme in one of the more recent (but still older) posts. I'll admit to a  weakness for interesting memes, so...

EIGHT FOOD THINGS YOU MIGHT NOT KNOW ABOUT ME

1) WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE FOODS?

Sushi. I can't narrow it down more than this, because that's just cruel. Shiro-Maguro nigiri (albacore sushi) is a favorite, but so are hamachi (yellowtail), toro (the fatty tuna), anago/unagi (eels), and my crispy, ever-present spider roll or salmon-skin handrolls. There's so many different flavors, textures, and colors that there's no bigger pleasure for me than a nice selection of different sushi, set at center for everyone at the table to share.

Dim Sum. I regret that I have not yet had the chance to go to a 'true' dim sum restaurant in the local Chinatown, but oh. My 'secret' dim sum stop on PCH and Oak is always a pleasure to take friends to, as much because said friends (and family!) let me stop the carts and order for everyone as the morsels laid on the table. I'm always partial to the steamed char siu bao, the deep-fried hom suey gok, the steamed Shanghai bao with their rich, brothy centers plus the plum vinegar / shredded ginger dip, and the slick 'rice noodle' dish hiding their delicious meaty centers between rolled sheets of rice flour and sweet vinegar sauce... Though I can never forget the honey-like thick lotus seed center of my favorite sesame balls.
Sundays are also a treat at that restaurant, because that's when they pull out the things they don't make the rest of the week, and I'm personally of the mind that the char siu flakey pastries are to die for.

Creme Brulée. If you've never sat down with me in a restaurant that has this on the menu, then it's likely that you don't know about my utter weakness against this dessert: I'm an addict. The last two times I went with my mother to the Hamburger Hamlet, I saved room for dessert because they have a peach creme brulée. (Also, serving it with a quarter cup of diced peach pieces served in their own juice and tossed with mint doesn't hurt.) -- When my favorite French restaurant Le Chalet de France was closing, I made it a point to run back from college for the weekend solely to go on their last Saturday open and asked (bold as brass) for their recipe. They gave it to me, and I still have that napkin the maitre'd scribbled the note on hidden away. Ever since then, I collect creme brulée recipes like another of my friends has been known to collect recipes for shortbread and trifles.

Blood Oranges. I do have a fondness for citrus, but blood oranges always take the metaphorical cake for me. There's just something about cutting into a light orange skin and finding that dark purple-red center. It could just be a 'weird color' food thing, but I also still remember one trip out of Green Valley Falls (I think) in El Cajon when I still had friends down that way, and stopping at a roadside stand on a whim, I found them, fragrant and sweet. Just the thing for someone parched out by the sun and hiking through forests -- and I peeled the thing, not knowing any better, dripping the bloody juice all over my shirt while attempting to separate it into the familiar neat orange wedges and getting shredded pulpy pieces instead, but still licking my fingers clean of the juice. Yum.

2) WHAT FOODS DO YOU HATE?

Eggs and catsup. Which is unfortunate, since the fiancé only eats his eggs that way -- but it turns my stomach and I just cannot get through to whatever it is that people see in that combination. It also extends to eggs and any tomato-esque product, be it tabasco, salsa...

Liver. The only liver you'll ever catch me eating is rumaki, and even that's usually just for the bacon and the water chestnut. I used to eat it as a kid, but the flavor's just too heavy or something for me -- and I can't stand the smell when it's cooking.

Celery. Everyone tells me it has no flavor, but I beg to differ. It tastes bitter and sour to me, and not in a way I find pleasant, so I just don't eat it.

3) FOODS YOU LIKE BUT ARE EMBARRASSED TO ADMIT?

BBQ Chips and Ice Cream. Whenever I tell someone about this, they always immediately ask if I'm pregnant. I started eating this at the tender young age of eleven, so I'd sure as hell hope not. ;) It was a combination I read about in a story from my Cricket magazine -- potato chips and chocolate ice cream -- so I was curious enough to try it: We only had the BBQ Lays, so that's what I used. The salt-spice is an interesting addition to the sweet of the ice cream.

4) STRANGEST FOOD YOU'VE EATEN AND ENJOYED?

Does the BBQ chips and ice cream count?
All right, seriously...

Emu. Not terribly weird, but I was amazed to find out it's a bird that cooks up and vaguely resembles red meat. A former boyfriend snuck it into meat sauce in place of beef, and it was terribly good.

Beefalo. Mom saw it in the market once and brought it home: A cross between a cow and a buffalo. I don't remember ever having it again, but the burgers were pretty tasty.

5) COOKING FAILURES THAT STILL RANKLE?

Bad Meatloaf. My mother makes a mean meatloaf, made even funnier by the fact that she can't stand the stuff. My brother, Dad and I can't get enough, so she made it -- but it wasn't her thing. Unsurprisingly, shortly after first moving into my old apartment, I wanted meatloaf. I had all the ingredients necessary except for tomato paste... But I had tomato soup.
Oh God, it was awful. Too sweet, too liquid, even undiluted -- I ended up throwing the meatsplat away (because it certainly wasn't going to be mistaken for a loaf, even with all the breadcrumbs I put in to try and compensate) and just eating the german potatoes I'd fried up as dinner instead.
I did get better, and each time I make meatloaf, it's to thumb my nose at that first attempt... But I'm not ready to forget it just yet.

Runny Cookies. This one still bothers me, because unlike the meatloaf above, I have no idea what went wrong. It was a year ago and I followed the instructions to the letter, used the right amounts of butter / flour / sugar -- and I mixed and chilled and baked like mad, trying to make a small army of chocolate chip cookies that had been requested to go with a friend's All-American Dinner party. I've got the third and fourth sheets ready to go when I open the door to the oven and find the four dozen cookies I'd put in ten minutes prior had all merged into one large, overcooked cookie.
Panic ensued. I thinned out the number of cookies, hoping it had just been a fluke while I willed the first two sheets cool so I could clean and get to the next batch -- and eight minutes after putting them in, I had cookie puddles that much closer resembled chocolate-studded burnt pizzelles than your all-American chocolate chip. Lessening the time further meant they were still puddles and half-raw.
With twenty minutes before we had to leave for the get-together, I ended up dropping dough into my one lonely muffin tin, just desperate to get something semi-presentable: I only had about a dozen and a half of the planned seventy-two cookies and a large amount of frazzled nerves.
Insult to injury: I tried the same recipe the next week, and it went off without a hitch. Maybe it was the sheer volume I was attempting -- Can't say.

6) INGREDIENTS YOU DON'T WANT TO CONSIDER LIVING WITHOUT?

Garlic. I know that there's been a recent movement to try and remove garlic from Italian cooking, since it overwhelms the taste: Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, and you're never taking my garlic from me -- You can steal my stinking rose from my cold, dead fingers. If I didn't think it'd get me smacked by all my friends, I'd use it in everything except my baking. (Although, there are several things I can picture that being good in... Foccaccia or popovers, anyone?)

Smoked paprika. I don't use it frequently, but there are just some comfort foods I make that can't do without it -- Chicken paprikash being the primary example, but I also like to sprinkle a little of it into my stews and eggs. There's really no other spice like it, in my opinion.

Balsamic Vinegar and Olive Oil. The two are always paired in my mind, and always made better with garlic: Still, there's so much I use balsamic in when I'm making dinner, the thought of going without makes me sad. Once I started using balsamic, it was love: I don't understand how my mom can turn her nose up at using it when she's never given it a try.

Cheese. I use cheese at the smallest provocation. It doesn't necessarily matter what kind: I try to keep a selection of blue, asiago or romano, parmesan, sharp cheddar, and brie in my fridge at all times, and I'm even happier if I have a little goat cheese, aged white cheddar, or swiss there, too. The simple act of having gnocchi in the pantry is enough to send me after a double handful of shredded cheese while I brown them in the pan. Yum.

Gnocchi. Certainly the most recent of my pasta-related loves, it nonetheless manages to be my favorite. I will take gnocchi (dried, frozen, packaged fresh or homemade) over any other pasta -- and that's high praise, given my surely inborn, cultural love for spaetzle and my fondness for all things rice noodles. If I had to forgo pasta entirely except for one kind, this would be the one I'd choose to keep. Versatile, able to be a side or a main course, and varying from satisfyingly hearty to temptingly light... There's no question that I'm all about the gnocchi, especially now that I know what to do with them.

Beans. These are a recent addition to my repertoire, but I'm experimenting with them. Fresh beans, canned beans, frozen beans, dried beans -- I already knew I loved green beans, the proof along the bottom shelf of my freezer and pulled out whenever I thought we needed more green in our diet, but having recently found the baked beans recipe, I'm all about broadening the spectrum to include legumes regularly. Also, as someone who's mad about hummus and already has olive oil and garlic listed as ingredients not to be lived without -- Sounds perfect to me.

7) CUISINE YOU'D LIKE TO KNOW MORE ABOUT?

I know surprisingly little about Mexican, Mediterranean, and Persian cuisines. I can do Italian, a little, but even with that there's still a lot of room to learn. (Not that I'm an expert on Asian and French cuisine, by any means... But I feel a little more well versed in those. I can handle coq au vin or off-the-cuff veggie sushi rolls, which must count for something.)

8) FOODS YOU HATED BUT HAVE GROWN TO LOVE?

Avocados. Okay, this is going to have some of my friends gaping at me if not actively laughing or teasing: Oh, how I love avocados. Of course, I only started eating them outside of guacamole during college, and wow. All I need now is a ripe avocado, a spoon, and a little salt and/or a dribble of pure citrus, and yeah. I'm in heaven.

Eggs. Don't look at me like that -- I really didn't like them as a kid, and the parents finally stopped asking me to choke them down when one slid back up at about the age of seven. I was re-introduced to eggs in omelettes, and then I deigned to have scrambled, and by late high school, I was almost willing to eat poached eggs. It took me a while, but now they're one of those ever-present ingredients in my fridge, and not just because you can't make a cake without them... I mean, there's quiche.

Beets. Yeah, I know, show me a kid who ever liked beets -- but I'll have you know, I've always loved the other traditionally hated veggie, the brussel sprout. Beets never really appealed to me 'til I found a beet salad calling for diced roasted beets, shredded mint and olive oil. I've been partial ever since.

Tomatoes. This is the most recent food ideology changes, since it seems to me that I've only been eating raw tomatoes with anything approaching pleasure for the past year or two (which means it's probably more like five). I couldn't stand them before, the slimy texture of the seeds enough to send me running away -- and truthfully, I still have that issue with cherry tomatoes, but I'm happily eating about every other variety there is. Strawberry tomatoes are a decided favorite, and I really, desperately need to find a plant that grows those for my front yard. Sugar plum and grape tomatoes are a brilliant snack, and the roma will forever be my first tomato love, especially with a little fresh basil and mozzarella. Yum.

So. Anyone else want to answer this one?

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