Gobble Gobble

The title of this post pretty much sums up the way I've been eating since Thanksgiving (which, I want to mention, is my favorite holiday). Whether or not that gives me an excuse to eat excessively until a new year has arrived is another story.

This Thanksgiving I was pie queen. My time has been limited lately, since I'm spending all of it working on revisions. I did promise to bring dessert to Thanksgiving dinner though, and for me that meant two homemade pies. So during one long evening, I put the book aside, and got to work on something else.

The first pie I made was sour cream apple. The reason I chose this particular kind was because when I was about fourteen, I tried a sour cream apple pie, and I don't think I've had a pie as good since. The one I made for Thanksgiving was no exception. It's very sad, but I have a feeling I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to recreate this pie memory from long ago.

I also made a pumpkin ginger chili pie. This recipe evolved over time, starting at first with just a pinch of fresh grated ginger tossed into the pumpkin mixture. The progression, however, was natural. It was kind of like going from seeing someone a few times a week, to realizing you're now full-on living together. That being said, as I made my pie the night before Thanksgiving, I decided a spicy overtone might be a good variation and I threw some chili powder in.

Before baking, I covered the top with turkeys I'd cut from leftover pie crust dough. (I so rarely have an occasion to use my turkey cookie cutter. Homemade turkey-shaped cookies are just not something you bring as a hostess gift. There's always the fear that the present you're giving in earnest could be mistaken for a wildly bold assumption.)

I love how creating one thing always seems to influence something else. It's like spilling syrup; the bottle upends on the counter, and the next thing you know there's sweetness slowly oozing into the silverware drawer beneath. So as I got creative with dessert, other ideas were also percolating for the book.

Both pies turned out well. Everyone loved the sour cream apple, which was fine because they had nothing to compare it to. The pumpkin was also good- subtle and delicious. It had only the slightest kick; you took a bite and it bit you back, because sometimes that can be nice too.

My favorite part about serving the pies was that it meant I got to spend a night with so many people I love. At one point, every room in the house was overflowing with friends and relatives and laughing children. All I could think was, under this weight of so much love and good food, everything but the kitchen sinks.

Happy Halloween!

I love those little moments that take you out of the ordinary. This morning I stopped in to drop off some things at the dry cleaners, and hanging there was the outfit below. Look closely and you will notice it’s a Ghostbusters uniform. This makes sense since Halloween is tomorrow. I was, however, tickled at seeing this costume hanging there among the suits and blouses, as though it were just another item of business attire whose owner had dropped it off to be cleaned and pressed.

A Math Question

This weekend in D.C., I brunched on warm, homemade pumpkin donuts. Much later that day, after a beautiful and emotional ceremony, I indulged in almost three pieces of wedding cake.
This led me to wonder: Do two halves, eaten from two different pieces of cake, count as one whole slice? They don't, right?

Regardless, I've spent the beginning part of this week taking longer walks than usual to offset the damage. Just in time for Halloween. Oy.

The Complete Idiot's Guide for Dummies

Today I was browsing Barnes and Noble for books on web design and finally narrowed my selection down to the Complete Idiot's Guide to Dreamweaver and Dreamweaver for Dummies. Whenever I seek out a reference guide I always seem to end up this way, blocking the aisle as I contemplate which of the competing versions for the clueless to purchase. This afternoon, however, a new idea occurred to me: When are they going to put out a book called The Complete Idiot's Guide for Dummies, and even more pressing, exactly what kind of a reference manual would it be?

The writers are coming.

Tomorrow night I’m hosting my writers group meeting. In addition to worrying about what to serve, before all that creative energy converges in my apartment, I will have to clean the place too. I’ve decided cleaning is a little like proofreading. Let me explain.

After much frustration, I’ve finally discovered that there is in fact a way to find every single error and typo in my own email messages, and this method consists of going ahead and actually sending the message, then reading it over. Any errors I missed the first fifteen or twenty times I proofed the email before clicking send become glaringly obvious the second after I do.

Similarly, I never really notice how dusty my place is, or how many ink stains are Rorschach-ing my couch, until I have a guest over. Then, as we’re watching a movie or eating dinner or whatever, without meaning to I find my eyes roving over the bookshelves as I think to myself, “Did my copy of the Oxford English Dictionary get even thicker, or could that extra inch really be dust?”

I’m hoping that any areas of the apartment I accidentally neglect in my spastic cleaning mission will be ignored by my writers group tomorrow in favor of lively conversation about our pages. Just in case though, I’m not above resorting to chocolate and wine. I’ve found that in almost any situation, both can be a fantastic distraction.

A soundtrack is nice. A foodtrack is better.

I’m currently making a few changes to the end of the book, and while most people have a soundtrack they write to, I have a foodtrack. Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration. (And thank God, because if it were true, I’d be in serious trouble.) But as I'm finishing these edits I do find myself gravitating toward protein, mostly in the form of grilled cheese sandwiches and scrambled egg whites, topped with a hunk of roughly chopped curly parsley.

I am also enjoying my fair share of cookies. One of my favorite things about New York is the rate at which I constantly happen upon new specialty food stores, or older ones previously undiscovered on my walks. (See sugar cookie entry below.)

Recently, I came upon a little shop in Hell's Kitchen (how appropriate) called Ruby et Violette. I loved the old-fashioned feel of the place, and the chocolate chip cookies were worthy of being added to the foodtrack. Perhaps, if I find myself gravitating back in that direction later this week, they are even worthy of a reprise.

You Say Tomato, I Say Farewell My Beloved Fresh Cherries

The heirloom tomatoes at the farmer’s market are in peak season, their lush skins turning from green to varying shades of orange and yellow, serving as an example for the leaves that will soon follow. I love the fall, but I really don't like it when cherry season ends.

Another indication that fall is arriving will occur this weekend, when the NYU students converge upon the neighborhood to begin a new school year. This also changes the landscape.

From past experience, I know watching the onslaught of cars that will soon be clotting the streets (packed so that whoever's driving can't even see out the back window), will be all I need to make me wish I were enrolled this semester too. I keep threatening myself with law school, but don't most lawyers become writers, and not the other way around?

Lingerie and Sugar Cookies and Cottage Cheese Thighs

Yes, this is a blog about food, and the way it flavors my writing, but I am taking a moment here to tell you about how I was tricked today.

I love to take long walks. Not only does walking prevent writer's block, it also helps me shape the existing pages I've already set in motion. Wearing a pair of rather large headphones (the urban equivalent of a pith helmet), I work out my characters' pitfalls as I navigate potholes, always with the objective of keeping my footing sure, and my pacing even.

Sometimes, it's so much easier written then done.

This afternoon, as I crossed Seventh Ave. and continued west on 19th St., I spotted a large sign mounted to some scaffolding. Sugar Cookies, the makeshift billboard read in large pink letters. I must admit my attention was aroused. There are few things I enjoy more than a good sugar cookie, when it comes to desserts, that is.

Did a new bakery open in this neighborhood? I wondered excitedly. Did they also open a sister store somewhere nearby called Chocolate Cookies?

Imagine my disappointment when I got closer and finally noticed the words Women's Lingerie printed beneath, much smaller. Damn. What a way to pull the bait and switch.

Food inspires me, but honestly, lingerie inspires me too. It inspires me not to eat.

Bathing suit season may be hell, but luckily, like flu season, it only comes once a year. Lingerie season (when you have a boyfriend, at least) lasts all year round. It's really just as well I didn't get my sugar cookie this afternoon, or a new nightie, come to think of it. Last time I tried on something lacey and yellow, all I could think about was Swiss cheese.

Passionate About Pork

This morning, as I was walking through the Union Square Greenmarket, I spotted this sign. I'm sure you can guess what the farmer was marketing.

How nice would it be to get a love letter that was this fervent, this heartfelt? Seriously.

Although bacon is not among my favorite foods (which are defined solely by what I find myself reaching into the fridge for during a time of crisis), I do like it in small amounts. Especially when it is crispy crumbly over a spinach salad. I don't even eat it for breakfast, preferring something lighter, like the meal I made from samples of peaches and berries as I wandered through the market this morning.

By the way, the back of the board offers a possible clue as to how bacon uses its wiles to inspire such ardor in the first place.