Tag Archives: Chicago

Cooking Class–you're invited!

First of all, happy Valentine’s Day to one and all! For us here in the Windy City it’s business as usual–work for me, school for my husband, yoga in the evening, leftovers for dinner–but Friday we had a little date to see “The King’s Speech” and indulge in some burgers and fries from Five Guys, so I consider our duty to Mr. Valentine as completed. Phew. He’s a demanding guy, this Valentine fellow, and with a little instigation from him, the presence or absence of flowers, chocolates, and/or pink-and-red falderal can become a subject of much stress to many individuals. So. All that to say, I hope this Monday morning finds you all pleased with your plans, your lack of plans, your whirlwind celebrations, or your abstinence from the festivities.

But enough about lovey-dovey stuff, and onto a subject of great general interest: food. The unthinkable has happened–this Friday February 18th at 6:30pm, I will be co-teaching a cooking class with my friend and blogging foodie Cassia.

We were asked by our lovely friend Traci, who also happens to be our pastor’s wife. She works at HGTV and has the most fabulous kitchen (which she designed herself). When she first proposed the idea of having me co-teach a class in her home, I briefly choked on my own tongue. And then my left knee starting jerking back and forth uncontrollably. But when I regained control of my faculties, I squeaked out an excited ‘yes!’ See, I just can’t wait to splatter her gorgeous kitchen with olive oil and crank up both ovens at the same time! Plus it will be such fun to hang out with the lovely ladies who are coming–many of them excellent cooks themselves. Traci also has two of the cutest girls the world has ever seen, and I had the privilege of photographing them last year.

Oh man, Bronagh’s freckles and Ashling’s mop of curls get me every time.

If any of you lovely people are in Chicago and want to come, just shoot me an email and I’ll send you the details. Oh, and you do have to be a girl–because this is part of our church’s Women’s Ministry series.

While I don’t feel qualified to teach anyone anything, it should be a fun time and there will be–hopefully, barring disaster, knock on wood, say a prayer for me–good food to feast on. We’re so excited about the menu! It’s a Mediterranean theme, with citrus and herbs tying it all together. Here’s what we’re looking at:

Roasted Red Pepper Soup with Broiled Corn and Lime Cilantro Sour Cream

Butterflied Mediterranean Roasted Chicken with Olive Tapenade

Butterflied Roasted Chicken with Lemon, Garlic, and Rosemary

Polenta with Goat Cheese and Rosemary

Shredded Brussel Sprouts with Nutmeg and Bacon

Fruit Pizza

Cassia and I got together on Saturday to cook through the whole menu and work out any kinks. After 3 hot and busy and sweaty and utterly delightful hours of work, we served up our creations to the boys (our patiently enduring husbands). For anyone inclined against brussel sprouts, I’ll have you know that was my husband’s favorite dish of the evening.

Here’s a peak at the little green guys . . . I could devour them at any time of the day or night.

I also learned an important lesson about serving the polenta as soon as it’s done. Preparing it in advance and then abandoning it on a back burner for 30 minutes resulted in a clumpy, lumpy, and a very unattractive texture.

Lesson learned! (just in time)

Cassia worked at a winery in California for years, so she’ll also be sharing her wisdom regarding wine pairings, which to me is a complete mystery. My shamefully backwards attitude has been: if the bottle says ‘wine,’ it will somehow go with whatever is making an appearance on the table. So I’m excited to expand my knowledge and get some sophistication up in here, after failing to learn a thing at Cassia’s wine tasting party last fall. I love second chances.

We’ll also be talking about the importance of good knives, and going over how to butterfly a chicken. Wish me luck as I grapple with its knobby old backbone and wrestle it from the pink carcass–I wish to do this unscathed. No severed thumbs, or flying chicken pieces.

Of course, every recipe we make will also be making an appearance here with step by step pictures and printable versions and all that fun stuff.

I love you guys! And I wish you could all come, if only to laugh at me as I pretend to know how to do stuff! I mean laugh with me. Laugh with me. Right.

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.