Archive for the ‘Perfect’ Category

“Like Snapple Peach Iced Tea on steroids.” That’s how our friends described this little punch as we lounged poolside over the weekend. We had a play date, you see, at a friend’s pool on Saturday and we were already bringing the pitcher. Our hostess had not been able to find one in plastic, a requirement for bibulousness by her building’s pool. Being awesome, Mr. T and I had found one in a random grocery store on a trip a few weeks before and were super excited to present her with this great find, but how could we bring such a classy vessel to a party empty?

We couldn’t. Exactly. So, Saturday morning I was glaring accusatorily at some very ripe peaches on the counter trying to come up with something suitably tasty and eventually thought to myself: “peaches! bourbon! tea!” And soon I had a couple of peaches macerating in bourbon and lemon juice as well as some strong tea brewed up and sweetened with honey. A few hours chilling and we were off to the pool. The mixture was refreshing and full of nuanced flavor–the peach, the tea, and the bourbon were all identifiable, but pleasantly so. Everything played really well together, and it was neither too sweet or overly alcoholic–just right for sipping poolside on a mellow Saturday afternoon.

And yes, I wasn’t organized enough to take a picture… again. But you’ve all got imaginations, right? Use ‘em. And that’s THE WORD.

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We were scheduled to have dinner with some friends on Tuesday–not exactly conducive to a multi-course production, either at home or out at somewhere fancy… After SEVERAL rounds of emails, pizza emerged as the desired foodstuff. But then where to go? Rather than go around the bend arguing about which place was least inconvenient for the most people, we shortcircuted to delivery. And as it happens, D.C. has experienced something of a pizza renaissance recently, so even picky ol’ me was happy. Excellent.

With the pizza problem solved, I just stopped at the market on the way home for lettuce and ice cream. Everyone else was bringing beer, so I wanted to supply a nice Caesar salad and for dessert, affogato (vanilla ice cream + a shot of hot espresso = delish & done). And a homemade dressing is just so, so much better than the bottled kind–all a-gloop with stabilizers, emulsifiers, thickeners and (crappy) cheese. Oh yes, there is no cheese in Caesar salad dressing. NONE. Your Parmesan belongs on top of the salad, added at the last minute in a drift of thin, salty shards. Anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar.

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So, yes, while the only sounds coming from the PF kitchens of late have been the chirp of crickets, I do have a post up on my lovely friend Laura’s blog, JourneyChic. I discuss the importance of champagne and how to create a Bellini Bar, one of my favorite drinks setups for a truly festive time. Et voila!

Because I am slightly dumb, and nothing if not ambitious, I recently elected to invite people over for dinner the night before I left for a conference. That would be the slightly dumb part. Of course, I could not merely suggest that we go out; that would be the ambitious bit. After years of painfully-earned experience, however, I have learned that reality tends to intervene–the nerve! So, I had to come up with a tasty menu that I could shop for, prep, and get on the table between leaving the office and the arrival of my delightful guests. (Did I mention that I had elected to go out for drinks and then watch two hours of Futurama on Thursday night? Dumb, dumb, dumb.)

It was also hot hot hot (as Nanny would say), so I turned to my trusty Salade Niçoise to provide a bright and savory–yet cooling–entree. I also picked up some nice cheese and nuts to create a snacking buffer so no one would starve whilst I banged out the salad’s components. It’s merely a matter of keeping a pot of water on the boil for the eggs, potatoes and beans, and then cutting everything else up, though, so dinner was in the bag. Dessert, however, still necessitated some attention… and ambition.

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So, after a week in New Orleans, a barbeque cocktail party, and a delicious Persian dinner (khoreshte aloo esfenaj–my faaavorite), I found myself in need of some recuperative sustenance. I often turn to rice in such dire times, and what better accompaniment than a super simple scrambled egg and tomato stirfry? A fond memory of my long-ago studies in Beijing, 番茄炒蛋 is an ur-food in China. You’d never see it on any menu, but I’d wager that every even vaguely Chinese person on the planet holds it close to their hearts. It’s such a cultural touchstone that it was used to describe the (somewhat unfortunate) red and yellow uniforms the Chinese Olympic team wore…

I learned this by watching the cooks in the cafeteria every morning. It’s pretty basic, and while you could add ginger or garlic (or “magic taste powder”, ahem), I like this fairly unadorned–particularly perfect after a week of partying. It’s a comfort food for, like, 1.3 billion people; how bad can it be?

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Checking in again from NOLA, center of all things decadently delicious and ever so raffishly decayed. In a town famed for food, there are several big ticket items one needs to eat. At the basic end, it’s fried things and sandwiches–beignets, po’boys, and muffelatta. On the advice of some local friends, I dragged my fellow conventioneers to Cochon Butcher–the sandwich-y offshoot of the eponomous restaurant justly famed for curing its own meats and such  (it is ALSO awesome). I had the mufellatta, a stack of house-cured meats with a fabulously piquant relish and it was simply amazing. Not sure how many liberties the ladies behind the counter took (we also paused to get temporary tattoos with them…), but I’m giving it a huge thumbs up anyway.

I’m at a conference in a town well known for its divine food and generally excellent debauchery: New Orleans. Stop the first? Cafe du Monde for beignets. Not sure I appreciate the frenetic atmosphere, or, saints preserve us, the beignets. They’re fried dough… with heaps of powdered sugar. I don’t really get it–I thought they’d be like little doughnuts or zeppoli or something a little more tender. Oh well. Everything else we’ve encountered so far, though, has been amazing. More dispatches to come from the Big Easy when I can elbow my way back onto a computer.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. I forgot to take pictures AGAIN. This is the second (and a half) time I’ve made this damn thing–devoured without complaint on both outings, thankfully–but I am a total bonehead and didn’t manage to take real pictures. This is what happens when you get up at 5:30 to turn the oven on and then go back to bed, I suppose. So, apologies for the dreadful phone pic. In any event, you should make this. It’s good.  And now, back to your regularly scheduled post:

I recently (well, a few months ago) started and new job and one of the first things I did was come up with this nice little brunch casserole. I had been invited, you see, to the division’s monthly birthday potluck breakfast to-do and since momma didn’t raise no fools, I knew I needed to distinguish myself at the buffet table.  Those timecards don’t do themselves, after all… Since it was for the May birthdays and the titular theme was Cinco de Mayo, I headed south for inspiration, spicing up your average bread pudding with roasted poblanos, chorizo, and a blend of Mexican cheeses.

While there are quite a few moving parts to this, it’s really not hard. And it’s nice to be able to just heave it in the oven first thing and then have a hot brunch dish all read’ ta go once you’ve gotten your face on and all. Also, do note that in the office brunch sweepstakes, sweets are easy and easily purchased–savory wins extra bonus points. Game on.

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Naturally, now that I’ve totally missed the deadline for the Post’s annual summer tomato recipe contest, I found myself with a big handful of home-grown Juliette tomatoes–from my boss’ garden, no less. Given this somewhat belated bounty’s very special provenance, I felt the need to do something special with them.  As I toyed with them in my office trying not to just eat them there and then, it occurred that they’re a lovely size for stuffing–petite oblongs just shy of 2″ long. Perfect for a nice cocktail nibble.

But… the stuffing. I knew what I didn’t want in the filling for my summery tomatoes: anything bready, cheesy, hot or heavy. I did, however, want to include sundried tomato to punch up the flavor. What else could improve tomato but another form of tomato? Well, how about some basil, garlic, and briny caper? To stick it all together cream cheese could have been just the thing, but then I wouldn’t have been able to eat them. Boo. So I turned to cannellini beans, my secret weapon for turning just about anything (savory) vegan. With a tomato-y riff on my beloved Tuscan bean dip, I’d have a tasty filling for my fancy fresh produce. Excellent.

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And now for another chapter from The Pamplemousse Chronicles, aka My Grapefruit Affair.  I had a version of this somewhat unprepossessing (even taking into account my crappy photo…) but excruciatingly tasty cocktail at Proof  a few months ago and it’s been haunting me since. I can’t quite remember all the sordid details, and their cocktail menu isn’t online–perhaps unsurprising for a wine bar–but the basics of grapefruit, bourbon, and honey are easily brought together and really quite magical, despite the unadorned brown-ness of it all.

The combo is, if not more than the sum of its parts, certainly very different in a mysteriously alchemical kind of way. Upfront there are distinctly lush, almost creamy notes that brighten into big, juicy citrus before fading into a mellow bourbon-y vapor. SO. GOOD. At least I think so. And, had I been allowed to use the good bourbon, even better, I’d think.

Interestingly, this is the second stringer Brown Derby. The better known cocktail of the name involves rum, lime, and maple sugar. Sounds interesting, but nothing captivates my tastebuds like grapefruit… with BOURBON. I mean, c’mon.

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