Props Prowl

I'm on the prowl for props. Not like, "hey, give the girl some props!" kind of props (though, I will never turn down one of those props) but more like vintage bowls, plates, cups, silverware, linens props for my foodie pictures. I feel like I've been using the same 3 plates for my pictures since I started this crazy adventure. It's high time I find some new stuff.

My mom and dad were in town the last 10 days and we toted the kids to a little town here in Texas called Bellville. Not much there. But there is one store that was so great, Nothing Ordinary. It is filled top to bottom with goodies.

Each child was pawned off on an adult. Three kids and four adults, okay, we can do this. As you all know, three year old children love to touch everything. I still love to touch everything as I wander through the store, so I felt sorta bad staying on them so much about not touching when I turned around and picked up a glass plate, but as I often say, "only mommies can do this".

I decided that because my littlest one was crabby and I wasn't so confident that I could maneuver his stroller through the store of teetering antique shelves with loads of depression glass, that I would break out the "slingshot" as I like to call it, or as it's really called, The Moby Wrap. For those of you who do not know what it is, it's a baby carrier but made out of a gigantic piece of fabric that is stretchy and soft. You wrap yourself in it, now resembling Pancho Villa, and stick your baby in it, giving you hands-free shopping abilities...sorta.

I faced him outwards so he could see everything and be more pacified. What I didn't think of was that his arms are longer than I remember and so I had to try and look at things or pick things up with an extra foot and a half distance between me and the potential prop. His arms were like 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea but in a cuter, more babyish way, but just as annoying! This makes for a weird, squatting-like-Chris-Farley-in-the-"Down-By-The-River"-skit way of shopping. Trust me on this. All of that ridiculousness and still he was fast but I had to be faster.

Regardless of batting away his hands from china and delicate figurines, I found some goodies. I have a gravy boat fetish and any kind of unusual tea cup fetish. I love cookie cutters and cool silverware. These just happened to have an "L" engraved on them, so it was a sign that I was supposed to get them. I don't know if the hubs thought that was much of a "sign". 

Somehow, I exited the store when it came to ring up the bill, using the excuse that the kids needed a snack...outside. I was watching him through the wobbly, antique-y glass. I'd smile and he wasn't smiling back. Hmmm. I thought one of two things. One, he didn't seem me because there was a glare, or two, he saw me but was annoyed by the bill. Yes, it was the latter and I know this because after a moment of me staring at him with a cheesy grin, I see him silently mouth, "Forty-two dollars." Oops. He wasn't mad, just not his chipper self. I quickly reminded him of the big picture. How this forty-two dollars won't mean a thing when I am a famous blogger. I think that kinda helped.

So here's the loot.

Cool, huh? I'm quite happy with my little treasures and cannot wait to make stuff to photograph them with! I do apologize for the delay in my postings. I like to post 5 days a week, but with company and being off my schedule, I found it nearly impossible to do so. Things are getting back to normal and my mom is staying with me for a few more weeks. We are off to the antique stores again today to see what we can find! I've missed you all so much. I've got some fabulous ideas churning around in my head. 

Riding Under The Influence

This morning my dad handed me a page out of the paper with this guy in a bicycling uniform holding a glass of wine in one hand and a baguette in the other. It sparked a little memory...

During the time we lived in Northern California, we did our fair share of wine-tasting, close to every weekend. That's when we had the Beamer (now traded out for a clunker mini-van with a gigantic dent in the back, but that's okay with me, it helps me find it in the Wal-mart parking lot) and we would open the moon roof, let our hair fly and go to Sonoma or Napa for the day. It was sorta close to heaven.

My parents loved visiting us there. There is so much to do, so much to see and all within a short drive from the house. Did I mention my mom loves to ride her bike? Did I mention I don't? Did you know that you can do a wine tasting tour while riding a bike? Did I mention this is a stupid idea?

When I was a kid I loved riding my bike. Rode it all the time. Now that I am an adult, it's not so kind to the nether region, if you will. It's uncomfortable...down right painful. But my mom talked me into riding 20 MILES (!) on a bike along the main drag in Napa, where wineries flank you on either side.

We booked this tour a few days ahead. My mom was filled with glee and I with dread. The day arrived, we drove to the little shack of a place to get fitted for a bike and meet our tour guide. Some one said, "Oh, Andre will be out shortly to take you guys on your tour." Andre? Hmmm. Maybe this will be just the perk I needed. Andre sounds cute. Maybe he will take my mind off of this tour from hell.

Out walks Andre. Wah, wah...Not so cute. Not ugly, but not the swarthy, dark, handsome, possibly rugged European man I was imagining. No, he was an 18 year old kid with blond curly hair, dressed in schlep-y clothes. Now that I was focused back on the ensuing crotchal pain, I think I had them put at least 2 extra gel seats on my bike. I sat a foot taller.

It was pretty hot that day. Hmmm. Hot weather, imbibing copious amounts of wine and riding a bike, sounds safe to me! We did have helmets, as I remember. Andre, led us through beautiful countryside. My mom was ooohhhhing and aaahhhing over the view, while I was wincing and shifting through the pain. Thankfully we were Andre's only tourists for the tour, so I could act as ridiculous as I wanted.

I'm no wine expert and honestly, I couldn't tell you where we went that day, except that we got to the fourth winery and I was happy to see they had some crackers to eat with our alcohol consumption. Pretty sure I almost picked up the bowl of crackers and dumped them into my mouth, trying to absorb the wine sloshing around in my stomach. As we exited, I teetered to the right and mom called Andre, "John" or some other name that wasn't his. Andre asked us if we wanted the van to come and pick us up,  because he was definitely worried. I was excitedly nodding my head "YES!" (I was still chewing  my mouthful of crackers) as my mom was kindly NOT accepting his offer.

We get out to the bikes, (and let me tell you, it took a while) and there, what did I see before me? A flat tire on my mother's bike! Glorious! I was saved. My nether-region was saved! I was drunk as a skunk and was in no mood to bike. I wanted the van. I wanted an ice pack. I got the van in about 15 minutes and an ice pack when I got home.

If you are considering such an excursion, do not weigh heavily on my description. I'm sorta a poo-pooer on such tours that require any sort of athleticism. I like to eat and drink, seated in a comfortable booth, surrounded by rich mahogany and white table cloths.

Cheers, my dears!

Pavlova With a Dash of Ina

The only pavlova I've ever eaten is the one I've made. I can't call myself an expert on the things. I do find them sorta luscious. An outwardly crusty, chewy meringue with a soft squishy center. It's thrilling having the sticky sweet meringue cling to my molars as I try to eat it.

As you all know, berries are in season and are gorgeous right now. I'm taking full advantage of their flavor and sweetness. So I dug out my Barefoot Contessa cookbook and found her recipe for pavlova. It's the only one I've ever used and I'm thinking I'll try a different one next time.


Ina's awesome. I love her. I find her elegant, but not snooty. She's chic with a side of "just bein' real". I love how she sets her tables, her use of flowers and how she doesn't plant her garden. She's able to pay off people with her food...that's my kind of bill paying. "I need my garden planted"...Here's a roast chicken dinner. "Hmm, a vase of peonies is just what this dinner party needs"...Here's a vegetable lasagna. Ahh, Ina. I like the way you think, girl. I would love to meet her someday.

So here's the link for the recipe. It's called Mixed Berry Pavlova. It's a stunning dessert, incredibly fresh and great for summer. But I've gotta say, both times my meringue came out, what I would call, under-done. But like I said, I don't know much about pavlovas. I could really use some help on this.

Mine was:
1. crusty, chewy on the outside...yum!
2. BUT, it was sorta a frothy, runny mess on the inside...tasted good, but not what I wanted.
3. stuck really badly to my parchment.
4. other people on the recipe's link said they didn't know what everyone was complaining about with the recipe. Hmmmph.

Regardless, I'm was slightly obsessed with the beauty of the meringue. So tons of pics today:

So, I need an expert (that can be anyone who knows how to bake a pavlova) to tell me, if the consistency was right and I just have a skewed vision of what a pavlova should be or should it have been baked longer? Or maybe a higher temperature? The recipe called for 180 degrees for 1 1/2 hrs. then let it set in a shut-off oven for an additional hour. Should the egg white have been whisked longer or shorter? To me, it almost seemed like there was too much sugar in it. Like it weighed it down, but I don't know, just a hunch.

Please, foodie friends, help me out! I want to make a really good pavlova. I would love your tips or a recipe you love to use. Ina's recipes rarely disappoint, but this one kinda missed the mark for me, or the baker missed the mark in some way...can't imagine that would ever happen. (then she laughs)

I did change up some stuff. I didn't make the raspberry sauce this time. I found it too cloyingly sweet and I'm not a big fan of whipped cream (I know, you're "boo-ing" me right now...it's just too rich for me) so I 86-ed that too. All I did was marinate the fruit in 2 tbls. sugar and 2 tbls. Crown Royale. Just right. I didn't have any vanilla extract (gasp!) and so I had to scrape a vanilla bean and mix it with some rum to make my own. Isn't  it pretty?

(that's me inhaling the essence of Madagascar)

It wasn't a total flop. I mean, we ate it...all. So as Ina would say, "How bad can that be?" And I think she'd  be right.

One Little Beefer

My littlest turned one on Saturday. Oh my. What that does to a mommy's heart. I was reminiscing all day long as to where I was in the process of labor (my midwife had me walking around Lowe's Home Improvement store until my contractions were about a minute apart) and shed some tears as I wrote in  his journal that morning, while the house was still quiet.

I had been preparing all week by making miniature hamburger and hot dogs out of fondant to place on top of his cupcakes. I was inspired by his nickname, Beefers, for the theme of the party. It took me weeks to figure out what I wanted to do. He's too little to love any type of Disney character or for me to know that he loves fire trucks or zoo animals, (but I'm pretty sure he loves himself and so do we) so it was settled. We would have a Backyard BBQ themed 1st birthday party.

Back to the fondant. I've never used this stuff in my life. I've eaten, liked it, watch people on Food Network battle it out for $10,000 with it, but never manipulated it. Now, back in the crafting days of the early '90's my mom and I did our fair share of polymer clay sculpting. Everything from Christmas tree decorations to piggy earrings...yes, pig earrings were somehow considered cool back then. I think that training gave me an edge.

I had a blast creating these edible, sugary faux foods. It was an assembling  line that couldn't have been cuter. I love mini things. I was actually bummed when I was done. I wanted more to do.

So here's the run down if you want to make your own little cupcake fondant toppers:

1. Go to your local craft store and buy a box of white rolled fondant, I use Wilton brand.
2. Use the gel paste, not regular food coloring, to color your fondant. Use tiny amounts to start off with. Colors like red and brown required more color than yellows and greens.
3. Mix them with gloves on!
4. Keep fondant that you are not using wrapped up. It dries out quickly.
5. Use cornstarch to keep it from sticking you your board.
6. Use tiny amounts of water to adhere one piece to another.

But I had plenty to do in getting ready for the party, so I did these a couple days ahead and they keep perfectly, most likely, indefinitely.

Those are my rookie tips. I would definitely do it again. I find tedious work like that relaxing, but for some it would equal bald spots...from ripping their hair out. I made 12 hot dogs and 12 hamburgers. Totally Beefer-licious!

He was so excited to check out the cake he put his foot in it. I don't think anyone ate that one.

He refused to wear his hat, which I figured would happen, so his brother and sister gladly helped out in that department...they are still wearing the hats, three days later.

We had a great time and after he figured out what to do with the cake, he was happy for about 3 minutes and then decided he'd had enough.

Happy Birthday, my precious baby boy!

Chopped On the Brain

If I were an Iron Chef...

I'm sitting here choking down a protein bar with a hot cup of coffee. Kinda hard to do. I also believe I jogged (soft "j") to the kitchen to get it. Don't really know why, but here I am trying to feed my brain so I can write you a little something.

I didn't know what a "cloche" was until I watched Chopped on Food Network. It's a dome shaped lid that covers food. It's pretty dramatic, really. I've never been to a restaurant where they serve anything under a cloche (pronounced "klosh"). I think I'd be pretty excited. It's like a surprise. Only on Chopped, it's a bad surprise if your dish makes it under the cloche.

If you haven't watched Chopped, it's a show where 4 chefs come and show of not only cooking skills but problem solving skills. They are given a basket of mystery ingredients for 3 rounds: appetizer, entree and dessert. Each 20-30 minute round someone is kicked off by a panel of hot-shot judges, mostly chefs themselves. These judges hand over a pretty hefty prize of $10,000 to the last chef standing. Not too shabby.

My panel of esteemed judges...lookin' kinda bored

A basket of mystery ingredients could be composed of the following things: kangaroo, fresh peas, peppermint candies and cabbage. Or how about, fresh turbot, ramps, Peruvian potatoes and gingersnaps. Or try your hand at, beets, Lucky Charms, pancetta and dates.(I just made these up, but they are pretty close to the real thing)

Usually what happens is that the first 3 items look pretty decent then they throw in a wild card ingredient that makes everyone roll their eyes, cuss or just look defeated before they can even heat up a saute pan.

From watching this show, I've learned some things. Don't fry stuff. Don't make cake. Don't leave cooking the meat until the end. Don't cook pasta for Scott Conant. Don't give Scott Conant red onions.

I get excited every Tuesday night to watch the mystery basket revealed. I always ask myself, "What would I make with that?" My husband says every time, "You could be on that show. You could do better than those real chefs." Isn't he sweet? Then we look at each other and laugh because we both know how frazzled I can get around dinner time when my own time crunch of wailing baby and irritable toddlers is impending.

But seriously, maybe I could do it. Maybe if I look tough enough they would overlook that I am a cooking school drop out- that I'm somewhat of a poser. Mom/foodie wanna-be chef.

I think my version of Chopped at home is even more intense, except for winning money. Come to think of it, I don't get paid at all for my job. Hmmph. I know good moms say, "I get paid in kisses and hugs and artwork of my children's hands". I'm a good mom but I say, "Honey, that don't pay for my scrap booking supplies and occasional Wal-mart shenanigans (click here for that morsel of goodness)". Oh right, the hubs pays for every thing. But I'm always quick to remind him that I'm the cheapest (as in free) and best daycare we could find.

Alright, Tangent Woman! Back to Chopped. Here is why I think I could do well on Chopped:

1. I can do the serious arm-folding pose to shut down any Iron Chef
2. I can sear a steak to medium rare while feeding a baby snacks, directing toddler traffic upstairs with my voice (aka yelling) and still plan for the next day in my head.
3. I can sharpen a knife on a sharpening steel
4. I cook for my own panel of judges every night.
5. I have had tons of practice.

So Chopped, put that in your basket and cook it! I know, I'm talking some trash. I know I would get frazzled but I could fare pretty well. I do tend to cut and burn myself a lot in the kitchen, so that might be a handicap (see Date Night at Foodie House for first hand, no pun intended, look at that). I'd be that poor sap with the latex glove on, tossing a salad with her hands as the blood pools in one of the fingers of the glove. Ewww. I would definitely try to avoid that situation.

I often have dreams at night where I am in a cooking competition. I never seem to get the dish done so then I guess that would be classified as a nightmare? Yeah, sorta. Regardless, I'm still tempted to fill out that Chopped form on-line, even though it clearly says it's for professional chefs*.

*A note on that, a couple of weeks ago there was a girl on there who's qualifications were that she had a chicken coop and thought she was "the best cook she knew"! She never said anything about the restaurant she worked for...nothing! So I thought, "Well, crap! I could get on there too!" I don't have the chicken coop thing going for me, but I've got experience in a stressful kitchen.

I'll let you know what happens.

Opera Eggs

Watch this scene from Moonstruck...it's one of the best scenes in the movie. So great! If the screen is black just click on it. (I apologize for the Geico commercial)

If I were take deviled eggs to the opera, they would have to be dressed up.

Cher goes to the opera. She acts reluctant, but in the quiet of her house as she is getting ready you can see the excitement bubble up. She's gone and had her grays covered, makeup done,  and buys a sassy little frock. She mets Nick Cage, wonky wooden hand and all, at the opera. She cries some of the most beautiful movies tears you have ever seen. I could go on and on. But I'm really here for the eggs. Speaking of eggs, this is such a "foodie" movie, the best toad-in-the-hole breakfast ever and made by Olivia Dukakis, no less.

Right, back to the eggs. Normally I think picnics and potlucks when I think deviled eggs. There's simply nothing wrong with that, just like there wasn't anything wrong with Cher in Moonstruck at the beginning of the movie, BUT she did long for some pampering and love...so do my deviled eggs.

I gladly answered their cry for a make-over. Rummaging through the frig is always the best way to find inspiration. I found some green onions, half a lemon that needed to be used, fresh dill, a half-eaten block of cream cheese, oh, and not found in the frig were two eager helpers. Eager doesn't usually equal delicate or gentle in my book, especially when it comes to three year olds peeling hard boiled eggs. I think Lily actually took the egg and whacked it on the counter like she was cracking a nut, split the darn thing in two. When that didn't work I sent them over to the sink to play in the dirty dishes...they happily obliged.

The way I grew up eating deviled eggs was the way my mom made them and I still think they are one of the best ways to eat them. Miracle Whip, yellow mustard, salt and pepper. That's it. None of my fancy stuff, but I just had to be fancy, I had Moonstruck on the brain.

My littlest one was looking on, munching on his cracker and looks like he's got something pretty important to say. Gosh, he's cute.

I must tell you, if  you have not seen Moonstruck, you absolutely must rent it. As you can see, its one of Cher's best performances and Nick Cage (I love how I call him "Nick", like I know him personally) is a complete wild man. Awesome. If you really want to get crazy, play La Boheme, while you make these.

Opera Egg Recipe (Made-over Deviled Eggs)

6 eggs, hard boiled
2 tsp. lemon juice
zest of half a lemon
2 tbls. cream cheese
2 tbls. miracle whip
1 tbls. minced fresh dill
1 green onion, minced
1/4 tsp. Dijon mustard
salt and pepper
6-8 crumbled croutons (click HERE to get my Quickie Crouton Recipe and Video)
Dill to garnish with

Best way to boil and egg. Cover your eggs with water in a heavy pan. Bring just to a boil. Turn off, cover, remove from heat and let set 10 min. Perfect eggs, no ugly green ring.

Chill eggs in ice bath, peel, cut in half lengthwise. Pop out yolks and set in a bowl. Add all ingredients except for croutons and extra dill. Mix well, taste for salt and pepper and put into a ziploc bag. Snip off corner and pipe in your filling into the egg whites. Top with crushed croutons and dill. YUM!

Here are the smashed eggs my kiddos helped me with. They are beautiful in their own toddler-esque way.

You could eat your old maid deviled eggs or you could find love and romance by making these Opera Eggs...(this is where I break out into my faux opera-singing voice, preforming an impromptu aria)

Happy egg deviling, my dears.

She Thought Herself Wylie Dufresne's Sous Chef...If Only For a Moment

(got this off of Sheknows.com, but I pretty sure they got it from Bravotv.com)

I tend to have a wild imagination - one that would often times get me in trouble during the school day in elementary, because I was usually looking out the window day dreaming. I still find myself swept away with my little mental escapades.

The other day, I was making frozen yogurt. I was thoroughly inspired by Lisa, over at Korean American Mommy, with her version of frozen yogurt. I had over-bought yogurt that week and need to use it up fast. I had never made frozen yogurt because it just didn't sound that good to me. I have two memories of frozen yogurt. One was the 1988 version of Dannon yogurt thrown in the freezer to make a solid block of unsweetened yogurt on the top with all the sweet stuff at the bottom. I remember trying to scrape away at the crystallized, rock hard yogurt with my plastic spork during lunch in the school lunchroom- frustrating to say the least. I would just reach the sweet fruity goodness at the bottom an the bell would ring. All that furious scraping for nothing. The other was TCBY "yogurt", which I know the slogan was "I Can't Believe It's Not Yogurt", but seriously, I don't believe it. Let's just call it what it was...soft serve ice cream.

So anyways, back to staring at the yogurt in my frig. I pull it out, grab a bag of frozen organic blueberries and went to work. Made the blueberry syrup, strained the yogurt, mixed it, froze it (in the ice cream freezer). As I scraped out the frozen goodness, I noticed an extra frozen sheath of yogurt stuck to the sides of the mixer. I was not leaving that. So I grabbed a spoon and started chiseling away. Seriously, chiseling. ( I was having a few lunch room flash backs) What came out were the most gorgeous shards of blueberry frozen yogurt. I took a bite. It was crispy, almost like a wafer, then it melted so perfectly on my tongue. I thought, "I could be Wylie Dufresne's sous chef. He would love this!" Then it occurred to me that he probably makes this kind of thing all the time and would be like, " that's what we give the cat when she is bad!". He's the king of molecular gastronomy. He freezes things with liquid nitrogen like he brushes his teeth, often and with vigor. I'm pretty sure his sideburns alone could whip up a decent tuna tar tar.

I grabbed a peach and halved it. I plopped it down for the photo shoot. It was now the vessel for my REAL frozen yogurt. I delicately placed a scoop of my freshly churned yogurt on top. It looked so lush sitting there as I took it's picture that I just had to take a bite. No need for spoons, just picked it up and bit it. What a great combo! Creamy cold blueberry yogurt on top of a room temperature juicy peach. Colors, textures, temperatures; all there and all working together harmoniously. This would be a great end to a great meal, especially on these hot summer nights.

So Wylie, if you ever need advice on how to freeze something without liquid nitrogen, give me a call.

Frozen Blueberry Yogurt

1 32 oz. container whole organic plain yogurt
1 10oz. bag frozen organic blueberries
1/4 cup (I'm going to stop saying "organic" just assume) sugar
1 tbls. agave nectar

Strain the yogurt for about 15 min to get out some of the moisture. While that's happening, cook down the blueberries with the sugar for about the same amount of time. Place in a bowl in an ice bath to chill it down. Add the agave to the strained yogurt and stir. I strained the blueberry mixture, but you really wouldn't have too.

Mix together, freeze in your ice cream maker and presto! Serve on peach halves or just by itself.