For those of you who don’t write your own food blog, you likely don’t realize how difficult it is to photograph some foods. Notorious amongst the toughies: any food, absolutely any food that is brown. It’s blah. Indifferent. No pep or vigor to it. The trick is to get some contrast – light and dark, forward and backward interest. Color, etc. I do think about it when I’m photographing food for the blog. And then there are those times when nothing I do seems to work. Take this time.

We had salad for dinner. And yes, I have some salad dressings in the refrigerator (a store-bought mango dressing that doesn’t seem to go well on greens), and the lemonade one I made last weekend. It’s very good, and we’ve eaten it several times in the last 8 days, but it’s sweet. I wanted something savory. A quick perusal of my recipe binders and I decided on one of The Silver Palate’s staples – their Basic Vinaigrette. I’ve made it innumerable times, and always liked it. It seemed like a good fit for the clean-out-the-produce-drawer salad we had. (We attended our youngest grandson’s baptism today and had an ample lunch afterward, so we weren’t hungry for a full-blown dinner.)

I whipped up the dressing in a bowl – using my favorite O (brand) cabernet vinegar, and good French Maille Dijon mustard. I added salt, pepper, a bit of sugar (actually Splenda), some parsley (Italian) and then I drizzled in some Lucini brand olive oil. Using a whisk, I whipped until the dressing had emulsified. I haven’t looked it up, but emulsified means until it thickens – it’s when the oil and the vinegar come together and become one, like homogenizing milk.

All was going well, and then I decided I needed to photograph it. Yeah, sure. So, I poured it into a plastic bottle and did a couple of side shots of it (photo below). Blah. Brownish dressing, some smeared on the side of the jar. Not very appetizing! I poured it out on the salad, and took a picture of the salad itself. Great shot of a salad, but you would have no idea what the dressing looked like. After dinner I glanced at the empty bowl I used to whisk up the dressing, and snapped a photo of that. Perhaps more interesting than the bottle.
I’ll give you both, however. No matter what you think of the photo, the dressing is just great. Perfect for my mixed greens (watercress, some spring mix, thinly shaved fennel, radishes, celery finely minced, radicchio sliced thinly, and a bit of Greek feta cheese). We had some leftover rib-eye steak which I sliced thinly and lapped that on top of our salad. Okay, so I’m done ranting now about photographing brown food. Tell me you got the picture? Comments are always appreciated!
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It intrigues me, always, when I read a recipe and find some new or different technique. Such was the case with this recipe. It’s not exactly an innovative instruction, but normally you don’t cover a cobbler or cake while it’s baking. In this case, you cover it with oiled foil for half the baking and uncover for the second half. And this fruit pudding cake requires about 80-90 minutes of baking. That’s a heck of a long time.

Before we get to the recipe itself, I want to talk about peaches and nectarines for a minute . . . I know (because Carolyn knows all, tee, hee) that some of you, my good readers, who subscribe or use a reader, chose not to read my instructional pieces about how to buy great fruit and vegetables (I’ve done two so far – peaches/nectarines, and cucumbers). I suppose in the big scheme of things, I shouldn’t care, but I’m merely telling you, it’s worth the reading. Really it is. (If you want to read it now, just click on the links above to go to each of those posts.) I’ve learned things from the book this info has come from. In this case, when I was shopping for peaches, I remembered what Russ Parsons had told me – and I’m doing this from memory – firstly that peaches and nectarines are interchangeable, for all intents and purposes, (okay, good so far, so I chose nectarines) – then he said choose the white-fleshed fruit if it’s available (check), and choose fruit that has less rosy tinges to them – in other words, choose the more yellow skinned rather than the red skinned (I did my best, check). Once home, I placed them on the kitchen counter (check) for about 4 days, actually, until they were perfectly ripe. That day wasn’t one when I could use them, so I popped them in a plastic bag and into the refrigerator (check). It’s been 3 or 4 more days since I did that, and amazingly, they were perfectly okay once I removed them from cold storage. I’m a happy camper.

I haven’t done much cooking of late. No particular reason, other than I’ve been busy doing other things (like painting, for instance, going to my weekly art class, shopping, going out to lunch with friends, movie-going to see Mama Mia). And, we had lots of leftovers in the refrigerator. I don’t mind leftovers at all, and my DH is wonderful about eating them. In fact he rags on me something fierce whenever we have to throw out something. Alas, we do now and then. But our refrigerator, finally, is more or less bare. Well, that’s not exactly a truthful statement. If you opened my frig you’d find nearly all shelves half full – of bottles and jars of things that have to be refrigerated all the time (pickles, dressings, marinades, mustards, some liqueurs, crème fraiche, still some Devon cream leftover from the tea about 6 weeks ago, oils, jams, condiments, hot peppers, and on and on it goes). The vegetable drawer is crammed full too, as well as the shallow cheese/salami drawer. Of course, there’s also some milk, fat-free half and half, some cream, sour cream, fresh salsa, and lots of Greek yogurt too.

So, now we get to talk about the recipe. Sorry for the diversion . . . I went to my recipe trove and searched for something to do with the nectarines. Out popped this recipe. I adore pudding cakes – you’ll find that I posted a lemon sponge cake and a gingerbread pudding cake in months past, both really tasty. I’d never made a peach (well, nectarine) one. First I peeled and sliced (and measured) the nectarines. I took two little slices to taste – oh my goodness were they fabulous. Now, a slight confession: the original recipe called for 4 cups of sliced fruit. I had 4 rather smallish nectarines, and I thought I’d be lucky to have 3 cups. Actually, it was a bit over 2 cups. So, I halved the recipe. The list of ingredients, when halved, was difficult (I hate it when you have to measure 7/8 of a cup or 3/8 of a cup). So, the recipe you’ll see below is the full 9×13 size, since I didn’t think you guys would want to have to do all the odd-estimating measurements, either. I baked mine in an 8-inch round cakepan. I don’t own an 8-inch square pan (just a 9-er), so figured the 8-inch round cakepan would be a better use of the volume/space.

The recipe appeared in Bon Appetit, in August of 2007. It was in the column where people write in to ask for restaurant recipes. When I searched online for it, it wasn’t AT the epicurious website (odd), but I did find it at somebody else’s food blog. Before I made it I wanted to read what others thought of it. Several people who have eaten at the restaurant, and had moved away from Austin, were thrilled to find the recipe online (per the comments to the blog). Apparently the pastry chef at this restaurant is Asian, as the recipe on the menu is called Wom Kim’s Peach Pudding.

Remember, pudding cake is a unique chemistry – the batter separates into a pudding layer, and also has a second layer more resembling a cake. When this pudding cake was sliced and served, it didn’t have much ooze left (probably because I baked it too long). In this particular recipe you spread the batter into the baking dish, then spoon the freshly sliced peaches/nectarines on top. Once baked, the fruit has settled (mostly) to the bottom and the cake is on top. In my instance, since I was using a smaller vessel, I cut down the baking time. Next time I’ll bake it less time. You can see from the collage of pictures, the one with the shiny center is halfway through the baking – from then I probably needed to bake it about 30 minutes and check it with my tester in 5-minute increments. And next time I’ll know to make the full 9×13 glass pan full, and to have at least 8 peaches or nectarines on hand to make it!

The results? It was delicious (is that my most favorite word on this blog? sorry . . .). Ahem. It was very good, but I think the cake overpowered the delicate flavor of the nectarines, though. If you want straight, unadulterated peach or nectarine flavor, cut them up and serve with cream or eat out of hand. If you don’t mind the mingling of flavors (the cake part was a bit crunchy on top – which was a great texture  . . . I liked it, it was perfectly baked, a bit darkened around the outside edges from sugar caramelization, just as the recipe recommended). I served it with a small globe of vanilla ice cream rather than whipped cream – I wanted the cold contrast.
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Our newly replastered pool, and the view to the west.

In case you hadn’t heard, we had a significant 5.4 magnitude earthquake here in Southern California on Tuesday. At 11:42 am. It lasted for about 15 seconds, although the most severe portion was only about 8 -10 seconds, then it gradually faded after that. If you’ve never been in an earthquake, it’s hard to describe. It is a very deep roaring-wrenching sound first – you hear it initially, in the half second before you feel the earth start to shift. I was near a major beam in the house, so I didn’t move. Light fixtures swayed, the water in both our pool and spa began sloshing around, although no water lapped over the edges. (Ten minutes later the pool water was still moving.)  The wrenching noise continues. It feels like forever. It’s frightening, yes. The fear, of course, is that maybe this is going to be the BIG one, the one that’s going to bring down the house. Sometimes I run to a doorway; other times, depending on the severity, I’m frozen, in suspense, listening for sounds that indicate major damage. glass breaking, pictures falling and shattering, or worse. Part of the wrenching sound is the house itself, the structure, the beams and wood screaming against the bolts and screws, leaning from the nails that hold a house together and to a cement slab foundation.

People who don’t live here wonder why we’d possibly live in earthquake country. Well, for me, this is paradise. We’re some miles away from the San Andreas (an-DRAY-us) Fault, the deep, underground schism that the experts tell us has been caused by thousands of years of shifting ground, where the greatest amount of movement comes. There are many other fault lines here in California too, but that’s the major one, the San Andreas. We, perhaps, delude ourselves, that since we’re so many miles away from the Fault, therefore we’ll be immune from significant damage.

In response, I ask – why do people live along the shores of Florida, Georgia, the Carolinas, in known hurricane country? Why do people live in the midwest in the land of tornados? There are negatives, I suppose, about lots of places to live. For us, it’s earthquakes.

Did we have damage? Yes and no. Yes, we had some damage, but no it wasn’t major as far as we know. During the hardest wrenching when the noise was near-deafening, we didn’t even hear the cans and bottles fly off the shelves in the pantry just 10 feet away (albeit behind a stained-glass door). They landed in piles, some shattered – jam, jelly, salsas, oozing out on the hardwood floor and glass shards flew in every direction. About 10 bottles made huge dents in the wood floor as they broke. Sardines in a tin were hit with something which made a hole in the metal, so the area smelled of fish for awhile. Sigh. Dave made a quick survey upstairs – nothing major. Later I did discover about 15 books had fallen off shelves in my office upstairs. Drawers throughout the house (except in the kitchen where they’re held by a magnet) were ajar. No windows broke. No pictures fell off walls. But we had aftershocks for hours. About 2 hours later I was sitting at my office computer. The screen has a partial reflection of the window across the room. Although I couldn’t feel it at first, suddenly the screen/reflection began shaking. Concentrating, yes, I could feel the movement. We had several of those.

Our biggest concern was our newly replastered pool and spa. Fortunately there appears to be no change there; no drop in water level. The picture above is of our main pool and the view toward the ocean. You can vaguely see the mound of fog way out there, that usually bothers us in June, not July, coming in from the sea. [And yes, I know, I need to write up a post about our back yard . . . I’ve had a couple of people email me privately asking about the status of our leaning flagpole and our hill/patio/leaks. I promise, I will do it soon . . . just when I think we’re “done” with our back yard, something else happens, and we’re not finished with our 6 months and counting problems.]

The epicenter was about 15 miles away as the crow flies, about due north, in an area called Chino Hills. There, there were broken water mains, some ceiling falls, a Macy’s had to close because of water damage, broken windows in businesses and homes. But I haven’t heard that anyone was injured. Thank goodness.

As a native Californian, I read, years and years ago, a fascinating book called The Last of the Late, Great State of California. It’s a novel, based on an earthquake aftermath when the western half of California sinks in the ocean after the BIG one. It addressed issues (some immediate, most long term) that one wouldn’t think about. Huge problems. Financial and political mostly. I thought the author was brilliant in analyzing how such a big one would affect those left behind.

We have earthquake insurance for 3 of our 4 houses (2 homes we live in and 1 rental home are covered; the rental condo isn’t covered) – a very expensive proposition, I’ll tell you! But if we did have a big one, once we paid the huge deductible, we’d be covered. Most people don’t have it. I understand why, because it’s so costly. Life has returned to normal here, however. For now. Until the next one, which we know is coming.

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Once a month I get together with two friends for about three hours of Scrabble. The hostess serves, usually, some cookies, fruit and hot tea, even in the summertime. (Of course, the A/C is running, so it’s comfortable inside, but it’s part of our ritual – we have TEA.) So, I needed to fix something to serve with the tea – maybe something different this time. I scrounged around looking at my heap of recipes to try, and this one stood out – it required some Bailey’s Irish Cream, which I happened to have in my refrigerator. The recipe came from Cooking Light in October, 2006, and dozens and dozens of people who made it gave these high marks. Providing you cut them in 16 pieces, it’s just 6 grams of fat each. They’re very fudgy and chocolatey. The author cautioned readers not to overbake them – they need to be slightly underdone, so they’ll be soft in the middle. The recipe has been altered to 18 minutes baking time (my oven bakes hot, so I reduced it to 340).

My DH and I enjoyed one small brownie with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream after dinner last night. The photo is a tad bit misleading – the brownie is quite small – but on that small plate and with the globe of ice cream, it looks gigantic. It wasn’t. But certainly ample. The Bailey’s is very subtle – in fact I don’t think you can exactly detect it, but these are delish. Yes, I’d make them again.
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Every time our family gets together for a big confab, there are always logistics – the date, the time, who can bring what, and what’s convenient for which family, depending on soccer games, and traveling requirements. Originally our daughter Sara and her family were going to bring salad, but with the heat and a two hour drive, she thought that likely wasn’t a good idea, so we switched – she bought a big fancy sheet birthday cake (and tried to keep it out of the sun in the back of their car) and I made the salad, but used her recipe.

Although we eat at Soup Plantation now and then (their salad bar is par excellence), I’d never had their summer lemon salad. Sara had raved about it last summer, but somehow we missed the window of opportunity and it was gone by the time we went there. Sara had the recipe in her head: spring mix (“you know, Mom, that big bag from Costco” she said), pecans (“I make your recipe, Mom, for the peppered pecans instead), dried cranberries and gorgonzola and this lemonade dressing. She said 1 ½ cups mayo, 1 cup of lemonade concentrate, sugar and Dijon. That’s it. She didn’t give me specifics on the sugar and Dijon, so she added more mustard once she tasted it. I added too much sugar, I think, but it was fine. I found the recipe today on the ‘net, and it has more specific quantities and uses a spicy candied pecan. It’s a “copycat” recipe, so we don’t know for sure if it’s Soup Plantation’s version, although on the ‘net it indicates the recipe came from an institutional restaurant magazine.

It was easy enough to put together. The dressing took about 2 minutes to mix up. I did make my peppered pecans (took about 10-12 minutes, I’d suppose). After crumbling the blue cheese (I had that on hand, so didn’t buy Gorgonzola) it was a simple matter of tossing it together just before serving. It’s a delicious salad – everybody loved it – there was none left. We had friends over for dinner the next night and served it again, with the leftovers from the big family dinner. I still have dressing, and will make this salad again in the next few days. I’ll add some regular head lettuce to it, though. The spring mix is so fragile – I think the dressing could stand to have some more sturdy lettuces. After 5 minutes the salad is wilted, so really do toss it the very last thing before dishing it up. It’s tart and sweet and crunchy. A lovely side for a summer’s evening.

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Very rarely do I fix the kind of old-fashioned summer outdoor dinner menu for which our fore-mothers are so remembered – can’t you just picture them in their long dresses and bonnets, stirring the fire? Adding more wood to the indoor range? Whether they made hamburgers or not, I don’t know. Likely hot dogs didn’t come into existence until the last 1800’s. But the menus I’m talking about include hamburgers, hot dogs, fried chicken, cole slaw, potato salad, pickles, baked beans, strawberry shortcake and watermelon. You know, that kind of thing. Preparing that hasn’t appealed to me for several decades. The outdoor part, the barbecuing . . . all that’s just fine. I guess the food is just a bit too . . . uh, something. I’d be happy to have it at someone else’s house, but to fix it myself? No.

So, when I was planning our family’s annual 5-birthday get-together (we have five immediate family birthdays between July 26th and August 9th), as I mentioned a day or so ago, I didn’t want to do all the cooking for this crowd (ended up being 18). So we purchased ready-made Que and I made the sides. The day before, I made and posted the story about KFC’s cole slaw. I had made this before – and in case any of you printed the recipe – it’s NOT the same as KFC’s, but it’s close. Close enough? Well, only you can judge. I decided this time that maybe 4-6 hours of marinating is enough – by the next day the cabbage seemed kind of wilted. By yesterday it was over the hill.

Then I made a really nice green type salad I’ll post tomorrow from a recipe brought by my daughter, Sara. It’s supposedly a Soup Plantation version. I like it, whatever it is, although it’s also on the sweet side. I also made the oh-so-tasty watermelon with feta and mint that my friend Kathleen fixed for us last month. It was a big hit at this party – it mostly disappeared, and it’s so darned easy, and amazing how the combination of the salty feta and the sweet watermelon and mint is like a marriage made in heaven. I added more feta and more mint than Martha’s recipe indicated, as you can see from this picture.

And then I opted to make one high-carb side that just seemed right for the menu – baked beans. In my book there are two kinds of baked beans – barbecue type and sweet baked beans. Barbecue beans are more savory tasting. With things like onions, garlic, celery maybe, some tomato sauce perhaps, ham hocks or bacon for flavor. And probably some herbs or spices to liven it up. Baked beans, on the other hand, were developed in New England during the early frontier days of America’s founding. The early settlers must have found good land for growing beans, and they discovered the sweet syrup from maple trees. Combine them and you have “Boston baked beans.” Over the hundreds of years since, maple syrup leaned toward molasses (the early settlers probably had molasses too, brought in from the Caribbean). I don’t know any of these things for sure; it’s just my conjecture. Year ago I bought an old New England style bean pot (crockery type), and used it for a long while. I made baked beans in it many a time. I don’t recall what happened to it – maybe it cracked? People who live in New England and make baked beans regularly swear by the crockery style pot – they believe the flavor is immensely enhanced by using that vessel.

I’ll wager that I hadn’t made this in 20+ years. In my old recipe book, it’s written out in longhand, with cryptic notes (no measurements). Here’s what the list says:

1 huge can B&M baked beans
brown sugar
cinnamon
ground cloves
salt pork

Then, in red ink, I’d written in on the side:
Pineapple (crushed)

So, you see, although this little list comprises mostly ingredients for sweet beans, I added salt pork (from the savory side). Never let it be said that I prepared any recipe (except baked goods) exactly as written. I tampered. When I made it this time, I used bacon instead of salt pork. I added some onion. I left out the ground cloves and the brown sugar (because I thought the canned beans were sweet enough as is). Rather than keep them simmering on the stovetop, I opted to put them in the oven. And because they were quite soupy, I left the lid off. Probably a mistake. They lost way too much fluid, even though the oven temp was about 250. So they were almost dry and had almost reached the point of mush by the time dinner was served. I will say, though, that everybody ate them with relish – there are only a few spoonfuls left. Enough for leftovers. And you know what? They tasted even better the next day. To me anyway.
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I’m old enough to remember when Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC) first opened doors around here in California. And for lots of years since then we never knew how they made their chicken (a combo of pressure cooked and fried, I believe I read or heard), how much fat was in the food (more than we’d like), or what they put in their fabulous cole slaw. We don’t eat there except on a rare occasion when I’m desperate, but every once in awhile we’ll go buy just the cole slaw, because it’s so darned good.

Over the years, though, the mysteries of the KFC’s calories, methods and ingredients were revealed here and there. I once found a recipe that purported to be KFC’s cole slaw, and it contained a lot of grated apple and apple juice concentrate. It seemed possible, since it’s quite sweet. But it didn’t taste the way I thought it should. Then some months ago I was sent an email with lots of restaurant recipes, and this one was included. The results? Good, but it’s definitely not the real thing. I think theirs is a bit sweeter, so sometimes I add some apple juice concentrate to the dressing, or some additional sugar.

When I make it, I put all the grated cabbage and carrots in a large plastic bag, make the dressing and pour it in the bag. That way I can roll the bag around a little bit to marinate the cabbage. It’s much better if allowed to sit for 24 hours, providing you have the time.

We’re having a big dinner at our house for 17 (actually 18 if you include the 11 1/2 month old baby) today, so I made this yesterday. Cooking for that many people is just more than I wanted to tackle, so we’re buying barbecued pork, beef brisket and smoked sausage from a local restaurant (The Beach Pit, in case you’re interested), and I’m making the sides (my old tried and true baked beans, a huge green salad with peppered pecans, watermelon salad and this cole slaw). The bean recipe will get posted, and the green salad, which is a new recipe. The watermelon/feta/mint salad I posted a few weeks ago. Somebody else is bringing appetizers, and we’re having a ready-made cake. Every summer around this time, our family celebrates a bunch of birthdays. Today is my DH’s, next weekend is mine, and two of our grandchildren’s, and the following weekend it’s our daughter’s. We couldn’t possibly have 5 birthday parties in two weeks, so we have a combined one.
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This is another posting in my series about fruits and vegetables, all using information from Russ Parsons’ book, How to Pick a Peach. Cucumbers, although available here in So. California all year around, are at their peak this time of the year.

What I Learned:

• It took centuries of breeding to get what we know today as an edible cucumber.
• Wild cucumbers (from the Himalayan foothills) were impossibly bitter. They’re all part of the Cucurbit family.
• Basically the flesh of all cuke varieties is the same. It’s the skin that’s different, and the fact that one or more varieties are grown with no seeds (the supposedly burpless, hothouse type). They are grown in “cucumber convents,” so that bees can’t pollinate them, which would create seeds.
• News to me is that recent studies have shown that it isn’t the seeds at all that cause indigestion. Actually, it’s the bitterness in cukes that causes the indigestion part. That bitterness is mostly in the skin and around the stem. Remove those and you have mostly a burpless cuke.
• The hotter the weather, the more bitter the cucumber.
• Georgia and Florida grow about half of the cucumbers we eat, followed by Mexico. [Mine were grown here in California.]

How to Choose & Store:

• Moisture loss is the biggest problem for a cucumber, so select ones that aren’t shriveled or wilted. If you buy the greenhouse type, cut off what you need and leave the rest sealed in its plastic cocoon.
• Seal tightly in a plastic bag.
• Use them quickly.

Parsons included two recipes in this chapter: Cucumber Gazpacho (some stale bread, cukes, sorrel, garlic and yogurt) and a Cucumber, Beet and Feta Salad.

I’ve only posted one recipe using cucumbers – a recent one – for Cucumber Soup. And it’s a really good one, given to me by my friend, Jackie. That’s what made me think of this – I have two large hothouse cukes in the refrigerator now and need to make another batch of that soup. It’s so refreshing since we’re having hot weather here in Southern California.

My mother used to make a simple pickled cucumber – in a refrigerator container she’d put in some water (let’s say about 1/2 cup to 2/3 cup), some cider vinegar (maybe 1-2 T.), a sprinkling of sugar (probably about 1 tsp). She’d taste it and adjust it for sweet/sour balance, add some salt and pepper, then pile in the thinly sliced, peeled cucumbers. The liquid needs to cover the cukes. They would sit, refrigerated, for several hours or overnight having been stirred around a couple of times the first several hours.  If you happen to have dill weed (not seed), throw a bit of that in there too. My dad could just about eat his weight in those. My DH adores these, and I forget to make them. Adding Splenda instead of sugar works just fine.

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Have you ever heard or read about how hard it is to photograph brown and beige things? Hope you can even figure out this is onions! I had to balance some of the onions on a fork with my left hand and try to hold the camera steady AND click the shutter with my right hand. All to show some added depth to the photo. And although this may not look all that appetizing, it’s actually very good. Would I kid you?

After just stating yesterday that I didn’t have any posts waiting in the wings, I looked, and oh yes, I had this one. I hadn’t posted it because I made the onion pepper relish to go with the beef sliders for the 4th of July, and thought the two were too similar. This one is less sweet than the relish – more suited for a slab of grilled meat probably, than the burgers and accompaniments. I still have some of this in the refrigerator (as well as the relish from the 4th), and assume it will keep for another few weeks since it’s “pickled,” so to speak, with the vinegar. Hope so, as it was delicious and very suitable for some meat things. I used it on a sandwich last week too.

We had some friends over for dinner a few weeks ago, and with the pork roast we did on the rotisserie (that I’d brined) I wanted to serve some kind of sauce or salsa, or something. Found a recipe for a pork rib roast with this onion marmalade. It was just a perfect fit. And oh-my-goodness deliciousness. It’s not difficult, although it does take some time (total cooking time about an hour) to sweat down the onions, then to continue to cook them down to a jammy consistency. If you started this first (when about to make a dinner) it would be done by the time you were ready to sit down).

The recipe came from Food & Wine magazine, May 2008. If you want to do the pork roast, just brine it, bake or rotisserie it until it reaches an internal temp of about 133 degrees (still pink in the middle). Remove and let sit for about 5 minutes before slicing and serving with this cold, room temp or hot onion topping. The leftovers will keep for several weeks.
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I’ve had very few days since I started this blog when I didn’t have a recipe to post. Uh, that’s today. Having been away for the weekend, I enjoyed preparing a simple meal on Monday night. Yesterday I spent catching up on one thing or another. My 2nd book club met in the morning and we discussed A Kiss From Maddalena, a touching story which takes place in WWII Italy. It was my suggestion we read it, and we all enjoyed it. It’s not really a romance, although from the title you’d think so. Sure, there is a romance in it, but mostly it’s about the hell that happens to the village itself and all its inhabitants during and after the war. The book is a tad bit hard to find. I read about it in Bas Bleu, a book catalog that I so enjoy reading. Sure, I can buy books cheaper at Amazon, but I like to support the little guys too, so at least once a year I order books from their online store. The book is no longer available there, though. What I love about Bas Bleu is the write-ups about books. My other book club is reading another Bas Bleu recommendation for our meeting tonight, The Covenant by Naomi Ragen. Really interesting read about an abduction in a Palestinian neighborhood in Israel. I’m leading the review tonight, so have some homework to do about that. It’s deeply discounted at Amazon, and no longer available at Bas Bleu (just a guess – because the author has been sued or accused by two different people/publishers for possible plagiarism in writing two other books).

Last week I made another batch of the roasted balsamic strawberry ice cream from a couple of weeks ago. That ice cream is so darned addicting. In my first batch I used a product called Tulocay’s Made in Napa Valley Blackberry Balsamic Vinegar with Pear. Having made the ice cream a second time with more pedestrian balsamic, I’m now craving more of this pear balsamic. So far I’ve been unable to find it. I’ve phoned several sources listed on their website, but they don’t carry that particular product. Will have to widen my search, or pony up to have it shipped from the producer. I bought it last year in Healdsburg (wine country) near where it’s made.

A second batch of the Thin & Buttery Chocolate Chip Cookies yielded a different cookie altogether. I made an alteration (know that it’s problematical anytime you make a change in a baked good) by using some Splenda instead of white sugar. I wanted my DH to be able to enjoy some of them. It totally changed the chemistry. Not a great cookie did it make. Although maybe it’s a good thing because I’m not craving them like I did the first, the virgin batch. I suspect, however, that I will make these again using the original recipe. They’re that good.

Last night my DH and I went to Laguna Beach. First it was dinner, at the Sundried Tomato Café, a fabulous restaurant (serendipity, since we didn’t have a plan about where to eat). I had a glass of Ferrari Carano Fume Blanc (one of the few white wines out there – other than champagne – that I truly enjoy, since I’m mostly a red wine drinker), an exceptional Caesar salad and a perfectly ripe avocado stuffed with a spicy-dressed Oregon bay shrimp salad (an appetizer, but was ample as an entrée). We ran into friends, Jackie & Don, as we were leaving. The restaurant is one of their favorites! Then we walked to the Laguna Playhouse to see The Marvelous Wonderettes. That may have been one of the best plays (actually this was a musical) I’ve ever seen there. We both just loved it. It’s all the music from our past – a step back in time to 1958 with four girls who are friends, who are asked to sing at their Senior Prom. In the first half they tell their stories (of love, school, teachers, growing up, etc.) using music of the era. In the second half they have returned for their 10-year reunion, and sing more of the 50’s and 60’s era songs. The costumes were just darling (I can’t believe we wore stuff like that, but sure enough, I did) and the four women had great voices. If you live in Southern California, I highly recommend you try to see this musical. It’s playing through August 31st. (And it’s opening in New York at the end of August.) Go have dinner (at about 5:45 pm, to give yourself ample time to walk back to the theater for the show at 7:30) at the Sundried Tomato over on Forest.

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