A big bowl of comfort

I posted this picture of our first winter snowfall this past Saturday on my way to meet my brother and his girlfriend for brunch.  We left The Smith almost three hours later following a 35 minute wait for our table, a spicy bloody with olives and pickles at the bar, and (for me) salmon benedict with the hollandaise on the side (delish!)  I’ve lived in the city long enough to have known better than to expect the same picturesque winter scene post-brunch.  No, instead I found myself meandering through sidewalk puddles and jumping over corners that looked like this:

and this:

But I had no choice.  Sure, I had substituted a side salad for the home fries but regardless, the thirty block walk home was my penance for that hollandaise sauce.

Less than four blocks into my walk home and I knew I wanted to get there and stay put for the rest of the day.  It was just that cold and gross out.  I’d been flirting with the idea of this recipe for a few weeks but hadn’t been able to find any time to get down to business with it.   Once home though, weighed down with bags of ingredients, I was actually thrilled for the weather outside…it was suddenly the perfect excuse to hole up alone, cooking and drinking wine all evening.

The results were this!

Potato, Cheddar, and Ale Soup 

(source: The Crepes of Wrath)

Ingredients:

• 1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
• 1 large yellow onion, diced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 2 large Idaho potatoes, diced and separated (skin on or off, whatever your preference)
• 1 cup chicken broth or stock
• 1 12. oz Ale-style beer
• 3/4 cup shredded jack and cheddar cheese (or whatever you like/have), plus 1/2 cup for garnish
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 teaspoon pepper
• 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar
• a big handful of pretzels (for garnish)
• sour cream (if you like)

1. Set a large pot over medium-high heat and add the olive oil once it’s hot. Saute the onions for 5-7 minutes, or until soft, then add the garlic and saute for another couple of minutes.

2. Add 1 diced potato and brown a bit. Stir to prevent sticking, and add the beer and broth after about 8-10 minutes. Let simmer uncovered for 15 minutes or so, or until the potatoes are tender. Fill a small pot with water and add the other diced potato. Bring to a boil, then reduce to medium heat, and cook for 10-15 minutes, until the potatoes are tender. Drain and set aside.

3. Use an immersion blender, regular blender or food processor to puree the soup until smooth. Add in the salt, pepper, paprika, and apple cider vinegar and blend. Then add in the cheese and blend. Taste and adjust seasonings as needed. Return to the pot and reduce the heat to low. Stir in the other diced potato.

4. Ladle into bowls and garnish with crushed pretzels, cheese, and sour cream. Serves 2 for dinner, 4 for an appetizer.

Just three key learnings from novice me!  First, I think I over-simmered the onions and potatoes in the broth and ale (step 2) slightly because the mixture was thicker than I had anticipated.  I also used 75% reduced-fat cheddar later in the recipe which led my “soup” to a consistency that would probably better be described as a stew.  Second, if you’re going to crumble pretzels as garnish, or serve with crackers, cut the salt in half.  The pepper and cayenne are season enough.  Finally, if you’re going to invest the time and effort into making this soup/stew, I highly recommend you double the recipe so as to emerge from your kitchen with more than just enough for two dinners.  Of course, I can’t testify to how well it will freeze…but definitely worth a shot.

Inspired by the smell of my kitchen (or maybe my second glass of wine), I also baked a loaf of bread while I was at it.  Yes, random.

Whole Wheat Zucchini Banana Bread

(source: Chef Marcus Samuelsson)

Ingredients:

• 2 eggs
• 1/4 cup honey
• 1 cup mashed banana
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 1 tsp vanilla extract or vanilla bean paste
• 1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
• 3/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1 medium zucchini, grated
• 1 cup chocolate chips, raisins, dried fruit, nuts, or a mixture of any of these

1. Preheat oven to 350.  Lightly grease a standard-sized loaf pan.

2. Beat together the eggs, honey, banana, brown sugar, and vanilla until well-combined.

3. In a medium-sized bowl, sift together the flours, salt, baking powder, baking soda, and cinnamon.  Mix into the egg/banana mixture just until combined.

4. Stir in the zucchini and chocolate chips, just until combined.

5. Pour into the loaf pan and bake for 50 to 55 minutes or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean.  Let rest for 20 minutes before removing from the loaf pan.  Cool completely on a wire rack.

I’m generally not a fan of chocolate chips, raisins or nuts in baked goods so I threw two handfuls of dried cranberries in instead (and no, they’re not “practically” the same thing as raisins).  Regardless of what final ingredient you decide on, you’ll be eating what I originally thought of as “one tiny loaf of bread” for days…but that’s not a complaint!

On the topic of recommended recipes for comfort food, I thought I’d throw out this recipe for Orecchiette all Norcina as well.  The recipe is this blogger’s take on the creamy mushroom and sausage pasta dish from Landmarc Restaurant.  I made it a few weeks ago when my brother and his girlfriend came over for dinner.  I didn’t take any pictures (because I was meeting her for the first time and didn’t want her to think I’m a freak…) but go ahead and imagine that my dish looked just like this.  Really, I won’t mind.  In all honesty though, it was – in my opinion – absolutely delicious.  Highly, highly recommend you try it.

Bon Appetit!

Little “luxuries”…plural

I was busted by a colleague earlier today for saying “Having your laundry done and takeout delivered are two small luxuries that I find essential.”

She responded, “Wait a minute!  Last week it was your mani/pedis, massages and Brazilian waxes!”

Okay, so technically my list of little “indulgences” is a bit longer than originally reported…but it’s not as though I’m cruising through the Caribbean every three months.

I did treat myself to a mani/massage on the way home from work tonight though.

It seemed essential.

Oh, and remember when I used to pick my pedi color based on the name of the polish?  I’m back to that silliness…

Current theme: Things I need in life.

Current mani color: French Affair.

Let it snow!

Our first snowfall of the winter is officially here!

The early bird catches the attractive men…in the stairwell

I say that I am traditionally of the belief that if I am going to get stuck late at work, it’s going to happen regardless of what time I arrive.  So rarely do I drag myself out of bed much before 7:45 am, heading out the door by 8:45 am and arriving at the office by 9:05 am.  If I’m completely honest though, I just say this to make myself feel better…because the truth is that I am an utter failure when it comes to being a morning person.  I’ve tried for years to be the type of person who jumps out of bed, energized to start my morning but I just cannot move past my addiction to the snooze button.  I regularly lie there thinking about how I should get up and get to work early but instead I nap between 9 minute snooze button-induced alarms.  This situation takes a dire turn for the worst during the dark, cold winter months when coaxing myself out of bed becomes a useless endeavor.

Amidst a very busy week at work this week, I found myself literally dreaming about the office last night.  I kept waking up throughout the night, half asleep but ticking through the “to do” list for today.  So, needless to say, when my alarm went off at 6:40 am, I couldn’t have gone back to sleep if I wanted to.  (Sure, probably not the healthiest way to develop this ideal habit of mine but it worked nonetheless today!)  Anyway, by 7:30 am I found myself pushing open the door to stairwell B on the 24th floor ready to head out.  And then it happened.

I officially found the attractive men in my apartment building.

The take the stairs at 7:30 am.  Floor 11.  Floor 8.  Floor 5.  Floor 2.  Hello gentleman.

Now it has yet to be seen whether this is actually enough to get me out of bed early tomorrow…or Monday…or Tuesday; however this little tidbit certainly can’t hurt the cause, right?

I hope Murtaugh is wrong

This past weekend forced me to wonder if, in the words of Sergeant Roger Murtaugh,  I was “too old for this shit“.  (And yes, I’m aware that referencing a movie with a 1987 release date probably already answers my question…)  But here’s the story anyway.

I should probably start by pointing out that I really do not like going out on Fridays.  I’ll stay out with you until all hours of the night Saturday through Thursday but there is something I just adore about going home directly from the office on Fridays.  I crawl into bed, order takeout or heat up leftovers, put my phone on silent and hit play on my Tivo.  It’s perfect.

So you can imagine the shock to my system when I found myself among the city’s many commuters at Grand Central Station this past Friday, White Plains bound with two of the girls (and a few station purchased beers which seemed very necessary in the moment…)  Less than an hour later we were at our friend’s place, marveling at the size of her apartment and mixing vodka sodas.  More drinks downtown led to chatting it up with a group of guys who were celebrating their friend’s 41st birthday (with a stripper pole in their party bus- classy) and then the inevitable: we discovered the birthday boy was from Buffalo.  And everyone at home in the Southtowns will appreciate this – he grew up in Hamburg!  Really…what are the chances?!   For those of you not lucky enough to call Western New York home, Hamburg is two towns over from where my mom lives, and where I went to high school.  The usual WNY banter ensued!

The thing I forget, not being a commuter myself (unless you count my 11 block and 1 avenue walk to work every morning a “commute”…), is that there’s such a thing as “the last train”.  And ours was at 1:17 am.  Realizing just how much fun a few of our friends had had (read: how drunk they were), we convinced a cab driver to take us back to the city for $20 each.  Once we knew our little party’ers were home safely, my best friend and I soberly looked at each other and declared “drinks!”  (Okay, technically we came to this conclusion during the drive back to the city with one girl passed out and the other chatting up the driver…but besides the point.)  We walked into one of our favorite neighborhood bars – literally our very own version where everybody knows your name – at about 2 am.  Pickle back shots were lined up before we even had our coats off.  Many shots, many beers and a few karaoke songs later, we finally decided to head out when the lights came on.  You know, indicating that the bar was closed.  Because it was after 4 am.

Except my night wasn’t quite over.  Instead I met up with a friend of the man persuasion for another drink.  And a sleepover.  We spent Saturday morning and afternoon napping and chatting; making out; complaining about the light streaming through the blinds; and ultimately turning the volume up on iTunes when we heard my roommate finally walk through the front door.  (For the record, I’m still not entirely sure where she was all night…)

A quick goodbye around 3:30 pm or so on Saturday afternoon and I had less than an hour to meet up with friends for football at McFadden’s.  Not Bills football.  Obviously.  Don’t be cruel.

Knowing my body wasn’t ready for that first beer, I nursed a spicy bloody mary for a while and then finally felt a shot of social energy return.  Thank god for my girlfriend who asked how my “cuddle time” had been in front of one of the guys who apparently asked if I might be interested in him.  I am not.  At all.  (Key learning: we always think we’re just “one of the guys” but, let’s face it, we’re not…)  The Saints / 49ers game was insanely exciting, and aided by a few “pick me up” shots (beer and amaretto- don’t knock it until you’ve tried it!), I was pretty golden for the afternoon…or at least more golden than someone going on two, maybe three, hours of sleep should have been.  Exhaustion eventually taking over (that is not a complaint), I left our second bar of the day during halftime of the next game, putting the Patriots/Broncos back on in my bedroom as soon as I got home.  There happened to be a commercial on as I crawled into bed, but in all honestly don’t even remember the game coming back from break.  Not that I missed much.  I woke up Sunday morning to a text from one of the girl’s boyfriends, who had joined the crew later: “U suck”.  Wait.  Am I too old for this shit…?!

Well, being too old wasn’t an option on Sunday because the girls and I had a friend visiting from Syracuse for the sole objective of watching the remaining playoff games.  Given that I had gone to bed at what is probably the average bedtime of most 8-year-olds the night before, I popped out of bed at 7 am (which was good because I was able to get a lot done – like catch up on my Tivo – before heading out for the 1 pm game.).  Fueled by a whole wheat bagel and Hoegaarden (oh sorry, what do you drink with your breakfast?!)  but bored to tears by the Houston/Baltimore, and nearly homicidal during the Green Bay/Giants game, I’m lucky I pulled through.  There is nothing worse than watching your imaginary boyfriend favorite quarterback lose to the New York Giants.  Green Bay definitely didn’t look like a 15-1 team and how many times did Aaron Rodgers have to run for the first down?  Four, five…?  Wait, don’t get me started…

Ending the weekend with ZERO teams that I was rooting for advancing to the championship games, at least I got to see Rodgers’ new commercial.  Repeatedly.  And he is looking fiiiiine.

Raaawr!!  (Okay, I really need to stop.  This isn’t healthy anymore…)

Following The Golden Globes (with Mob Wives commercial breaks) back at one of the girls’ apartment, we eventually called it a night.

Committed to a self-imposed detox, the highlight (and only activity) of my day on our holiday Monday was a mani/pedi/massage.  I went for an outrageous pedi color from the Nicki Minaj line through OPI: Fly.  I mean, I figured no one is really going to see it anyway.  Well, almost no one.  I chose something slightly more appropriate for my fingers: Essie’s Absolutely Shore.  And then hid from the world from the safety of my bed, watching season two of Boardwalk Empire (sooo good!) all afternoon.  Well, except to text my girlfriend every time I caught sight of my toes and jumped.  She got the same color….and was doing the same!

$20 well spent

I was pretty disgusted after reading this article and watching a 14-year-old’s unnecessary diatribe of intolerance and anger toward the Girl Scouts for accepting transgendered adolescents into its organization.  My own little response here was to immediately purchase five boxes of Girl Scout cookies.  Best $20 I’ve spent this month!  And because the absolute last thing I actually want in my apartment is five boxes of cookies, I had them sent directly to military serving oversees through the Cookies for Heroes project.  Two birds.  One stone.  I rarely find it acceptable to tell a 14-year-old girl to shove it…but I’ll make an exception in this case.

A boyfriend vs. pills

I was sporting an old man cough earlier this week (very sexy), and enjoying NyQuil induced comas by night, when I finally accepted that I could not let whatever this is get any worse.  So on my way to work yesterday I swung by Duane Reade where I waited patiently – sweating despite the fact that I was absolutely freezing – for the pharmacist to hand over a box of Mucinex DM, which friends swear by.  As the pharmacist inspected my license with a UV black light, furiously entered my personal info into her computer and told me to fork over $30, I contemplated whether the tiny box just outside my reach actually contain cold medicine or something more.  Like meth.

Anyway, despite their annoying commercials featuring those irritating phlegm creatures, it did the trick.  Which is partially why I could actually laugh when I saw this picture in my reader today.  You guess the other reason…oh how situations change.

source: Happy Place

“Forced, awkward, intimate situation that people like to call dating”

I received an email earlier today from someone who follows, and among the many witty and encouraging things she had to say was a link she included to the video below.  Great movie!  Thanks for reading!

“Like, in a car?”

Meeting up with the crew for football yesterday, a few of the  girls asked – between plays, of course – “So how was the date last night?”…

Because my last date was a logistical nightmare, my main priority going in was fundamentals.  And not having food stuck in my teeth.  Either way, for this particular post, let’s just focus on those basic details from Friday night.  And don’t read too much into the lack of sugary, impassioned detail; C’est la vie!

Anyone who lives somewhere in which owning a car is not only common, let alone a necessity, is probably going to find this crazy but for the very first time in my adult life, I was picked up for a date in an actual car.  Before you re-read that, consider that I have lived in Manhattan since the age of 22.  So other than my high school and college boyfriends, I’ve never actually gone on a date that involves being picked up in what I confirmed as “like, in a car?” when we made plans last week.  Yes, like in a car Kate.

Following sheer annoyance after my last date resulted in an 11th hour, unexplained restaurant change (as in, I thought we were walking to The Smith but ended up at Aquamarine…) – indicating a clear lack of reservations – I was pleasantly relieved Friday night to hear, as the hostess looked up, “Reservation for 9:30 pm”.  

My mother will not be pleased to hear this but we went to a great sushi restaurant in Union Square (“Why can’t you eat something cooked, Kate?”) with killer lychee martinis, followed by a few glasses of wine elsewhere.  Despite my mom’s inevitable objection to the consumption of raw fish, I nonetheless managed to enjoy myself…

Fortunately last night did not end with the realization that the man I was having dinner with lives in my building.  (I don’t even think I shared this little tidbit from the last date I went on…thankfully I live in a building with 550 apartments so I have yet to run into him.  This set up clearly does not work well for the whole if-I-don’t-call-back-he’ll-get-the-idea approach to dating.  Well, he’ll still get the idea but it’ll be extra awkward when I run into him in the mail room.  I’m on high avoidance alert for the time being.  And yes, aware that maybe I do need to get out of midtown every now and then…)

And finally, I of course let two of the girls know who I’d be with Friday night and what the plan was.  You  know, just in case I met my untimely demise under mysterious circumstances.  Like on Criminal Minds.  Or Law & Order: SVU.  Or maybe I watch too much TV…?

Now, all-out tangent, but amongst this and our many discussions yesterday, I did have the opportunity to drool over watch Aaron Rodgers’ second State of Imitation commercial.  Repeatedly.  The obsession continues.

While I’m (kind of) on the subject of dating (this post took an unfocused shift at some point…or as one of my friends would say, a “sharp right!”), I wanted to quickly give one of my guy friends a shout-out.  We were having drinks before New Year’s when the topic of relationships and dating came up.  Recently single himself, he is of the opinion that I’ll surely find Mr. Right based on two simple facts:

1. I like sports and don’t necessarily find anything wrong with leaving SportsCenter on when you hook up.

2. I can boil an egg…which apparently indicates a certain lack of naivety and reasonable amount of common sense.

Let’s face it- I need all the encouragement I can get.  So I ordered another Shock Top and made a mental note to boil a few eggs when I got home.  Just for good measure.

Throwback Thursday: girlie board games!

I haven’t had time in the last few weeks to do much more with my Google Reader other than quickly browse through it.  But in finally catching up this evening, I discovered two things.  First, I apparently used to “star” wedding ideas and articles of interest from the 64 bridal blogs I followed daily.  Un-staring them just now wasted 17 minutes of my life that I will never get back.  I’m adding that to the five years my ex owes me.  Second, and much more importantly, I clicked on this LOVELYish article which made me laugh with memories of childhood sleepovers, and of course the makeovers, gossip about boys, midnight snacks and girlie board games that went along with them.  Although in those memories, I know I’m not alone in remembering what a bitch Mall Madness was to set up….