Learning to Pour a Wine Float: A How-To Video

Hee, hee! I have to say, I'm having fun doing this! Here is video #2 in the How the Hell Do I...? video series by Creating A Foodie: How the Hell Do I Pour a Wine Float?

Enjoy! And let me know if you have any questions!

The New York Sour: The Cocktail Recipe of Your Dreams

My apologies to those of you who were waiting with baited breath for this New York Sour post last night.  In the middle of our dinner prep, we were hit with a power outage that lasted for a good five hours.  While I could have posted from my phone or iPad, I am not the type of blogger who likes to write using her thumbs, so instead I spent the evening with my neighbors on their back porch before making my way to bed when it got dark, candlestick in hand.  There was something absolutely delightful about it all, really.  There was nothing to do but be.  (Why do we need a power outage to remind us of how great that is?)

Anyway.  On to the New York Sour...

There are few cocktails that do it for me like the NYS.  It has a bit of everything: a sweetness on the lips, a gentle tartness on the tongue, then a slow, warm burn down the throat.  It is a cocktail that has never disappointed any guest I have served it to--and I've served it to guests with very dissimilar drinking habits.

Not only that, but it is one sexy drink.  I mean, LOOK at her!

Yow-zaaaah! How do you say 'no' to that???

I first read of this cocktail in Bon Appétit's April 2013 issue.  BA suggests different whiskies and wines when making it.  All variations are delicious, but I'm going to share my own newly crafted recipe here with the hopes that in trying it, you will find a cocktail love you can't let go of...

The ingredients and amounts are super simple to remember.  And no special tools are needed--just a cocktail shaker, a double old-fashioned glass, and a standard silverware tablespoon.  Remember, 2-1-1.

The Sour Ingredients:

• 2 oz. rye whiskey (I use Sazerac)
• 1 oz. freshly squeezed lemon juice from 1 juicy lemon (do NOT use bottled juice)
• 1 oz. brown sugar simple syrup** (see my super secret recipe below)

The Float:

• 1/2 - 1 oz. of malbec wine

Place one giant cube of ice or 4-5 regular ice cubes in a double old-fashioned glass.  Pour the sour ingredients into the cocktail shaker.  Fill the shaker with ice, cover, then shake vigorously for 30 seconds.  The shaker should be frosty cold and your bicep bulging when you are done counting and shaking.  Strain the sour mixture into the glass over the ice.  Now, take the tablespoon and turn it upside down so that you are staring at the bottom of the spoon.  Place the tip of the spoon bowl onto the ice and rest the handle of the spoon on the edge of the glass.  Very slowly pour the wine over the back of the spoon, allowing it to flow gently down over the hump of the bowl and onto the ice.  You will see the wine slowly spread itself out in a layer over the top of the sour.  (God, don't you love the science of cocktail making? Beautiful! Just wait and see!)

BA also recommends using bourbon to make a NYS, as well as a shiraz for the float.  Both options are very, very good, so if these are the ingredients you have on hand, by all means, use them.  I just like rye and malbec the best.

Now, as promised, here is how I make the brown sugar simple syrup, the quick and easy way:

**For 1 oz. of simple syrup:
Mix 2 tablespoon of brown sugar and 2 tablespoon of water in a small dish.  Microwave on high for 15 seconds.  Remove from the microwave and stir until the sugar has dissolved completely and there is no sediment on the bottom.  Let the mixture cool to room temperature before using (to avoid melting your shaker ice too much and over diluting your cocktail).  It should be clear if all the sugar has completely dissolved.

There you have it: the recipe for one of the best frickin' cocktails you will ever make.  The only other thing I can think to give you is a demonstration on how to do the float.

Hmmmm.

Get ready for Video #2 of the How the Hell Do I??? series!

Once Bitten: A Foodie's Year-End Reflection on Happiness

In three hours the calendar rolls over to the year 2014.

Two thousand and fourteen.

In my childhood, I had a hard time imagining the year 2000.  And, yet, tonight—tonight, 2013 is ending.  An entire year gone.  An entire year lived, breathed, consumed, exhausted.

That's how I want to live every year of my life.

True, tonight I sat at dinner alone, eating a rib-eye steak pan-roasted in bacon fat, accompanied by baby kale sauteed with garlic and lemon and a glass of 49er Blend red wine.

But as I ate my dinner, I reminisced.  I thought about my recent trip to PA to visit family for the holidays.  I smiled as I remembered the grin of my new baby nephew.  I conjured the face of my husband and felt my heart swell then melt at the thought of him.  My eyes wandered over the Christmas cards scattered rather haphazardly over the bookshelf, and a myriad of memories and wishes leapt to mind.

I am so happy, I thought.  I am happier than I've ever been in my life.

I want it to always stay that way.

Life is for living and giving and growing.  And for a long time, I did none of that. (An unpublished blog would give you an earful...)  But then entered two things.  First: Food.  Food that relentlessly caused me to fail, accept failure, and try again.  Food that made me want to not shrug my shoulders and accept Life for what I thought it was, but to yell, "Damn it! NO!" and make it what I wanted it to be, even if I had to try again.  And again.  And again.

Soon I learned something about myself.  I could cook.  And I had grown such a thing called Confidence.

It is that confidence that landed me in a seat beside a pilot deadheading to Boston and a flight that changed my life.  Enter thing number two: Chef Reiton.  My foodie soulmate.

I guess it is also that confidence that drives this blog, and, I hope, not arrogantly so. It's just that I see so many people checkout at the grocery store with carts of processed, frozen, boxed, shrink-wrapped,  expensive, tasteless food, and I want to take them by the hand and lead them to the produce section.  I want to educate them on how easy it is to eat like a snob and still be healthy and feel good to boot.

 Maybe that happens with this blog.  I would love to hear it if it is so.  But in truth, the creation and sharing of food brings me happiness, and writing about it even more so.  And that, my dear readers, is something that I want to continue and develop as long as I have a kitchen to cook in.  No, I take that back.  As long as I have anything to cook on.  Who knows what the future may bring.  All I know is this: five years ago I was bitten by the food bug, and there is no going back on the food love.

And so, dear reader, here is my wish for you: I hope this year finds you growing more in love with yourself and your food, and that you find yourself a better person for it.

Cheers to 2014!

A Dinner Lesson from Albania

Tonight I saw one of my bosses, who was born and raised in what is now Albania, eat a dinner that made my mouth water for its absolute simplicity: a platter of quartered tomatoes, sliced cucumbers, whole pepperoncinis, and chunks of feta cheese—all served with homemade bread.

What a meal! One of the other waitressess was amazed that he ate the tomatoes that way: "like an apple!" (I don't think she grew up eating many fresh vegetables...) But I craved his dinner.

"Save me some cheese!" I asked him. And instead of giving me a piece off his plate, he went into the kitchen and scooped out a slab of feta for me to take home.

Oh, glorious night! I came home, poured a huge glass of cabernet-shiraz blend, sliced up one of my last yellow beefsteak tomatoes and a cucumber, chunked up the feta cheese, and devoured my divinely simple dinner leisurely as I threw my cat—my "little old man," I call him—bits of cheese.

My lesson in food tonight? Here it is: I don't need to cook all the time.  I can live from the bounty of the earth very, very happily and very, very cheaply. A bit of cucumber, a tomato, a small slab of fresh cheese, a glass of wine...

Living simply makes me simply very happy.

Confessions of a New Foodie

My dinner tonight:

 

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A Dinner Menu for the Best of Friends

When you just want to hang out with friends and make them some really good food...

Appetizers:

• blue cheese and walnut spread with water crackers, red pears and fresh black figs
• bacon-wrapped dates
• parmesan spirals

Beverages:

• Four Vines Zinfandel
• Blue Fin Pinot Noir
• vodka tonics
• martinis with bleu cheese-stuffed olives

Main Course:

• beef shank and sausage ragu with spaghetti
• green beans with garlic and parsley
• assorted Italian breads

Dessert:

• flourless chocolate cake served with fresh whipped cream and strawberries
• coffee

*All recipes from Everyday Food by Giada, except for ragu. Ragu taken from Bon Appetit, May 2009*

A Progressive Dinner Menu with Giada D.L.

Last week, Chef Reiton emailed that he'd gotten a new cookbook, Everyday Italian: 125 Simple and Delicious Recipes by Giada de Laurentiis. In it he had found a recipe for one of his favorite dishes in Italy, spaghetti alle vongole, and he wanted to make it with me. We decided that Saturday night would be all Italian, and the menu was set: caprese salad for the antipasto, spaghetti alle vongole for the primo, grilled lamb chops for the secundo, and tiramisu for the dolce.

Chef R did some research online to find a fish market very close to home that sold fresh Manila clams. Saturday afternoon after he arrived with the cookbook, we made our list and hit the stores. Items to buy? Well, besides fresh clams—lamb chops. Fresh mozzarella. Fresh basil, rosemary, thyme and parsley. Mascarpone. Cream, wine and lady fingers. (Just writing the ingredients again is making my mouth water.)

We came home, cracked a bottle of Bogle Old Vine Zinfandel,

and started preparing for the evening.

First we prepped for the tiramisu and made the cream filling. I could have eaten the entire bowl of it just as it was. Amazing what chocolate, cream, and mascarpone can become when blended together. Chef R made several pots of espresso, and we finished building dessert.

Next we worked on the marinade for the lamb chops: a blend of olive oil, fresh rosemary, garlic, and sea salt. We rubbed the chops well, then stuck them in the fridge to marinate while we took a nap. Dinner was going to be late, and we wanted to enjoy every moment of it.

When we got up, it was time to start the quicker elements of dinner. First task? Scrub the clams. We soon got a system down. I'd take a Scotchbrite pad to the poor fellas (they're still alive at this point), then he would take a veggie brush and get in the buggers' grooves. Soon the poor guys were beautifully clean—for our bellies.

Here's a look at them before the fire started:



Next Chef R started the dressing for the caprese salad. It was so simple: olive oil, lemon juice, sea salt, and fresh pepper. He sliced some Roma tomatoes, slivered the basil, and created a gorgeous dish.



At this point we put the spaghetti on to boil and started steaming the clams. Within minutes you could smell them as they simmered in the wine. I have never been much of seafood person, but I've been trying to alter my mindset about foods, as I've discussed before (thank you, Julissa), and I was rather excited about trying this dish. I was happy to notice that the aroma of it wasn't fishy; it smelled deep, actually, and full of earth. A peek under the lid showed the shells opened, and the dish was ready to be finished. Chef R drained the spaghetti, tossed it with the clams and the sauce, poured it all into the serving dish, and we garnished it with lemon zest and more parsley. Beautiful.



Now, begin eating! We sat down to our caprese salad and spaghetti alle vongole, as well as a bottle of Georges Duboeuf Beaujolais Nouveau. Chef R had been looking to find a wine that was like the local table wines of Europe—nothing deep and complex, just a simple fruity wine that paired with a simple Italian meal. This is what we picked:


To say simply, as I took my first bites, our antipasto and primo blew me away. I knew I'd love the caprese, but I wasn't sure about the clams. But I can honestly say that I would make it again in a heartbeat. I loved what the lemon and wine did together, and again, the deep but not overpowering flavor of the clams. Nothing was too intense. Each taste—the lemon, garlic, wine, clams—when you thought about them individually, could be detected, but yet each bite melded the flavors together to create a very light but satisfying mouthful.

We did discover upon eating that the recipe made a TON. We had cut the recipe in half, and we still threw out enough to feed at least another person, if not two. So if you make this recipe, be prepared for a lot.

After our primo course, it was time to cook the secundo. I had pulled the chops out of the fridge while we made the clams, so they were pretty much to room temperature. We heated the grill pan on the stove to "almost smoking," and Chef R threw the chops on to sear. The amazing smells that arose from that pan made me marvel at how people don't cook. You don't have to go out to eat like a king! And lots of times the food you make at home is BETTER than what you would pay for in a restaurant! (Oh, the joys of cooking!)

In short time, the secundo was done, and we sat down to taste the first lamb chops either of us had ever made:


OH MY GOD. Perfectly grilled. Perfectly seasoned. Perfectly sized. (Yes, Giada, we did evenly divide the chops among the two plates.)

As the last bite of chop was devoured, we both sighed. Everything had been so good, and we weren't even done. Next, the sweet end: homemade tiramisu.

We had questioned some of Giada's directions in the making of the dessert. She says to dip the lady fingers in the espresso, but what exactly is the timing of a dip? If I take a dip in a pool, I take that to mean a good 30 minutes, at least. My mom's dip is about 5. So when you dip a cookie, is it a 1-second dip, or is it a 1-2-3-4 dip? Chef R and I decided to experiment. Layer 1 was a 1-second dip. Layers 2 and 3 were 1-2-3-4 dips. Layer 4 was a mix of both. When we cut it we would see the results.

Well, it was time. We inverted the cake and sprinkled it with cocoa powder, and I handed Chef R the knife. He made the cut.

What wonders were beheld. Even layers. Espresso-soaked cookies. A rich, chocolatey cream to mellow the intensity of the coffee. My mouth couldn't wait. I put the camera down and took a bite.

About the hundredth sigh escaped my lips that evening. My taste buds were silently screaming with pleasure. And I kept thinking, "But it was so easy!"

(Afterwards, the two of us did decide that a 1-second dip was the best way to go. The cookies that went for a longer swim were a bit strong and wet; we determined that the cream would sufficiently soak into the lady fingers as it rested in the fridge, creating a nicely moist, but not wet, cake. I'm so willing to test the revised method very soon. I'm sensing a dinner party coming on...)

As the last bite of dinner settled, Chef R and I sat and stared at our empty dessert plates, then reached for our wine glasses and, for the fifth time that night, toasted each other. "You rock, Chef Reiton," I said.

And he did what I love to hear: he laughed. "Thanks," he said. And, bellies full and happy, we both smiled.