Mixing things up

Hello, longtime friend. If you're back checking up on this blog after such a long hiatus, I applaud your persistence and loyalty and would like to acknowledge and reward it by sending you over to SuburbanDiva.com where I've just relaunched an exciting new direction for the decade-old humor column: Suburban Diva Dishes.

Hopefully, I'll bring you the same old nonsense but pair it with a recipe that you'll enjoy. Comic cuisine with a side of snark.

Not sure where this little blog will go from here, but for right now, let's cook up something fun together.

I've never been thankful for a glue gun

The extent of my Thanksgiving crafting abilities has been limited to a rather racy bunch of burlesque pine cone turkeys and some dried bean studded napkin rings that resulted in a broken vacuum cleaner and two cracked fillings. Fortunately, I have found some other ideas that don't look so dangerous or PG-13.

Here are a  few from my friends at the National Wildlife Foundation. I particularly like the pumpkin vase and leaf display.

And the folks at Spoonful.com know me too well know and sent me some more themed-meal addiction fodder with these Thanksgiving treats.

Spoonful.com

Spoonful.com

I'll make sure Jessie washes her hands before we trace it.

Check out more here, including that Tiny Thanksgiving Dinner of which is not even fair to tempt me with.

Halloween lessons

Our second Halloween in this 'hood and the lessons I've learned:

1.) I need to buy double the amount of doubled-amount of candy that I bought twice as much as last year.

2.) People love Halloween here. There aren't enough aisles of inflatable ghosts, cats and other general spooks at Lowe's to fulfill the demand in Middle Tennessee.

3.) Trick-or-Treating at large, stately, popular country music singing stars homes doesn't suck.

4.) I need to seek professional help for the lengths I go to theme this meal.

A cry for help with my mouth full

At least I can admit I have a problem.

And I fully acknowledge that I am the Queen of the Theme cooking.

I will take any holiday, sporting event, television program, news item, or even an overheard sentence uttered by a stranger in the grocery store and turn it into a themed meal.

It's just kind of what I do--an inside culinary joke I have with myself four nights a week.

This month alone we've had paella and burgers for Columbus Day, Nathan's hot dogs for the playoffs and apple pie for the presidential debates. But the creme de la creme of my kooky cookery, my celebratory savories, festive foodstuffs, and motif meals is Halloween.

Our usual dinner is a pot of chili and the obligatory mummy dogs and cupcakes, but I think I've found a new freakish fare for the table: Mummy Meatloaf.

Spoonful.com

Use this guide from Spoonful.com and this 1770 House meatloaf recipe from Food Network Magazine (which is by far the best meatloaf I've ever eaten, family confirms) and you'll become a permanent member of my themed cook support group.

P.S. Our next meeting is November 1st for All Saint's Day.  Bring divinity, angel food cake, and St. Louis style ribs.


P.S.S. Imagine pairing this with graveyard ghost mashed potatoes? Ok, I'll stop now.

20th Anniversary Dinner (and breakfast)

Last week we celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary. And what better way to do so than at a restaurant it takes 20 years to get a reservation? (Or close to it.)

By sheer luck (or default) we did manage to secure a spot at Nashville’s newest culinary hotbed--The Catbird Seat Restaurant. It features no menu, but an offering of 7-12 courses of whatever the chefs feel like making and/or what’s in season. As a foodie and lover of all things new in the dining experience, they had me at “porcini Oreo.”

Unfortunately, the only reservation available in this decade was on a Thursday night at 9:30 p.m. We didn’t get seated until after 10, which is usually the witching hour for people with jobs and kids, so I preface the entire experience with that caveat. Once we were seated, we were immediately plied with several of the most delicious courses paired with interesting libations that I would never have been able to remember later save the graph/flow chart that they give you on the way out.



Among the offerings I can remember was an oyster in cucumber water that tasted like the sea, a cow liver braised in an onion cream sauce that tasted like the earth, and a dessert of, “Wood grain sponge cake, maple jam, Birch cream, and pine snow” that I swear was a spoonful of the forest. It may have been one of the most delicious things I have ever eaten, and certainly the closest you could ever come to opening your mouth outside and taking in a big, luscious bite of Mother Nature’s pantry.

There were a couple of things that may have been better left outside to the elements (the beef cheek was a miss along with some mead that tasted like Beowulf brewed it) and that may or may not have contributed to my nausea that lasted the weekend. But so much was so right with the experience (and it was more than a meal, it was a journey) that I will assert that the 27 saltine crackers I ate over the next two days were worth that one small plate of aerated foie gras with Meyer lemon mostarda, St. Germain pudding and pumpernickel.

Just maybe not at midnight.

Sunday Dinners

So I've decided to incorporate a new feature on this blog entitled: Sunday Dinners. This may or may not be about dinners and/or on Sundays, but it will be a post about food in some fashion or another. I realize that the pursuit of food is a big part of my life and I don't talk about it nearly enough.

This Sunday's menu was a typical one around here: something new from the latest edition of Bon Appetit, something from last month's issue, an old favorite, and something totally crazy.

I chose a lamb kebob with mint pesto from the August edition, and changed it up just a little since I thought I had coriander seed but didn't, and roasted the vegetables alongside rather than on the skewers. This was absolutely delicious, and that mint pesto held up beautifully against the lamb and really made the dish.

Alongside I served this pasta salad with green olivadafrom July, and an Asian cole slaw from my recipe book of long ago. For dessert, I tried twice to make a German chocolate cake from scratch and apparently succeeded on the second try, but since I don't like coconut, I'll have to take everyone's word for it.

I'd like to say we paired this all with a nice wine, but we ended up going through seven bottles of various and sundry reds--none of which were the same, so perhaps that was the failure of the evening but no one ended up caring in the end for those seven-bottle reasons.

And speaking of Easter on Sunday..

...that also means that Lent is officially over and in theory, I could go drink a soda in celebration of going without processed foods for 40 days.

But I'm not going to do that. Because I honestly don't want to.

This was a pretty interesting experiment. If you recall, I vowed to "give up processed foods" as my Lenten sacrifice. Admittedly, this was pretty vague and I didn't even know what that meant in the beginning of this, but I think I have a handle on it now.

1.) Chemical-free. My main goal was to try to eliminate as many chemicals, additives and preservatives from my food as possible. Someone asked if I gave up flour and things like that, and the answer is no--it really was the chemical-y fake stuff I was to avoid. (I only buy whole wheat or unbleached flour.)

2.) This meant a lot of label reading. I was absolutely shocked at some of things I've been mindlessly shoving in my mouth that after a scan of the label was nothing more than a freakish science experiment. Case in point: maple syrup. I dare you to read the back of a bottle of anything other than pure maple syrup. You will be horrified.

3.) Label-reading leads to better choices. If I was staring at two brands of the same product, I chose the one with the least amount of ingredients. No-brainer, right? Wrong. Some things labeled as "natural" have nothing natural about them. (I'm looking at you, certain brands of yogurt.) If there was an option to buy it fresh, I bought it. If there was an organic choice, I chose it. I continually sought out better labels rather than better packages.

4.) A return to whole foods. This again sounds easy, but it is surprisingly not. In addition to shopping a lot more frequently, I shopped in different places as well. I discovered my town's weekly Farmer's Market, and a fruit stand on the corner that sells tomatoes that actually taste like a tomato. I cooked and prepared a lot more myself than I ever dreamed. And it was good.

5.) People complain all of the time about the higher costs of organic foods. I disagree. Sure, organic eggs cost more than regular. That bottle of maple syrup was almost $8 as compared to the Aunt Jemima high-fructose sugar water. But all of the farmer's market produce was hands-down cheaper than my grocery store. I saved a boat load of money buying a box of long-leaf black tea that I brewed myself as opposed to a case of Coke. Yogurt and granola costs less than a dozen donuts or a bagels.

An amazing thing happens when you're not filling your body up with junky empty calories--you tend to eat less. And when you are putting more thought and to consideration into what you're eating, you also tend to have more respect for it and don't waste nearly as much. Not that I thought I did that before, but an end of day old bread became croutons (no need to buy a box) and leftovers are repurposed in new and creative ways.

6.) Everyone has to make the choices that make sense to them. I really tried to focus on avoiding all things with the high fructose corn syrup--I'll take raw sugar any old day, and partially-hydrogenated anything. That meant no soda, no margarine, fried foods and most anything that came out of a can. I still ate meat--looked for the grass-fed beef and organic chicken whenever possible--and I certainly indulged my sweet tooth--I just made sure I made the sweets myself and knew exactly what I put into it.

Did it work?

I think it did. I definitely feel de-toxed and really have no desire to go back to the old ways. I think I've lost weight, my skin and hair feel healthier, and mentally, I feel better, too. Like I've let something go on my terms and I can't imagine going back.

In fact, I think it's time to take it further. While meals have unbeknownst to the family gotten healthier, I will now incorporate these habits into their other eating routines as well. Lunches and snacks will get an overhaul as well and we'll find a way to make it as non-traumatic as mine was.

I also still need to work on the meat aspect--I wasn't happy with my grocery store's option of "all-vegetarian" diet for their beef as opposed to "grass-fed." There's a difference and I want the latter. I also plan to get a lot more creative with the foods I've discovered like quinoa and farro and the fresh vegetables. I planted my garden, and hope to really make better use of that as well.

But at the end of the day--or forty of them--I think this has translated over from experiment to lifestyle change.

And it is a delicious one.

WIth a name like Diva Jam, it has to be good

I'm jamming out some jam.

Last week Jessie and I finally discovered our town's weekly farmer's market, and amongst the juicy goodies we picked up was a beautiful flat of strawberries.



Unlike the season's earlier offerings, these were beautifully ripe and cheap. I knew I wanted to do something productive with them, so I decided to make jam.

I've only done this one other time--back in St. Louis about 15 years ago. I had forgotten pretty much everything, so I educated myself on the Google and began the process.

The first mistake I made was doubling the recipe I found online. Apparently, this causes all of the sugar/water/fruit ratios to get all out of whack and instead of ending up with jam, I had strawberry syrup. But I was determined to complete this project, so I started over with the right amounts and a little help from some liquid pectin and began anew.



Much better and the first batch of Diva Jam Strawberry was born.



I'm thinking this might be the first product in my line someday.

It's the only feast day I can name off the top of my head for obvious and delicious reasons

So when I couldn't find a decent (or a single one for that matter) St. Joseph's pastry in town on his feast day for crying out loud, I made my own.



St. Joseph also happens to be the patron saint of pastry chefs. This makes perfect sense to me now because eating this dessert is a religious experience.

That, and it took me seven days and nights to create it.

Not-so Fat Tuesday much longer if I can help it

I'm hoping that by my Lenten example, Tuesdays will never be Fat again...

Late last year I gave up soda. I gave up fried food. Permanently. My New Year's resolution was to eat healthier, so I think I'm sensing a theme here when I declare for Lent I'm giving up as much processed "food" as I can. The more unpronouncable the ingredient label, the less likely I will be to consume it.

I've kind of already started this by quietly changing out a lot of the things we eat, but during this forty days and beyond, I will try that much harder to eliminate the junk and take more stock into what we put into our bodies. Not so much for the weight standpoint (which I am not taking for granted nor will I turn away a slimmer waistline) but more for our overall health. I'm becoming more and more concerned with chemicals and processing these days.

Okay, off my organic soap box and off to munch on a Birkenstock.

Happy Mardi Gras.

At least we're eating well

As I mentioned in my previous post, I am pretty sure that 2010 is out to kill me, and here we are twelve days in and the death order is still out on my head.

Thanks, New Year. You are kind of a douchebag.

But when I find that the calendar has turned homicidal maniac, I turn to the stove. I wish I turned to writing prolific prose or even a mediocre blog once in a while, but the stove is my Kevlar.

I've been cooking. A lot. Mostly soups and stews and anything that I can fit into my new Le Crueset lime green dutch oven and things that fall into the luscious category, "Comfort Food."

And that's pretty much it.

It's boring, but tasty around here while the dogs get called off.

Our family's secret recipe: German Twists

I wouldn’t have believed this unless site meter told me it was so, but many people stumble upon my blog/site from the search words, “German Twist Cookies.” Until this digital confirmation, I would have thought my immediate family was the only humans on earth familiar with this delicacy since I’ve never seen them anywhere except my family Christmases.

If you’re not familiar with them, I wrote about the process of epic baking them here a couple of years ago, but I never wrote out the recipe. Something I intend to correct today.

Great Grandma’s (Rick’s?) German Twists

1 package of yeast dissolved in ¼ cup of warm water with a teaspoon of sugar

At least 3 ½ cups of flour (You’ll need closer to 5)

1 tsp. salt

1 cup of Crisco (seriously)

1 cup sour cream (full fat version, it’s Christmas)

3 eggs-- 1 whole, 2 yolks


1 cup brown sugar, 1 cup white sugar, 1 tablespoon cinnamon
(Actually, I have no idea if these are the measurements, you have to just eyeball it, and I don’t think you can screw it up)


Clear your calendar for the day. Take a deep breath and begin.

Mix the flour, salt and Crisco in the mixer on low until it is dry and crumbly. Add the sour cream, eggs--one at a time until blended. Stir in yeast mixture gently to combine.

You will notice at this point that the dough is more bread-y than cookie-y. That’s what you want. If it seems too wet, add a little more flour, but it should be moist, not dry.

Place the whole bowl into a warm (heated but off) oven with a pastry cloth tucking it in. Sing the dough a lullaby. Let it rise and breathe in the oven for two hours.

After it has doubled in size, knead it gently and return it to the oven to rise another hour. Wonder why you didn’t just make Snickerdoodles.

Now comes the fun part. And by “fun” I mean “not really.” Divide the dough in half. Take your working half and roll it out on long sheets of plastic wrap lining your work surface. (You need a lot of room for this.) Roll it out into a long rectangle. The bigger the better. Sprinkle half of the rolled out dough with the sugar mixture--then using the plastic wrap to help you, fold the dough over onto itself. Roll out again, repeat the sprinkle on the opposite side, 3 more times until you finally get a long log-like thing of dough-y goodness.



If you have made it this far, congratulate yourself with a glass of wine or seven. I think a nice Malbec goes nicely with Crisco.

Okay, cut the log into ¾-1 inch strips. Give the middle a little twist as you place onto your Silpat-lined cookie sheets. Or if you recently burned your Silpat in a freak broiler accident--just use parchment paper. Trust me--these things become molten cinnamon sugar lava when hot--you need something to help get them off.

Bake in a 350 oven for 15-17 minutes. Watch them--they suck if you burn them. And don’t forget you’ve got the other half of your dough in the oven before you bake that in the bowl. That that I’ve done that before or anything. I’ve just heard...

Let them cool on the cookie sheet for a minute before transferring them to cooling racks, because you should use as many dishes as possible for this recipe.

Realize you now have to repeat the process with that other half of the dough and alternately weep and rejoice.

With any stroke of luck, they should look like this:



This recipe makes between 3 and 5 dozen depending on your rolling pin skillz, but feeds the soul of all who taste it.

My favorite part of Christmas--FOOD!

Let's talk food, shall we? Specifically holiday menus.

Our Christmas Day dinner is traditionally Prime Rib with Yorkshire Pudding. A classic. If you've never had Yorkshire pudding, I so recommend you try it. It's really simple, I swear, and you will be rewarded handsomely with beef flavored eggy pillows of goodness that melt in your mouth. The trick is just to get the pan and juices from the meat really hot--so take the meat out of the pan when it's done and let it rest before slicing, crank up the oven and put the drippings back in while you prepare the batter and you'll have guaranteed success. You can uses individual things like they did here, or just the pan you used for the beef.

Here's a recipe from Epicurious.com, and it's sort of close to the one I use. I don't do those vegetables, but they look good. I make a homemade horseradish sauce and just season the prime rib with Kosher salt and pepper, and you're good to go.

I might have to add another special dish during the celebration week that I just discovered at this week's Sunday dinner. I have never made (or heard of) a New York Strip roast before, but let me tell you--delish! Just sprinkle the outside with salt and pepper, let it stand at room temp for an hour. Sear it in hot oil on each side and then stick it in the oven for about 50 minutes for medium rare (for a 4-lb roast). I made a pan sauce with a Madeira reduction, but you could use any sauce you'd like--my mouth just watered at the thought of Bearnaise...

I'm off to find a good egg bake recipe for Christmas morning. Sean teases me about it, but I know he would secretly miss it if it wasn't there next to the extra batteries under the tree.

Did you watch Top Chef last night?

One of the three shows that I try to make a point of watching every week is Top Chef. I can't help it--I think it's absolute genius to watch a show that the contestants are judged by how things taste, and yet the audience never actually tastes it. But yet week after week, I believe Tom Colicchio when he says the foie gras is too salty. Pure damn genius.

So as a crazy lunatic Top Chef fan, I'm not sure if this absolutely hysterical recap of last night's episode will be as meaningful if you don't actually watch it, but if you don't at least emit a chuckle over the summary of the commercial break, then you have no soul.

A commercial break: Erica, the grand pooba of pasta (Handy!), chancellor of cheese (Fresh!), connoisseur of cold (Chilly!) stuck in eternal repetition of infernal domesticity, the unwanted and illegitimate daughter of Julia Child and Sisyphus since September 2007. The choreography of her misery augmented by the words and sounds that float and freeze across her sound and vision. One voice, a man's; the chorus belonging to women who one imagines wear black velvet dresses; the guitar a twobit Shaft riff from a complacent studio musician named Walter. "Am I insane?" she thinks, panicked behind a Westport smile. "No," she relaxes. "For at least the words the women are saying are the same words that appear on the screen. At least I can hold on to that." Her capillaries relax. But as she holds up her hot dog made from the undifferentiated corpses of a small shtetl of holsteins, (Viceroy of Value!), she sees the word "Tasty" next to her Piggly Wiggly face but hears the word "Yummy!"

The eggshell cracks but perhaps it was just a momentary blip in the world largely seamlessly. She seals her wiener in a Glad bag, still clinging like a rat to rubbish to her happiness. "Thrifty!" the steel gray of the word threatens to bang into her temple. "Alright," she says, "if I hear Wilson Phillips say 'Thrifty' I'm sane and it's all okay. I'm not a sad clown. I'm a woman, a mother. My husband isn't cheating on me. He'll find a job soon." But then the voices come. "Economical!" it says with malign glee. Erica, the grand pooba of pasta, chancellor of cheese, connoisseur of cold, collapses like a soufflé onto her linoleum floor. Her apron bunches, her legs splayed. She's crying and her tears pool on the clear plastic coffins of food unwanted. Happily, her hot dog stays dry. A moment's reprieve is all Erica's misery earns her and then the music starts again. She rises up, compelled by a tourbillon of the wretched, and reties her apron. "Erica!" the voices say and Glad is misery.

Read the whole article here on Gawker.com.

Fake Thanksgiving

Because our plans on actual Thanksgiving Day don't include my kitchen, we're having Fake Thanksgiving here on Sunday.

Fake Thanksgiving is very similar to the real one except I am armed with 3 extra shopping days and a week's worth of Food Network specials. Yesterday I got the prime jumbo turkey because they weren't all picked over, and we can watch other football games besides the Lions and Cowboys.

Keeping with non-Thanksgiving theme, we got an early Christmas/late hurricane present. Because we didn't use our hurricane days this fall (yay el nino!) we get an extra day off from school and don't have to go back until Decemberfreakingfirst, ya'll. You can best believe I'm pretty thankful for that.

And speaking of stepping away from the Food Network, Sean does not think that Paula Deen's Deep-Fried Cranberry Sauce Fritters sound like a little piece of breaded heaven. I think he's crazy and needs to be committed.

But then again he may have had a different opinion if he actually saw her make them with Kermit the Frog.

A Tasty Weekend

Since my last update regarding partying through October, we partied some more...

Took advantage of the long weekend to head to Disney. We hadn't ever done Mickey's Not So Scary Halloween party (totally worth every penny--no lines!) and I got invited to Epcot's Party for the Senses, so it seemed like a good time to do both.

We stayed at the new Waldorf-Astoria which opened on October 1st, and was absolutely gorgeous. They were offering some pretty sweet Grand Opening specials which actually made it cheaper to stay there than at the Nick Hotel. No choice there. My only criticism may be that it they are going to tout their historic culinary contributions to the world in their in-room brochure--the Manhattan, Veal Oscar, 1000 Island Dressing, the Waldorf salad and Red Velvet Cake--they may actually consider offering them on their pricey menus. I would have paid a handsome sum for the original Red Velvet cake.

But I got my culinary freak on elsewhere.

You'll have to rely on your sense of imagination when I tell you about the Party for the Senses at Epcot since I forgot my camera like the slacker reporter that I am. If I had indeed brought it (which I desperately need a new one) I would have snapped impressive photos of an enormous room with dozens of stations offering the best wines and finest classic cuisine you've seen gathered in one place. Visiting chefs from around the world as well as Disney's award winners prepared an offering of amazing dishes that were delicious. My personal favorites included Confit of Berkshire Pork Tenderloin with Toasted Almond Pain Perdu, Heirloom Apple, and Calvados Cider Reduction, the Herb-Crusted Lamb Chop with Red Wine Cherry Sauce and Crispy Triple Onion Polenta or the Roasted Beef Tenderloin "Diane." I'd list more, but each one has a descriptor twenty words long and it makes me hungry just with the recall.

You probably won't believe me, but I swear it's true: This was my first trip to Epcot's Food and Wine Festival. I may be the only Floridian to ever have written those words in 2009. It is a hopping place and people take their food and wine very seriously. Or at least their wine.

It was absolutely packed on Saturday--the lines for the food stands were decades long and pushing a stroller or seven through the crowds of matching drinking gear T-shirts wasn't exactly a good time for me. Veterans at the party later, which was such a welcome respite from the crowds outside, told me that weekends are usually like that--your best bet is to come during the week. Which is what we'll do if we ever return (sans kids).

But the Party for the Senses was indeed a feast, and I loved every delicious moment of it.

We got home yesterday in time to celebrate the remaining hours of Sean's birthday and the cool weather and gear up for the busy week ahead.

I'm off to the store for that Calvados...

I think they grow weary of my art

Somehow, the "Oh, great," Sean muttered under his breath when I announced I was making homemade sausage for tomorrow's Oktoberfest seemed a little less than sincere.

P.S.

Here's that link to my Kouzzina by Cat Cora post on Whoa Momma.

Me and my friend Cat were doing shots of ouzo together...

I wrote about the actual restaurant, "Kouzzina by Cat Cora" over on Whoa Momma, but for my friends, I wanted to tell you about the experience of meeting her yesterday.

First off, you know how much I love food. Eating it, making it, watching it, talking about it. So when I got the invitation for this about a month ago, there was absolutely no way I was going to miss it. No. Way.

But I had absolutely no idea what to expect. The restaurant soft-opened in August, but this was a special Grand Opening event. All the invitation gave was a date and time and that a special "tasting menu" would be served. In my head, I set the bar for "tasting" to mean either supermarket samples in paper cups or if I really reached, waiters walking around with small portions of miscellaneous food to serve the perhaps thousands in attendence.

Oh no, my friends. Oh no.

There were 8 tables of 8, with one of those reserved for Cora and her immediate family. So by my twisted math, I figured I was one of Cat's 64 best friends. And please don't correct me because it's better if you leave me to my delusions.

There was assigned seating, and the tables were set beautifully with 3 glasses of wine, a shot of ouzo and Pellegrino in front of every chair. There were about 3 waitstaff per diner, and the same for chefs in the kitchen.


We sat down and were greeted by the President of Disney--ah hello--who introduced Cat Cora who might be the only adult woman under the age of 109 shorter than me. (She stood on a box to address us.) There are cameras set up along the entire perimeter, and I just know I'm going to be re-living this moment on a Food Network special soon. She gave her very nice opening remarks, juggling her son on her hip like every other mother I know, then instructed the guests to share a shot of ouzo with her, as she likes to do. It is also her custom to do this after an Iron Chef battle, so then my delusion builds, and I think this must make me an honorary Iron Chef. Or not.

And then they start bringing out the food. Either Cat,(cause BFF's call each other by their first names) her head chef, or her mother, each introduce a dish and give the history behind it. And they are not miniscule portions in sample cups. Nope, 12 courses of the most delicious and full, Mediterranean-inspired plates of flavor you've ever seen, paired with wines from her own winery label, "Coronation."



Cat starts making the rounds and personally speaks to every single person in the restaurant. Graciously posing for pictures, answering questions, smiling...and then her mother comes around and does the same. When Cat comes to me, I think I just sputtered out some unintelligible garlic-scented drivel since I had just tried the Chilled Salt-roasted Beets with Skordalia which I think translates to "big pillow o' yummy garlic." I am a little star-struck. I admit this freely. I kick myself for not asking for a photo.

So we proceed like this for a couple of hours, dish after dish, until our limbs have petrifield into bubbling souflee cups. But I seriously don't want to leave. I feel like I should help with the dishes or something.

Because it really was that intimate. It shouldn't have been--who am I to be treated to something the exectuive chef of Bon Appetit is preparing? (Did I mention I have every single issue of that magazine since 1994? Seriously, ask Lisa.)

But I was, and that's how it felt--being treated like I was a guest in her home--a great big, well-staffed home--but a home nonetheless. And as I looked around the room, I realize I'm glad that I am star-struck. I am glad that I eat everything placed in front of me--not that anything is a stretch except for the Brussel Sprouts because I really, really, really hate Brussel Sprouts--and allow myself to enjoy the gift I was given as my hostess intended. I am glad that I can be appreciative of every single bite whether it was something I was familiar with or not.

On the way out, I get up the nerve to say "Thank you," to her as she's cutting up dessert for one of her four sons. She smiles, I know she's got hours of interviews ahead of her, and thanks ME for coming which I almost have to laugh out loud at the lop-sided absurdity of it.

But I don't.



Instead, we pose for a picture together and I try to absorb all of the sights, sounds, tastes and scents of a memorable afternoon.

Even the Brussel Sprouts.





We start with Greek salad but it's made with arugula--a much better choice for a Mediterrean salad than wet iceberg lettuce if you ask me. It had a lovely oregano vinegarette, and tomatoes that are actually grown on property.



Spanakopita. Deliriously good Spanakopita.



Pastitsio, a Greek lasagna, but this one has this cinnamon-stewed meat sauce, Bucatini pasta and a Bechamel. I am still full.




these are the salt-roasted beets. I didn't even know I liked beets, but hello? Seriously good stuff, and so pretty...



Traditional Gigantes beans--Cat's mom taught us how to pronounce it, but I can't remember.



Here's the Fisherman's Stew--scallops, red snapper, mussels, fennel, sea goodness.



This is the oak-grilled Lamb burger. If there was anything on the menu that I couldn't finish, it was unfortuantely this because it was just too spicy for me. Which made me really sad, because I love lamb, and the homemade roll and tsizki sauce were lucious.



And finally, dessert. Or should I say, desserts? Chocolate Budino cake (molten), Baklava, and Greek-style yogurt sorbet with fresh berries in that little jar in simple syrup. We were also served a Frappe that was a deleicious ending.

Did I mention I love stuffed grape leaves?

Either the culinary gods are applauding my efforts of late, or they are completely disgusted and want to show me how real chefs cook.

I'm okay with either one of those reasons.

Because on Thursday, I get to meet Cat Cora of Iron Chef and general culinary brilliance fame.

I get to meet her, and taste some of her new dishes she's whipping up for a new restaurant in Disney, "Kouzzima." And I am so excited I've started fasting right now.

So fellow foodies, don't hate me because I'm about to eat beautifully. I will check on doggie bags...