leeks vinaigrette

Well NaBloWriMo, I have honored you. I have rambled, I have pulled recipes out of the air, and I have managed to write every day with only one all photo post. What a party.
It's been a wild time. Oh November.
And tomorrow, it's December. Month of my birthday, my two wedding anniversaries (one shotgun at town hall, then white dress and singing friends two weeks later), and two holidays which I can't quite relate to but absolutely love anyway.
I think...
I think we should keep meeting back here every day. Would you?
Because, well just because it's fun, and also, because...
um...
today was my last day of work.
I really did it.
So let's get to it, shall we?

To honor this occasion, let's talk about leeks. Yes, fancy fancy leeks.
I know that you know how lovely leeks are in your soup, how you must put them in your stock, and really anything else. But what do you think about a little leek salad?
Alice Waters urges us to turn to leeks "in the cold months, when lettuce is scarce." It is cold, and lettuce is scarce! She tells me that they make "a bright winter salad."


And so they do. Leeks are related to onions, and so boiling and tossing them with a vinaigrette might seem out of character, but I can assure you that it is a very good idea. The leeks turn a bright spring green, and the richness of their flavor has the most wonderful conversation with the strong mustard vinaigrette. I think I might have hummed while I ate these leeks. Fancy fancy leeks.


Leeks Vinaigrette
from Alice Waters, The Art of Simple Food
serves 4-6

12 small to medium leeks
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
salt
fresh ground pepper
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
optional: 1 tablespoon chopped parsley

Trim and clean the leeks- cut the root and the hardest part of the green away. Take off any outer layers that look like they need to go. Cut the leek in half lengthwise, so you have half a tube. Hold the top of the section (that looks like a rainbow) under water and let the water wash down through the layers.
Cook for 7 to 12 minutes, or until tender, in abundant salted water. When the leeks are done, carefully lift them out, drain, and set aside.
Mix together the red wine vinegar, the mustard, the salt and pepper. Whisk in the olive oil.
Squeeze the cooled leeks gently to remove excess water. Gently toss the leeks with salt. When ready to serve, arrange on a plate and spoon the vinaigrette over, turning gently to coat. Top with parsley, if using.

onion soup with garlic croutons

I am very very weary tonight. I feel like I've been traveling on a dusty road for a really long time and the only word anyone has spoken has been "Mom". I'm just having one of those moments. I did not cook today, although I planned to, and then the girls just had a bath which turned into a tantrum which turned into something else. I'll just say that a hot bath plus a whole lot of screaming equals Joey googling what is currently left over in my google box, that is,

"vomit out of couch natural"

Enough of that. I told you a while ago that I was saving my onion soup post for when I really needed it, and that is exactly now. Notice the late summer light on the table. Feel the warmth. Lucky for all of us that it is still the perfect time to make onion soup.

Onion Soup with Garlic Croutons
from Mollie Katzen, The Moosewood Cookbook

5 cups thinly sliced onions
6 Tablespoons butter
1 quart stock or water
1 Tablespoon tamari
3 Tablespoons dry white wine
1/2 teaspoon dry mustard
dash of thyme
salt to taste

For the croutons:
2 cups 1 inch cubed rye, herb or rustic white bread
2 Tablespoons butter
1 clove garlic, pressed

Cook the onions, lightly salted in the butter in a large heavy bottomed soup pot. Cook them over medium heat until they are fairly brown, about 20 minutes. Add the mustard and thyme. Mix well.
Add remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil, then cover and simmer for at least 30 minutes. Adjust salt to taste.
Meanwhile, melt the remaining 2 Tablespoons of butter in a skillet. Add the pressed garlic and cook for 1 minute. Add bread cubes and sautee until slightly browned. Transfer to a baking sheet and put in a 325 degree oven for 15 minutes.

Serve soup topped with croutons and grated parmesan or gruyere cheese.

nikki mcclure

I'm like a baked potato chip today- a little fragile and a little crispy.
I'm throwing a bunch of things in a pot for a soup to soothe Joey's throat, and I have no idea how it will taste, so I sure as hell am not going to try to pass that off as a recipe today, just so I have something to write about.
Unless it's really good, and then we never had this conversation.
So instead of food, let's talk about art.

A friend of Joey's gave us our first Nikki McClure calendar, maybe six or seven years ago. Nikki McClure is an artist out of the Pacific Northwest who makes papercut art with a whole lot of soul. Her images are certainly part of our family mythology- they tell stories that were already here with us before we saw them.


I love how accessible her art is. The heart of her work is recorded in her yearly calendar, and so it's something we all can afford and be part of. It's one of our favorite gifts to give, and it's been really nice over these past years to see her work spreading into the corners of the country. I like thinking about these images in so many homes. We've tracked down a few prints ourselves, and it seems that she has made her way into every corner of our house too.
The new calendar just arrived, and it makes the turn of the year feel that more real. I try not to look at the pages until the year begins, but from the cover, it looks just about right.

whipped mashed potatoes with celery root

photo by Ben Ransford

How is everyone today?
Yeah, we're okay too. Joey's well enough to be silkscreening off site, so I'm holding down the fort, slowly cleaning up the glorious mess that was the holiday.
The girls are fighting, and I'm realizing that might be sort of my fault, because all they have had today is leftover dessert. Oh wait, Rosie's eating cheese crackers now. There's protein in those, right?
I'm going to be bold here and make a plug for friend thanksgiving next year. We convinced everyone to abandon their families (Thanks Nancy, Linda, and all of you for being so generous) and come over here. My family ended up slipping in at the last moment, so there was at least one grandma present.
I know this is a family holiday and all, but family has a lot of different meanings around here, so I think that it's a good time to open up the definition.
And how did it go? We cooked all day while the kids ground fancy crackers into the rug. We ate hours after the planned time, and no one complained. We ate ten stalks of brussels sprouts. The food came out really well. I had such a bad headache by the end of the day that I could hardly eat, but I was happy anyway, and I had a great lunch today. We had a wayward traveler up from the city who made us pumpkin hot toddies with dessert. Joey was finally well enough to do dishes. And it was warm, and cloudy, and the kids were outside all afternoon. And I was thankful for that and a lot more.
Today it's cold and windy, and I'm moving slowly. I promise that I won't give you any more Thanksgiving recipes, but I'd feel mean if I didn't tell you about our mashed potatoes. They've got celeriac in them which is totally brilliant, and they're not everyday mashed potatoes, but I'm sure that you can find some special occasion to make them.


Whipped Mashed Potatoes with Celery Root
adapted from Saveur November 2008

1 lb celery root (celeriac), peeled and cut into cubes
2 cups half-and-half
1 stick unsalted butter
8 sprigs fresh thyme
3 lbs russet potatoes, peeled and quartered
salt and pepper

In a 2 qt. saucepan, combine the celery root, half-and-half, butter, and thyme. Bring to a boil, lower heat, and simmer, partially covered, until celery root is tender, about 25 minutes. Discard thyme. Meanwhile, combine potatoes and 2 tsp. kosher salt in a 6 qt. saucepan add water so the potatoes are covered by about 1 inch. Bring to a boil, lower the heat, and simmer until potatoes are tender, about 20 minutes. Transfer the celeriac and cream mixture to a food processor and blend until very smooth. Drain potatoes and mash with a masher. Add celery root puree and mash a bit more. Add pepper to taste.

thanks.

a request

When you're out at the store today, fighting it out with some panicky woman over the last garnet yams, would you mind grabbing a couple of extra items?
There's probably a box, right by the exit door, for people who need a little something more than they can afford. Throw a few things in that box. It will probably go to someone right there in your town. How great is that.
To those of you who are celebrating, Happy Thanksgiving. I'll check back in tomorrow. Stay calm. It will all get done.

cranberry sauce

I know that I've been saying this a lot lately, but it's been a bit of a day. Joey was home again with the flu. It's not really his style to be sick for so long, and we're pretty sure all of this will be over tomorrow.

It better be, because there are a lot of people coming over here for Thanksgiving, and there is a large turkey in my refrigerator. It has quite a presence.

We took him (Joey, not the turkey) to the doctor today, confirmed that he was, in fact, not dying, and then the girls and I went for a drive to go meet some friends that we haven't seen in a long time.
They are a family that makes an afternoon feel a bit sparkly.

We finally made it home, Joey was thankfully still alive and on his fourth cup of garlic lemonade. I cleaned up, dry brined the damn turkey, and here I am.
Somehow in the midst of all that, I made cranberry sauce.


Is it because I am a super hero?
No. It is because cranberry sauce is that easy.
I know there are some of you who have an attachment to can shaped gelatinous "cranberry sauce". Go ahead. Eat that. I'm not going to try to convince you out of it, because frankly, I'm wiped and I recognize that holiday food habits are hard to break, even wrong to break.
My grandmother used to make her cranberry sauce with canned pineapple. I could eat gallons of it in one day. I seem, like Sadie, to have developed an allergy to pineapple (maybe it was all that cranberry sauce) so I make it with canned mandarin oranges. Do what you like, but make it soon so that it can sit around and meld a bit. Or eat the canned stuff. Just don't bring it over here.


Cranberry Sauce

2 10 oz. bags fresh or frozen organic cranberries (organic is really important here)
2/3 cup water
1 10.75 oz. can of mandarin oranges in juice
1 cinnamon stick
8 cloves
2 cardamom pods
pinch of dried orange peel
1/4-1/3 cup maple syrup, to taste (I like it a bit sour still)

In a medium saucepan, combine the cranberries and water. Bring to a boil, cover and simmer for 15 minutes, or until the cranberries start to burst.
Then stir in the oranges and their juice (make sure that they are not in syrup).
In a cheesecloth, combine the spices, tie them up, and throw the bundle in. If that feels too fussy to you, you can also add ground spices instead to your own liking. I like the cheesecloth because it really infuses the whole mixture.
Cook at the lowest heat for another 30 minutes or so. Add maple syrup. Cool, refrigerate, and remove cheesecloth before serving.

popcorn

You know that I love a good kitchen gadget, but this is one of the most important ones I have. Some people grew up with an air popper, and the sparks that are bound to fly out of the outlet when you unplug it don't scare them.

I am happy to be one of those people. This courage provides me with an astounding parenting tool.

Popcorn.

Not from a bag, not from anything with a cancer causing lining, not even from a pot filled with oil that I have yet to master. Plug it in. If you make it through that, your golden.

When I am having one of those moments when I desire to be a perfect mother, but there is no way that I am going to achieve my dream, I make popcorn. I become an instant hero, create a party in the kitchen, and feed my kids a warm, homemade, incredibly cheap snack. It takes 3 minutes, and the process is better to watch than a silly you tube video that would buy you the same amount of peace. Your children will dance in the kitchen, and then they will eat whole grains. There are no downsides.

Until I have to unplug the thing again. I guess that's why the air popper cost me 17 dollars at the hardware store and looks like it was made in 1958. But I'm still here to tell the tale.

Gotta find someway to live dangerously, right?

butternut lentil dal

You didn't think I was going to make it through last night, did you?

But I did.

And I made it to work party this morning, leaving Joey sick again in bed, dragging the girls behind me. They cheered up with a little Roald Dahl in the car.

Today, we moved our friends from one house to another.

They just sold their house, a house that they built with their own hands. I was thinking today about all of the work parties that we've had over the years at that house. We've plastered walls and moved wood and planted lots of things in the ground. The kids have crawled and run and ridden their bikes in the driveway. And now the house has moved on, and so have they. The new owners even took over the chickens.

I've never been very settled. Growing up, I lived in more houses than I could count. But I was thinking today about the special kind of settled that has allowed me to be around for all this movement. It feels like such a gift to be let in on my friends' transitions, even to help out with them. If feels like something that I can't put my finger on is rooted, even if everything moves so fast around it. Does that make any sense? It's hard to find the words. I guess it's something like community.


And the soup, despite the hour at which it was made, was a hit. Sweet and warm, like the sunny fall day that required it.


Butternut Lentil Dal

This soup was born out of a day when I had a few friends over for lunch. I had made roasted butternut squash soup and red lentil soup, and everyone decided to combine them. So I played with the combination and here's the result. Let me know what you think.

2 medium Butternut Squash (about 3 lbs)
1/2 stick butter
2 large onions, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
3 inch piece of ginger, peeled and grated
2 cups red lentils, rinsed
6 cups water
1 1/2 pounds potatoes, peeled and cut into bite sized chunks
3 carrots (about 1/2 lb) peeled and cut into bite sized chunks
1 can coconut milk
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp turmeric
1 tsp salt, plus more to taste
1/4 tsp cardamom
1/2 tsp curry powder
1/4 tsp cinnamon

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Place the squash, whole, on an oiled baking sheet. Bake for about an hour, or until they are slightly blackened and the skin is loose. Allow to cool.

Melt the butter in a large soup pot. Add the onion and sautee over low to medium heat, stirring occasionally, until it starts to caramelize, 15-20 minutes. Add the garlic, grated ginger, cumin, turmeric, salt, cardamom, curry powder, and cinnamon. Cook for another 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the lentils and the water. bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and cover. Add the potatoes and carrots. Cook for about 20 minutes, or until the lentils are tender.

Meanwhile, when the squash is cool enough to touch, peel off the skin. It should come off easily. Separate the seeds from the flesh. Combine the squash flesh with the can of coconut milk in a blender or food processor and puree until smooth.

Add to the soup pot and cook for an additional 10-15 minutes. Taste for seasonings and adjust if needed. Add additional water if soup is thicker than you would like. Serve with rice and roasted cauliflower.

late night soup

Did you know this ginger trick? That ginger will shed its peel without argument if you take a spoon to it?
Remember it. You'll need it tomorrow.
Tonight I'm making soup. It's late, Joey's got a fever again after a week of health, and I'm making soup for a work party tomorrow. He's sad and sick in the bedroom and I'm in the kitchen, sad for him, listening to the horrible folk show that plays on the public radio station on Saturday nights. I'm no enemy to folk, but this is really bad stuff. I think I'm trying to punish myself a bit, maybe so I can feel Joey's pain. Or maybe I'm a little bit comforted by the horrible folk show for reasons that confound me. Who knows, but I'm having trouble turning it off. And the lighting in the kitchen seems to be getting dimmer and dimmer. I've just had a chopping injury, and so now I'm taking a break, typing with one hand. My Saturday is just a little bit funny, don't you think?

I'm making a soup that I've been creating in my mind for a few days now. I'll tell you about it tomorrow if it's good, but make sure you have some ginger handy so you can be ready. And a spoon. And I guess, if you're following my lead, a band aid.

on the thanksgiving menu

Can you tell how excited about Thanksgiving I am?
I just love a holiday that has nothing to do with my religion, that refuses to be commercialized, and that produces crazy family stories.
I guess you could say that I am thankful for Thanksgiving.

The Thanksgiving helpline has continued to ring around here, and the side dish requests seem to be the most popular. What to bring over to the in-laws that will impress them and finally make them take you seriously? What sweet will be original, comforting, and provide an option for your children besides that corn syrup espresso pie your cousin always tries to get into them?

Let's just remember that this is a holiday about simplicity and gratitude. Don't roll your eyes at me! Let me be optimistic about a holiday for once. Thanksgiving stands out as a holiday based in produce, so I suggest starting there. Go find the freshest loveliest vegetable and do something to it that takes minimal effort. It's a good idea to try not to turn it brown, a common occurrence at Thanksgiving.

In the interest of efficiency, I offer you a list.

Vegetable Side Dishes:

Golden Brussels Sprouts- the is now the only way I make Brussels Sprouts, and if I had an endless supply, I would eat them like this every single night.

Delicata Chips- Oh, I already convinced you that these were a good thing, right?

Beet Salad- I do not roast my beets! Save the oven space.

Swiss Chard with Parmesan- For those who insist on something green besides brussels sprouts.

Roasted Vegetables- a classic.

Roasted Cauliflower- You have made this by now, right? I don't care that you don't like cauliflower. You will, you will.

And then there is the dessert question. No one is hungry by dessert time, but something's got to get the kids to eat their veggies.

Here are a few alternates to the requisite pies.

Pear pie- this one gets my vote. Maybe someone will bring one over to my house.

Chocolate Blocks with ginger and cranberries- This is a super easy recipe, and I think it's nice to have an option that offers just a bite of sweetness.

Buttermilk Spice Cake- lovely on the sidetable. Leftovers for Breakfast.

Ginger Bread, and ginger bread- I'm sure if I say anything more about gingerbread, you'll start rolling your eyes again. Why so synical?

And of course, there's Indian Pudding.

The hotline's still open. Ask away. Watch out though. If you live close by, you might just get invited over here.

lupini

Usually I go food shopping alone. Shopping with the family is fun, but we end up getting into accidents with the car cart while spending three hundred dollars on fancy cereal and sausage. And Rosie has a bit of a shoplifting problem. So I go alone, even if it means I have to go late at night.
The other day was an exception. Sadie was at a birthday party, and Joey and Rosie and I went to the store. I sent him to the canned food aisle for a can of white beans. He came back with these.
I said, "I don't even know what these are. Put them back."
"They're lupini. Look, they're white beans. Let's try." (that's Joey.)
Fine. Lupini.
When I opened the jar to mash them in my creative lasagna, I was puzzled.
What are these?
Google lupini! (that's me)
Lupini were googled, and it turns out they are not for cooking. They are a sort of Mediterranean edamame, soaked in salt to take out the bitterness, popped out of their clear skin and eaten with beer in the Mediterranean. I can't think of anything better than eating lupini with beer in the Mediterranean. They come from the lupine plant. The lupine plant!
They are so salty.
They are so addictive.
They are so good.

Sometimes it pays to take the family shopping.

indian pudding

I love holidays with all my being, but I usually don't quite know what to do with them. By blood I'm half Episcopalian and half Jewish, but the Episcopalian ran off to be a New Age Guru in Texas early on, and the Jews decided that they would rather be Pagans and Buddhists and well, Yiddish club members.

As a child I yearned for anything holiday related, but most of the time, the reality didn't quite live up to my imaginings. There were a few moments that felt genuine, but the rest just felt unsettled. My grandmother would give me pens and pads and tape from the supermarket wrapped in little star of david wrapping paper for Hanukkah- that felt so special to me. And the Spring equinox parties that she would throw for me and my friends felt like true family celebrations. But those moments came in the midst of fantasies of storybook Christmas eves and randomly passionate Jesus obsessions. Holidays seemed to fit in with normal nuclear families and suburbs, and in my mind that was heaven.

As an adult with my own non-nuclear family now, I'm trying to find our own place in the holidays, and so far all I can say is that creating traditions is no easy feat. I'm working on it though.

Luckily, Thanksgiving is one holiday that has never presented these challenges for me. As a very thankful New Englander who loves a good meal and a big table, I fit right in.


I made my first Indian pudding for Thanksgiving when I was fourteen. It was the first holiday after my grandmother died in a car accident, and somehow I got it that it was important to create something for the meal.

Indian Pudding is one of those old desserts where you feel like you are making something of the few things that you are thankful to have. It gets deep at the Puritan in me to whisk together a little cornmeal and milk, to add a bit of maple syrup and molasses, a spice here and there. Put it on top of the wood stove for a few hours and there's dessert. Okay, actually I put it in my electric oven, but it's a nice thought, isn't it?



This recipe leaves out the eggs that you'll often find in there. I wanted to test out an eggless recipe so that I could make it for Thanksgiving and Sadie could actually eat it, but you can add 2 eggs to this recipe and it will make a bit of a more custardy pudding. It's great without the eggs too, so you can go either way.

I've got to say that Indian Pudding, although not as visited as the pumpkin or pecan pie, is a perfect Thanksgiving dessert. It carries all the spice and warmth that you want from a finish to that meal, but it is a simple thing, not so rich and sweet. Served warm, with a little maple whipped cream or a spoonful of cinnamon ice cream, it will insure that the bellies at your table will be left warm, contented and thankful.

Indian Pudding
loosely adapted from Moosewood Desserts
serves 6

4 cups milk
1 cup cornmeal (if you are adding in the two eggs, reduce this to 1/2 cup)
2 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup maple syrup
1/4 cup unsulphured molasses
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
3/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 teaspoons fresh lemon juice

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Butter a medium casserole dish.
In a heavy saucepan, whisk together the milk and cornmeal until smooth. Bring to a low boil, then reduce the heat, and simmer, stirring, for about 5 minutes, or until the mixture becomes quite thick. Remove from heat and stir in all of the remaining ingredients.
Pour the pudding into the prepared dish. Put that dish into a larger baking dish and fill the larger dish with about 1 inch of very hot water. Bake for 50-60 minutes, or until the pudding is fairly firm around the edges and a bit soft in the middle. It might need as much as 75 minutes, but don't bake it for any more than that. Serve warm, and eat leftovers (yeah right!) for breakfast.

celeriac soup

Celeriac is so ugly. It is warty and rough. It looks like a large turnip with a serious disease.

But it's flavor is so delicate and refined, that it actually feels beautiful in my mouth. It feels earthy and designer and French.
It will never look as beautiful as it tastes, not whole at least, but there is something so sexy about all that loveliness under the cover of ugly.
There was a little French sandwich shop in Santa Fe that used to serve celeriac cut into julienne with some apple and dressing. It was so fancy. They called it celery root.
Celeriac, or celery root, is not, as some think, the root of your every day celery. It is its own vegetable, a root vegetable only, a cousin to our beloved celery.
It can be eaten raw or sliced thin into a gratin, it can be cubed in a soup or roasted with other fall roots. Or it can, and it should, be blended with milk and cream and served for your supper.

Celeriac Soup

3/4 pounds of potatoes, peeled and quartered
2 medium celeriac roots (about 2 pounds), peeled with a knife and cut into chunks
3 cups chicken broth
1 bay leaf
2 tablespoons butter
1 medium onion, peeled and chopped
2 leeks, washed, white parts cut into 1/2 inch slices
3 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
1 stalk celery, finely chopped
1 cup milk
1/3 cup heavy cream

Combine the celeriac, potatoes, chicken broth and bay leaf in a large kettle. Bring to a boil, then down to a simmer. Cook until vegetables are tender, 15 to 20 minutes.
Meanwhile, melt the butter in a sautee pan or skillet. Add the onion and cook for a few minutes until shiny. Add the celery and leek, and cook, stirring for another three minutes. Add the garlic and salt and cook for a minute more. Add the onion mixture (let's call it the soffritto) to the soup pot. Cook for an additional 10 minutes at a low heat, covered. Remove the bay leaf.
Blend with an immersion blender or if you don't have one, put the soup in batches into a blender or food processor.
At this point, if you have more soup than you want around for the next few days, freeze some of the puree. You can defrost it and add the milk on some lucky night when you can't decide what to cook.
Add the milk and cream. Make sure that it is warmed through, and test for seasoning. Add more salt if needed, and lots of freshly ground pepper.

a winner! and dinner party thoughts...

I know you're dying of suspense, but before I tell you who won the fancy coffee maker, a few thoughts on dinner parties...

For those of you who pay attention to dates, you may notice that the salon challenge date was yesterday, with no dinner party from me.
I've been meaning to tell you that it's coming, it's coming. I've had to reschedule twice, and so I have missed my own deadline. But it's on again, and I have faith that on this night to come in December, my guests will indeed arrive.
But just because I haven't posted, doesn't mean that you shouldn't. I've just heard from Laurel (hello old friend!) about a lovely soiree involving foods from "the country of northwest autumn" (I'll visit that country anytime!) for 12 with place cards and everything. Has anyone else been taking the challenge? Please, do tell.
If this challenge is news to you, go here to learn more, and here to find the current theme. Of course, the holiday that is queen of all dinner parties is coming up, and I'd love to see those too.

The heart of this whole endeavor is the act of invitation. I like to focus on people I don't know or don't know that well, but sometimes the challenge can just be finding the time to invite an old friend to dinner. I don't know about you, but I can't tell you how many times "we've got to have you over for dinner one of these days!" gets thrown around on a weekly basis. When it gets down to it, if I can't find the time to invite someone in, my life is too damned busy.

So there you have it. I'm sure you've all read your final issue of Gourmet six or seven times. But because it bears repeating, I thought I'd let Ruth speak on the challenge, through her very final letter from the editor. Someday, maybe she'll come too, but either way, she definitely gets it.

From Ruth Reichl, in her Letter from the Editor from the very last issue of Gourmet, November 2009

"For me, the whole point of asking people to dinner is that you're inviting them into your life. They show up for a true reality show, for a moment when they discover who you really are. Your friends may not get a faultless meal in a fabulous house, but they do get the pleasure of knowing that you trust them. If you want a cleaned-up version of the truth, you can always hire a caterer and a phalanx of servers and be assured a perfect evening. But perfect evenings rarely lead to great friendships."


So tell me your thoughts, plans, hell, if you invite me to your dinner party and I don't have to get on a plane, I will go through anything to get there.

And now, yes, it's time. Thank you to my random number generator (Joey and his cubs hat) for choosing the winner of the scientific and beautiful Coffee maker....

Paul O.

Hooray for Paul! Send me an email with your address and it will be on its way.

And I have to say, your words on coffee were poignant and perfect. This challenge also pulled some old friends out of the woodwork, an added bonus for me! (Hello everyone... so nice to see you over here.) So that we can all be winners today, I have put together everyone's words, in the order that I got them, in a bit of an ode...


reason to get up,
warmth for wintry weather.

it hits the spot...
morning lifeblood-evening composure.

Coffee, noun: mental treadmill
Milk NO, Sugar NO...perfect
YUM

Awake all night. Coffee=survival
makes me feel alive

Dark goddesses persistent concoction
'tis time, 'tis time
the morning alchemist's 'aqua vitae'
better than green chile

dark delicious bitter black brew
Between cold hands, fragrant refuge
Coffee saves patients' lives daily

Thanks everyone. Hope you all are having a fabulous Monday.

pumpkin mexican hot chocolate

Today was so much better than yesterday. I love that. One bad day I can take, but two in a row is harder. The sun was out. Swine Flu seems to have left my husband, and everyone else is still healthy. My children read together until almost 7:30, without any interjections of "I won't be your best friend!" or "I don't want to live with you any more!" I woke up without the sensation to roar at everyone. And I got invited to my friend Brandee's to try to make pumpkin Mexican hot chocolate.


You remember Brandee, right? The engineer with the brilliant parchment idea? She's just full of good ideas, so there's no way I would have said no to this invitation. The girls and I ran down the hill to her house in anticipation today singing a hot chocolate song. It was 61 degrees, and we might as well have been triplets on our birthday, we were so happy.
Brandee had roasted the daintiest little pumpkin, and the girls tortured the new kitten while we worked on the hot chocolate. Apparently, her mother had suggested this odd combination to her, and originally the recipe had called for butternut squash.
But it was the pumpkin on her counter that called out to be roasted, so pumpkin it was. The pumpkin got blended together with milk and cinnamon, heated with more milk, and then made to play host to the melting chocolate.


Are you feeling doubtful? Wondering how winter squash would collide with the breakfast of princesses? Well, cease your negativity, and throw that pumpkin in the oven. I've had a lot of hot chocolate in my almost 31 years, and this was an INCREDIBLE cup of chocolate.


It was thick and rich, but with a complex spice to it. It was exactly chocolate enough, and exactly sweet enough. It was immensely satisfying, not to mention a pretty good way to get a whole lot of winter squash into your kid's bloodstream.


I hope you all had good days today, but to any of you whose day might have been wanting, I hope that tomorrow is a little better. Maybe there might even be some winter squash and chocolate in your future. Come to think of it, perhaps you should just go ahead in take that into your own hands.

Pumpkin Mexican Hot Chocolate
adapted from Brandee's mother

serves 4-6

1 1/3 cups roasted pumpkin (you can roast the pumpkin whole in a 400 degree oven for an hour or so, or until its very tender and the skin peels right off. I'm sure that you can use canned pumpkin too- whoever tries it let me know how it is )

5 cups whole or low fat milk

1 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

12 ounces semisweet chocolate (chips or bar form will both work)

optional 1/2 teaspoon cayenne or chili powder

In a blender or food processor, puree the pumpkin with one cup milk, the cinnamon, and the cayenne, if using.
Heat the remaining four cups of milk in a medium saucepan. As it is heating, stir in the pumpkin puree. Stir in the chocolate and stir until it is partially melted. Then switch to a whisk and whisk the mixture until it is hot and all ingredients are fully incorporated. Serve hot.