YarnFoodCoffee

Peach Upside Down Cake

While grocery shopping last night at PCC, I got an intense craving for their delicious vegan peach upside down cake. It's one of the most incredible vegan desserts I've ever had, and being an omnivore, that means a lot. Unfortunately, no cake was to be had because peaches are not in season yet. [Oh, but when they are, I'm bringing home gallon buckets filled with their sweet, syrupy Summer goodness. I'm seeing peach jam, canned peach halves, and just a huge bowl of them eaten fresh with a side of cream. Hurry up, Summer!]

So I decided, hey, why not make peach upside down cake myself? I'm a fairly good cook, if I have a recipe, or very simple ingredients, and I seem to be getting better at it. I grabbed an extra can of peaches, to replace the on in the pantry, some canned pears in case I decided to use those, and ran home to start cooking. I did a search online, and found this, this, and this recipe. The first recipe sounded heavenly, but I was out of soy milk (I'd gotten a craving for chai earlier in the week.) The second recipe sounded fantastic, but I needed something that would work with peaches, and I didn't have any sour cream. The last recipe sounded perfect, and with a few slight alterations (four small springform pans instead of a cast iron skillet, peaches instead of pears, mild instead of dark honey, and no almonds), it was a great success for my first ever attempt at upside down cake. I imagine that, due to my changes, it's not quite the same, but I thought it was awesome.

Didn't have any ice cream to eat with it, so I went for ice-cold milk. I couldn't wait to try it, and it was fantastic, despite the fact that the cake was a bit dry (I didn't have the whole cup of sugar. Don't make that mistake. Go out and get a bag of sugar!)

The best part is that the cakes are already individual serving size. No one gets the smallest slice, and it won't feel like you're sharing, either. Here's the modified recipe, based off of the New York Times recipe. Feel free to use and alter it to your liking, but please be respectful; don't pass it off as your own. Enjoy.

Honey Peach Upside-Down Cake
4 small springform pans, about 4" diameter (you can use a large cake pan, instead)
1/4 c. mild, flavorful honey
pinch of nutmeg
2 cans of peach halves in juice (not syrup), drained
2-3 Tbsp. butter, separated
pinch of nutmeg
1 c. sugar
2 large eggs
1 Tbsp. vanilla extract
1 c. all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 c. (1 stick) salted butter, melted and cooled

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. To prepare the pans, spray or wipe them with cooking oil and line them with parchment paper. I did this to prevent the sauce from dripping through the pans. A tutorial can be found here. Once that's done, place then pans on a baking sheet, for ease of removal from the oven, and to catch any possible drips.

In a deep-sided pan, simmer honey and the first pinch of nutmeg until it begins to reduce, caramelize and darken in color, 6 to 10 minutes. Turn the heat down once it starts to boil. Do not let the honey burn; if it starts to smell burned, turn off the heat. Add the separated tablespoons of butter, one at a time, and the peaches, gently swirling the pan to coat the peaches, then sprinkle with the second pinch of nutmeg. Simmer over low heat, occasionally turning them from one side to the other, for about 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a large bowl, whisk together the sugar, eggs and vanilla. Fold in the flour and salt; stir in the melted butter.

When the batter is ready, remove the peaches from the heat, and carefully spoon them into the springform pans, about 2 halves per pan, and pour over a bit of the honey. Pour batter over the peaches, and bake until a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean, 25 to 30 minutes. Let the cakes cool for 30 minutes in the pans. Run a knife along edges of the pans to loosen the cakes. To invert the cakes onto plates for serving, place a plate over the pan, then flip the whole thing over–pan and plate–and remove the pan and parchment. Serve warm, with either a tall glass of cold milk or a scoop of ice cream.

Il Fornaio

[Note: this post was started on May 18, so just pretend that you read it that night.]

This weekend my mom was in town, and tonight we went to one of her favorite restaurants in town, the Risotteria at Il Fornaio (the downstairs half of the restaurant.) We love this place, and have been coming here off and on for the last four years. Our server tonight was Keith, and if you head in there and he's your server, tell him you read this review (he was so excited when I told him I'd be blogging about my experience.) He even made a point to mention that our chef for the evening was Henry. Cheers, Henry! Well done!

Mom and I were seated immediately, since it was early Sunday evening, and we each ordered the Insalata Cesarina, one of the best caesar salads I've ever eaten, made with chopped romaine hearts, chopped anchovies, thickly-shaved parmesan, hard boiled eggs, tomato, focaccia croutons, and a delicious and light caesar dressing. The lettuce was coated with the ever-elusive "just right" amount of dressing, where each bite had excellent flavor, but never too much. Keith was more than happy to ask the chef to add extra anchovies for my mom, which she ate with gusto. I often have cravings for that specific salad. It always hits the spot. Of course, I was in such a state of euphoria that it didn't even occur to me to take a photo. Suffice it to say that it was elegantly arranged, as always.

Next, and very soon after we finished our salad, came our entrees. Mom enjoyed her favorite, and "usual" dish, the "gnocchi bolognese." I was at first tempted with a similar dish, "tagliatelle alla bolognese," but instead chose the "paccheri alla pastora," wide, flat pasta tubes with tomato filet (crushed whole tomato), basil, smoked mozzarella, garlic, and parmesan.

This dish. Oh, this dish! The pasta was just al dente, which I at first thought I didn't like, but after the second bite I realized I was mistaken. It was absolutely perfectly cooked, something I have yet to accomplish in my own kitchen. And the sauce! Thick slices of garlic that melted in the mouth, a fresh sprig of basil with unopened blossoms, melted cheese that stuck to the tomatoes in just the right places. Each bite was ecstasy. I began to feel bad for Mom and the other diners nearby, because I could not stop talking about how good that dish was. Not only that, but the serving was just the right size, just enough to fill me up, but not too much that I stuffed myself (which I would have happily done. It was that good.)

Since Mom was tired, we decided to get our dessert to go and eat it at her hotel room while we watched a movie. She ordered the flourless chocolate cake, and I ordered the "torta foresta nera," a chocolate sponge cake with chantilly cream and amarena cherries, delicate wild italian cherries preserved in syrup and their own juice. I have a jar of them at home, which I dip into now and then as an extra special treat. I don't know how Mom liked her cake, she didn't stop to talk until it was gone. My cake was ok, the sponge was a bit dry, but the amarena cherries made it worth ordering.

I also feel I should mention the last time we went to this restaurant, months ago, when I ordered the "polipe con patate," the most incredible octopus I've ever eaten. This appetizer is grilled just long enough to heat through, served piping hot with potatoes, celery, onion, lemon juice, and olive oil, this octopus was so tender and juicy, not at all rubbery like every other octopus dish I've tried. Everyone at our table of five wanted a taste. It was heaven on a plate. Unfortunately, I didn't have enough of an appetite to order it along with my salad and entree tonight.

Our water glasses never got past half-empty, we were immediately given olive oil and vinegar to dip our focaccia bread into, Keith was very attentive, and Henry did an awesome job. And the fact that I could hear some Led Zeppelin (?) playing in the kitchen was epic. So, overall, I have to say that both Keith and Henry, as well as the other staff members, deserve hand knit socks, a homemade key lime pie, and a beer after work (that's about equivalent to 5 stars out of 5.)

So, if you're in the mood for Italian cuisine, try the Risotteria at Il Fornaio. You will not be disappointed.

Recovering Tomboy Seeks Über-girly Pinup Girl Dresses [Link-heavy]

Huh?

Yeah. I thought the same thing. But, meh. It sounded good, and accurate.

In case it wasn't already obvious, I'm a recovering Tomboy. I'm absolutely in love with my bluejeans-tshirt style, and short messy hair. Mr. Man is decidedly not, but he's polite enough about it. When I told him my plans to chop off my then shoulder-length hair, he said, in so many words, that it wouldn't be as attractive. He adored my long hair. I, of course, was beginning to hate it, because my hair is so very thin and fine, yet there's so much of it that the hair at the nape of my neck will, without a doubt... in spring, summer, fall, and winter... be a tangled mess within 15 minutes of walking out the door. It's actually quite painful to have to brush out, and my hair tends to get very greasy after a day without washing, so I can't go without, even in winter. Which means, if it's winter, or I don't want to have a million frizzy, springy, curly hairs sticking out (though my hair is, essentially, straight/wavy), I have to blow-dry it. And I have to use styling products, that is if I don't want it to go flat or frizzled.

But I've got a little secret, and I'm gonna let you in on it... I'm currently obsessed with finger-curled hairstyles. Those ultra-feminine coifs from the early 1900's, very popular in the 20's and 30's (and, of course, somewhat revived by the new Zelweger–Zeta-Jones version of Chicago.) And I'm equally obsessed [again] with pinup fashion. [Side note: Have you ever heard of Miss Bernie Dexter? She's like a modern Betty Paige, but with a tinier waist.]

But I digress... I do that.

Anyway, I've gone through fits of joy over pinup and rockabilly style for the last few years. It seems to come in aftershock-like waves, very sudden, and then gone almost as quickly, but the memory still lingers long after the effects are felt. This time, I think it's going to be more than a phase. Remember the pretty new shoes I treated myself to? Well, I've decided that I need to have at least one dress/skirt outfit that goes with each pair. I've already gone one dress to match the beige ones, but it's a bit poufy in front, and makes me look a wee bit too "in a family way," so I must find/make something that I don't have to wear a jacket over.

That, and I feel like it's time for a change. Mr. Man's noticed, too. The other day I was doing laundry, and the only thing that was clean was this great black and deep blue floral skirt (with pockets!!! Truly awesome.) Anyway, Mr. Man showed his appreciation by giving my tush a little squeeze. I laughed out loud with surprise and delight, since it's been a while since I received that kind of reaction. It was so nice, especially so since Mr. Man was smiling, despite a bad toothache.

And it got me thinking: maybe I should get "all fancy" more often. Mr. Man's not one for compliments, but when I get dressed up, he always says, "You look good, honey." Coming from him, that makes me go all weak in the knees... and makes me feel dead sexy. So, maybe... possibly... it might be time to let my hair grow out, hang up the Doc Martens, and put the jeans away with the winter clothes. At any rate, it gives me an excuse to peruse online stores and go out and get fabric to make new dresses... when I've got about a million other projects piling up...

So... yeah. I'm trekking into uncharted territory, here, so any advice will be greatly appreciated. For example, what style dress/outfit is appropriate with this other pair of heels I picked up?
For those with monitor issues, they're a delicious deep cherry red (will post pics later, it's late and I need sleep.) Is a little black dress ok, and are there other options? I tried them with black jeans, and it just looked... well, you can imagine. But with the right outfit, I bet they'll be killer, and I will be one hot mama.

At any rate, I decided months ago that, for Mr. Man's birthday (which is exactly 15 days before mine) I'm going to tell him that I'm growing my hair out again. Just for him.

Who knows? This could be the beginning of a whole new me...

Ok, maybe not a whole new me. I'll still be weird and zany, but I'll look like a girly-girl... Oooh... That could add to my whole weirdo mystique... The cute weird girl...

Ok, enough ramblings from me. Off to bed.

Time for a happy post

So, after looking over the last entry, I decided that it's time for some positive entries, and more frequent and regular. I'll try to post at least once every week, probably on a weekday morning, or after a particularly bountiful haul at the Neighborhood Farmers Market, either in the U-District, Ballard, or on Broadway.

But first, a report of my Memorial Day Weekend. I missed the Sunday farmers market, one of my most favoritest events, one I look forward to all week and actually willingly wake up early on my weekend for. But, when I woke up around 9am Sunday morning, got showered, started to get dressed and get ready to leave, my back decided it wanted me back in bed... for 2 days. That's right. I badly tweaked something in my back, and ended up needing muscle relaxers, unable to do anything myself for the first twelve hours. Poor Mr. Man had to take care of me, after we'd planned a nice, long, relaxing weekend. Oh well. He did a great job, and I was up and about, doing most of my normal activities and making dinner by Monday evening. Last night during class, though, I had to leave early, since sitting for over 2 hours straight doesn't seem to be in the cards for me, yet. And to top it off, Mr. Man started getting a toothache on Monday night. Hooray for 3-day holiday weekends!

I know, I know. I said happy entries. But I didn't lie, entirely. Here's what's in the cards for the next few weeks:

1. Tomorrow I'm planning to bake. [insert image of me skipping with joy.] I'm shooting for multiple baked goods, like some homemade banana bread, to use up the three very dark bananas that I stuck in the fridge, because I saw a single fruit fly in the kitchen one day and wanted to stop the spread of them. Where there's one... The summer heat is almost on us, and last year we were constantly at war with the little buggers, so this time I'm making preparations to avoid the battle entirely.

Anyway, I love banana bread, almost as much as Mom's zucchini bread. Still too early for that, though, even though there's organic zucchini at the grocery stores, but it's too small and comes from too far away, and I try to buy local. Hopefully I'll have enough banana bread loaves made that I can put one or two in the freezer for a later date. That, and there's few things better than a cool, tasty pastry—instead of a hot stuffy kitchen from baking all morning—on a hot summer day. With fresh freezer preserves. Hmm... Yummy.

Then, maybe I'll make a pie to use up the frozen blueberries and pie crusts that have been hiding in the back of the freezer for who-knows-how-long. Not that blueberry pie is a bad thing, especially when I add some frozen peaches to the mix, and if I use this recipe... Oh, yeah. This is going to be excellent.

2. Sunday night we're supposed to meet with some friends—whom we have seen far too little of—and my cousin for drinks and pizza at one of Mr. Man's favorite pizza joints in Georgetown. Hopefully he'll be feeling up to it, and we'll all have a great time.

3. I get to go on a trip with Mom to Spokane for the weekend, stay in a nice B&B, and go to an antique show.

Yeah, I'd say things are looking up.

Update: No need to worry about a hot stuffy kitchen on a hot summer day. It's been cold and rainy for almost a week (as of June 3.) Oh well, hopefully the extra rainfall will help prevent any droughts this summer.

Perhaps a little presumptuous...

This is something that happened to me over the last week or so, and I thought I should share it with all the women out there. I know it's not the fault of the company or the manager, so I will not name any names (unless you ask me because you've had a similar experience, in which case you should talk to that guy's manager.)

About a week ago, I went shoe shopping for the first time in I-don't-know-how-long. A few pairs of gorgeous kittenish pumps in a pretty floral pattern, and asked to try them on (pics can be seen on my Wish List page.) The man that was helping me, A., was attentive enough, but perhaps a bit too attentive. He was clearing flirting with me, even though I had made it very clear that I have a boyfriend... a big, scary, tattooed, redneck truck-driving, ex-marine boyfriend. And still this guy would not detach himself from my person. At one point he had put some of those cushy inserts in the shoes for me, and when I tried to remove them, which can apparently be done by rubbing the adhesive with your finger, he felt he needed to show me how to remove it by rubbing my hand... which was IN MY LAP.

I did really want the shoes, otherwise I think I might have walked out right then and there, had I not been scared out of my wits. Although I was flattered at first, now I was onto his game. This guy was pushy, and somewhat manipulative. I paid for the shoes, and as he handed me my bag, A. said, "So I'll see you back here, soon."

It wasn't a question.

I said, "Ok," and ran like hell.

I was terrified. This guy had the same mannerisms and "tricks" [but worse and more intense] as a guy (we'll call him "George") I was dating when I met Mr. Man, and George was very pushy, manipulative, and mentally abusive. He had me down, to the point where he'd almost convinced me it was my fault that he yelled at me when he was jealous and didn't like what I had chosen to wear out that night. I, of course, wept bitterly, not able to understand what was happening, still pretty sure that I wasn't doing anything wrong. When I finally woke up and realized what George was doing, I was already afraid of him and the things he said/did, which I later found out were the warning signs of a physically abusive man.

I lucked out. I could have stayed with him a few months more, had I not realized what was going on, and that might have made it harder for me to get away. My friends offered me a place to stay, and Mr. Man helped me move out of George's apartment. I was very lucky. I had friends to help me, and a guy that wanted to see me safe and happy, who I started dating a few short months later, and we've been together ever since. You all know him as Mr. Man. I think I'll keep him.

Back to the shoe guy, A. I can understand some harmless flirtation, but this guy was making me physically uncomfortable, and it was all so subtle that it's sometimes difficult to pick up on, or explain to another person that wasn't there. It was to the point where I was nervous going back there with my Mom and cousin this weekend. So yesterday, I decided to speak to A.'s manager. The idea was to get the point across that A.'s actions were likely to lose my business with his company, which neither I nor the manager wanted. The manager was very attentive as I [very awkwardly] told him what had happened, looked genuinely concerned and apologized profusely. I told him it wasn't his fault, and that I just thought that the guy in question probably just needed to be told that his actions were inappropriate. I was very nervous through the whole ordeal, but thanked the manager, walked back to my Mom where she was trying on shoes, and sat down and bought a pair of sandals. I felt infinitely better.

Some men don't seem to realize (or perhaps they realize too well) that some of the things they do make women uncomfortable. If you meet a guy who seems to be a bit pushy, flirts with you when you've tried to politely make it clear that you're not interested, and seems too certain that you'll be seeing each other again, simply because he insists upon it, then RUN. Far and fast, in the other direction. And don't go back alone, not for a while, anyway. I'll go back in maybe a month or so, but not sooner by myself. Thankfully, my cousin loves shoes. Probably the understatement of the century, but that's ok, she's a good shopping companion.

This will be most excellent...

The LYS Tour is about to begin. Tomorrow morning, I shall be running around with my gorgeous Mama, who's coming into town to see me (and let me drag her all over Puget Sound to satisfy my fiber addiction.) I love my Mama.
Here's the rundown from the LYS Tour website:

WHO: Twenty-four outstanding Local Yarn Shops in the Puget Sound region.
WHERE: From Bellingham to Renton, from Bellevue to Bainbridge Island, in cities and suburbs and towns.
WHEN: May 15, 16, 17 & 18. Extended hours: Thursday 10am - 9pm, Friday 10am – 9pm, Saturday 10am – 9pm, and Sunday 10am – 6 pm.
WHAT: A four-day yarn crawl with your friends to see why a thriving LYS is a wonderful thing.
HOW: Pick up your map and LYS Tour Passport at any participating shop, and get pages stamped by each shop during the Tour weekend.
WHY #1: Get stamps from all 24 shops and get entered to win a $500 gift certificate from the LYS of your choice.
WHY #2: Free one-skein project patterns, different at every shop, plus 10% off that specified yarn that weekend only.
WHY #3: Yarn crawl! Is there anything better to do that weekend?

I think I can more than justify a yarn crawl of these proportions. *grin* I'll be sure to post photos of my haul here, when I can catch my breath, that is.

Saturday Morning

Despite the weather being less than stellar, I managed to bring some sunshine into my Saturday morning.

I know, a bit early in the season for strawberries, but I couldn't resist them last night at the store.
[You'll soon find that I have a somewhat unhealthy obsession with perfect strawberries, and all manner of perfect foods.]

This was lovingly made from a Joy of Cooking recipe. I can't believe I ever lived without a copy of this invaluable cookbook. (I feel that I must admit that I did flub this recipe a bit. In my excitement to bake and taste them, I completely forgot the add the vanilla. But I think they're just as good without, since there's nothing to compete with the flavor of the berries.)

I wish I could overnight these to my mom for Mother's Day, tomorrow. Wouldn't that be great? Fresh, still hot from the oven, delivered right to your door. That would have been great when I first started college.

To all of you whose Saturday morning is looking a bit gloomy, please share in my ray of sunshine. Have a great week!

Coffee and a French Press

So my pal Luckie has been bugging me for over a year to get a french press for my coffee. "It's so good," he would always say, to which I'd reply "But I just bought a coffee maker. And it's really nice!"

Well, that excuse only worked until I got up one morning and found that the carafe handle on my nice "new" coffee maker was broken, making it difficult to safely pour hot coffee. Turns out there was a little accident one day when Mr. Man's friends were over. Oh well, that's what I get for leaving the carafe out where it doesn't belong.

So I started getting a white velvet mocha from Espresso Vivace on my way to class each morning. It got to the point where I was addicted to caffeine again, so the habit has continued fairly regularly without much interruption. It became so convenient to just grab a mocha on the way to class each morning, and less wasteful than pouring that extra cup that I can never finish down the sink, that I really haven't touched my coffee maker in over 6 months, and I can never seem to remember to order a new carafe (super glue doesn't work. I've tried.)

But this quarter, I started taking evening classes instead of morning, so it threw me out of whack. I haven't had to get up early in the mornings, and I don't need to walk past Vivace every day before 4pm, so my focus in the evenings has been greatly affected... that and I'm just plain crabby without my cuppa. Not to mention the deliciously rich and creamy (and almost untouched) Wicked Wolf blend and Dead Man's Reach from Raven's Brew sitting and going to waste in my cupboard. And, this being Seattle, how could I not?

So one day, while perusing the wooden bowls at a kitchen store in Pike Place (I have a secret, unrealized obsession with wooden bowls/dishes), I came across the teeniest, cutest little 3-cup french press. It was so perfect, I snatched it up right then and there. Since it was past 5pm, I had to wait til the next morning to try it out, or else face a long, restless night.

Oh. My. GAWD!

That was the most rich, strong, flavorful, cremoso cup of coffee I've ever made, let alone had!

When doing some volunteer work with Seattle Tilth last week, however, using the tiny 3-cup press to fill my thermos each morning was rather time-consuming and masochistic, so I went out on Friday evening and bought the big boy, 32-oz. press. For special occasions, and when I just need more than one cup.

There's no turning back. I love my french press.

Okonomiyaki: a thing of beauty

I just made my first ever batch of okonomiyaki, a tasty vegetable, meat, and seafood pancake typical of the Kansai (Kyoto and Osaka) and Hiroshima regions of Japan. Depending on the region, it's ingredients may vary, but the basics are:

katsuoboshi [dried, fermented, smoked skipjack tuna] shavings
shredded cabbage
raw egg
squid (I think my mix contained powdered dried squid)
green onion
aonori [green, dried seaweed]
thin sliced meat (in my case, pork belly)
some type of flour (in my case, yam) mixed with water
grated chinese yam (in my case, dehydrated yam powder, which was mixed with water to rehydrate)

These are all mixed together and cooked like an American pancake: golden on one side, flip, golden on the other, flip again, plate, smother in sauce and toppings, and serve. The usual sauce is one made with this dish in mind, and to my untrained American mind limited knowledge is known as "okonomiyaki sauce."

I was lucky enough, being an ignorant American who speaks very little Japanese (though claims to know much about the culture), to find a pre-made mix with ENGLISH INSTRUCTIONS!!! Yay!!! All I had to do was shred some cabbage–one of my specialities–mix the ingredients together, pan-fry, smother in sauce, and eat! Of course, Mr. Man was hesitant to try it, which surprised me because his mom is from Korea, and I figured he would have enjoyed it. Wrong. He took one bite, then asked if there was fish in it. I said there was powdered squid in it, and he said, "Here you go, honey," and handed the plate back. Should've known. Oh well, more for me!

Sorry the plate is smeared. I couldn't wait to eat it, and so didn't think to take a picture until after I'd wolfed down the first one and finished making the second one.

Yeah. It was that good.