the AWESOMENESS diet

Allo loves!

Why have I not written in like 100 days, you ask? Not really. Has it really been that long?

1) I am a procrastinator. Like the biggest procrastinator ever. Like a procrastinator that would win an award for..."best procrastinator". Or something.

2) I can't think of another reason besides "I'm the biggest procrastinator".

The truth is, I love to eat. And I love to write. And I even love to write what I EAT. But. I get lazy. Have too high of expectations (for myself and everyone else for that matter) and NEVER post on here! But I do have heaps of notebooks lying about, with scribbles and tattered pages and crossed out words about dreamy food....and then I read a blog. Like Smitten. And Orangette. Or Cannelle et Vanille. Or Cupcakes and Cashmere. And then do that thing I do on Facebook. Where I COMPARE my life to everyone else's. And my writing to the queen bees of food blogging. And then I slam-shut my little notebooks, and the words never get to meet this thing we call the world wide web. Sad. :(

But I have become re-inspired! Kind of by mistake. Or by Pinterest. Or by default. Because I just like to say "by default" in conversation. Somehow it makes me think I know what I'm saying. Which I don't. (but I like to think I'm a good pretender)

By default::

I had to change my diet. ComPLETELY. To the anti-INFLAMMATORY diet. Because my body is INFLAMED. Why does INFLAMED demand to be written so LARGE?

It began around Christmas. The next bunch of whack symptoms I've been having for years! My feet start tingling, I get really tired, I read webmd and 600 other websites and find out I need B vitamins. I buy out CVS's supply of B vitamins. And fish oil, for good measure (and Funyuns, prob not for best measure). I pop a couple B vitamins a day, b6 and b12 I think, or maybe b1? And Christmas goes off without a hitch. (I think my mom's eggnog had a lot to do with it) I come home from lovely Christmas break and then muscle spasms like whoa commence coarsing through my legs. Seizing up and cramping and making me want to take one long hot bath. which I now have taken every day since Jan 5. I call all my doctors and naturally freak out and think that webmd is right and that I WILL become paralyzed so I start ingesting bananas. Because they don't make your legs fall off. Which I think they're going to do. And then write about it on Facebook in some desperate attempt to heal my limbs and chill my muscles. Which doesn't help, but I do find out that I probably have Lyme disease, says a very helpful, lovely woman and mother of a friend. She had it as did her entire family and then their lives were changed by a Lyme specialist in DC. So I call the Lyme specialist and can't pronounce his name. But he is awesome. Because everybody else says so too. On the Internet. But I have a personal connection to him, so I call him and his secretary is very sweet and informs me the next appointment is in June-or-July and would I like to be placed on a waiting list? I wouldn't but I say I would. Because, I think to my desperate self, I'll probably be paralyzed by June-or-July or my limbs may fall off from one large spasm leaving me to hop around on one leg. Or in a wheelchair. Which definitely isn't happening. Dying sounds less embarrassing. So I make the appointment. Knowing full well I won't be here anyway. Then the sweet receptionist tells me that the first appointment is seven hundred and fifty dollars and no they don't take health insurance, and why yes dear, you do have to pay up front. A five hundred dollar minimum, cash or check. Sweeeet. Not only will I be paralyzed and dead come June-or-July, I'll be bankrupt,too.

After having sweet-receptionist-lady who seems like a "Dolly" but is probably more like a "Pat" pencil me in, I decide that I DO want to live. And that I won't be paralyzed or dead by June-or-July. And that I should probably read about what I should...wait for it...EAT so as to live come June-or-July.

And THAT is how the anti-INFLAMMATORY diet came barreling into my life!

(Actually, a wonderful former college Resident Director of mine recommended it to me, based on personal experience of its great help in her own life.)

So, THIS is what I have been eating for like 26 days now. Really. twenty-six DAYSSSSS.

Oysters on the half shell
With like seventy five squeezes of lemon, Tabasco AND champagne mignonette.
Green Chiles from New Mexico
(thanks Sam)
(and thanks Jeremy for being born in New Mexico)
(and thanks Jeremy's parents for going to college in New Mexico so Jeremy can be born there and introduce me to green chiles from New Mexico)
Sushi
Mussels
Clams
Good thing I like shellfish
Bananas
Kale
Crispy kale
Raw kale
Over-salted kale
(oops)
Over-olive-oiled kale
Yum
Strawberries by the 5 lbs
Blueberries
Blackberries
More kale
Burnt kale
Major fail
More sushi with lots of pickled ginger
Raw salmon in sushi even though I don't like raw salmon
(it's better doused with low-sodium soy sauce and pickled ginger)
Dark chocolate (which actually tastes better now)
Red wine
Shiitake mushrooms
Spinach
Loads of greens
Did you know there was such thing as mustard greens?
I'm kind of scared to try them.
Oh and every nut you can think of.


What I can't eat::

EVERYTHING GOOD

But I AM noticing a huge difference from the diet. And I'm pretty excited about that.

I forgot GREEN TEA!!!!! Gallons and buckets and every large quantity of volume that you like to use. Of green tea. I love the stuff, and it seemingly loves me back. Because I pee about 500 times. An hour.

Did I also mention I am a chief exaggerator?

More on the AWESOMENESS diet you WISH you were on.

Love,
Shannon

Who misses cheese. And Coca-Cola. :/

It's all Greek to Me!

Over the past few weeks, I have become inspired to mix up a LOT of Greek food. Greek salads, Greek frittatas, and EVEN started compiling Baklava recipes. My recent interest in Greek food and preparation styles comes from a blogging opportunity I've been given via Foodbuzz. Since I'm part of the Foodbuzz Featured Publisher community, Foodbuzz is offering an opportunity for a blogger to win a trip to Greece (!!!) sponsored by FAGE.

Greece has been on my wish list of travel destinations since I was a young girl. France, Italy, and Greece, because life along the Mediterranean has always appealed to me. Sun, sea, lemon trees, beautiful weather...the good life. Additionally, my boyfriend's cousin and his new wife honeymooned in Greece two years ago, and I barely knew them (having just met them at their wedding) but ogled over every last epicurean photograph from their honeymoon. I vowed that one day, I, too, would be eating gyros and octopus along the Mediterranean coast of beautiful Greece.

It wasn't until this opportunity, though, that prompted me to start exploring Mediterranean cuisine. I pored over way too many food blogs and maxed out my library card, wiping out my neighborhood library's Greek cookbook section in the process. I scoured FAGE's great website and searched their treasure trove of delectable recipes which highlight living "the good life" through Greek cuisine. At home, library cookbooks piled up on either side of the kitchen table, I began the journey into Greek flavor. In my quest for traditional Greek recipes with a modern twist, I started reading about old-style Greek foods. Fried Grasshoppers, anyone?

What I discovered was an abundance of organic, healthy cooking, with most dishes lavishly featuring fresh vegetables, simply prepared to keep all the vital nutrients preserved. Which made me think further: wouldn't it be great to start incorporating some of these ingredients into my daily life, thereby developing a more organic lifestyle? To me, adding lemon zest and feta cheese into my life can only be a good thing. Lemons, cucumbers, olives, feta cheese? Yes, please!

Equipped with a handful of Greek-inspired recipes, off to the grocery store I went. If a recipe calls for lemon, usually I will just buy a bottle of lemon juice. But for Greece, this simply will not do. So I purchased a bag of lemons instead. Where I may ordinarily get my cucumber fix through kosher dill pickles, this time I bought a couple whole cucumbers. And I don't think I've EVER considered feta cheese. Cheddar? Parmesan? A dairy staple in our refrigerator. Inspired by a list of traditional Greek Salad recipes and Greek Frittata recipes, I gathered all the tastes of the Mediterranean and some great olive oil and headed back to my Capitol Hill home kitchen, far from the Greek islands, to test them out.

Since a Greek salad is the heart of any Greek meal, I started with a Greek Garbanzo Bean Salad. Do you ever eat something and just feel immediately...healthy? Like you're filling your body with GOOD and bounty? This is how I felt, with one bite of the salad. The plus side? It TASTES amazing, too. Not only are you loading your body with fiber and feeling fuller than you would by consuming processed foods, it tastes like a day on the Mediterranean (or so I would imagine) with flavors like lemon and feta melding together perfectly, satisfying the taste buds with a tangy, tart, delicious snack, side dish, or full meal (my boyfriend happily devoured the entire bowl when he got home). It's not too acidic, not too salty, not bland at all. It's juuuust right.

Greek Garbanzo Bean Salad (adapted from this recipe):

2 (15 ounce) cans garbanzo beans, drained
2 cucumbers, halved lengthwise and finely sliced
15 grape tomatoes, halved
1/2 red onion, finely sliced
2 scallions, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 (15 ounce) can black olives, drained and sliced
5 oz crumbled feta cheese
1/2 cup vinaigrette dressing
1 teaspoon fresh Greek oregano, finely chopped
Juice of 1 lemon
Sea salt, to taste
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Combine all ingredients in order listed. Toss together and refrigerate 2 hours. Serve chilled.

A few days later, I was craving some more Greek flavor. So, I tweaked 2 frittata recipes and came up with this eggy delight, perfect for an afternoon in, curled up with The Iliad.

Ok, maybe not. Maybe My Big Fat Greek Wedding, but the thought was still there...

Greek Frittata (adapted from here and here):

3 Tablespoons olive oil
10 large eggs
2 teaspoons sea salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
5 oz baby spinach
1 pint grape tomatoes, halved
1 small onion, diced
4 scallions (white and green parts), thinly sliced
1 bunch fresh chives, chopped
1/2 teaspoon fresh Greek oregano, finely chopped
1/2 teaspoon fresh thyme, finely chopped
8 oz feta, crumbled

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Add olive oil to a 2-quart casserole and transfer to oven for 5 minutes. Meanwhile, in a bowl, whisk together eggs, salt and pepper until foamy. Add the spinach, tomatoes, onion, scallions, chives, Greek oregano and thyme and mix together. Gently stir in the crumbled feta. Remove casserole from oven. Pour the egg mixture into casserole. Bake until the frittata is browned around the edges and slightly puffed and a knife comes out clean, 25 to 30 minutes. Let cool slightly, then serve.


The Heart of the Artichoke

I was thrilled to find out that the steamed artichoke, a recent favorite snack of mine since discovering fresh artichokes last Spring, is quite popular in Greece. I like to steam a whole artichoke, then peel back the leaves (I like to call them petals) one by one, dipping each petal into a ramekin of freshly-drawn butter with a squeeze of lemon, pulling the earthy flesh of the petals through my teeth, whittling the artichoke down and delicately removing the choke until only the heart remains. This is the best part, worth the wait and work of removing each and every petal. In the heart of the artichoke you find one of the greatest gastronomical pleasures- a most tender, flavorful piece of meaty vegetable with a soft texture. I like to dip this final delicacy into the hot, lemony butter, then sprinkle a dash of sea salt and an additional squeeze of fresh lemon right overtop, then pop the whole heart into my mouth. One of the best food experiences I've recently found. I love this aspect of life; the small yet significant joys of a fresh vegetable, simply prepared, enjoyed down to the last bite.

How To Steam An Artichoke:

1 artichoke
1 lemon
1 bay leaf
1/2 stick unsalted butter
sea salt, to taste

Rinse artichoke. Leave whole. Cut outer leaves. Cut off 1 inch of tip. Cut 1/4 inch of bottom stem. Snip tops of leaves. Place in steaming pot with 1/2 inch water, lemon wedge, and bay leaf. Steam 30-40 minutes, until leaves peel off with ease.

Melt 1/2 stick unsalted butter until just melted, still with white foam (the Greeks like to use brown butter, but I like mine drawn with white foam), add salt to taste, squeeze of fresh lemon.

To eat, see above description, and prepare yourself for the most scrumptious vegetable feast of your life.


As part of the Foodbuzz Featured Publisher program, I have been entered for the chance to win a trip to Greece courtesy of FAGE. You too can enter to win one of three trips to Greece by entering the FAGE Plain Extraordinary Greek Getaway here: http://www.fageusa.com/community/fage-greek-getaway/

Crabbing in Wildwood

For the past 3 years I have had the pleasure and privilege of spending the 2nd week of August with Jeremy's family at Wildwood Crest, a vacation spot along the Jersey Shore. I have really come to love Wildwood, and the best part for me is family all being together, spending time at the large hotel pool and at the beach, walking the boardwalk at night, eating lots of pork roll during the day and corn dogs come night, watching boardwalk trends change from year to year (this year it was Angry Birds paraphernalia and fried Kool-Aid), and getting to take part in activities never experienced before.

Last year, the big adventure was going deep sea fishing. Unfortunately, we didn't catch any fish that were "of size" to take back to the hotel, but it was an unforgettable experience for all parties involved (Jeremy, his younger brother and two good friends, who we call "the three amigos", and myself). This year, the great adventure was CRABBING, something that I had never done before, and couldn't wait to try.

One fine afternoon when the sun was just setting, the three amigos and Jeremy's older brother set out for the essential supplies to ensure a successful crabbing experience. Items required for crabbing include: raw chicken used as bait, crab "nets" which act as traps, line, hooks to attach bait, plenty of beer (my boyfriend's donation) and a lot of patience.

Jeremy came up with the brilliant idea to ride our bikes over to the bay where blue crabs are known to hang, just before the bridge to Cape May, assuring me that it was "like a mile" from the hotel. There we would meet the rest of the crabbing crew. "What in the world am I getting myself into?!" is the G-rated version of the words hurling out of my mouth while bicycling at top speed, pedaling as fast as my feet could go, the wind slapping my face, beach mobiles whizzing past me, and my boyfriend at least a mile ahead. Eventually, Jeremy did turn around to see the blonde dot in the distance, wait for me to catch up, and probably wish he hadn't...what can I say, sometimes my Irish temper just has to come unleashed.

After threatening to never come to Wildwood again, never go crabbing again, never go bicycling again, never speak to Jeremy again (all things I couldn't live without, if we're honest), and literally spewing every four-letter word in the book, Jeremy turned back around, pumped his pedals a few times, and said, "Hey babe, I think we're here!"

Enthusiasm aside, I was relieved to see some familiarity in Jeremy's brother's car. Even more settled, to see the three amigos and Jeremy's older brother standing silently, knee-deep in murky waters, their hands tightly gripping a long line of string which ended about ten feet in front of them, awaiting the elusive blue crab.

At first I was a little skeptical. I can understand using little metal nets with long strings attached, but using raw chicken as bait kinda freaked me out. No way was I touching any. Lord knows with my luck (of getting sick about every 15 minutes), I'd get salmonella just by sight. So I cracked open a Bud Light, forgetting that I don't drink beer nor like the taste, sat on a little wooden ledge, and watched the boys at work. Ever want to see 5 early/mid-20s men keep quiet for hours on end? Just give them a net and a bay and voila! A perfect silence, and dinner, too.

"We" ended up with a haul of about 15 crabs that day before heading back...and only because it was turning dusk and Jeremy and I had a 6 hour bike ride ahead (ok not really but it felt like it and ask my dad, I am the queen of exaggeration). We set off on our bikes, at a leisurely pace this time thank God, and headed back to the hotel.

But 15 crabs wasn't enough for the boys. They were hooked. Pun intended. Yes, I'm corny and so what?

The next morning I awoke to Andrew, Jeremy's younger brother, coming into the room and summoning Michael, who was sleeping on the floor below me, to come with him to the store for another crabbing excursion. All I really remember from the conversation between the two was Michael slurring, "raw chicken and old bay, lots of it" over and over again, with Andrew repeating it each time. After about three times of saying "old bay Andrew, lots of it, lots of old bay" Andrew turned around and headed out. Man, we're gonna have a freaking feast! Is all that was going through my head, when Michael catapults from his makeshift bed on the floor to hastily getting dressed (I would assume, I was still sleeping, or feigning sleep so as not to be recruited into the early morning crabbing mission). Jeremy had long since been gone (for some reason when we're at the beach he becomes a morning person), I think it might have been my birthday (turning 28 this year was pretty rough for me and I kinda blocked it out) and I just wanted to sleep now, eat crab later.

The boys arrived a few hours later with an impressive fresh catch. 15+ blue crabs, to be teamed up with the catch from the night before...to become a seafood extravaganza for all who were up for it.

The process of cooking fresh, snapping crabs is fairly humorous. Grown men (namely my boyfriend) grab any tool handy and clutch the tool, forcing it in direction of crab, whose claws are snapping open and closed so fast that it's difficult to latch on. Once they do latch onto the tool, in this case Jeremy's knife, they are then clawing around with the full force of their tiny yet fierce bodies so frenetically, that all you can do is throw them in the direction of the big pot of boiling, Old Bay-seasoned water, and hope they make it in.

Once one crab makes it into the pot, you gain a little more confidence. You may go to grab a crab with your bare fingers, but the inch long slash on your (Jeremy's, I wouldn't touch those suckers) hand from the day before reminds you to practice a little discretion. Confidence can come later, when the crabs are boiled up and ready to crack open (also an adventure).

Once each and every last crab goes from fresh blue crab to boiled (red) crab, it's time to lay out the newspaper, grab some crab crackers and mallets-in this case, the bottom of Jeremy's huge knife, and get to work. Now, there is a very meticulous, intelligent way to eat a blue crab properly. In fact, if I can find the hilarious video I found on one of my favorite food blogs, I'll post. But honestly, who really cares? If you're hungry, and anxious to see what your toil and trouble produced, at the end of the day all you really care about is getting to the meat, any which way you can.

Which is what we did. It was messy. It was kinda gruesome. But the taste of the bay soon took care of any hygiene concerns, and that meat sure was sweet!

Reminisce

Delicate little lettuces laced in a light mustard vinaigrette...

Petite Syrah robustly paired with a lamb birria. The mouthwatering spice of guajillo chile and ancho chile. Spicy savoriness characteristic of this Mexican stew...

Rich, creamy chocolate espresso pot au creme paired with Port. Heavy cream, silky Swiss chocolate. A rich finale...

One unforgettable meal...

C&O Restaurant
Easter 2011

C&O Restaurant
515 East Water Street
Charlottesville, VA 22902

Details:
House salad- local Boston lettuce salad with Pommery mustard vinaigrette
Chocolate pot au creme topped with fresh whipped cream

Inspired

I had a dinner tonight that inspired me to start blogging again.

.....the refreshing crispness of a cool California Vermentino.

.....the sweet mousse of chicken liver toast and pickled ramps, impeccably finished off with the most tender of braised lamb shoulders and pappardelle pasta.

Firefly, my muse, thank you.

Firefly at Hotel Madera
1310 New Hampshire Avenue NW
Washington, DC 20036

Dupont Circle neighborhood

Details:

Vermentino, Uvaggio, Lodi, CA, 2009
Chicken Liver Toast- grilled baguette, chopped organic chicken liver, pickled ramps
Braised lamb shoulder and fresh pappardelle pasta- warm olives, sorrel, mascarpone


Reflections:

Standouts included:

Recycled wine bottles used as water glasses
Menus made from cork (!!!) and bamboo
Large tree in center of restaurant full of hanging lanterns and firefly ornaments
Gluten-free menu with a wide selection of items
Supporting local farmers and purveyors (especially happy about Cowgirl Creamery)
20% Kimpton employee discount
Sous-chef, Shane Graybeal, jovially greeted us after our meal, and chatting with Jeremy for a good 5 minutes all things Poste, Firefly, Kimpton, and delicious braised lamb shoulder.
(It is not every day that you receive such specialized treatment from a sous-chef of a fine dining restaurant in DC.)

Very impressive experience overall. No stuffiness. Great ambience. Natural decor. Love the trees.

Oh, and the check came wrapped up in the bottom of a lit-up Mason jar. Firefly, indeed!

Cornish Game Hens, or WHY I LOVE FALL

My absolute favorite part of my favorite season, Autumn, is the food. Pumpkin. Squash. Stuffing. Cranberries. Apple cider. Cornish Game Hens.

Cornish game hens, you say?? What are they?? I have had a few friends ask me this question lately. I grow puzzled, only because it is one of my favorite fall dishes, and I cannot imagine it not being a part of my life! (Shout-out to my Aunt Amie, by the way, who introduced me to this incredible feast one night years ago at her house for dinner! Thanks, Amie!)

A Cornish game hen is quite simply a young chicken, sold whole. They come at about a pound each, and are cute and squat. With a little butter rubbed under the skin and stuffed with carrot, celery and onion, they are absolutely divine. I just call them bliss.

Last week (and then again 2 nights ago) I ventured out to the grocery store for my first Cornish game hen-buying jaunt of the season. Of the year, actually. It had been some time since I roasted one up, and I was pretty giddy. I knew exactly what I was looking for. A two-pack, so that I could roast them together and present a hot plate of food for the chef when he returned home.

I was delighted to find that they would come at a bargain: $9.30 for a two pack of the beautiful birds. I was really excited. Like jumping-up-and-down-in-the-poultry-section-of-Safeway-excited. It was a bit ridiculous. I actually told one gentleman "The hens are on SALE! They are so CHEAP! I'm so EXCITED!" But, alas, it is Washington. He just ignored me. :(

So I continued the celebration by throwing some carrots and onion into my cart (and a BOX of Stovetop stuffing, GASP) and was dashing back off to my apartment.

Now, Cornish game hens are really not "gamey". A friend asked me on Facebook if they were like Capons, which she didn't care for because of the dark meat, which I have never tasted, and I had to do some research. I read up on the hens online, and in my go-to cooking manuals, Mastering the Art of French Cooking by Queen Julia of course, and my new go-to guide, Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything.

In my foodie research I always tend to get way carried away, and this time was no different. I ended up composing a list of about 40 other dishes to try. The Poultry section of Mastering the Art of French Cooking alone is where I plan to hang out this entire Fall. "Coquelets sur Canapes" aka Roast Squab Chickens with Chicken Liver Canapes and Mushrooms?? Are you kidding me?? COMPLETE BLISS!!!

I found on Wikipedia that a Cornish game hen is not a game bird, but actually a typical chicken that is slaughtered at a young age and therefore smaller in size.

But for me, the fact that they are smaller in size makes them more delicious in flavor. These birds are literally bursting with flavor. First off, you have their innards...the neck, liver and I think kidneys? Mark Bittman advises to make a stock from the trimmings: by combining the neck, wing tips, gizzard, and any other scraps in a small saucepan, with water to cover. Add one small onion, one carrot, and one stalk celery, along with a pinch of salt and a few peppercorns. Bring to a boil, turn the heat to low and cook partially for a little under an hour.

Which is exactly what I did. And it was my happy thought. Because my dad, J, always makes an incredible "giblet gravy" every Thanksgiving. He takes the giblets of the turkey and "boils the heck outta them" pretty much all Thanksgiving morning, then drains and chops them up finely, to go into the most amazing concoction you have EVER tasted, I can assure you, GIBLET GRAVY. We really should bottle that stuff up and sell it on the black market. It tastes illegal, I tell you.

Bittman roasts his hens with sauerkraut on one recipe, and vinegar on another, but I just wanted to do them straight-up. Just roast them. So I seek Julia. Shout-out to my sister Lindsay who got me Mastering the Art of French Cooking this year for my birthday!!! It's pretty much changing my life.

Julia, like a good friend, always has the right answer. "Preheat over to 400 degrees. Season the cavities of the birds with a sprinkling of salt, shallots or onion, and tarragon, and 1 teaspoon of butter. Truss the birds, dry them, and rub with butter...Place the birds in the roasting pan, and set on a rack in the middle of the preheated oven. Baste and turn the birds every 5 to 7 minutes until they are done: Game Hens, as their flesh is usually firmer than chicken, take about 45 minutes; they are done when the flesh of their drumsticks is soft." Oh Julia, your instructions on game hens is like a sonnet being breathlessly whispered into my awaiting ears.

And, just like that, you have a gorgeous little dinner of a Cornish game hen. I like to roast it like Julia says, for 45 minutes, basting like crazy with the pan juices that fall into the bottom of the roasting pan. Then, broil for the last 3 minutes or so. You will know. It will start to brown perfectly, and sizzle and pop. Love that noise.

After removing the hens very carefully and with lots of love, place them onto a warm plate and cover. Then, ever so lovingly pour the remaining pan juices that dripped from the birds, into a small saucepan. Combine the juices with the stock that Bittman told you to make. But first, drain it. You don't want the carrot or celery or onion or peppercorns, but just the fine stock juice from the kidneys and livers. At this point I like to carefully and lovingly remove the meat from the neck that was boiling away. The neck meat is SO delicate and full of flavor and when chopped up finely with the livers and kidneys, goes so well into the gravy. I then make a reduction sauce, usually adding in white wine and a few more chopped shallots and some crushed herbs like thyme. You can salt as you go, making sure to taste with every addition. If you happen to oversalt, balance it out with adding in some water. If you have chicken stock on hand, perfect. But I like to just use the stock that comes from the innards of the hens. I like to use the whole beast.

Cornish game hens go so well with cornbread, stuffing, and some French bread. Toss a salad and it's a little mini-Thanksgiving. Like it was for me last night!

Then, afterwards, the best part for me, besides the enjoyment of the flavorful bird, is making a stock. Yes, yes, more stock. It's easy. Just take the bones and remnants of the little game hen, toss into a large pot, and cover with water. Season with salt and some black peppercorns, throw in more onion, celery and carrot (just castoffs that would be wasted anyways, from the scrap bin), and maybe a bay leaf. Let that simmer the rest of the night, and you've just made yourself liquid heaven.

Hope you all enjoyed the rather lengthy love letter to Cornish game hens.

Shannon

Eating lately

Pie... savory pie. I had never heard of such thing until moving to DC in May and Jeremy and I discovered a wonderful little pie shop. Right around the corner and a few blocks from our apartment. What could be better?

Dangerously Delicious is situated on H St. in what is called the Atlas District. Though there are a plethora of other dining options along the strip, I've been to Dangerously Delicious about 10 times in 6 months and it never ceases to amaze me.

Honestly, who could imagine sausage, tomato and fennel going into a pie shell and coming out as utopia? It's true. Shortened as just "STF" on the chalkboard menu, it had us wondering what could it possibly be? So on a hunch one Spring evening, we ordered an STF and a SMOG (steak, mushroom, onion, gruyere), and we actually had a FIGHT over this pie. I even stormed out on Jeremy, because he finished MY STF! For shame. I think some feminine hormones were definitely part of the equation. But don't come between a woman and her pie.

Details:

Dangerously Delicious Pie Shop
1339 H. Street NE
Washington, DC 20002
(202) 398-7437

STF pie: $7.50 a slice
"We take sweet and hot Italian sausage, roasted fennel and tomatoes add some salt and pepper and throw it into a pie. With most other savory pies being creamy this one is on the lighter side but don't let that fool you this pie still packs a punch!" Umm yeah.

I definitely recommend a few dashes of that tasty Cholula hot sauce for an extra kick. Wash it all down with a glass bottle of Coke for $1.50 and you'll be begging for more. You can go back for seconds, but I don't usually have room. This is one shop where you definitely want to save room for dessert. How could you not, at a pie shop?

The Baltimore Bomb is the only sweet pie I've tasted, but next time I do save room, I'll order up another. It's divine, literally. The description alone had me at hello: crush up a Berger cookie, pour in fresh vanilla custard, and throw in the oven. Hello!

Life is a bowl of cherries

My sweet boyfriend had been hinting at cherry pie since cherries starting appearing in our local supermarket, but I was afraid. I'd never attempted a cherry pie before. I didn't even have a cherry pitter (he quickly solved that little problem). The only thing I'd ever done with cherries was pop them in my mouth, preferably one after the other on a dock on a lake in the middle of Maine.

The idea of cherry pie sounded complex and intricate...something that, in baking, I tend to stay away from. But I wanted to give Jeremy a special treat to come home to, what with his 12 hour days and all, slaving in the kitchen for the greater good of Washington, DC and it's patrons.

I stumbled upon the popular food blog Chez Pim, and quickly became obsessed. I had to try one of her creations, and it had to be soon. Funnily enough, that day's recipe was for Spiced Cherry Pie.

So, I rounded up some ground cinnamon and ground nutmeg from my pantry, and was off to the market for ground ginger. Then I realized I didn't have any clove at all so I looted my landlord's pantry for ground clove (don't worry, I texted him first... The only thing I've ever stolen was a glue stick at age 8 from a craft store but cried in the parking lot, took the sweaty stick out of my pocket and my mom promptly marched me inside to return it).

The idea of cherry pie was intimidating enough, but spiced added a whole new dimension of scary. What if I over-spiced it, which I tend to do when baking apple pies? What do they mean when they say a "pinch" of clove? I always worry about little details like this. Your pinch may be more of a tablespoon whereas mine is half a teaspoon. You may have bigger fingers than me. Or vice versa. Details, details. They always plague me. In cooking, I rarely follow a recipe. Feel a little more into garlic today? Tweak, tweak, tweak and we're good to go. Baking would have none of that, thank you very much. A pinch is a pinch is a pinch. I wasn't about to over-spice a perfectly good cherry pie. Especially since 2 lbs of cherries in Washington DC costs like twenty three bucks. Exaggeration is a writer's prerogative.

Throwing caution to the wind, I started snapping those stems (and those photos). I started pitting. It started to look like a scene out of a horror film, but nary a cherry was left with a pit.

Come see...






















My variation of the spiced cherry pie turned out delicious, even though I used pre-made pie crusts from a box (sigh). I attempted my own pie crust for a French Apple Pie a few weeks ago, and decided I had a ways to go until my pie crust was perfected. I really didn't want to ruin this pie. Apples are cheaper than cherries.

Definitely check out Pim's website by clicking on the link above. She has her own sturdy, no-fail pie crust, or as she calls it, "the one pie dough to rule them all". I would have tried her recipe, but I still need to pick up a pastry scraper and pastry brush. Next time.

Afterthoughts on the pie: Jeremy thought it was over-spiced, but my landlord said that the crust was excellent and the clove was a nice touch. Like a little elf, I had left him a slice on his counter top at 3 am when the pie was cool enough to slice (3 hours after removing from the oven). I thought it was divine, and I liked the spice. It went well with the cherries. I love nutmeg, so any excuse to use it in a dish besides just opening its little jar and smelling it from time to time, is good enough for me. I was worried that with 2 lbs of the sweet Bing cherries and the cup of sugar, it would be way too sweet but the lemon and spices cut the sweet.

Happy pie eating,

Shannon

city garden

I have always wanted to have a garden, ever since I was a little girl and would get lost among my PapPap's green beans and tomatoes. I'd pluck an onion from the ground, dip it in the pool, and crunch right into it. Same with his huge tomatoes that grew vine by lovely vine.

Living in a city provides its challenges when it comes to gardening, so I read up on "container gardening", essentially, growing the garden of my city-living dreams.

It isn't very hard. Our landlord already had the foundation started, with his herb garden containers already installed and growing chives, parsley and oregano. A little weeding was all it took to get the rest of the planter space cleaned up, soiled up and ready to go.

Usually when I dream up things it can get pretty grandiose. I don't just want a garden, I want the maze gardens of Versailles. I want to use all natural, organic soil, and have a compost bin. I don't want to cheat with Miracle Gro, or spray pesticides. Just soil, water and sun. That's all plants really need, with some organic material (compost) added in.

But this time, I decided to be realistic. I remembered back to last year, living at home, buying $30 worth of seeds, and probably $30 worth of biodegradable pots to start the seeds out in. Went away for a week; everything died. Duh. You have to be pristine, careful and delicate when growing a live plant, as I have now learned. And if you go on vacation, have someone water your plants (or take them with you)!

So, realistically thinking, I started with herbs. Jeremy and I headed over to his restaurant one day, where they have a great outdoor container garden (in which he planted everything, so proud of him!), and picked up a bag of organic soil and lots of different plants: a few tomato plants, pineapple mint, spearmint, oregano, and then headed inside to the chef's office to go through boxes of seeds. We took home some exciting bounty...early prolific straightneck summer squash seeds, corn seeds, nasturtium, chives, more squash, many varieties of lettuce, and so on...

The growing commenced! I was eager to get all of the plants into the ground so they could take off. I started with the spearmint, then some boxwood basil (2 plants, also from the restaurant), well, why don't I just show you...
Spearmint, which I've been using for mojitos :)

Boxwood basil

Thyme

Cilantro, grown from seed!


Pineapple mint

oregano with weeds...clearly I hadn't gotten to weeding this yet when photo taken

Some seedlings emerging...



Some of the basil that we are growing is actually from the back of a Triscuits box! Triscuits is supporting the home farming movement, and they offer a little seed packet in the cardboard box, which you immerse in water for a short time, then plant normally in soil. I now have more incentive to buy Triscuits. Not that I needed any.

The other basil plant is from a farm in the Shenandoah Valley, VA that I bought when we were living in College Park. The cilantro is all from seed, from the packets I bought for last summer's gardening ventures. The thyme I picked up at our local Safeway store, (from Shenandoah Farms also) and got it in the ground fast. It needed a little water to seep from the bottom into the plant first, as it was looking pretty gnarly when I bought it. Let's see, what else...oh the cherry tomatoes. I have a bunch of pots of these now. I took all these photos about a month ago, when my friend requested I write a post giving a tour of the garden...well here ya go, Kristina, a month later!


Since then the squash has been sprouting beautiful golden yellow squash blossoms. I'm super excited about these, because I first had stuffed squash blossoms at Jeremy's restaurant last summer. They were absolutely out of this world delicious, and I will have to get the recipe when my blossoms are big enough to pluck and stuff. (I actually planted all the squash just for their blossoms!)

Squash leaves; I hope these will yield crazy prolific squash, like the seed packet promises!


I'll close my little container garden tour with a few beautiful tomato plants...



Check back soon for more city garden progress!

Be Merry,
Shannon

Bar Pilar

Bar Pilar
1833 14th St.
Washington, DC 20009

I had wanted to visit Bar Pilar for a date night since the June 2010 issue of Washingtonian magazine hit the stands. I'd been carrying the magazine around with me in my canvas tote daily, reading restaurant blurbs between stop signs and red lights- no joke. It occupied much of my spare time...I even made a rather lengthy list of all the cool DC featured restaurants to try out.

Since Jeremy and I only have about one night a week to eat dinner together and never a Friday or Saturday night like most couples, I wanted to pick a great place for a Sunday night date, when most restaurants are either closed or the chef is off and the food is paltry...but Washingtonian gave an insider tip that Bar Pilar is actually best on a Sunday night when there are fewer customers. Bar Pilar it was.

One of the draws of Bar Pilar was definitely the Hemingway theme, as advertised. Um hello English major foodies! Yet upon entering I definitely got a different vibe. Not sure what it was, but not Hemingway. I don't expect "Margaritaville" to be blaring from the loudspeakers, nor those tacky little umbrellas in the drinks--but at least have a photo of the old man and the sea displayed on the walls, or Hem books around, heck, even a couple cats roaming about would be more "Hemingway". But I don't visit a restaurant for the decor. I'm all about the food.

First up, after we both ordered red wine, was roasted olives with pickled chilies, goat cheese bruschetta for $6 (by the way, the magazine screamed out "Cheap Eats" on the cover, so I was looking to eat well for less). The restaurant serves up a ton of small plates, and this was one great one. It carried throughout the meal, with the briny roasted olives being the perfect complement to the tangy goat cheese bruschetta. My mouth is watering just thinking back to the burst of pungent flavor in my mouth at that time. Oh my.

We ordered an assortment of more "small plates" or what most places call tapas...warm frisee salad with bacon vinaigrette, blue cheese, croutons, sunny egg for $6 definitely stood out for me. It sounds simple, but once the yolk of the freshly poached egg started oozing throughout the salad, mixed with the warm frisee, wow. Party in my mouth.

Jeremy ordered some halibut dish which didn't stand out much to me--and I think he might have devoured in one bite. Gotta love those "small plates". I ordered the boudin blanc, which was not a favorite. I guess I was thinking more "chorizo" instead of what tasted kind of undercooked to me; it might just have been because I'm used to "blood" sausage. Boudin blanc is characteristically a white pork sausage, without the blood. The great thing about me not liking a dish is...more for Jeremy. He finished the boudin blanc off, smacking his lips.

Next was a rush of other small plates...prawns (delicious, but I cannot access their changing menu online to get the deets...) for me, crispy roasted potatoes with malt aioli for us to share, and buttermilk fried chicken for Jeremy (fried in peanut oil, which made it taste so different, kind of crisp, fresh, earthy. It didn't taste like it had been saturated in oil like so many other fried chickens--could it have been the peanut oil? Not sure. But it definitely made a difference. Jeremy reminds me that it wasn't dried out at all either, it was just so moist. And that it didn't just taste seasoned on the outside with the crispy skin, but the inside tasted perfectly seasoned as well. I was skeptical about "buttermilk" fried chicken, but now I'm a fan.

For me the best part of the meal was dessert. I'm honestly not a fan of dessert and will usually opt out, but the thought of chocolate terrine made me curious. I don't like cakey things, so chocolate cake is always out for me, but terrine? Now that I've always liked. I imagined the chocolate terrine as a thick chocolate mousse, layer by layer. We each ordered our own individual chocolate terrines, accompanied by a ruby port. D-I-V-I-N-E. The rich, creamy chocolate in layer by delicate layer sung in perfect harmony with the rich ruby port. The aftertaste was lasting and strong. I don't think I've ever devoured a sweet so fast, yet still savored every last bite.

If I were privileged to give stars, Bar Pilar gets ***/*****