When Words Get In The Way...

Those of you who are regular readers here may have noticed that I am seldom at a loss for words. In print, I am and always have been exceedingly verbose. In college, I found myself shrinking margins ever-so-slightly and resorting to 11.5 point fonts to bring my essays in under the page limit. Recently, I received a lovely compliment for my ability to think of just the right word to capture what I wish to express. Although I think it's far from the truth, it was still nice to hear.

In my relationships, however, I find that I often take on the role of listener. I am the person that you turn to when you need a shoulder to cry on, or a sounding board for your grievances. I am also a bottomless source of (often unsolicited) sage advice. At least I'm aware of it. Among strangers I am painfully shy, with my latent social anxieties bubbling up in force. Only in my very closest friendships do I find myself comfortable speaking openly about what is on my mind. Even so, I opted to start this blog to express myself in the medium in which I am most articulate.

Sometimes, however, there are no words. Today was a day for bad news. Lisa called me at work this morning, to tell me that she had lost her job. She had just started with the organization a few months ago, after they lured her from her existing job with promises of increased pay and more fulfilling challenges. Now she finds herself unemployed in one of the toughest job markets in decades. I have faith that she will land quickly on her feet -- she is, after all, one of the best networkers I know, and she is astoundingly well-connected within her field for someone of our age -- but there are few feelings worse than being fired. I would know.

Another friend of mine had dropped off the radar a bit; it had been a while since I had heard from him. When I spotted him yesterday on Google Chat, he informed me that his father had passed away suddenly. As it turns out, I also know a little bit about losing a loved one without the chance to say goodbye. It is, I think, the worst feeling that exists.

In both cases, I found myself at a loss for words. That is one of the problems with modern society -- in spite of the technological advances that keep us in constant communication with one another, that same technology makes it more difficult to express genuine sentiment. How do you convey your understanding and sympathy to a friend, over the phone, while your coworkers can overhear your every word? How do you express the profundity of loss in the jargon of internet chat? I once received a text message reading, "OMG, Im so sorry 4 ur loss." I think, in such cases, it is best to at least type out every word. Still, without a look of understanding, or a hug, such words seem to ring hollow.

Sometimes, the most compassionate thing you can do is realize the need for silence. Sometimes all you can do is be there, or maybe even offer a bit of escapism. For one night, some popsicles and trashy reality television can take your mind off your mortgage, and all the well-meaning bystanders who have made you talk about your problems all day long. A link to a funny website can be a better salve than a litany of platitudes about loss, even if they are coming from a place of empathy. When it feels like your world has been turned upside down, it can be a relief to find a moment or two of normalcy. Sometimes, there are just no words. There don't have to be.

One last post on the topic...

Okay, I get the sense that you are tired of reading about food, but this is what happens when I slow down my social life -- I finally have time to cook! Besides, I think food is fascinating. Just indulge me one last time, and I promise, I'll try to think of something else to talk about for a while.

According to yesterday's Red Eye, I'm somewhere between a "foodie" and a "food enthusiast." I own an immersion blender and although I can't name all five of the classical French "mother sauces," I can name bechamel, veloute, and the poorly defined category of emulsified sauces, such as bernaise, mayonnaise, or hollandaise -- characteristics of the foodie. However, I don't miss an episode of Top Chef, I can't wait for the Julie and Julia movie, I own a rabbit corkscrew, but I'm not above eating at P.F. Chang's -- the hallmarks of a food enthusiast.

Often, in my conversations with people about food, a central theme emerges time and time again -- how far are you willing to go for food? Once upon a time, an old friend of mine said to me, "It's just food, it can only be so good," while arguing against spending too much on what he deemed to be overpriced restaurants. To some extent, I agree. I've never eaten at Alinea, the restaurant typically heralded as the best in Chicago, and often included in lists of the best restaurants of the nation, and the world at large, but it is hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that the bare minimum you can spend there is $145 per person, before tax and tip. The food may be ground-breaking, but how much better can it be than your favorite dish at a local restaurant for a fraction of the price? In the end, you are really paying for the experience of enjoying food as a form of performance art, and only you can place a subjective value on what that experience is worth.

Although far less expensive, another vanguard of the Chicago dining scene recieves similar attention in my circles -- Hot Doug's. This "encased meat emporium" is the mecca of sausage afficianados nationwide, and yet, as much as I love sausage, in almost any incarnation (I'm going to exclude the tofu hotdog), I have never been to Hot Doug's. Why? It's too far, and I can't find anyone to go with me. Call me crazy, but the prospect of two trains, a bus, and a long walk, followed by an average two-hour long wait begs for some company. I think this is an affirmation that I'm not a true "foodie;" I just can't see myself devoting half a day to obtaining a hot dog by myself, even if it is the greatest available exemplar of said food product.

There is one area, however, in which I am willing to go the distance for food: actual cooking. This weekend, for instance, I prepared my caramelized onion and bacon pizza with gruyere for me and Mom, which only took a mere seven hours of prep time, spread over the course of two days. Yes, I live in one of the country's great pizza capitals, but this dish is worthy of the effort of making it at home. It was inspired by one of my favorite dishes at the Park Grill, in Millennium Park, which I used to order on every visit until it was taken off their seasonally rotating menu. My only choice was to devise a home version. When I first made it, my Mom asked me, "Okay, it's good, but is it really seven hours' worth of good?" The definitive answer is yes. It is that delicious, but more importantly, if you make someone a dish that takes seven hours to make, it shows that person that they are worth seven hours of your time. Sure, I like to cook for the soothing methodical process and the near-instant gratification, but cooking for someone else is a million times better than cooking for yourself. As the old cliche goes, 'tis better to give...

I'm not going to give you the recipe, because, as you might expect, seven hours' worth of instructions would take a long time to type, and the recipe for the crust comes from Cook's Illustrated, which actually scours the web for people who try to give their recipes out for free, and serves them with cease and desist orders. So, you'll just have to play your cards right, and if you're nice to me, maybe I'll make one for you...

Caramelizing the onions alone can take between 1-2 hours. Here are photos taken at each half-hour mark in the process. I always take my caramelized onions to about the point seen in the bottom photo. Much longer, and they start to burn.

The finished product. My mouth is watering just thinking about it...

Check out the crispy, golden delicious crust. We joked that we should have taken a audio clip of us eating, so you could hear the audible crunch of the crust. Using a non-insulated pan in a non-convection oven is key; the pizza is a soggy, under-baked disaster otherwise.

Just peachy keen...

Every so often, you take a chance on a recipe, and it succeeds beyond your wildest dreams. That was how it went with the peach popsicles I made for my party last weekend. I had been fully prepared to make another one of my favorite frozen treats, Fuzzy Navel Sorbet, but I was flipping through my most recent edition of Gourmet and spotted a page of "adult" ice pops, and thought, "Huh, that would be fun and summery." So I borrowed some molds from Mom, and augmented with some from Target, and set to work. I made the peach recipe one day, and got to sample an ice cube-sized remnant of the mix while I was making the pineapple coconut ice pops the next day. I was astounded by how good they were! I wrote the recipe down in my cookbook that very same night, and it takes a pretty special recipe to be cookbook-worthy on the first attempt.

Although the pineapple coconut popsicles were more popular at the party, I was just fine with having lots of leftovers of the peach ones. If only my guests had known what they were missing! I'm hoarding mine for myself, so you need to go make your own...

Peaches and Cream Yogurt Popsicles

adapted from Gourmet, July 2009

3 ripe peaches or nectarines, about 1 lb., chopped

3/4 c. Greek-style yogurt (5 oz)

1/2 c. granulated sugar

1/3 c. water

2 1/2 T. peach schnapps

1/4 t. salt

Puree all ingredients in a blender until smooth. Pour into 8* popsicle molds. Freeze until firm, about 24 hours.

*Each mold should hold 1/3 cup of liquid.

Nom nom nom...

Originally, I was just going to make muffulettas for my party over the weekend, until I was sitting at my desk late last week, and like a lightning bolt I realized that muffulettas are a symphony of porcine delights, and more than half of my guests keep kosher. I needed a pork-free alternative and fast. Mom suggested chicken salad, and sent me a recipe she'd spotted in a recent issue of Southern Living. At that point, I didn't have time to think of anything else, so I went ahead and made it. I made a few modifications, based on what I had on hand. For instance, the original recipe called for all mayonnaise, but I had some lowfat Greek yogurt leftover from my peaches and cream popsicles, so I threw that in to lighten up the calorie content. I also substituted shallots and green onion for ordinary white onion, since I had them on hand, and I thought they'd add some nice extra color.

Lo and behold, it was the greatest surprise of my culinary efforts for the party. It wasn't just good, it was really good! I went for the muffuletta for dinner at the party, but I was craving the chicken salad until I got to have some for dinner the next day. As such, I feel it is my duty to share it with you...

Cranberry Pecan Chicken Salad

adapted from Southern Living

2/3 c. chopped pecans

3 c. chopped, cooked chicken

3/4 c. sweetened, dried cranberries

2 stalks celery, diced

3 oz. 2% Greek-style yogurt

3 oz. mayonnaise

2 T. lemon juice

1 T. Greek seasoning

1 small shallot, finely minced

3 green onions, thinly sliced

1. Preheat oven to 350. Bake pecans in a single layer in a shallow pan for 5-7 minutes until lightly toasted and fragrant. Cool completely.

2. Stir together all ingredients, serve immediately or chill until needed.

It's Cocktail Time...

To start off my week of party recipes, I thought I'd give you a cocktail, just to set the mood. Sangria, the fruity Spanish wine cocktail, seemed fresh and summery to me, so I randomly selected a palatable-looking version that incorporated peaches, my favorite summer fruit. Although I generally hate wine in all its forms, I actually liked this sangria, so I thought I'd share it with all of you.

Strawberry Peach Sangria

adapted from Bon Apétit, August 2005

1 750mL bottle white zinfandel

1 375mL bottle orange muscat dessert wine

1 1/2 c. sliced strawberries

3 peaches or nectarines, sliced

1 large orange, cut crosswise into slices

1 large lemon, cut crosswise into slices

1 c. peach schnapps

Combine all ingredients in a large pitcher, mashing citrus lightly. Let stand at room temperature for two hours prior to serving, or chill for at least four hours before serving.

Happy 233rd Birthday America...

With all of the fireworks and festivities of the 3rd of July, there was not much left to do on the actual 4th of July but kick back and enjoy the day. For the first time in over two months, I got to sleep until I woke up naturally. I cannot properly convey how much I relished the chance to sleep in, and how much I needed it. 

Later, faced with a totally packed refrigerator, I invited my parents over to help with the leftovers from the night before. Somehow, I seem to be totally incapable of preparing a reasonable amount of food for my party guests. Without fail, I am inundated by leftovers. So they took me out to lunch, to give me some reprieve from eating the same food all weekend long, and we enjoyed some popsicles before I sent them home with a respectable care-package. 

I spent the evening engaged in my favorite 4th of July tradition: watching 1776. It used to be that you could find 1776 on television on the 4th of July, often on PBS. But in recent years, it seems to have dropped off the face of the earth. We used to have a family copy on VHS to remedy the situation, but it was one of the first casualties of the broken VCR that led to our purchase of a DVD player. I can still recall the heartbreak of watching the feet of tape spooling out of the front of the VCR. It was a sad day. Eventually, they finally released a DVD version of the film (albeit a far longer "director's cut), and it provided the soundtrack to my holiday.

The highlight of the evening, however, was the fireworks display that was visible from my southern window. As it turns out, even if I cannot see the official fireworks from my condo, I can see an entire evening's worth of illegal fireworks detonations on the city's south and southwest sides. I shudder to think of how crowded the local emergency rooms and fire crews must have been, based solely on the number of sirens I heard throughout the evening, but it certainly looked pretty outside. It was an exciting end to a pleasantly quiet day. 

There's Gonna Be Fireworks...

Okay, so maybe the Schoolhouse Rock reference is a little obscure, but I figured that it was appropriate, given the occasion. Today I had a little get-together for the 4th of July. Except that, in Chicago, we have our annual fireworks display over the lake on the day before, so I decided to throw a 3rd of July party instead. The plan was to have a few friends over for dinner, and then we would stroll over to the baseball diamonds in Grant Park for a choice view of the fireworks. Aside from a few no-shows on the guest list, everything went according to plan.

For hors d'oeuvres I honored Lisa's request and made the Crescent Roll pigs in blankets for which I've honed my skills over many Wyatt family Christmases. The main course consisted of muffuletta sandwiches for the pork eaters, chicken salad sandwiches for the kosher guests, a corn and black bean salad, and since it wouldn't be summer without food on a stick, Caprese salad skewers. To further the theme, I made popsicles for dessert - both peaches and cream and pineapple coconut. I even went the Sandra Lee route, and offered up a signature cocktail -- a delightful strawberry peach sangria.

Although I had some apprehensions about serving a menu in which I had only made two items before (the pigs in blankets and the Caprese salad), the food was largely a success. The only dark spots were the corn and black bean salad, made from a labor-intensive Martha Stewart recipe that yielded a strangely bland and gummy final result, and the pineapple coconut popsicles, which weren't terrible, but weren't as intensely flavored as their peach counterparts. Look for some of the more successful recipes during the following week.

After eating, we headed over to Grant Park for the fireworks. Here is Lisa and Alex...

...and Lauren and Clarence.

I led everyone over to the park with picnic blankets in tow, around 8:30, as I was under the belief that the fireworks started at 9:30. I thought we'd have plenty of time to get a good spot and enjoy the lovely lemon cookies that Lauren had baked for the occasion, but we were totally taken by surprise when the sky lit up slightly before 9:00. It turned out to be of little importance, and everyone was impressed by my knowledge of such a good location for fireworks viewing. The baseball diamonds are a perfect spot, because they aren't nearly as crowded as the lakefront or the promontory in front of the museum campus, but you still get an unobstructed view over the treetops. The fireworks were great, as always, although I think there were fewer than there have been in more economically abundant times.

Fireworks go BOOM!

After the display, we booked it back to the condo in advance of the hordes, and had a few more beverages while everyone waited for the traffic to die down. All in all, I thought it was a successful party, and I was glad I could show my friends a bit of hospitality. I love being a hostess, and it always warms the cockles of my heart to have the opportunity!