I sometimes feel like I’m running perpetually behind. Is it 5:00 already? Is it February already? How am I suddenly six months pregnant? Remember that vacation we took to Paris last July? I never shared it with all of you because I just finished editing my photos in DECEMBER. Expect a post in about April.

The nice thing about being behind on things is that reminders can feel like discoveries. When editing my Paris photos, I found the pictures I took at a wonderful meal we ate in the Latin quarter at Bistro y Papilles. Located in a small wine store, with a different set menu every night, it was the kind of wonderful meals that makes you feel like you’re really in Paris. The menu that night started with a velvety cauliflower soup, served at the table in a big tureen. We were presented with shallow soup bowls that were garnished with a “salad” with lardons, croutons, cauliflower, herbs and creme fraiche, and the hot soup was ladled over the salad. All the garnishes brought a wonderful textural contrast to the soup, and it was one of the best things we ate that week.

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My Facebook feed has been awash with this piece on the Huffington post by Glennon Melton entitled “Don’t Carpe Diem.” (which might tell you quite about about my Facebook friends). In it, Melton rails against well-meaning busybodies who tell her to enjoy every minute of raising her children. Instead, she claims that she doesn’t love parenting, she loves having parented. And she loves those moments out of time (usually involving sleeping children) when she is grateful for the wonder of her children.

Now, I, too, love those moments. Who doesn’t love those moments? Those moments when the sweetness of your baby, the fullness of your life, just takes your breath away. I’m not disputing that those moments are great. But the rest of this parenting gig doesn’t have to be the hard slog that Melton makes it out to be. (She likens it to climbing Mount Everest. Really? I’ve never gotten frostbite parenting.)

I think there’s been a trend, exacerbated by the internet, of “Keeping it real.” No, parenting isn’t all roses and choruses of angels. Changing diapers is never fun. Sleep deprivation is rarely fun. Trying to find childcare when your kid has the sniffles and you and your husband both have “can’t-miss” meetings at work? Not fun. But this constant complaining I see about how HARD parenting is doesn’t provide the real picture either. I say this: If you aren’t having any fun, you’re doing it wrong.

I am lucky in this way. I realized when the Nuni was VERY tiny that my most miserable mom days were ones where I was trying to get us to conform to some idea I had about parenting. I’d spend the entire day in the house, trying unsuccessfully to get her to nap, only to have my husband arrive home at 5 pm to find a wild-eyed and haggard wife and a cranky baby. On days when I packed us into the car and took us some place — any place — where we could see something together, I would be rewarded with bright-eyed interest and a sound sleep on the car ride home. When I’m trying to accomplish things, whether it’s cooking a meal or running errands or doing laundry, a 4 year old can get in the way. She wants attention, she wants action, she wants her mom. But when I dial down my expectations and actually parent her — let her help break the eggs, or choose the groceries or fold the clothes — we start doing things together, and we have a lot of fun.

I genuinely enjoy my kid. I enjoy those sleeping breathless moments, but I also enjoy the funny conversations, the stories about her school day, the play games where she is “Hermione, and mama can be Pwofessor McGonagall, and Agnes de dog can be Neville.” And I do have to remind myself to enjoy them, like when she’s been in bed 45 minutes and she’s still cycling through her repertoire of songs, making up new lyrics to old favorites. Yes, it would probably be better if she were asleep, but frankly, there’s nothing I can do about that, so I might as well sit in the next room, giggling at her made-up words. The Nuni LOVES going to movies, and her thrill at the big screen and a bucket of popcorn makes up for a mediocre movie. She LOVES shopping for shoes, and going to museums, and mixing batters. If I can let go of some of my expectations and find ways for us to be together, parenting time seems more like playtime, and less like an exercise in frustration.

Kids are fun. Do you remember being a kid, how fun it was? The games you played, the fun and excitement in even the most mundane things? Parenting a kid lets you relive all that. To put away that critical voice from time to time, and just be in the moment. You should carpe that diem. Stop what you’re doing and think about what neat people your children are. Find ways to be with them that’s fun for both of you. Things still need to get done, but with a little attitude adjustment (which, I fully admit, I’m not always capable of), sometimes the “Must do’s” become “Get to do’s” because we get to do them together.

I don’t enjoy every second of parenting, but when I look back over the past four and a half years of time spent with my kid, I think I had fun more often than not. And if I’m not stopping to notice that, I’m missing out. Carpe Diem, indeed.

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2012. | Permalink |
Post tags: parenting

It’s very strange being pregnant in January. It seems like everyone is going on a diet, vowing to lose weight, committing to a high-intensity exercise plan. Me? I’m craving hamburgers, and trying to decide if it’s a good idea to go to a once a week yoga class. I do hope to lose weight this year, but not before I gain a bunch, and I’m just trying to keep up with my protein needs. Oh, and I plan to eat more vegetables.

This time of year has proven to be difficult, anyhow. My dad died a year ago, and while I steeled myself to face the date itself, I’ve found myself feeling a bit more fragile than I normally am. A year is the traditional period of mourning, but while there is a lot of happiness and even joy in my life, I haven’t stopped tearing up unexpectedly, and I still miss him fiercely.

So instead of salads and superfoods, I’ve been seeking out comfort. One of my favorite Friday night dinners is Toad-in-the-Hole — a British classic that’s basically a Yorkshire pudding with sausages. It’s not health food, but it IS comfort food, and it’s made from scratch (OK, I buy the sausages, but you COULD make them from scratch) and there’s a place for that, too.

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Happy New Year! How did you spend the holiday? I’ve been laying a bit low — a pregnancy complication (now hopefully resolved) kept me off my feet (and out of the kitchen) the week before Christmas, and then sciatica (extremely painful lower back and hip pain, unfortunately not uncommon in pregnancy) hit right before New Year’s.

By the time New Year’s Eve rolled around, I was ready to get back into the kitchen.

We’ve given up on going out New Year’s Eve — spending a fortune so that we can fight traffic (remember, we live in Pasadena, which tends to be a zoo on New Year’s Eve), stay up late and drink inferior champagne with strangers sounds like less and less fun as the years pass. Instead, we cook a celebratory meal and eat it at home. With good champagne (this year replaced by Q ginger ale, which was quite good, but not, alas, champagne) and family.

And this year, I decided to roast a goose. I had never had goose before, and most of the people I surveyed hadn’t either. But I was curious, and I love duck, which I figured was similar, so I thought I’d spend the exorbitant money for a special New Year’s Eve dinner. I used a Julia Child recipe similar to this one

It turned out pretty well.

Goose turned out to be a lot like duck, but with darker meat, a stronger flavor, and more fat. The skin is crisp, the meat was flavorful and tender. We all enjoyed it (even the Nuni) but because it’s so rich, we ate small portions. We ate our fill, and there was enough goose for probably 3 more adults. (My mother is turning it into cassoulet).

I decided to cook it using Julia Child’s method, which was really a steam, followed by a braise, followed by a brief roast. The result was that most of the fat was rendered out (and eagerly collected by me.) Some is safely in my refrigerator, but some was siphoned off to make the most glorious roasted potatoes imaginable. The goose was good, but the potatoes were UNBELIEVABLE. It’s worth roasting a goose just to get the fat to roast potatoes in.

(Recipe here.)

We set the table with our wedding china,

and dressed for the occasion.

Agnes of Dog must have some retriever in her, because the scent of roasting water fowl made her want to join the party more than usual.

We ate shrimp and celery remoulade (my dad’s special recipe — we all miss him especially right now), goose, potatoes and salad, and chocolate mousse for dessert. We toasted East Coast New Year’s, and then it was off to bed.

East Coast New Year’s is a perk of living in California.

The next morning we weren’t overtired, or hung over (I suppose I can attribute that to the ginger ale). We woke up to a glorious day (Pasadena always puts on a show for the Rose Parade. Makes the tourists want to move here), went to church, and then ate a lucky New Year’s Day brunch out on the patio. (It was 75 degrees and sunny).

Greens (symbolizing prosperity – that’s Tuscan kale, sauteed in olive oil and garlic), poached eggs on toast, Irish Bacon (pork is lucky because pigs move forward), and tiny yellow tomatoes that looked like gold coins or sunshine. (Nothing says yellow tomatoes are lucky, but look at them — how could they not be?)
We spent the rest of the day being low key, and doing things we hope to do in the coming year — read, spend family time – we even had a date night.

I hope 2012 brings you and yours luck, prosperity and happiness. Happy New Year.

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2012. | Permalink |
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I have waxed rhapsodic on this blog about my love of a traditional Christmas fruitcake, a classic holiday dessert, but my love of fruitcake extends beyond the Dickensian Christmas cake. During my first year of law school, my parents spent the year living in Florence, Italy, and the Christmas I spent with them that year was the only Christmas I have spent away from home (whether home was in California or New York.) What I remember from that Christmas was the cold, damp air, the lights everywhere, but most of all the food. We went to the Mercato San Lorenzo and loaded up on Prosciutto, Grissini, Pecorino, and even, memorably, whole black truffles that we shaved over pasta for New Year’s Eve. But what I loved the most were the sweets. Panettone in every bakery, and even better, panforte, a fruitcake like confection which may be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.

Panforte, a specialty of Siena, a hill town near Florence, dates back to the middle ages, when it was paid as a tax to monks and nuns, and was reportedly carried by Crusaders on the crusades. A combination of fruits and nuts, honey and sugar and spices, it is a cross between a caramel based candy and a cake. It is also utterly addictive, with a satisfying chew from the fruits and the caramel, and a crunch from the nuts.
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Post tags: cake, candy, Christmas, holiday

This post is sponsored by Serve from American Express. Sign up for Serve and receive $10 credit towards your first use. Comment below within the next 7 days for your chance to win an extra $100 credit to your account!

When I first moved to L.A. 6 years ago, I left my group of girlfriends behind in New York. I needed some friends, stat, so I joined a book club. Six years later, these ladies have become my group. We’ve seen each other through weddings, divorces, childbirth, house fires. We meet every six weeks or so at each other’s houses, to eat snacks, drink wine, and even, occasionally, discuss a book. The size of our groups waxes and wanes — people leave the area, or get busy. People have other commitments, or go on vacation. But once a year we splurge and hit the town — no reading obligations, no hosting obligations. Just our sparkly shoes and the company of good friends at a great holiday dinner. That meeting is always the best attended of the year. These women have become such an important part of my life, I wanted to give you glimpse.

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I’m trying to go just a little easy on myself this Christmas season. It’s one of the busiest times of the year at my job job, and with all the shopping, decorating, travel planning, and crafting, not to mention the whole “growing a human thing” which has me exhausted by 9 pm each night, I don’t need to go baking a bunch of cookies I probably shouldn’t be eating anyway.

At least, this is what I tell myself. The reality is that last Saturday I found myself with 3 dozen cookies to deliver for a bake sale for charity, and 5 dozen to deliver for a cookie swap. I guess there’s no escaping the cookies.

Fortunately, some kind soul long ago invented the bar cookie, which have the advantage of being delicious, baking up in one batch, and easily cutting up into 3 or 4 or 5 dozen individual bites of goodness. These hazelnut blondies, inspired by things like Nutella and my favorite condiment, are simple and a little individual. You don’t see them everyday, and the rich taste of the hazelnuts just make these a perfect holiday cookie.

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It’s that time of year. Yes, peace and love and joy and family and cookies and all that, but also the time of year when you find yourself looking for gifts for a variety of people. People like your clients, your boss, your brother in law, your boyfriend’s dad.* In times like these, the eager giver turns to Scotch Whisky (note the lack of an “e.” If you’re drinking whiskey, you’re in the wrong country). Scotch is a good gift — it’s expensive enough to convey value, but not so expensive it will bankrupt you. It’s sophisticated, a little exotic, implies that you know a lot about the finer things in life. The question becomes what scotch to buy. This guide will give you a little overview of how to choose a nice bottle of scotch if you are not a scotch connoisseur, as well as discuss it reasonably intelligently with the giftee.

*Although I know many women who drink scotch, I know of no woman who has ever received a bottle of scotch as a gift. I, for one, would much prefer to receive a nice bottle of scotch than either a scented candle or bath products.
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Post tags: alcohol, booze, Christmas, gift guide, Scotch

I spent most of the day in the kitchen (making spiced cranberry sauce, sweet potato gratin, kale with cream, pancetta and walnuts, buttermilk spice pie and chocolate pie.  This was added to turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie, creamed green beans, roasted brussels sprouts, homemade rosemary rolls, sage stuffing, fennel apple stuffing and jello salad provided by relatives for our feast), which is a great place to reflect on my blessings.  I am lucky to have a comfortable house in a beautiful town, a job that allows me to pay for said house and said food, a very loving dog to clean up any food I drop on the floor, and a blog that gives me a creative outlet and even occasionally allows me to be helpful.

But most of all I am thankful for my family.  I am blessed to have a loving and close extended family (who are great cooks!) a close friendship with my mother who lives nearby, a loving and helpful and funny husband who is still my best friend and favorite adult after 13 years together, and a daughter who daily delights, amuses, and surprises me.

And I am also thankful that in May, if all goes according to plan, that family will be expanded by one.  This is Roo.  He or she is currently approximately the size of a large lemon, and moves just like the Nuni does.  You may have noticed that I’ve been a little quiet lately — I’ve been battling morning and evening sickness and exhaustion, but we seem to be past the worst of that (knock on wood) and I’m thrilled to share this with all of you.

Happy Thanksgiving indeed.

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The first Thanksgiving I ever cooked without the August wisdom of my mother and aunts was my junior year in college. I was studying abroad in London, and our study abroad program had been kind enough to purchase the fixings for a traditional Thanksgiving dinner and offer to host it at the center where we took classes (which was a gorgeous Georgian terrace house with a huge kitchen). My roommate and I, filled with the cockiness of youth, volunteered to host. Then the requests started. “We’re having mashed potatoes, right? It’s not Thanksgiving without mashed potatoes.” “My family always had roasted potatoes.” (Dramatic sigh) “It’s hard to be so far away from family on Thanksgiving.” “What do you mean you can’t find sweet potatoes in London?” (It was true — things that proved difficult to make in London in 1998 included sweet potatoes with marshmallows, cornbread, and cranberry sauce.) Even the Brits, who by all rights should have had no skin in the game — offered an opinion. “We always wrap our turkey in bacon.” “What do you mean you don’t know what parsnips are? You have to have parsnips with turkey!”

Eventually we shooed them out of the kitchen, opened (several) bottles of wine, roasted the turkey (sans bacon), the potatoes AND the parsnips, mashed potatoes as well, and even managed to get marshmallows and sweet potatoes kindly brought over by my roommate’s parents who visited the week before Thanksgiving. Dinner was a raging success (if I do say so myself), but it’s possible that I had had enough wine that I’m not exactly remembering correctly. There are a couple of photos from that dinner, including one of my then-boyfriend, now husband (wearing what appears to be an undershirt, which he would never get away with now), and we are DEFINITELY a few sheets to the wind.

It was a learning experience, though. Thanks to that Thanksgiving, and a few more I picked up over many years of Thanksgivings, here are some tips I have on hosting Thanksgiving.

• Overbuy on the wine. Family gatherings can be seriously fraught. Tempers run high, people get stressed. Things are said. One year my father in law came to our family Thanksgiving and my grandmother had told our whole family his name was Bruce. Which it is not. Wine is a social lubricant. If your family doesn’t drink, well, spike the punch. Thanksgiving is an EMERGENCY. Just watch Uncle Mort’s glass — there’s just enough wine to make everyone happy and relaxed, and then there’s too much wine. Have some sparkling water or juice to offer as a chaser.

• You can’t please everyone. Most people have a VERY SPECIFIC IDEA of what Thanksgiving dinner looks like. I believe that Thanksgiving dinners should be potluck — make it your guest’s problem. If your friend John NEEDS to have green bean casserole on Thanksgiving, tell him to bring it. Anyone can make Green Bean Casserole. Seriously.

• Turn off the football. At least for dinner. That’s what DVR is for, right? We as Americans are constantly distracted. There should be ONE meal a year where everyone sits down and focuses on what they’re eating and who they’re eating it with.

• Seating Charts are Lame. One year we went to my husband’s family for Thanksgiving, and we were seated at the kids’ table. With the kids of some friends of theirs. We were 25. We were seated with an 8 year old and a 10 year old we had never met before. Rule of thumb: If you are paying taxes, you do not have to sit at the kids’ table. If there are only 2 kids, make their parents sit with them, instead of forcing them on strangers. Or you know, let people sit where they want. I know! A novel concept in this day and age.

• Nobody cares about the food. I mean, I care about the food, because I like to cook, and I like to eat good food, but honestly, once you’re sitting down, with the warm glow of wine and family, nobody’s treating this like a restaurant meal. Nobody really cares if the turkey’s a touch on the dry side, the cranberry sauce is too tart, the pie crust isn’t flaky enough. This holiday isn’t really about food — food is just an excuse. It’s a holiday about gathering together and being thankful to have people to gather with. To take a day to think about our blessings, to celebrate our luck. Food is what it always is — the glue that binds people together – the universal experience. The things you remember about Thanksgiving aren’t that year Auntie Suzi made the mincemeat pie (although my Auntie Suzi makes a great mincemeat pie), but the experiences and the people you share them with. The funny stories, the awkward seating arrangements, the holidays in a foreign land. Relax, and be thankful.

© Kate for Savour Fare, 2011. | Permalink |
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