Normal Eating

For most of my adult life I lived alone, and during that time my weight was stable.  I ate when I was hungry; only what I was hungry for; and stopped when I was full.  I didn't have to think about it - that was my natural eating pattern.  Sometimes I skipped meals if I wasn't hungry.  During grad school (which I attended during the evening) I snacked on crackers, cheese, dried fruit and dark chocolate during classes rather than sitting down to a real meal.  I suspect most dieticians would have viewed the contents of my refrigerator with shock and dismay.  Still, I was generally healthy and a healthy size.

That all changed after I met my late husband Tom.  Turns out I'm a social eater - when I eat with others, I eat more, more often, and more calorie-laden foods than when I eat alone.  When we married, we started eating a solid dinner every night, whether I was hungry for it or not, and that started a cycle of weight gain and loss that continued for the next 20 years.

So now I am back at my "normal" weight and trying to stay there, but I am out of the habit of listening to my body - and although we don't live together, I frequently eat with Lee, and some of that "social eating" stuff can creep back in.  I am trying to get back to my original ingrained eating habits by turning to a new virtual friend.

Jenn Hand is a food coach and founder of the Normal Eater's Club.  Her mission is to help people feel good about their bodies and learn to eat without fear.  Her blogs, videos, and podcasts discuss how to replace comfort eating with other habits, how to stop binging, and why you should work toward accepting yourself regardless of your body's size or shape.  She doesn't believe in dieting or other types of food restriction because she's been there, done that, and long term it didn't work.  On the days when "just a few chips" turn into half a bag, I re-listen to a podcast where she reminds me that one episode of overeating won't cause me to to gain 10 pounds.  Before I go to a party, I re-read the blog post about avoiding extra food there.  She reminds me constantly to listen to my body, and not to worry if it REALLY, REALLY wanted those chips - because it won't want them all day, every day.

I've always had a few control issues, so the whole idea of letting go and not tracking calories or points or macronutrients is pretty scary -  but I didn't do that for all of my 20s and 30s, so why do it now?   To be continued.

"Food doesn't have to rule your life." ~jennhand.com

Frugal Baking

One of the distressing parts of acquiring my sourdough starter was realizing how much food I could potentially waste with it.  The sourdough has to be fed at least once a week (more often if it's not kept in the refrigerator), and the excess discarded.  If the starter is "ripe," this is no problem - I can just make bread.  However, particularly if I've gone an entire week or more between feedings, the discard isn't really suitable for that, so I've been searching the Internet for recipes that are specifically designed to use up sourdough discard.  (The alternative is to throw it out, which just seems terribly wasteful.)  So far my favorite experiments have been King Arthur Flour's caramelized onion sourdough biscuits, and this recipe that I cobbled together from a couple of others:

Cranberry Orange Sourdough Biscuits

2 c. unbleached all-purpose flour
1/3 c. sugar
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. orange zest (dried works fine)
1/2 c. cold butter
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. orange extract
1 tsp. heavy cream
2/3 c. reduced sugar dried cranberries
1 c. sourdough discard

Grease a cookie sheet and preheat your oven to 425 degrees.  Using a stand mixer, combine the dry ingredients.  Cut the butter into small chunks and add to the bowl; mix until it's thoroughly cut in.  Add the zest, vanilla, orange extract, and cream; when blended, add the cranberries.  Finally, mix in the sourdough discard to form a soft dough.

Roll out about 1/4" thick on a floured surface and use a 2" round cookie/biscuit cutter.  Bake for 15 minutes or until golden brown.  Makes about 16.

As the owner of several orange trees, I have all the orange zest I can use.  My next question: with the extra time I'll have in retirement, should I experiment with making my own orange extract?

“I needed a more interesting life.
I could start by learning something.
I could start with the starter.”
― Robin Sloan, Sourdough

A Day in Dublin

Our next stop was Dublin, where Sue and I chose to walk around the city center on our own.  Highlights of the day included a visit to Dublin Castle, which had lovely grounds and was hosting an exhibit of early Chihuly glass cylinders (the "Ulysses" series); lunch at a pub where we downed pints of Guiness in memory of my husband (he loved the stuff); and the carriage horse we saw wearing knitted ear warmers (yes, by the end of the day, more cold rain).  BTW, I have repeatedly read that corned beef and cabbage is more American than Irish, but they served it in the pub we visited, and mighty tasty it was, too.

This piece by artist Seaver Leslie was the source of the images on this glass cylinder:

The Chapel Royal at Dublin Castle:

The people on this "Viking Tour" are all wearing Viking helmets:

"...I live in Ireland every day in a drizzly dream of a Dublin walk...” ~ John Geddes, A Familiar Rain 

My 15 Minutes of Fame

I have a long history of discovering fabulous little restaurants about a month before they die.  For a while I was beginning to think that my patronage was the kiss of death for any eating establishment.  That's why when I looked around my favorite Thai place last year and realized that I was almost the only one there, I panicked; what if they were on the verge of going down the tubes?  So, I decided to nominate it for Check, Please! Arizona.

For those of you who don't live in Arizona, Check, Please! is a show on our local PBS station, hosted by a professional chef.  Every week they review three different local restaurants, and they have a bias toward small ethnic places.  Viewers recommend their favorite spots; if your restaurant is chosen, you get to eat at your place and the restaurants recommended by two other people and then talk about them on the show.  I went to their website and filled out the form to suggest Line Thai in Sun City.

Well, fast forward a year and my restaurant (and I!) made it on the show.  With quite a bit of judicious editing, I even looked fairly articulate. I've lost track of how many people have told me they plan to visit Line Thai as a result, so mission accomplished.  I hope the restaurant lives long and prospers.

(If you would like to see the show, visit the Channel Eight website at http://www.azpbs.org/checkplease/cp_player_1.php?vidId=6537)

"There is no sincerer love than the love of food." ~George Bernard Shaw

There is no sincerer love than the love of food.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/topics/topic_food.html#Uxgq6A0MZujx9F9v.99

There is no sincerer love than the love of food.

George Bernard Shaw

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/topics/topic_food.html#Uxgq6A0MZujx9F9v.99

There is no sincerer love than the love of food.

George Bernard Shaw

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/topics/topic_food.html#Uxgq6A0MZujx9F9v.99

There is no sincerer love than the love of food.

George Bernard Shaw

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/topics/topic_food.html#Uxgq6A0MZujx9F9v.99

Three Sweet Potatoes for Thanksgiving

Yesterday was, of course, Thanksgiving Day.  My sister Sue was the hostess for the big dinner; she made the turkey, mashed potatoes, and gravy, and the rest of us brought the remainder of the meal.  I was in charge of the vegetables, which included the sweet potatoes.

Whenever this happens I end up frantically searching for a new sweet potato recipe.  I personally am a sweet potato purist; left to myself, I roast, grill, or microwave them and eat them with a lot of coarse black pepper and a little sea salt.  If I'm feeling really wild I add butter.  That's it.  For holidays, though, the rest of the family expects a more elaborate recipe - not marshmallows, thank goodness, but something sweeter than a straight yam.

Unfortunately, most of the yam/sweet potato recipes I've ever seen either contain things like cumin and chili powder, which might lead to rebellion when served with traditional turkey, or they're so sweet they make my teeth ache just reading them.  The sweet recipes also tend to run a gazillion calories per 1/2 cup serving.  A couple of years ago I saw a recipe that tried to cut the sugar by using orange juice rather than brown sugar or maple syrup as sweetener, but when I tried it, it came out soupy and rather tasteless.

This year I gave up and created my own recipe, and it went over extremely well with the crowd.  Roasting the vegetables and nuts brings out their natural sweetness and cuts down on the need for added sugar.  Mind you, it's still not exactly low calorie, but it uses no butter and a very modest amount of maple syrup, and the orange juice and pecans at least contain real nutrients.

Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Cranberries and Pecans

Serves 10-12

Canola cooking oil spray
5 lbs sweet potatoes or yams (I used a mixture of red yams, purple sweet potatoes, and white sweet potatoes for the taste and color contrast)
1 medium yellow onion
1/2 c pecans
1 c fresh or good quality bottled orange juice (I used Simply Orange)
2 tsp orange zest
1 c reduced-sugar dried cranberries
6 Tbl pure maple syrup
Salt and pepper

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.  Line two cookie sheets with aluminum foil; spray the foil with cooking spray.

Peel the sweet potatoes/yams and cut them into 1" cubes.  Cut the onion into large chunks (they will separate during roasting).  Spread the vegetables on the foil-lined cookie sheets and spray with the canola oil.  Salt and pepper to taste.  Roast until fork-tender, about half an hour.  (Yams take less time to cook than sweet potatoes; if you use both, put the yams on one sheet and the potatoes on the other.)  Add the pecans to the side of one sheet during the last 5 minutes of roasting.

While the vegetables are in the oven, put the zest and dried cranberries into the orange juice to soak.  When the cranberries have plumped up, put the mixture into a small saucepan with the maple syrup and cook over medium high heat, stirring frequently, until thickened. When the pecans are roasted, break them into chunks and stir them into the sauce.

Pour the roasted vegetables into a large bowl and toss with the sauce.

Spray a 9" x 13" baking dish with oil and arrange the vegetables in it.  Cover with aluminum foil and bake at 375 degrees for 10 minutes.  Remove the foil and continue to bake for another 5 minutes.


"I yam what I yam and tha's all what I yam." ~Popeye the Sailor

The Cookie Legacy

Back at the beginning of this blog I posted a number of my mother's Christmas recipes here.  Apparently I forgot to include some of her most popular cookies, because now that she no longer has her recipe box, I've been deluged with requests from family, friends, and church member who hope I've fallen heir to it.  Here's one cookie recipe that's consistently in demand, even by people who don't realize just how simple it is.

Apricot Balls

2/3 c. sweetened condensed milk
2 c. shredded coconut
1 1/2 c. ground dried apricots
powdered sugar

Thoroughly mix the first three ingredients in a medium bowl.  Using a spoon or small scoop, form into 1" balls.  Roll the balls in powdered sugar and set aside to dry.  Store in a sealed container in the refrigerator.

Note: this is a very sticky "dough," but if it's too wet to handle, add a little powdered sugar to the three base ingredients.

“Eat coconuts while you have teeth” ~Singhalese proverb

By Train to Anchorage

We returned from Denali to Anchorage by double-decker train; the passengers sat on the top level and the bottom level was a dining car.  I had reindeer chili there for lunch; it was good, but the reindeer tasted much more like beef than I expected - I assumed it would be more like the deer my Dad used to shoot in South Dakota.

Photographically speaking, this was another day of vehicle motion, window reflections, and fellow passengers jumping in front of my lens.  Worse yet, I missed the two best shots of the day - a moose disappearing into the forest, and a skinny-dipper jumping into a river just as we passed.  (My guidebook for the area said the water there is about 45 degrees Fahrenheit this time of year - what was he thinking??)

We passed several homes where the owners have to either pack all their supplies in from a road that's miles away, or flag down the train that occasionally comes through to transport them into town and back.  I always used to think I'd like to retire to a cabin in the woods, but I was envisioning something a little closer to fast food and medical attention.

The weather continued clear and we were able to see Mt. McKinley almost all the way back to Anchorage, which is very rare.

"Between every two pines is a doorway to a new world." ~John Muir

Visiting Vancouver

For the last two weeks I've been on vacation with my sister Sue, and largely at the mercy of  a shipboard satellite connection that could barely handle simple email, let alone photo uploads.  Here, then, better late than never, is the start of our trip - Vancouver.  We flew in two days before our Alaskan cruise started so that we could spend some time enjoying the "San Francisco of Canada."  The weather was overcast but we only felt a few drops of rain, and we loved the city's laid-back but sophisticated air.  We stayed at the 100% non-smoking Moda Hotel at the edge of the trendy Yaletown district, where we browsed fun little shops and got a start on overeating at Cibo, Uva Wine Bar, the Blue Water Cafe & Raw Bar, Joe Fortes, and Boulangerie La Parisienne.  (We found most of these places, by the way, in Secret Vancouver, a great guidebook by Alison Applebe which I was able to borrow from our library as an ebook and take along - with several others - on my Nook.)

Here are some of the miscellaneous photos I took while in Vancouver:

Vancouver Art Gallery

Lunch at the Gallery

Uninvited lunch guest

Pre-graffittied mailboxes

Vancouver Symphony Orchestra School of Music

Inside Canada Place

"Vancouver is beautiful, to begin with. The summer there is unbelievable. The people are so nice. People actually obey traffic signals, it's unreal." ~Erin Daniels

Best. Breakfast. EVER.

The last couple of weeks have been really full.  I had to take my father in to the Eye Institute for cataract surgery (twice).  I needed to buy stuff - like a travel toothbrush and a new (larger) belt - for our cruise to Alaska.  I had to get most of the month's work for the church done (including the layout and text for the monthly newsletter) in the two weeks before leaving so I wouldn't have to email it all in.  At last, however, it's all finished and we are in Vancouver, taking a look around before the cruise sets sail on Sunday.

We are staying at the Moda Hotel, which is located in the heart of Vancouver and within easy walking distance of many attractions plus mass transit.  One of the attractions, right off the lobby, is Cibo Trattoria, where we ate breakfast today.  The restaurant is small but welcoming, with a mix of vintage charm and modern artwork.  I truly think my food was the best breakfast I've ever had.

I had their ethical bean "bold" coffee and the item described as follows on the menu:
crispy polenta with wild oregano, soft scrambled eggs, pancetta, pecorino, pepper

The polenta came in perfectly fried little pyramids, crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside, and the oregano (something I wouldn't have put into polenta) gave it an earthy, exotic flavor.  It was excellent by itself, but when eaten in the same forkful as the crisp pancetta and a few flakes of the cheese - astounding.  I wonder if they'd give me the recipe?

My sister had the frittata of the day, which featured heirloom tomatoes and parmesan cheese and was also seriously yummy, and both our plates looked as good as they tasted. Fortunately the portions were moderate, so we may have been able to walk it all off today.  At least I HOPE two museums and a tour of the downtown area were enough.

Tomorrow I'm thinking of returning for the blueberry turnover.  Or maybe a "bio-dynamic" egg.  Or both.  And heck, it's the weekend - why not a mimosa or bloody Mary?

Quality food like this tempts me in a way the all-you-can-eat cruise buffets never will.  If I'm going to gain weight on my vacation, I want to end up with high-class fat.

"Every dish centers on the use of fresh, natural, and unique ingredients from the finest local and Italian suppliers, and organic farm producers. Most importantly, Cibo’s dishes possess a subtle myriad of pleasing flavors and textures, with a simple combination of color and plating, that yield the ultimate in rustic, Italian cuisine." ~from the Cibo website

The No-Broccoli Zone

Since my parents moved into the assisted living facility last fall, they've been generally impressed with the food - with one exception.  It's sometimes (in their words) "too healthy."  My father in particular, not a big fan of vegetables, feels that broccoli and brussels sprouts appear on the menu far too often.  (If he knew that I sometimes eat nothing but a large bowl of steamed broccoli for dinner, he would probably disown me.)  To celebrate Fathers Day, then, my sister and I fed them one of their favorite unhealthy meals - bratwurst and buns, greasy fried potato chips, homemade baked beans, and made-from-scratch chocolate cupcakes.  The cupcakes were from this recipe by Giadi de Laurentiis; the baked beans were mine (below), adapted from the version my mother used to make.

No broccoli was served.

Beth's Baked Beans

1 16oz package dried Great Northern beans
1 cup chopped ham or bacon
1 cup coarsely chopped onion
3/4 cup ketchup
3/4 cup brown sugar
2 Tbl molasses
2 Tbl prepared yellow mustard
1/2 tsp salt

Rinse the beans and discard any small pebbles.  Cover with water in a large bowl and leave to soak overnight.

The next day, drain and rinse the beans and mix them with the other ingredients.  Place in a stoneware beanpot or medium casserole and add water to cover.  Bake at 350 degrees, adding more water if necessary, until the beans are soft but not mushy or soupy. (How long this will take depends largely on how old the beans are, which you have no way of knowing, but it will probably be several hours.)

To speed up the process, cook for 1 hour in a pressure cooker before transferring to the beanpot.  The beans will only take about another hour in the pot.

“He could do this. He'd survived boot camp. He'd survived combat and the harsh weather of Afghanistan. He could survive broccoli. Probably.” ~ Shannon Stacey, Yours to Keep

Wining and Dining at Postino's

I see that I have forgotten to report on the May meeting of our book club.  The book, which I'll review in the next post, was Blackberry Wine by Joanne Harris, the author of Chocolat, so staying with the theme we met at the Postino Winecafe on Central.

This Postino location is yet another converted dwelling with a very small parking lot and neighbors hostile to restaurant customers spilling over into their space, but they have done their best to cope by providing free valet parking.  The interior of the restaurant is chic but welcoming and patio seating is available, although it was a little too warm for us the night we met.  The hostess seated us inside on what looked like a u-shaped sectional sofa with a table in the middle and two hassock-like seats on the fourth side.

Of course, since it's a wine cafe, Postino has a great selection of wine, much of which is $5 per glass before 5pm.  Postino's food menu is heavy on appetizers and salads, although they also offer several types of panini.  The real reason to eat there, though, is the bruschetta.   They have 11 regular varieties and a seasonal special; for $14 you get four different flavors (your choice) served on a wooden cutting board.  The pieces are generous, the flavor combinations are ingenious, and the colors and textures are gorgeous.

I ordered the Roasted Peppers with Goat Cheese, the Smoked Salmon with Pesto, the Warm Artichoke Spread, and the Prosciutto with Figs & Mascarpone.  They were all delicious, but I think my favorite was the Prosciutto with Figs & Mascarpone.  The slightly salty prosciutto, slightly sweet fruit, creamy cheese and fresh bread contrasted wonderfully with each other and tasted just a little different with each bite.  Everyone else raved about their choices as well; my sister was especially happy with the Brie & Apples with Fig Spread bruschetta.

Our waitress was very attentive although somewhat politically incorrect (I've never had a waitperson that young call me "Hon" before).  The hostess also checked on us a couple of times during the evening.

The down side of Postino as a meeting place for the club was the noise level, which made the book discussion a little challenging.  We were also surprised to see that the clientele appeared to be about 75% female, perhaps because (despite the size of the portions) the menu looks like it's "nibble food."  Not, in short, the place to meet Mr. Right - he's probably somewhere else ordering a steak.

Someday Sue and I are going to have to check out their weekend brunch.  I think I hear the walnut toast with triple crème brie and house-made berry preserves calling my name.

"...unique, approachable wines; simple, delicious food prepared with local ingredients; and a warm, edgy culture that brings everyone together." ~from Postino's website

Potlucky

Perhaps 360 days out of the year I consider Jello to be a faux food, a hideous abomination with no place in my pantry.  When spring rolls around, however, I occasionally crave one of the Jello salads my mother served when we were children.  (I know, some of you probably still have snow on the ground, but the temps have been in the 80's and 90's here.  Arizona blasted right past spring into summer.)

Recently I had to take something to a potluck dinner, so I made this salad, hoping I would have leftovers enough for at least a couple of al fresco meals on my screened porch.  I wasn't quite that lucky, but by serving the remains on a plate of mixed greens I did manage one yummy lunch.

I don't know where Mom originally got this recipe, but I'm guessing a women's magazine in the 1960's.

TUNA JELLO SALAD

1 package lemon or lime Jello (I prefer lemon)
1 cup boiling water
3 hard-boiled eggs, sliced horizontally
6 pimiento-stuffed green olives, sliced
1 cup diced celery
1 cup mayonnaise
1 cup canned tuna (drained)

Dissolve the Jello in the boiling water and pour half of it into a 9"x9" glass pan.  Arrange the egg and olive slices in the pan with the Jello.  Set aside. Mix the other half of the Jello with the celery, mayo, and tuna.  Refrigerate both mixtures until the Jello with eggs and olives is stiff; then pour the tuna mixture on top of it.  Refrigerate until ready to serve.

To serve, cut into squares and carefully place them upside down on salad plates (with or without a bed of lettuce).  The Jello with eggs and olives should end up on top. 

Note: To make this marginally more healthy, use sugar-free Jello, water-packed tuna, and light mayonnaise or a mixture of light mayo and low-fat plain yogurt.

“It's as if we spend our entire lives avoiding Jell-O but it is always there at the end, waiting.”
~ John Grisham, Ford County 

Ladies Who Brunch

On New Year's Day I invited my sister Sue over for brunch and to watch the Rose Parade on HGTV, which has as commentators actual gardeners who can pronounce the names of the plants and never cuts away from the action for commercials or plugs for their other programs.  She was happy to come, both to watch the parade and to browse the buffet.  She admitted that a hearty traditional breakfast was her favorite meal, particularly if she didn't have to get up early to eat it.  Since I love brunch as well, we've been occasionally going out for a late breakfast together on Saturdays ever since.

Last weekend was the annual Home and Garden show in downtown Phoenix.  Sue wanted to go because she's looking for a reliable contractor to rebuild the watering system in her front yard.  I was happy to accompany her because the Property Brothers (also courtesy of HGTV) were going to be speaking, and who can't use a little eye candy occasionally?  Before cruising the show, however, we stopped for brunch at Cibo.

The full name of the restaurant is Cibo Urban Pizzeria Cafe, which doesn't sound much like a brunch place, but on Saturdays they serve items from their breakfast menu until 2:00, and mimosas, bellinis, and Bloody Marys are also available.  This time we had crepes.  Sue's was filled with a mix of mushrooms; mine was filled with salmon and nested on a bed of watercress and arugula, with a small bowl of fresh fruit on the side.  The crepes themselves were perfectly done - thin and browned with no burning - and the fillings very savory.  The Bloody Mary I washed mine down with was made with plenty of horseradish, just the way I like it.

Cibo is another of the downtown restaurants located in a rehabbed historic home, in this case a 1913 bungalow with exposed brick walls, stained glass, stone fireplace, and a spacious patio with firepit for evening cocktails when the weather permits.  For those who aren't as excited about breakfast as Sue and I are, their thin crust pizzas are also terrific, particularly the ones featuring locally-made artisanal Schreiner's sausage.

Out in the West Valley where Sue and I live, the main brunch options are Denny's and Village Inn.  I'm thinking we need more reasons to visit downtown Phoenix at around 11:00 on Saturdays.

“When you wake up in the morning, Pooh," said Piglet at last, "what's the first thing you say to yourself?"
"What's for breakfast?" said Pooh. "What do you say, Piglet?"
"I say, I wonder what's going to happen exciting today?" said Piglet.
Pooh nodded thoughtfully. "It's the same thing," he said.”
~ A.A. Milne

Arizona Cajun

Lately our book club has been tending to meet in restaurants that fit in with the themes of the books we're reading.  The book selection for April was A Free Man of Color by Barbara Hambly, which is set in New Orleans, so we met to discuss it last night at Baby Kay's Cajun Kitchen.

It was my turn to pick both the book and the venue.  I selected A Free Man of Color because it's one of my favorite historical novels (although several of the other members were seriously confused by the profusion of French names and the author's narrative style); I picked Baby Kay's because I saw it reviewed on an episode of Check, Please! Arizona, a PBS show where local foodies talk up their favorite restaurants.  In this case all three of the guests who ate there gave it a pretty enthusiastic thumbs up, so I assumed it would be a safe choice.

The Cajun-themed ambiance in the restaurant was casual and friendly, and Wednesday is one of their live music nights, so a seemingly tireless guitar player entertained us with a variety of bluesy numbers.  If the evening temperature had been 5 degrees warmer we would have sat out on the attractive covered terrace.  Each of us ordered a different entree and everyone raved about the food; I had the half po' boy (oyster) and cup of soup (duck and andouille sausage), both of which tasted like the versions I had in New Orleans itself.  For dessert my sister and I split a gigantic hunk of bread pudding with bourbon sauce, which was without a doubt the best bread pudding I've ever eaten.  The portion was so large that the two of us together couldn't finish it.

Baby Kay's also serves an interesting variety of beers, including Blackened Voodoo, a favorite I hadn't previously seen in any Valley bar or restaurant.  I'll definitely go back to Baby Kay's; I can already see myself out on the terrace a month from now washing down the appetizer sampler with a bottle of that Blackened Voodoo beer.

“Somewhere lives a bad Cajun cook, just as somewhere must live one last ivory-billed woodpecker. For me, I don't expect ever to encounter either one.” ~William Least Heat Moon, ‘Blue Highways’

Where to Stay in Rome

And now for some long-overdue information about our trip to Europe…

Flying from Arizona to Italy involves at least one connection, and missing that connection generally means waiting a day for another flight, so we planned a day in Rome into our schedule as a “just in case” buffer.  After a grueling day and a half in transit, we took the train into the city to a stop only a few blocks from our hotel.  Alas, the elevator and escalator in the station were both nonfunctional, and the “few blocks” were all uphill.  By the time we dragged ourselves and our luggage to the hotel through the incredible heat and humidity of Rome in August, we were literally drenched in perspiration.  (I actually sweated through my jeans AND a heavy leather belt.)  However, we were clearly not the first travelers to arrive at our destination in this condition.  The bellhop met us at the reception desk with iced orange juice – the first indication that the hotel was a real jewel.

We stayed at the Hotel Villa San Pio, conveniently located within walking or Metro distance of most of the city’s central sightseeing attractions, on the recommendation of an acquaintance who lives in Rome.  This beautiful, traditionally decorated hotel is one of several adjoining former private residences now operated as bed-and-breakfast establishments by a local family.  The reception staff spoke perfect English and willingly made restaurant suggestions as well as taxi reservations for the trip to the ship.  Our spacious room was equipped with a modern private bathroom, a small balcony perfect for an evening glass of wine among the treetops (we were on the second floor), an Internet connection, a flatscreen TV, and lovely high ceilings.  The buffet breakfast was served in a glass-walled garden room and adjoining outdoor patio with a couple of hungry cats underfoot and small green parrots flying overhead.  The price was about half the cost of the chain hotel we stayed in after the cruise ended.  If I ever return to Rome, the first thing I will do is make a reservation at the Hotel Villa San Pio.

My sister Sue after the "Rome Death March"

The Hotel Villa San Pio

The Breakfast Room and Patio

One of the "Breakfast Cats"

Still Struggling With Moderation

Last night I stopped on the way home at the Farmer's Market in Glendale to pick up some fresh produce.  I bought baby eggplant, zucchini, pattypan squash, and an heirloom tomato.  So far, so good.  Then I made the mistake of stopping by the booth of Dr. Hummus for some free samples.

Dr. Hummus (actually the Tunisien-born Sabeur Rouin) sells pita bread, pita chips, and an astounding array of things to eat on and with the chips - guacamole, tabouli, two kinds of tapenade, several types of pesto, and more varieties of hummus than you would believe.  He's always generous with the free tastes, and I always get carried away by them.  The ingredients are fresh.  Most of the offerings are nut-free and many are dairy-free; the outstanding spinach and onion dip, for instance, is made with silken tofu rather than dairy, but you can't tell from the taste or the unctuous mouth-feel that it doesn't contain full-fat cream cheese.  The hummus products are also tahini-free, so they are much lower in calories than many of their commercially processed relatives.

Yesterday I was sucked in by the sun-dried tomato pesto and the jalapeno and cilantro hummus.  I had some of the hummus with chips last night at dinner and some of the pesto scrambled with eggs for breakfast.  The pesto, by the way, lived up to its billing as "the best friggin' pesto you ever ate!"  Alas, it's so delicious that I have a hard time not scarfing the entire plastic tub of goodness in one sitting.

"Doctor Hummus products can be found at most of the metro area farmers markets as well as Whole Foods, New Frontiers, AJ's, Luci's Healthy Market Place, Phoenix Public Market - Urban Grocery and Wine Bar, Langley's Country Market, Tempe Farmers Market and Bashas in Carefree, Sedona, Scottsdale, and Payson." ~ Dr. Hummus.com

Cinco de Margarita

I don't know this for a fact, but I suspect that my husband Tom tasted his first margarita shortly after meeting me, and he instantly fell in love with it.  From then on, he was on a quest to find the perfect margarita - frozen, with salt.  He didn't like them overly sweet, nor reeking of an excess of tequila, but well-balanced and preferably with fresh-squeezed lime juice.

On balmy Friday evenings we would park ourselves in an outdoor cafe (frequently the one in Manhattan's Bryant Park, behind the main library), or the outdoor tables of one of our usually interior haunts, and greet the weekend with chips, guacamole, and margaritas.  The entire family knew of this obsession; one year he received two (matching, amazingly enough) sets of margarita glasses for his birthday, and kept them both.  Brian, his older son, inevitably took us to our first Margaritaville restaurant when we visited him in Hawaii.  When we moved to Arizona, Tom's younger daughter-in-law accused him of doing so in order to be closer to tequila country; she gave him a shotglass shaped like a squatty saguaro cactus as a going-away present.

That same daughter-in-law had earlier introduced us to the the delights of the frozen margarita bucket.  A relative from Georgia had brought her a bucket of On The Border's margarita mix; one adds tequila, mixes, and places the bucket in the freezer.  Voila, frozen margaritas on demand!  Add friends and it's an instant party.  Tom was thrilled to find both the buckets and the mother lode (actual On The Border restaurants) in the Phoenix area.  We also found what we thought was the perfect guacamole in a small Glendale restaurant named Lily's; the owner used his Mexican grandmother's recipe, containing nothing but avocados, onions, lime juice and a little salt.  Fabulous.

Of course Tom is gone now, and Lily's also died during road construction that cut off almost all access to the restaurant, but a bucket of frozen margaritas still lives in the freezer section of my refrigerator.  Tonight is Cinco de Mayo, and although I'm a little fuzzy as to what it's all about, I'll gladly celebrate any holiday that allows me to pull out the margaritas, chips, and Wholly Guacamole.

"If life gives you limes, make margaritas." ~Jimmy Buffett

Enjoying Julia

Between the new job, the old jobs, tax season and my ailing cat, it's been a long hard month, so today I treated myself to a little break.  In between the housecleaning and the laundry I watched Julia Child: The French Chef, a 3-DVD set I checked out from the library.

The DVD sleeve says "includes 12 original episodes of the French Chef," so I thought that's all it was, but the first disc in the set is the PBS American Masters episode "Julia Child: America's Favorite Chef," a lovely biography with extensive information about her early life and also about her relationship with her husband.  The biography includes a fascinating video clip of the young Julia as bridesmaid in a gigantic picture hat, towering over everyone else in the wedding party, and the news that early in her adult life she turned down an offer of marriage from the heir to an "enormous" publishing fortune.  I was also unaware that it was the attack on Pearl Harbor which sent her to Washington and from there to Ceylon, where she was to meet the amazing Paul Child.

The other discs were in their own way even more fun, especially if you cook.  I couldn't help but laugh during the petit fours episode, when Julia kept assuring us that her fondant would reach the correct consistency "any minute now," and it stubbornly refused to harden.  In the days of live television, something like that must have messed up the timing for the entire show.  I also wondered how they flagged her about mistakes before the advent of teleprompter machines and in-ear microphones; in one show she erroneously stated that the recipe contained a half cup of almond extract; after a few minutes she looked startled, apologized, and said that the amount should be only a quarter of a teaspoon.  I visualized someone (perhaps Paul) frantically waving a chalkboard off camera. 

Such fun.  I'm inspired to spend tomorrow cooking wonderful things that I can eat during the rest of the week.


"If I can do it, you can do it...and here's how to do it!" ~Julia Child

Bring on the Pho

One of the perils of my new job is that it's located in the heart of an area full of good places to eat.  Many of them, like the restaurants in San Francisco's Gourmet Ghetto, are small, converted historic homes serving fabulous food. I may need to start letting out my clothes.

Our book club ate at one of the local places this week.  Rice Paper, on 7th Street between Central and McDowell, is Vietnamese, specializing (as the name implies) in a variety of exotic spring rolls.  Our group had the spicy firecracker shrimp and the crispy calamari as appetizers.  The calamari, served with aioli and puffy rice cakes about a thousand times better than anything from Quaker, was particularly good.  Three of our party ordered bowls of pho, Vietnamese noodle soup; the portions looked more like vats than mere bowls and they all took some home, raving about the taste.  For the main course I had the Spider roll, a fresh (non-fried) spring roll which contained tempura soft-shell crab, mango, and avocado - yum.  Because our group was so large, we ate outside at a picnic bench in the courtyard, but the inside looked serene and beautifully decorated.  The women who visited the restroom assured the rest of us that it was a very Zen experience.  The prices were extremely reasonable for the high quality of the food and the friendly, attentive service.

I think Rice Paper is just a little too far from my office to fit into my half-hour lunch break, but it's conveniently situated for swinging by after work.  The only drawback to eating dinner there is the limited parking, but surely the early birds get the parking spaces - wouldn't you think?


"Pho bo is a Vietnamese beef and noodle soup which is often eaten for breakfast, but also makes a satisfying lunch or light dinner. The boiling stock, fragrant with spices and sauces, is poured over the noodles, bean sprouts and scallions, and it poaches the paper-thin slices of raw beef just before serving." ~http://www.vietnam-culture.com/vietnamese-food.aspx

Assimilating Easter

When asked about my ethnic background, I usually say something like "mutt" or "Heinz 57," because my forbears on both sides of the family came from all over Europe.  Melting Pot R Us.

My mother's father's family was originally German Swiss, but they moved to Russia in the mid-19th century and stayed there for a couple of generations, intermarrying with the locals and copying their recipes, before moving on to America in the dead of night under assumed names (this was to avoid having the oldest son drafted by the Tsar).  As a result, much of the food that came down to us from them is an odd mix of German and Russian.  Some of the dishes are basically German but with Russian flourishes of sour cream sauce.  Some of them are Russian cuisine with new German names.  One of my favorite Easter traditions falls into that latter category.

Traditional Russian families used to (and may still) bake a special Easter bread called Kulich that's supposed to look like a domed Russian Orthodox church, and they have it blessed by a priest before eating it.  My mother's family called it Osterbuske and, as good Congregationalists, skipped the blessing.  It's halfway between roll dough and bread dough and usually includes cinnamon and raisins, with frosting drizzled on the top.  Some families add nuts and candied fruit.  I understand that special Kulich pans are available, but my family baked them in metal coffee cans; the "dome" comes from the dough puffing up over the top of the can.  My mother always served her Osterbuskes on a bed of green-dyed coconut, surrounded by jelly beans and those little bunnies made of the same stuff as candy corn.  After everyone had oohed and aahed, she sliced it into rounds and briefly toasted it under the broiler - VERY briefly, so the frosting wouldn't all melt off.

This was the first year ever that neither my mother nor my aunt Lu made Osterbuskes.  It didn't really feel like Easter today without them; even when I lived in New York, my mother would make a miniature version in a baked bean can and express mail it to me.  I guess I'll have to pump her for the recipe and next year take up the mantle of chief family baker myself.

"I lied on my Weight Watchers list.  I put down that I had 3 eggs... but they were Cadbury chocolate eggs."  ~Caroline Rhea