Joy!

I leave for San Diego in twelve hours. Have I even started to pack yet? Not a chance. I can only hope that the contents of my petite suitcase (which is supposed to somehow allow me seven days of outfits) come together as quickly and lovely as the soup I'm hastily devouring by the spoonful. Butternut squash, with my own additions of Trader Joe's roasted peppers and onions, wilted spinach, white kidney beans, two egg whites, and heaps of cumin and black pepper. My soul is getting some much needed post-finals lovin' as I sit next to the space heater and watch the amusing antics of Kathleen Kelley and Joe Fox.

You know what else has warmed my soul this evening? Joy. No, no, not the kind you feel, but Joy, Joy the Baker! What a treat that woman is. You read her writing and wonder, Can someone really be this sassy in real life? The answer: you betcha. Elisa and I happened to be the first to arrive at her book signing and got to meet Joy before everyone else. She even got a high-five out of the deal! Another bonus: Joy loved our shoes (her podcast parter was secretly sneaking photos of them, making me feel super special that someone so adored was adoring us!). What a fun experience to meet the woman I wake up and read every morning, musing over the latest in creativity to be extracted from her oven. 

Perhaps I'll whip something up tonight, as I always seem to do my best baking at odd hours. I mean, I can always catch up on sleep in the airport or something, right?

Hope

I have some. It comes in the form of daydreams. It serves its purpose in distracting me from the daunting hours that lay ahead this week, staring at words on a computer screen until my eyes glaze over or roll into the back of my head. 

I had my first taste of it this afternoon. Achiote pork, caramelized pineapple, red onion escabeche, cilantro, rice and beans. A teaser for what will in 13 days be 7 days of much needed reassurance that I can make it through the next 29 credits, to declare myself forever free from being a slave to academia.

Primavera. Que?

The ever-poetic Notorious B.I.G. once said, "It was all a dream." Was it? I'm beginning to think it was. Spring being a real concept in Seattle, that is.

Once You Go Brown...You Never Go Back

Everyone is always making the claim that some chocolate chip cookie recipe they found is the best. Well, I'm here to tell you that they're wrong, unless of course you have already happened to come across the very best chocolate chip cookies recipe, which I am about to divulge to you. 

Brown Butter.

It'll change your life folks, I can promise you that. If you're the kind of person who doesn't nearly start to melt at the intoxicating nutty aroma of hot fat bubbling and browning over the stove, filling every nook of your house with the scent of divinity, then I don't believe you deserve to be eating cookies in the first place. As for the rest of you, kindly put down your yellow bag of Nestle Toll House semisweet chips and follow me. I doubt you will ever return (dun-dun-dunnnnn).

For these cookies I followed the recipe exactly, well, almost. I let the dough sit in the fridge for 36 hours before baking. Why? Because the New York Times told me to. And besides the brown butter, I can assure you it made a huge difference in flavor. They not only had a richer color, but also a markedly more sophisticated caramel flavor with hints of toffee.

With a heavy heart I must inform you that I gave these gems away to my brother as a birthday present. But don't you worry your pretty little head about me! I had a generous spoonful of dough, and I couldn't have been more content, well, more or less. But who really needs an entire bowl of cookie dough anyway? Pshhh, not me. Anyway, it was a tough break indeed, but all is right in the world when the stomach of a boy is happy.

Decisions, Decisions

They must be made. I have a long history of indecision. It complicates my life, particularly when I am trying to order food. I live a relatively healthy lifestyle, and it manifests itself in my thought processes when trying to make decisions about food. I hate it when I decide to go for smart choices over what my heart is really after, because I usually always end up dissatisfied. That is not to say that I don't love nutritious foods and incorporate them into my life. In fact, a pear, endive, and walnut salad has been running through my thoughts all day, and I intend to conquer it promptly. 

To save myself from rambling, I will simply tell you that this weekend I successfully defeated my indecision (if only momentarily), and ended up with a very satisfied stomach and soul. They're pretty much the same thing, you know. A wonderfully enjoyable night spent over a meal with my family in celebration of my brother's birthday. I broke the chains of habit and ordered a burger. For the record, I hardly ever eat beef, but enjoyed my southwestern-inspired hunk of meat, savoring every spicy, charbroiled bite. 

This morning at breakfast, another victory (in the excellent company of my similarly indecisive friend, with the takeaway being satisfaction for both parties.). Bread pudding with a fruit compote of what I discerned to be blueberry, marionberry, tart dried cherries and spiced dark chocolate. A pretty pink box with the remains await to make for another splendid morning, despite the promise of cold and rain.

Spectrum

I never did care much for red roses.

Silver Lining

I bought a plane ticket to San Diego. Three friends and I leave in 34 days. Hallelujah.