Monthly Archives: February 2011

I went to Iceland

I may not have mentioned this, but I just returned from a journey to Iceland, where I hiked mountains and set at least two world records.

Our friends Julie and Zane were also there–their hiking expertise came in handy as we faced dangerous icy climbs to the pinnacles of mountain ranges. There’s Zane with his camera in hand, angling to get the best shot.

What an eery, beautiful landscape it was! The textures of the snow were gorgeous . . .

I never knew there was so much to snow and ice.

I almost got buried in a snow drift a few times– and Julie definitely did.

You can climb out, Julie! I know you can!

Oh, you noticed the buildings in the background?  . . . yeah, you probably guessed that wasn’t really the wild mountain ranges of Iceland. (And does Iceland even have mountain ranges, while we’re at it?) It was just our friendly Lake Michigan beach here in old Chicago. Last week it snowed–a lot–and these are the pictures I promised to share.

This was the view from our apartment’s front door as we emerged for the first time after the storm had calmed down.

At first it didn’t seem like that much snow. But soon our views changed.

Our fellow Edgewater residents were coming out in droves, armed with snow-blowers and shovels.

The lines of cars were absolutely buried.

I was more grateful than ever that we do not have a car here in the city. This poor vehicle had been abandoned in the middle of the street. I hope you don’t mind that I did a weird Photoshop effect, to bring out the details of the white blanket of snow.

It makes the buildings look so brightly colored! I could almost feel like I’m back in Guadalajara . . . except a Guadalajara that was transported into snowy northern climates by an evil genie.

We met Julie and Zane at the lovely Zanzibar cafe, where a hot chocolate sent happiness coursing through me.

So good. In fact, here’s my sweetie-bar-pie drinking that very hot chocolate:

From the coffee shop, we hiked towards Lake Shore Drive.

Hi Mr. Policeman! Thanks for keeping Lake Shore Drive an exclusively pedestrian party.

And up we go!

Shot #1: a friendly couple.

Shot #2: A scarily masked man with dubious intentions has suddenly appeared by Julie’s side.

Then again, maybe his intentions were simply to stay unfrozen.

No traffic in sight. We rule the road!

Plus, the plows had already done a great job at clearing the way for us.

Taking photographs in the middle of Lake Shore Drive without becoming roadkill was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

I love that my husband loves Chicago so much. It makes me love Chicago, too.

From Lake Shore, it was time to head down to the actual lake shore, where we took those shots I opened with. The ones I tell myself are from my whirlwind trip to Iceland.

Iceland is a lovely place, lemme tell you.

Their only problem is keeping down the rodent population:

Yep. Yeppity yep yep.

We went from photo op to photo op without a care in the world.

However, soon the sun started going down . . .

. . . the wind started to pick up again, and it was getting too cold for the word ‘fun’ to keep holding its meaning.

So we turned around and headed back the way we came. Talk was made about how much this solitary walk on a normally busy thoroughfare resembled those apopcalyptic movies where everyone is dead except for Will Smith.

So on that note, this shot should totally be the poster for the new winter blockbuster “Snowpocalypse,” in which my husband, Julie, and Zane, are part of a small remnant of humans who have survived the storm. Our three heroes are now making their way into random condo buildings to forage whatever food they can before the snow zombies come out to feed.

Then, it’s each man for himself.

And she tasted

Today we’re going to keep things simple around here. Instead of taking a deeper look at my childhood escapades, the novels I’ve authored over the years, or the love I had for my now trashed blue Eddie Bauer sweat pants (though all fascinating topics, I know), today I’m making a special appearance to share the one thing I’ve learned about cooking. Because I’ve only learned one thing. That’s right. And it is:

TASTE!

(Thanks Christy–I snagged this photo from facebook.)

Taste your ingredients raw if possible, taste them in combinations, taste them halfway through cooking, and taste them before serving.

By the way, that picture up yonder was taken during the notorious Pioneer Woman weekend trip of yesteryear. Yes, I am licking the Pioneer Woman’s bowl. And you can’t make me say I’m sorry.

As I was scrolling through past blog posts, I realized I have been trying to convey the importance of tasting for a while now. Just look at the pictorial proof:

A little freshly ground chili powder that I used for my seared salmon recipe . . .

Sugar encrusted batter from those delectable mini pumpkin muffins . . .

Cranberry sauce with bourbon that my sister Erica made for Thanksgiving . . .

Raw meat for the Tuscan Soup . . .

Okay, maybe not the raw meat.

But let’s proceed.

Black peppercorns from the Pasta Fresca . . .

Creamy tomato sauce from a half-finished pot of Penne Rosa . . .

Biltong seasoning freshly arrived from South Africa . . .

A torn-off hunk of bread and parmesan sneaked away during the making of a creamy and perfect garlic soup . . .

And that’s all I’ll subject you to for today. I think we’ve just seen enough pictures of my fingers to last a lifetime.

But I figured I’d bring all these pictures together just to drive the point home. Now I’m no creative culinary genius–in fact just weeks ago I actually had to throw away a horribly failed attempt at homemade ravioli (think slimy; think greasy; think vomitous)–but tasting spices, vegetables, and herbs has given me a better sense of how to combine them. It gives me insight into what their ‘true nature’ is. And the best cooking is based on an understanding of the essence of an ingredient, and how to highlight and preserve it in the final dish.

Plus, on the level of personal motivation, getting up close and personal with my food is a 100% stimulating experience. It makes me excited to hop on over to the cutting board and thrilled to turn on my gas range. If I know I can nibble at the hunk of parmesan, I will be that much more enthusiastic about starting dinner. Get to know the food you are cooking–and get to know it in all its stages. And of course, always taste your finished dish before serving it; this will allow you to adjust seasonings and add a little more of this or that, which can be the difference between a mediocre dish and a stellar dish.

And just in case you think I’m a freak of nature and this is totally ill advised, look!

Erica does it too.

And Heidi! Whaddya know. It’s like we all came from the same family. And were sired by the same . . . um, loins. Forgive me, my son, for I have sinned. I didn’t mean to say the word ‘loins’ in connection with my parents.

Deleting word from short term memory–deleting—deleting–deleting.

Phew! Deleted.

And because I’m not ready to stop talking yet, let me go ahead and share Culinary Lesson #2. Just a couple more minutes on the soap box and my need to preach it should be satiated for at least the next 2 weeks . . . or 2 days. Whatever.

It’s called the ‘blogging high horse,’ and it’s the next best thing to being here:

On an actual horse, living the dream.

Culinary lesson #2 is: use sharp knives.

I can’t emphasize the importance of this enough, folks, friends, and frenemies.

By the way, what the heck is a ‘frenemy’?

First of all, dull knives are more dangerous–you have to push on the knife harder and sometimes even saw back and forth to get it to cut through. This only creates further opportunity for a finger to get in the way. Plus, if you do cut yourself, a very sharp knife will leave a nice clean cut, but a dull knife will leave an ugly, jagged cut. Ugly and jagged = not a doctor’s dream.

Second, it just ain’t no fun to cut things with dull knives. It makes me lazy even thinking of chopping up an onion with a serrated old piece of crap–it takes too long! With a sharp knife, dicing and mincing and chopping is fun, easy, and quick. Drop the money and buy a nice knife. That was the voice of your conscience speaking.

I SAID DROP THE MONEY AND BUY A KNIFE.

Okay, Conscience! You can take it down a notch–I think they got the point the first time.

I distinctly remember–back in our college days–the emotional pain of watching our friend Tyler cut up bell peppers with a serrated dinner table knife. He patiently sawed off piece after piece of those peppers in an immeeeeeeensely long process as I watched, desperate and starving. See, in college I was very hungry–all the time. And very desirous for those bell peppers to be off the cutting board and on my plate. Tyler, I hope that you now have a sharp blade to aid you in making your famous fajitas. By the way, do you still have the recipe for that Spicy Macaroni? Because the world needs it. But more importantly, I need it.

So are you guys tasters? Choppers? Tasters and choppers? Anti-tasters? Proponents of the dull knife for some mysterious but enlightened reason? Tell me everything. I want to know.